#pay no mind to the fucked up basement carpet and the fucked up basement lighting

[separatist-apologist]

The Enemy

I would make you the enemy if I could

Summary: In order to kill his most hated enemy, Azriel has to kidnap Graysen Nolan's fiance.

Should be easy, right?

Chapter 2/5: You've Got That James Dean Daydream Look In Your Eye | Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

For @elainweekofficial- I am not following the prompts (as no prompts can contain me)

Azriel slept like shit. Elain was silent when he’d expected screaming, vicious rage. More of that bottled anger she’d unleashed in the kitchen. The lack of noise kept him up, knee bouncing as he waited for the inevitable. Rope sat on the coffee table, taunting him. She should have smashed something, giving him an excuse to tie her up. Hatred blazing in those big doe eyes as a stream of curses and pleas fell from her lips. 

He couldn’t take it by four in the morning, and though he swore he didn’t care about her—because he didn’t—he still unlocked her bedroom door to check on her.

Just to make sure she was alive, he told himself. Rhysand would kill him if she injured herself, after all. It had begun to occur to him that maybe she’d found a way to hurt herself that didn’t make noise. Had he cleaned everything out of the cabinet? 

He found her curled up on the bathroom floor, cheek pressed to the cool, dark tile. No blanket, no pillow, just her body curved in on itself, arms over her face to block out the light. He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at her, trying so hard not to think about his childhood—of all the times he’d slept in his bedroom closet, foregoing a blanket because he didn’t think he deserved it, letting himself get used to the rough shag carpet against his skin.

Azriel had kidnapped enough people to understand whatever was happening with Elain was unusual. Some stupid, sentimental part of him wanted to pick her up and dump her in the bed. And another angrier, vicious part of him wanted to throw her over his shoulder and tie her up in the basement for feeling anything for her at all. 

Given he’d never been a good sleeper to begin with, Azriel returned to the kitchen for coffee before fishing out Elain’s phone. He needed her to send a text letting Graysen know she was safe and unharmed.

At least, for now. 

Also, Azriel was mildly curious about the woman Graysen Nolan wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Azriel believed Elain had to be just as bad as her fiance, if not worse. The media called them a power couple, and Azriel knew from experience no one obtained power by being nice. He wanted to see what Elain and Graysen talked about, certain he’d have his proof and could free himself from feeling bad for her. It was her big fucking eyes, he thought with a grumble. It made her seem sweet—innocent. 

He knew better.

Turning on her screen revealed no passcode, which he found odd. No thumbprint, nothing to protect whatever she might try to hide. Her background picture was her and Graysen, cheek to cheek grinning into the camera. He rolled his eyes as his stomach clenched. He hated Graysen, and Elain by association. 

She had a deluge of texts, nearly all from her fiance. Here it was, he thought. Proof that she and Graysen were evenly matched, that the woman who’d tried to sit with him with an easy smile was merely trying to manipulate him. 

Where are you? 

Answer your phone, Elain.

Elain, I swear to God if you don’t open your door. 

Where the fuck are you? 

Answer your goddamn phone Elain or I swear there will be hell to pay. 

On and on, text after text threatening her and pleading in equal measure. Azriel frowned, scrolling up to their last conversation. 

You look like a slut. 

Azriel blinked, thinking of every picture he’d ever seen of Elain. Clean lines, high necks, and skirts well past her knees. Slutty was hardly the word that came to mind.

Sorry. Would you like me to change?

Azriel suddenly felt gross, reading her messages. He closed out her phone and tossed it to the coffee table while pulling his feet closer to his body. If he shut his eyes, he could practically see a similar exchange between his parents during a contentious drop-off. 

“You still look like a whore,” his father had said, having caught his mother in a tank top in the hottest of summer months. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll change,” she’d said, even though they hadn’t been together in years. Azriel had been twelve years old and humiliated on his mothers behalf. She hadn’t owed him that and yet his father had broken her down so thoroughly, had scarred her so deeply that it was easier to yield than to stand up for herself. 

He let his coffee grow cold at the thought that he’d accidentally rescued Elain Archeron. Azriel was no hero, was not the good guy. He didn’t know what to make of her relationship, of which she was still firmly in. She still wore that ostentatious diamond around her finger. 

He didn’t have to wait long for Elain to fly out of the bedroom. She’d yanked at the handle, clearly expecting to be locked, only to tumble into the hallway.

He couldn’t help his laugh, twisting around the back of the couch to watch her scramble to her feet. 

“Ass,” she hissed, rubbing at her knees as she stood. 

He turned, waiting for her to make her way toward him. Elain’s eyes snagged on his coffee, body turning toward the kitchen. He didn’t offer her any, and Elain didn’t ask as she made herself at home. The clinking of cups followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening—and slamming shut when she realized there was no cream—filled the silence. 

“We need rules,” Azriel said when she finished. Elain had found sugar, and when he turned he found her liberally spooning it into her chipped mug. She didn’t bother to look at him, nor did she acknowledge him in any way. 

Obnoxious. 

“Let's start with—”

“I don’t think you get to order me around,” Elain interrupted with faux sweetness. “I’m here, aren’t I? Now you want to control everything else?”

“I’d like to avoid another tantrum,” Azriel snapped, rising from the couch. He leveled a stare that often made grown men’s knees quake with fear. Elain brought her mug to her lips and met it.

There was no visible terror, and Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if that was because Elain was used to living with a violent, capricious man.

He could have chosen to be better than Graysen—if he wanted.

But he didn’t. 

“Oh, well, please accept my sincerest apologies for not being your good, compliant little captive,” she said with eyes that made Azriel feel two feet tall. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Forgiven,” he said dismissively as he stalked into the kitchen. Elain shrank a little, pressing her back to the counter at his approach. “I still have to live with you.”

Her smile widened. “Oh, that's awful.”

Azriel slid her phone over the island counter, not bothering to conceal he’d gone through her messages. Elain’s face paled when she saw Graysen’s name staring back at her. 

“Tell him you’re safe,” Azriel murmured, watching how her hands trembled as she reached for the phone. “Tell him I haven’t hurt you—yet.”

Her eyes snapped to his face, her bravado gone. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Are you going to do what I say?” he countered. 

Elain typed out a quick message but didn’t send so he could see. Her message was unusual—almost clinical and so at odds with what other people typically typed.

I’m not coming home, Gray. I’m safe. 

Azriel sent it. Rhys would have let Graysen know they were holding Elain by then. Elain sighed into her mug of coffee, eyes glazed for a moment. Still holding her phone when it went off, Azriel was given the opportunity to read the text as it came in.

If anyone touches you, I’ll kill them. 

Azriel shouldn’t have felt surprise, and yet he was curious as he showed Elain. She expressed no emotion at all, hands wrapped around her mug as she blew absently at steam.

“You know,” he began, wondering why he was hedging around the truth. “Most people ask if you’re okay first.”

“Why would he care about that?” she demanded bitterly. 

“Why wouldn’t he?” Azriel replied, more curious than anything. If she was his girl…if someone had his girl, Azriel would want to know they were safe. 

Right before he ripped apart the world to get her back. Elain didn’t need to know that. 

“You went through my phone,” she reminded him, unaware that he’d only looked through her messages with Graysen. He didn’t care about anything else. Still, he kept his mouth shut as Elain continued. “He’s sleeping with other people—at least one, that I know about. I thought—”

She swallowed whatever she thought, eyes snapping to his face as she realized who she was talking to. 

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” Azriel asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Elain slammed her coffee mug onto the counter, unaware of how much he enjoyed her show of temper. 

“How am I allowed to spend my time?” she asked instead. Azriel lowered his gaze.

“In the house, however you like. I don’t care.”

He could feel her eyes on his face—he didn’t think he’d like what he’d find if he looked up. His own phone was buzzing with a text from Cassian.

Lead on Hybern. Tie up Archeron and join me.

Azriel knew he should. There was no reason to leave her standing in the kitchen, to inform her he had cameras everywhere—an objective lie—and he’d hurt her viciously if she tried to leave. And yet Azriel found himself doing just that as he reached for his leather jacket and boots. 

He couldn’t explain why he thought it. But as he slammed the passenger door, Azriel had the strangest sense that Elain wasn’t going anywhere.

That she was exactly where she wanted to be.

ELAIN: 

Azriel left with a snap of the door, locking it behind him. He’d assured her he would hurt her—holding a lethal looking knife as he said it—if she tried to leave. It was tempting to call his bluff, if only to see if she could manage. And once he was gone, Elain unlocked the front door easily and stepped onto the little porch to survey her surroundings.

He’d taken her up into the mountains. Getting down would require trekking the steep, icy roads and hope she wasn’t accidentally struck by a car in the process. She didn’t have snow shoes, either. Only heels and a pair of dressy flats that would be filled with snow the minute she tried.

Elain slammed the door shut, turning in a circle around the cabin. She could destroy it and face his ire—and risk him tying her up or worse. 

She had no doubt that Azriel couldn’t kill her, if he wanted. She wasn’t even convinced he didn’t want to, which depressed and angered her in equal measure. He was merely an extension of whoever Graysen had pissed off. In her fury the night before, Elain had torn apart that bedroom wishing it was Graysen’s face. Wishing he knew how angry she was—how angry she’d been for so, so long.

And as she imagined every hateful thing she’d say to him, and prepared responses for all his rebuttals, Elain had also wondered who he might have pissed off. It could have been anyone. It was that thought that had settled her into a sobbing sleep. Graysen’s cruelty extended well beyond just her and whatever he’d done, Elain suspected it wasn’t deserved. 

And maybe she was the perfect person to pay for his many misdeeds. Elain thought that, too—that she’d sat idly by, well aware of Graysen’s nature. She’d told herself she suffered, too, but Elain could leave. She could. Even if it meant fleeing another city, abandoning her life, her friends, her family…

Elain went to the kitchen, palms braced against the granite countertops. She couldn’t leave and she knew it. This was the closest she’d ever get before she was dragged back by a scowling Azriel, relieved to have washed his hands of her. Elain could only imagine the fall out—if Graysen saw Azriel’s face, he’d think…

He’d punish her for Azriel’s proximity, captor or not. 

Perhaps she could convince Azriel to take her somewhere else when this was all over. Somewhere warm, somewhere sunny and with ocean front access. She wouldn’t have the Archeron money anymore but Elain had a bachelor's degree—she was smart. She could get a job, make her own way like so many other people did. Maybe Azriel could fake her death, even—

She was losing it. 

There was no way he’d do any of those things, and no way Elain was brave enough to ask. It was all just wishful thinking. Her father wanted to see her marry Graysen and Graysen needed her to marry him. Practically, his career was dead if she walked away and her father withdrew his support. 

She suspected Graysen liked some part of her, outside of how useful she was to him. He could be so kind when he wanted to be. Elain often lived for those precious moments, working overtime to bring them back. That was the Gray she loved—the Gray she wanted to marry.

Elain twisted the engagement ring on her finger, slamming it to the counter. That wasn’t enough. She stared at the drain, but someone might fish it out. Someone might find it. 

Marching back to the front door, Elain flung it into the cold, gray gloom. She didn’t let herself track it, didn’t dare let herself see where it had fallen. Twenty thousand dollars, gone. Just like that. Someone else would find it, might sell it for a fraction of what it was worth, but Elain would never wear the hideous, ostentatious ring ever again. If she’d known where it was, guilt would have driven her to pick it up. 

She slammed the door behind her, retreating back to the warmth of the small cabin. If she looked, Elain bet she could have found a gun. Maybe a dagger. Azriel hadn’t hidden anything before he’d left and he seemed like the type who had multiple weapons within grabbing distance. She imagined him returning to find a gun pressed in his face—held by her.

And how even in her fantasy, she knew she couldn’t pull the trigger. That he’d disarm her and then make good on his threat to chain her to the radiator. Naked, as he’d said, though he’d spat it like the very thought of her unclothed disgusted him. So maybe she’d have her clothes, but she wouldn’t have her dignity, and Elain needed to maintain some pride.

She returned to the kitchen, intending to find a snack and watch shameless television until he came back. Upon opening the fridge, she found actual food—strawberries in a container and eggs and butter…and in the pantry, flour and sugar—all the things she needed for strawberry muffins. Elain closed her eyes and thought of the last time she’d made them.

How Graysen had let her, up until they were finished, and then had swept them all into the trash. She didn’t need the carbs, and neither did he. Elain’s eyes burned at the memory, of her hopes dashed as Graysen walked away, unbothered with yet another callous act. He wasn’t there, though.

No one was.

Not even Azriel, who had forbidden her from using a knife despite having a kitchen stocked with them. No one to yell at her or tell her carbs were bad for her or to put down the knife. Elain dug out a cutting board and a comically sharp knife as she assembled her ingredients.

She found, improbably, an Alexa. 

Alexa, call 911, she thought to herself as she plugged it in. She could have laughed at how easy she made it to kidnap her. And as Elain set the oven, she called over her shoulder the only thing she wanted in that moment.

“Alexa. Play Taylor Swift.”

AZRIEL:

FuckfuckFUCK.

Azriel slammed his scraped hand against his steering wheel. He’d been shot—twice—and was no closer to Hybern than he’d been when he left. And though those bullet wounds were shallow, dug out by a grim, bloodied Cassian with his own injuries. Azriel exhaled through the pain, gritting his teeth. 

The jangling of his phone cut through the stereo, silencing what Rhys had once called horrifically emo, even for you. Azriel answered, willing himself to keep the pain from his voice.

“Yes?”

“How are things going?” Rhys asked mildly. Azriel kept his eyes on the winding, icy road in front of him. It might be spring in Velaris, but up in the Illyrian mountains it was still the dead of winter. 

“Fine,” he lied. He needed a stiff drink and a sedative if he could find one. Barring that, he needed absolute silence for the rest of the night, which he doubted Elain would give him. 

“No problems with Elain?”

Azriel paused. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good, good. Graysen is in a rage, but I expected that. He raided one of the warehouses at the pier.”

“Oh? Find anything interesting?”

“Just empty crates,” Rhys chuckled. “I’ll give it a few days before I reach out to her father and organize a ransom.”

Fine. Two weeks, just as Rhys had promised. Azriel merely grunted his response.

“Oh, Az?” Rhys continued in that cool voice. Azriel’s heart quickened at the sound. How often had he stood beside Rhys, listening to captives lie to Rhys’s face? And how often had he heard that tone, heard that same question?

“Yes?”

“If you leave her to hunt Hybern again, there will be hell to pay. This takes priority over your fucking grudge. Do you understand me?”

Azriel swallowed. “Yes. Of course.”

Rhys paused for a moment, and Azriel wondered if his brother was mad at the deception or at being left out. Azriel didn’t dare ask—not today. Another day, when Rhys had forgotten, when he wasn’t so irritated.

Those were the risks of being king. He had responsibilities, couldn’t run out on the drop of a dime like Azriel and Cassian still could. From the loud breath Rhys blew out on the other end, Azriel suspected it was the latter. 

“First aid is in the master bedroom in the closet. Maybe Elain knows how to sew.”

“Rhys–” Fuck him for not taking his own advice, but he had to know. “How did you know we were out?”

“Outside of the blood trail you left?” Rhys replied on the other end, his voice laced with amusement. “The alexa in the cabin has been playing Taylor Swift for an hour. Figured that wasn’t you.”

Fucking Elain. 

Azriel pulled in the drive, embarrassed and angry and radiating pain. He should have tied her up. Should have locked her in a closet until she sobbed and acted normal.

Acted scared. 

Azriel ended his call and cut the engine, dreading the moment when he’d have to stand. He managed, grunting loud against the howling wind. He was half on fire, cursing himself for rushing after Hybern without support, in a half-cocked scheme that was going to leave him useless and housebound for days. 

Azriel pushed open the front door, and just like Rhys said, Elain was listening to Taylor Swift. Blaring it, so loud it made the headache forming behind his eyes bounce. She hadn’t spotted him from the foyer, dripping blood onto the dark wood. He meant to bark something at her—shut that off, go to your room, what the fuck are you doing—

She was in an ivory sun dress, so out of place in the cold given the little straps that tied over her tanned shoulders and the lacy hem cut against a slim thigh. Half her hair was pulled from her head and tied with a pretty, blush colored bow while the rest cascaded gold down her back. She’d dug out one of Rhys’s aprons—the one that read ask about my sausage—and had a pile of muffins towering on the counter.

She turned, singing into a wooden spoon she’d just washed. James Dean daydream indeed, he thought when her spoon clattered to the floor.

“Alexa, off,” she managed, eyes as round as saucers. He must look pissed, for the color to have drained so quickly from her face. Azriel stared right back, waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. And while he looked, he realized that beneath the make-up she’d been wearing that washed her out, made her seem chiseled into perfection, that Elain Archeron was beautiful.

Stunning.

Ethereal.

He’d never seen anyone that pretty in his life. Azriel’s heart stumbled, his throat closing in the wake of those unadorned, wide, fawn-brown eyes. Freckles were splattered just over the bridge of her nose, likely from the time she spent beneath the sun. Pink lips seemed to curve upward, as though cut into a perpetual smile. He resisted the urge to look lower, to rake his eyes over her.

He hated himself for it.

She would be Graysen’s wife. She was marked, had chosen his greatest enemy and Azriel was standing before her, bleeding and injured and somehow still entranced by how beautiful she was. 

“What,” he whispered as his eyes swept around the room, “the fuck are you doing?” He wanted to punish her.

That was a lie. He wanted to punish himself for the constant weakness. For being caught off guard, for being shot, for thinking Nolan’s soon-to-be-wife was beautiful. Elain’s bottom lip trembled which only made him hate himself more. Why wasn’t she scared? 

“Baking,” she whispered. Azriel forced himself not to betray how badly his body ached. 

“Who said you could do that?” he asked, well aware he’d told her he didn’t care what she did. 

Elain’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He could see her dashed hopes—that he’d come back and she’d give him a muffin and maybe he’d thank her. He had the urge to shove them all onto the floor, to crush them beneath his feet until she never looked at him like that again.

Elain didn’t respond. It didn’t matter what she said. Azriel had already made up his mind. He strode toward her and Elain shrieked, though she didn’t move quick enough. With a grunt of pain, Azriel hauled her over his shoulder. This—this was good. This was what he needed. Elain was sobbing now, fists beating into his ruined back. Each new pound reverberated against his bones, sharp and hot and cruel. It was what he needed.

He was a monster and she was a princess. They had their roles and she needed to understand hers. Azriel forced open the basement door, taking the wooden steps quickly despite how badly his lungs burned. Elain was sobbing, and when he dropped her to the concrete floor, she threw her hands up over her face like she expected him to hit her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chanted, the words a mantra he could see she’d said before. 

She scooted toward a wall while Azriel stood where he was, trying to ignore how spotty his vision was. Elain peeked up through wet lashes, her perfect face splotchy and swollen. Azriel opened his mouth to scream at her—though the words didn’t come.

Fear coated her gaze for the first time and for a miserable second, Azriel knew what his father must have felt like. The rage and the power and the utter insecurity, all battling for dominance. He went to her, knees curled to her chin. Elain winced when he crouched in front of her, betraying that, like his mother, she was too used to making herself small.

To weathering violence by someone much stronger. 

What could he even say? “I—” 

Elain looked back at him, her eyes drifting to his hands. It was the second time he’d caught her staring. He could still remember the last woman who’d looked at his scarred hands. How she’d flinched away every time he’d reached for her. Elain, still trembling, brought her eyes back to his face.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered and too late, Azriel realized there was wet blood smeared along his fingers. She hadn’t been staring at the scarring at all. 

“I was shot,” he told her, ignoring how wild his heart was. 

Elain blinked away a few more tears, wiping her cheek on her shoulder. He just watched, trying to make sense of her. “Do you need help cleaning them?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t need help from anyone, least of all her. But the memory of how she’d tried to protect herself from blows not a minute before flashed behind his eyes. He couldn’t stomach anymore cruelty. Not to her, anyway. 

“Can—” he swallowed again. “Can you sew?”

She nodded quickly. Azriel rose to his feet, unable to hide a groan of pain. Elain was still at his feet, still red-eyed and nervous. He reached between them, offering her his hand. Elain hesitated only for a moment, looking up at him warily. Like she expected him to explode again, to lose his temper and drag her back to the radiator. 

Still, she accepted and Azriel pulled her up despite the shooting, white hot pain that lanced through him. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his own, her nails coated in a fine layer of flour and now a smear of his own blood he couldn’t look away from.

She tried to pull her hand away but Azriel closed his fingers around her delicate wrist and yanked her just a little closer.

“Does he hit you, Elain?” he asked, his voice soft enough he could almost pretend he’d said nothing at all. 

She opened her mouth and Azriel silenced her with a soft growl. “No lies.”

“Yes.”

Azriel’s nostrils flared and the pain from his wounds returned. “Rhys is wrong. I should kill him.”

“Rhys?” she asked and fuck—had he let that slip.

“Up,” he said instead, nodding toward the stairs. It was only then that he remembered he was still gripping her hand. Azriel let her go—a mistake. He swayed and Elain caught him before he fell face first onto the same concrete he’d dropped her on. Maybe a few cracked teeth were what he deserved, then.

“Come on,” she murmured, letting him brace some of his weight against her. She was careful with where she put her hand, and patient though he didn’t deserve it. One step after another, encouraging him gently before they reached the landing.

“Couch,” he grunted, catching a whiff of sugar in the air. Azriel wheezed when she dropped him to the leather, hands on her hips. He’d stained her ivory dress splotchy red which satisfied him. He told her where the kit was and then worked off his leather jacket and then his shirt. He couldn’t see the wound in his shoulder, but the one against his ribs seemed shallow enough. 

Elain returned, eyes sliding down his tattooed body for only a moment. “Are those it?” she asked, dropping to her knees as he laid stomach first against the cushions.

“Seen worse?” he tried to joke.There was no amusement on her face, only a grim sort of determination. 

“Are there just the two?” she clarified softly.

“Yes, just the two,” he agreed. Elain nodded, and then got to work. Azriel jerked when the cold antiseptic stung against his inflamed skin, earning a whispered, I’m sorry from Elain.

Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.

He hadn’t meant to say it outloud, but she’d paused to look at him, her eyes wide and startled. They didn’t speak again. Not after she sterilized that needle and began pulling his skin back together. It took every ounce of Azriel's will not to make a sound. Even when his spine arched and his muscles locked, Azriel remained silent. 

He waited until she’d finished, sitting cross-legged on the floor and repacking the red tin box, that he asked, “What did you make?”

She didn’t look up at him, just as she didn’t look at her blood stained fingers. “Strawberry muffins.”

He exhaled. “Can I have one?”

“Yeah.”

She rose to her feet and Azriel tried to, too. Gaping, Elain asked, “What are you doing?”

“Getting…a muffin?” he responded. She scowled.

“I’ll get it. Lay down.”

He fell back dramatically, grunting in pain—and yet relieved when she returned a moment later with a misshapen muffin wrapped in pink paper. Where had she found it? “Is this my punishment?” he asked as she sat carefully on the far end of the sofa. He could have stretched his legs and touched her, could have scooted an inch and dragged her up to him by his calves. It was a tempting thought, even if he had no idea where it came from or what he would even do if he had her. 

“Punishment?”

He held up the droopy muffin. It was as close to an apology as he’d ever get. “Is this my punishment for…?”

“The broken ones taste the best,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the dark television. “Everyone knows that.”

“I didn’t,” he replied, not daring to read into her words. Elain yanked the blanket from the night before down—the one he’d tried to sleep under while she’d cried—and spread it over her lap and his legs.

“What are we watching?” she asked, not looking at him. Azriel groaned softly as he fished out the remote. 

“Do you speak any spanish?” he asked, turning on his mother's favorite soap opera. 

“Enough,” she replied.

A thrill ran through him, tempered almost immediately. He didn’t dare smile, turning his gaze to the actors on the screen.

“If you get lost, I’ll translate.”

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain week day 2: but its azriel experiencing literally every human emotion in the span of an hour #is he mean? yes #but is he also stupid? also yes #kidnap elain they said #it will be easy hey said

[bmpmp3]

You liked Webkinz too???

Oh FUCK i did like I think I have about 30??? A stupid huge amount, I adored them so much, as a kid I only really liked animal shaped toys like I had one Polly pocket but it came with animal accessories that I cared way more about, and outside of two Barbie's I picked out for myself (a purple mermaid and a gold fairy with some really cool flapping wings that turns into a skirt functionality) I wasn't into barbie at all, hated baby dolls (they stressed me out................I didn't like that they cried......) I was FULLY a webkinz and lps kid, I physically can't get rid of them honestly, so many other stuffed toys i gave away no problem but i cant part with these dudesssssssss, I have a bag in the basement with them hold up

This way my first one!! She was a tree frog named Cleo and I adored her, she sorta became like the leader? She had an early first series Bluestar vibe (I was also a warriors kid....did I ever stop.....) Except a little warmer? She was nice and wise and strict when needed, I had like a hanging toy holder, like y'know those mesh cylinders with lil segments u can put stuff in? It was sorta their apartment complex? She was like their sorta dorm mother....

Now my FAVORITE one is this lil kitty

A lilkinz gray and white cat!! Her name was Twilight (loved Twilight Princess even then lol) and I loved her so much if you can tell by her floppiness and her matted fur, I took her everywhere and she was my GIRL she was often the main characters of my playtime story lines

Oh and not a webkinz but this thing

(sorry I'm holding her like she's a dead body she's just a very floppy plush) is .....God??? .........so I'm not religious and I didn't grow up religious and my first experience with Christianity was like watching veggie tales vhses borrowed from the library when I was like 11 so this was before then and I didn't really know what a god or a Jesus or any spirituality thing was honestly outside of a hint of Greek mythology from like two episodes of Class of the Titans, I just sorta made this plush like the Creator of All Things? She was large and full of secrets and prophecies and she watches over both my webkinz and littlest pet shops (lps viewed webkinz at a distance like greek titans in a way lol)

Anyway important about this god figure, is there was a Jesus figure???? Basically????

A lilkinz unicorn!! Her name is mystery (the seahorse is her little brother named Lazlo and don't ask how that works) and she was kinda a Jesus even though I didn't know what Jesus was but like she was the daughter of the godhorse and she was mortal like the rest of the webkinz but she had powers and like.....the essence of her mother within her? Almost like....a reincarnation......sounds a lil jesusy? Maybe, I also had a similar Jesus figure among my LPS but it was a lil white cat (don't worry about it)

Anyway I loved her a lot she was my second favourite!! Always a slut for unicorns, one of my favourite book series was My Secret Unicorn if you ever read those sjdhrbejjf

Anyway I won't talk about all my webkinz but I do wanna talk about these guys:

George and Sparkle from left to right, these two were dating, and like Sparkle was a Mean Girl type character and George was like a shitty hot guy??? Like he was shitty but he got away with it because he was hot? Anyway little girls get NUTS with their plotlines and I was no exception and lemme tell ya...these two's relationship was COMPLICATED like first of all George played with the hearts of many, including Cleo, how dare he do this to my girl.... And these dudes

Phoenix (eagle) and Rudy (chicken) were both in love with Sparkle and she had this love square situation going on cause Phoenix was even more manipulative than George and Rudy was actually just a normal chill dude but the complexities of the relationships surrounding sparkle was too much for him and sparkle was no peach herself, but she was sorta that mean girl character who like gets better? She softened up around people like Twilight and Mystery and started becoming a better person but her relationships with these more toxic guys kept pulling her back in

Would u believe that in like 3 years this 8 year old will start reading shoujo manga like it's her job and not stop even in her 20s.............wowza

Sorry I got sidetracked!! Anyway I love webkinz, I'm not the biggest stuffed animal person but webkinz are nice cause lots of them have the beans in their feet and also that fabric??? Like like cool feeling one with threads sticking out, on the googles and a lot of the cats, it's a nice feeling.....what is that fabric....reminds me of these weighted lizard I tried when I was hanging out in the spec ed department of my highschool (they let us hang there if we needed a quiet place to do work during a space period or something even if we weren't writing an exam) and it was just me and a couple of the staff and we were chatting since no one else was around and they were talking about a new thing they got which was a heavy weighted plush lizard with a nice cool feeling fabric, every person who put it on their lap was immediately in love with it and they were like put it on ur lap and I was like ok and yeah...I was immediately in love with it) what is that fabric....I like cold fabrics......

#ask #pay no mind to the fucked up basement carpet and the fucked up basement lighting #it is the reality of basements..... #anyway god webkinz..............i have many complex feelings about the online game side of it #(i have feelings about like all these freemium type games.....) #but the toys themselves are so nicely constructed and quality its actually really surprising thinking about it #especially cause nowadays u can go to a surplus store and buy like 30 mint condition ones for like 10 bucks chbdbsbfbrn #love the cats especially like the gray and white cat pattern #floppy and cooling and nice

[frankiekatt]

Wowy hii, saw that you're writing for slasher, so here I am!

Can I plz have some hcs about any slashers with s/o, but their s/o is a literal gremlin, like they're not serious at all, always joking and annoying people around, but sometimes might be quite soft and quiet.

Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️

This was fun to write lmao

Warnings: Sexual harassment, NSFW, murder, blood, canabilism

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Stu Macher, Michal Myers

Slashers With An S/O That Never Takes Anything Seriously:

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas is a little overwhelmed by your personality at first.

He’s a quiet and reserved man who’s never had any kind of friends, so goofiness and jokes can make him feel uneasy at first.

But!! He gets used to everything very quickly!!!

Thomas loves everything about you and he finds you to be incredibly charming.

He can get a little anxious when he sees you annoying Hoyt because he doesn’t want his uncle to do anything bad to you in irritation/retaliation.

Your jokes are always a stress reliever for him, since he spends most of his days in a dark basement, surrounded by blood and gore. Your humor just shines a little bit of light on his day, and he loves you for that!

While Luda Mae and Hoyt might not like the fact that you never take anything seriously, Thomas finds it relieving. At the beginning of your relationship, Thomas was terrified of losing you because he thought you would be terrified of all screams, murder, and cannabilism, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that you didn’t pay much mind to it.

Thomas’ family mostly saw you as a clown, but Thomas could only ever look at you as the brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced his life.

After all, he was the only one that saw your softer side.

Your soft and quiet side mostly shone through during the evening. Something about the sunset and cicada chirping calmed your heart.

You would often take Thomas by the hand and lead him outside to sit on the front porch with you, so the two of you could cuddle and watch the sunset together.

Thomas was always so used to your voice, because you loved to talk about anything and everything, so your temporary quiet nature was new, yet comforting.

During these moments, there didn’t need to be any talking between the two of you. You deep emotional bond allowed you both to communicate through actions.

You would lay your head on Thomas shoulder, stroking his chest, and Thomas would wrap his big arms around your smaller frame, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head.

This was Thomas’ way of saying, “I love you, you’re the best thing in my life,” and your way of saying “I could never live without you.”

Bo Sinclair:

:|

You’re gonna annoy the fuck out of this boy

Sometimes you both wonder how the two of you even got together, but the nights you and Bo spent pleasuring each other, going round after round, reminded you both how. (Your both just sexy okay its that simple)

Bo was a serious guy, so he was a little miffed that he was always the one having to take the lead in everything since you just couldn’t stop making a joke out of everything.

Sometimes you would actually make him really irritated due to your tendency to irk people endlessly, so he would have to step away to cool off and blow off some steam.

Sometimes he would yell at you in anger, which always made him feel like shit after, so he tended to stalk off to his shop to calm down before speaking to you.

You would have to go see him a couple hours later to wrap your arms around him from behind and shyly apologize to him.

He favored these moments the most.

Your voice quieter than usual, focusing on just him, touching him gently.

He would always accept your apologies, of course, and would let you know by kissing your lips softly.

Bo liked to take advantage of your softer side by lifting you up by your waist and setting you on the hood of whatever car he had been working on and kissing down your neck.

As revenge, Bo liked to draw out his teasing as long as possible. Kissing down your neck, chest, stomach, massaging your pussy through your skirt, palming your breast roughly.

It gets to a point where you just have to tell him, “Bo, I need you to fuck me.”

And he would oblige.

He would take you right then and there, on the hood of the car.

The metal beneath you was always shockingly cold, making you shiver against Bo’s chest.

“You cold, Darlin,” Bo would ask teasingly as he pulled your panties off. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you right up.”

He would spend hours licking your pretty pink pussy if he could. He licks and sucks and kisses your most intimate part until you're shaking and crying above him, begging him to fuck you sensless.

After he’s satisfied with your helplessness, he’ll lean back up and ram himself inside of you. There have been many nights where he has taken you gently and slowly in his garage, holding your hand with every thrust, kissing your sweet lips to quiet your whimpers, but tonight was different. There was a primal need shared between you two. Bo wanted to let his frustrations on through loving you, and you wanted to be taken hard and fast.

When the two of you are done, you lounge around inside the car to catch your breath, holding hands. Everything seems so perfect.

Until-

“Hey, Bo? What did the toaster say to the slice of bread?”

“.....”

“I want you inside me! Eh ha ha..”

:////

Lester Sinclair:

!!!!!

You like constantly joking and never taking things seriously? He does too!!

Lester would find you absolutely hilarious. Every joke you cracked would have him doubling over in laughter. Which would make you double over in laughter. Which would make Lester laugh harder, because now you both have the giggles and both of your laughs are just too infectious.

Everytime the two of you would go to Ambrose to visit his brothers, you guys would annoy the hell out of Bo and Vincent. Bo just wants to be left alone to work in his shop but instead he’s stuck listening to you tell a 40 minutes story about how you burnt dinner last night.

And Vincent just wants to be left alone to paint and sculpt but instead he’s here listening to Lester crack jokes that are a.) not funny and b.) don’t make any sense. -_-

Your and Lester’s trailer is always filled with so much love and laughter and the two of you could not be any happier.

You both have your own soft and quiet moments that hit at random times.

Sometimes it happens when the two of you are play fighting in the living room, howling with laughter. You both fall to the floor, wrestling and giggling until the both of you run out of breath and just gaze at each other as you lay on the carpet.

“You look so cute,” he giggles.

“No, YOU look so cute!”

“W-well!!! I love you!!”

“Uhm...well...I love you MORE.”

And it just turns into an argument about who adores the other more.

Billy Lenz (1974):

The perfect couple.

Literally.

The two of you are always joking around, cackling and goofing about every little thing.

Billy has finally found his soulmate and he could not be happier.

He two of you prank the sorority girls together, making sex sounds in unison to sound even more vulgar.

Everytime you crack a joke, you get worried Billy is joking because of how hard he’s laughing.

“Umm Billy you okay? It wasn’t even that funny.”

“HA haha...piggy makes me laugh...Billy loves your jokes.”

Needless to say, your relationship is filled with smiles, laughter, and praise.

Billy will tell you you’re the funniest person he’s ever met and he wants to keep you forever.

You tell Billy you love how much he laughs at your antics and that you can’t live without him.

It’s impossible to annoy Billy. It’s just not feasible.

Any time you try, he’ll just giggle and pat your head, telling you you’re his ‘favorite piggy ever.’

He LOVES when you annoy the sorority girls thoug!

Hearing you moan and squeal and speak so sexily vulgarly to Barb and Jess makes Billy so proud. And horny.

Almost all of your sexual encounters are filled with complete silliness.

Sometimes, however, the joking and cackling subside. The two of you will just be chilling, nothing else to do, and you just feel the need to profess your love for your boyfriend.

“I love you so much Billy.”

Billy will look startled at your sudden outburst, before he breaks out in a huge grin, launching across the room to tackle you into a hug.

“Billy loves you too! Billy loves you more than anything!!!”

Now the rest of your day will be spent in Billy’s arms, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Stu Macher:

Match made in Heaven!

Stu loves to joke around.

He hardly ever takes anything seriously.

He annoys everyone.

And once he meets you? It's love at first sight.

The two of you are always in detention because you guys just cannot shut up in class. You are always disrupting something.

But you know what that means!

Detention dates <3

As long as the two of you together, Stu couldn't care less about where he was.

He and Billy appreciate your habit of not taking anything seriously because once the murders start occuring, you don't think too much about it, never asking questions or arousing suspicion around your boyfriend and his bestie.

When Billy had told Stu his plan to kill Sydney, and asked him if he was going to kill you as well, Stu’s heart sank.

He remembers when he was dating Tatum, just a few months ago, before he broke up with her for you, he had no qualms about killing her,

But you?

He loved you. You were his other half. The one person who understood him, who accepted him. He could never hurt you.

“Nah dude. I’m leaving her out of this.”

That night, he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

“Stu! (where the hell have you been loca) What’re you doing here?”

The sparkling smile you flash at him and the love swimming in your big, beautiful eyes makes him feel even guitler.

He feels bad that you’re dating a serial killer. He thinks you deserve better, but he would never let you go.

“Hey babe! I just missed you!”

You rushed over to him, dressed in kitty cat pajamas, and hugged him tight. He had only snuck through your bedroom window a couple of times before, and they had all been planned. Seeing him in your room as a surprise made your heart burst with happiness.

Stu led you to your bed and pulled you up onto his chest to cuddle you. It was late, and the both of you were tired. Stu just wanted to lay with you in silence, appreciating your presence.

You didn’t feel like releasing your usual high energy at the moment. Right now, you just wanted to fall asleep on your boyfriend’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Michael Myers:

Girl

Michael does not appreciate your antics.

Annoying him is easy, but you would never know that.

He keeps his emotions very private, so when he is annoyed he’ll just stalk away from you.

He does not think you’re funny :(

He does enjoy your quiet moments. He likes to come home when your energy is low.

He’s usually covered in blood when this happens, so you clean him up without cracking a joke which he appreciates.

You’ll turn on a movie for the both of you, and Michael lets you cuddle up with him.

He does like you, he just doesn’t want you to know that...

#frankie writes #frankiekatt #slashers #slashers x reader #slashers imagines #slashers x you #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt imagines #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #Bo sinclair #bo sinclair imagines #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #lester sinclair #lester sinclair imagines #lester sinclair x reader #leaster sinclair x you #billy lenz #billy lenz imagines #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x you #black christmas #black christmas 1974 #scream #stu macher #stu macher imagines

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

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

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#damian priest smut #damian priest one shot #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest #masochist writes #resistere tentationem trilogy #wwe x reader #wwe superstars #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction

[steviesdoll]

Your Stalker

Hacker Jake Jensen x reader

Summary : Your stalker is bored by watching you in the small screen of his. So he decides to pay you a visit.

Warnings : Dark Jensen, Stalking, kidnapping, threats of non-con but no eventual smut, nudity, Hacker Jensen. 18+

Pairings : Hacker Jensen x reader, Dark Jensen x reader.

A/N : Please don't mind if there is a grammatical mistake just ignore it as my mother tongue is not English 😅.

( Note : Divider made by me. Please motivate my work.)

There you were his barbie doll sitting on your couch like a queen in her throne just wearing your bath robe, sipping from your mug of coffee.

This was your regular time table that he's gotten used to after watching you for almost a year in the small screen of his laptop.

He first met you at a diner near where you worked . He didn't believed in love at the first sight but when he first saw you were breathtakingly beautiful. That was the moment when he realized there is something called love at the first sight.

The moment he saw you he knew that you were made for him. It had become his mission to achieve you.

Firstly with his hacking skills he came to knew you name, where you live, where you work and each and every detail about you.

After a month or so he entered your apartment from the window of your bedroom. He fitted spy cameras in each and every rooms of your apartment even your bathroom. With his hacking skills he even hacked the cctv cameras of the place you worked at to see you work.

Then it had been his routine to watch you in the small screen of his laptop. It's never been a single day when he didn't watch you.

He liked it most when you were in the shower or at night on the bed pleasuring yourself with your fingers or your fucking toys.

He imagined in place of your fingers it was him fucking you and you were moaning for him and only him. He sometimes thought of paying you a visit so he could bent you over the counter of your kitchen and fuck you until you only knew his name.

He got bored of watching you on the small screen and wanted to pay you a visit but it was to risky now. But soon enough you would be his he decided.

After a week or so he finally got bored of having to watch you on the small screen so he decided it's enough of watching you and decided to pay you a visit.

He planned everything for you, he even set up the basement for you, where you kept everything you would require but the thing you would mostly require is him. He decided to keep you in the basement for now cause it maybe difficult for you to get adjusted to your new life firstly. But soon enough when he could trust you he would bring you upstairs where you would live with him in his room. He even had the wedding ring decided.

He got out of his house and headed to his car. He took a bottle of chloroform , a handkerchief and rope with him cause he knew that you won't come to him willingly so he must kidnap you. He got in his car, started the engine and headed to your apartment.

After a tiring day of work you finally got home. Now you wanted to go inside change on your nightgown and get to bed.

You grabbed the key of your apartment from the carpet outside. You opened the lock and got inside your apartment. When you entered it was completely dark inside. You turned to the switchboard to turn on the lights. But when you presssd the switch nothing happened. You were shocked as there was electricity in the whole building except your apartment. So you grabbedyou phone from your purse and switched on the flashlight of your phone.

You straight headed to your bedroom but your gut feeling was saying you not to go there. In fact it was strange that today you didn't feel safe at your apartment. A feeling inside you was screaming at you to run away.

When you entered your bedroom someone from behind grabbed you by your waist. Before you could scream there was a handkerchief covering your mouth and nose, which already made you feel dizzy. The man's one hand was on your waist and the other holding the handkerchief tightly against your mouth. He pressed the handkerchief so tightly that you were forced to inhale the chloroform.

“Sleep beautiful... ”that was the last word you heard before unconsciousness greeted you.

When you got up you found you were in a completely unfamiliar room. You right hand was tight to the bedpost with a leather handcuff. Your back already hurted from sleeping on the uncomfortable bed for such a long time and the worst part was that you were completely naked. You knew that the person who kidnapped you was in your current state, infact he was the one responsible.

You were completely lost in your thoughts when you heard the door of the basement opening. Then entered your kidnapper who was a breathtakingly beautiful man. He was a adonis of a man, tall, handsome, piercing blue eyes. You couldn't believe such a man could kidnap someone. But the sight that scared you the most was that he was only in his boxers, his muscles on full display. You were aware that what he wanted.

“God, doll you're awake.. ”he started.

“Who are you? ”Your voice was barely a whisper but he heard you.

“Jake... my name is Jake Jensen. ”

“Why did you bring me here? ”You didn't knew you were trying to act brave or were just curious to know.

“Cause I love you. ”He replied. The words that came out of his mouth shocked you. You were at lack of words.

Then you saw him heading towards you. In a moment of time he was above you on the bed. Before you could say anything his lips were on yours.

The kiss was rough and demanding .

For a moment you completely forgot the situation you were in and began to enjoy the kiss. He parted your lips with his and entered his tongue in your mouth . He licked each and every spot in your mouth .Then he pulled his tongue out and broke the kiss.

It was when you realized his boxers were gone and the tip of his cock was near your entrance. The fear inside you started to come to the surface slowly knowing it would be your first time.

Before you could protest his lips were on your neck kissing, biting and nipping at your delicate skin.

“Mine.. ”That was the last thing before he pushed himself in you.

A/N : Should I do a part two? Please let me know.

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#dark jake jensen #dark jake jensen x reader #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #hacker jake jensen #hacker jake jensen x reader

[yanderes-stuff]

pspsps....firebrand yandera

Mmmm yes lonely fire God goes mental just 

to have you in his arms again I love it

Words:1,841

TW: Cussing, murder, kidnapping and also yandere stuff and LOTS of grammar errors

P.S this is probably the last fanfic I'll do that includes Noah Maxwell

Also, I got a head cannon that Firebrand can have inky tentacles out his back at will 

"Hey, hothead wanna hear something fucking infuriating," HABIT questioned the man towering in front of him which already seemed infuriated from the man's presence.

"Piss off and go bother someone else for the love of God." the shadow-man spat back glaring daggers at the shorter man, which just made HABIT cackle in amusement to him

"It's about your weird-ass obsession with your long-lost best friend," HABIT informed him in a ridiculing tone to capture his attention which was a success by the way Firebrand perked up at this.

A long time ago before Noah became a God he recalled kidnapping you in a snowy winter from your house before that Noah was planning to ask you to come over for dinner Which you gladly accepted following that he came over and you made pleasant conversation with him

discussing childhood memories on the sofa about how you, him, and Milo being the best of buddies but when you brought up how you were sad for drifting away from Milo he seemed miserable when you asked him what's wrong he admitted that Milo overdosed

To say you were horrified was an understatement you apologized for bringing up such a traumatic event to Noah which he excused and changed the subject

But your conversation was interrupted by the beeping of the oven signaling the dinner was ready and so you got up and started preparing the dinner which gave Noah the perfect time slot to slip a drug into the beverage you set on the table 

You clutched your glass and told him dinner was ready so you both seated yourselves and continued your conversation whilst eating some steak, and potatoes but suddenly you were more and more drowsy as the conversation progressed

 With your head hanging low in exhaustion until finally with a small thud your upper body hit the dining surface giving a sign to Noah that it's time to flee the area and go home

He cheerfully settled you in his bed in the house surrounded by the snowy woods he selected winter to abduct you since you wouldn't bother escaping the logic being

 You would surely freeze to death if you even attempted, giving you enough time to start your Stockholm syndrome for him, and also a chance to enjoy the winter holiday with each other.

But alas 3 weeks into late January long since the snow settled you managed to find a paperclip that was disguised burrowed in the carpet floor and successfully utilized it to pick the lock Noah put on your window and my God once you were running you never stopped out of fear until you knew your safe

Much to Noah's dismay, but despite that he swore to one day find you, and this time he'll be sure you won't have a chance to leave but once he hunted out for you, the collective found him once again making him their victim to torment...which leads him to now 

"This better be good." Firebrand was trying to hide his interest in what HABIT was about to say hoping you weren't dead by his hands but the shorter man just gave him a sly smirk and composed himself 

"Wellllllll...I remember how you said you knew where she used to live." HABIT said with great confidence

"I threatened the landlord to kill him and his entire family if he didn't give me her moving notice and if he told [Name.] So he gave me the new address."  He sounded so pleased with himself the fucker might've just proven to be useful 

"But that's not all, once I found her neighborhood I googled it and found the neighborhood's social media, in which pictures of her were posted…but not just her." He emphasized the word not. while explaining his efforts to him still with that sick smile

"She had a wedding ring in her posts and mentions some guy's name...what was it again." He was teasing him at this point stroking his chin while doing it

"Spit his name the fuck out." Firebrand demanded already weaving a plan in his mind on what he was going to do when he kidnapped you.

"It's Connor I'll cut you a deal, you let me kill him with free creative means while you kidnap [Name.] Deal?" Not even taking a moment to consider the man already made up his mind

"It's a deal." Firebrand approved now his objective has been set and he was trying to hold back his excitement to see you again.

The day following after that 

"Hey, Connor I'm out to do errands sweetheart I'll be back later tonight." You proclaimed to Connor who was relaxing on the couch watching T.V 

"Okay got it," Connor replied to focused on the T.V to pay attention to your words little did he know of the two men that broke in and are lurking in the living room closet 

As soon as they were sure you drove off they both stepped out of the space and HABIT set foot in Connors direction with purple duct tape in hand while Firebrand waited patiently for him  

As soon as HABIT was behind him he snaked his hand over Connors's hands pinning him while grabbed his tape with the other hand as Connor wiggled to get free HABIT was wrapping both his arms in tape

Firebrand finally stepped out while walking towards the scene in front of him flashing a malicious grin on his face he needed to know why his life would be coming to a bitter painful end 

"Look asshole this is for the best, I'm only doing this because she's mine and mine alone." Completely ignoring Connors's fearful look "All I want is her. All I ever wanted was her and I can't lose her to your dumbass. So here we are." Firebrand continues a cold look plastered on his face 

"I told him he could kill you any way he wants while I take [Name.] Back home where she belongs." Firebrand was visibly eager despite his cold look he just couldn't wait to see you

HABIT smirked at Firebrands words and carried the screaming restrained man to the basement to proceed with his work while Firebrand watched him descend the basement stairs 

When he was out of his sight he started to prepare his confrontation with you, readying a tea kettle on the stove and heating it till it made that easily recognized whistle

 While the echo of Connors screams was slowly drowned out by both the kettle and his painfully slow demise coming to an end as HABIT was most likely cleaning up the body now as Firebrand waited in the corner of the kitchen next to the door frame

As you finally walked in carrying the days work on your shoulders the house was oddly silent besides the whistle of a kettle Connor must've made tea for you and him while you were gone 

You shouted his name in hopes of some kind of response back only to be met with the same hissing...maybe he didn't hear you but when you got closer to the kitchen the sizzle came to a sudden halt

You waltzed into the kitchen only to be tackled by a bizarre-looking individual who had pinned your arms down on the floor and was straddled on top of your body you immediately started struggling to break free but upon your closer inspection of the man

He seemed to be completely jet black with inky tendrils coming out of his back to add to that his expression with pinpoint eyes and a demented smirk that seems to be getting wider by the second and a gold chain adorning his neck, he seemed oddly familiar 

"Who are you? What are you? stay away from me!" You shouted squirming in his grip you were trying to kick him off but he was easily overpowering you without breaking a sweat despite your best efforts 

"You really don't fucking remember me?" He seemed pained by your words his smile now turning into a light frown while his eyes bore into yours 

Regardless of your trembling, you examined his figure, and then you instantly recognized him "N-Noah?"

His face lit up at the sound of his name being said. so you do remember him! "Of course you remember! how could I have ever doubted you." He muttered enthusiastically "But the name's Firebrand now." He added

"Please...I don't want anything to do with you, not after the things you did to me." You told him trying not to waver your voice 

His face immediately transformed from enthusiasm to an upset expression as the words processed in his mind as the room became dreadful and uneasy. It was already getting hard for you to breathe especially when you were trying not to have a mental breakdown in front of him then he begins to chuckle which grabs your attention 

"Your pleads are so cute like anything could get you out of this." He confesses casually as he continued "I didn't think you would say that so quickly." The brunet was starting to laugh maniacally now which disturbed you further 

"You're probably still shocked and scared but luckily for you, I have just the thing for that." He whispered the last part to himself while smiling whilst you on the other hand had your heart was beating faster than ever before 

He arranged both your arms together over your head and wrapped his humid sticky tendril around your wrist while he pulled a syringe with a unique liquid from his pocket and put a hand over your mouth to smother your commotions

He searched for the best place to insert it feeling around your neck with his warm rough fingers and in a matter of seconds you felt the prick of your skin and your world succumbed to darkness 

You woke up in an unfamiliar room tied up with duct tape your mind was foggy and you couldn't think straight you tried to move but to no avail just then you saw a figure move in the corner of your eye which only made your movements more frantic 

The figure shifted to be closer to the bed you were in until he was at the foot of the bed you felt a smooth tentacle wrap around your neck 

"Hey, sweetheart did you miss me cause I really missed you." He couldn't believe you were all his again but my God was glad about it but one thing is for certain

This time he was going to be sure you would accept his demented affection

#yandere+x+reader #firebrand #emh #HABIT #Noah Maxwell #Tribetwelve #everymanhybrid #x reader #anon ask #smut #fanfic #dubcon #birthday #fuck it #what the fuck

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 4

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics, by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as good as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three]

CW: deadname use, sickness/nausea/vomiting, torture obviously, minor character death.

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

Arch’s head lifted slowly from their pillow, in daze, they weren’t exactly certain of where they were, but soon they recognized the cheap wooden panels of their basement bedroom wall and closed their eyes again.

The alarm went off- not one that was programmed into their phone- as it almost never was- but the more reliable one calling their fake name from above.

“I’m up!” Arch’s own voice pained them to hear. Did they sneak drinks from their mom’s vodka stores last night? No, not last night...

Maybe they had caught the flu from somewhere. Thinking back to the previous night, Arch remembered an uneventful evening of low sales and walking home… Nothing amiss. They didn’t even remember catching a chill. They rolled over slowly, the room spinning above them to check their phone. It was 7:10 am. Their bus would be arriving shortly. The feeling of utter dread filled them as usual and then a sudden, unmistakable fear. The adrenaline alone was enough to launch them from their bed, but then Arch’s body fired back with an overwhelming nausea.

They were going to be sick.

Arch reached for the trash can in the corner as they fell with their knees to the floor and missed.

Puking up bile, and heaving, Arch heard the sound of rushing footsteps from above coming down.

“What on earth”-

Arch couldn’t reply, but their mother supplied them with a bucket and pressed a hand onto their back- as if that was supposed to help.

“What were you doing last night that’s got you so sick!?” She touted over them angrily. “Were you drinking? Doing drugs again?”

Arch was caught smoking pot once over a year ago- strange how they would never be able to live that down.

“For Pete’s sake, ----!” The alarm bell had been trilling for a long time. Arch was amazed that they could even hear it any more. “You were out past ten last night. Is it that new job keeping you late? That’s against child labour laws, you know! I’d like to have a word with your employer!”

Burping up an acidic aftertaste, Arch leaned away from the bucket and wiped their mouth slowly. The nausea was gone.

“Food poisoning.” They said breathlessly. “Must’ve been food poisoning.”

“Clean this up and then get back into bed!” Their mother snapped. “I’ll bring you some water, but then I’m going to work. Need to pay the bills here somehow!”

Arch took their mother’s advice, and cleaned up as much of their vomit off the carpet as they could. From the stairs Maleficent stared at the spot with keen interest as Arch looked at the cat with a disgusted sneer.

“You’re a nasty little creature,” they said.

Dropping back into their bed, they were teetering on the edge of a restless sleep when their phone buzzed next to them.

It was Lyrem. It still mildly amazed Arch that he was technologically adept for his age. The message read:

expecting delivery tonight so will be staying late. No need for you to come in if you’d rather catch up on schoolwork.

Ha. Catch up on schoolwork. Arch replied:

sure. much appreciated.

Serendipity was a term rarely used by Arch but in this particular moment, they were certainly thankful for how the universe seemed to be taking care of them. It certainly did a better job than anyone else they knew.

--------------------

The skull glared out from the showcase. The eyeholes seemed a little scratched from where someone had tried to clean it with the wrong instrument and the wrong solution.

Lyrem studied it from every angle he could. He had been at this for hours. The deliverers’ patience began to dwindle, along with that of their security guards. The seller had made it abundantly clear to give Lyrem as much time as he needed to decide how much he’d be willing to pay- so they straightened their back out, nearly forgetting their posture, and dealt with the man who seemed to be too nit-picky for their liking.

“You are sure it’s genuine Mayan?” He asked.

“A sacrifice to Quetzalcoatl himself,” the deliverer replied assuredly. “No others had been recovered in such pristine condition. Guaranteed.”

Lyrem breathed deeply and looked up at the deliverer. “Remove the barrier.” He requested.

The deliverer looked at him strangely. “I’m afraid that is against policy, sir.”

He raised a dark grey brow, his nose wrinkling with a sudden sour distaste that expressed his displeasure playfully.

“Your client knows who I am.” He spoke quietly. “Get them on the phone and explain to them that I will not make an offer until the barrier is removed.”

“Sir”-

“Now.” Lyrem interrupted, steeling his gaze.

The deliverer huffed, pulled out their phone and made the call outside the store. Lyrem watched them through the windows. After several minutes, they returned, shaking their head. He looked at them with a disappointed scowl.

“I don’t make deals on fakes,” he clarified. “Either remove the barrier or I will not make a deal- and I know that your client would love it if I made a deal.”

The deliverer frowned, and their eyes darted from the pedestal and back to Lyrem. He was standing there in the store, confident that they would make the right decision eventually. He approached them, and stared deeply into their blue eyes. His expression had a certain menacing charm.

“Think about the respect you could receive, the promotion, the splendor- if only I can know exactly what is behind this glass- it could all be yours,” he spoke softly.

This one had been broken well, but not well enough.

Retrieving a set of keys, the deliverer began to unscrew the locks from each side of the case; four of them in total.

Lyrem massaged one of his hands with the other as he watched the skull become uncovered. He held high hopes for this one. The security team moved in as he approached the piece, but were stopped by the deliverer in question. They had come this far. At this point, they had no choice but to trust Lyrem’s expert judgment.

The shop-keep closed his eyes, and in an instant, he was engulfed in shadow. The deliverer stepped away instinctively to avoid the darkening fog and watched on in terrified horror.

The shadows entered Lyrem until they were only visible through his eyes. Wisps of the fog slowly leaked from his orifices, and he approached the skull once more. He raised a hand, placing it over the top of the skull and spoke with a voice that belonged not entirely to himself:

“SHOW ME YOUR TRUTH”

The sound rung hollow through the store, as though it had transformed into a cavern for just those few seconds.

It only took a moment before the shadows drifted away, and Lyrem returned to himself. He pulled a napkin from his inside pocket and wiped away a couple drops of ectoplasm from underneath his eyes, and sniffed.

“Tell your client I will give him nothing.”

“What?” Forgetting themselves, the deliverer gasped, enraged by the decision. “I broke rules for you!”

“And aren’t you happy about that? Now you can race back to your little ‘client’ and tell them that the item they tried to sell me was a fake. I will not deal in a fake. I will never deal in fakes.” Lyrem stepped back from the pedestal, welcoming them to screw the locks back into the display. “This skull is Incan, not Mayan, and it’s certainly not a sacrifice- he was a fucking alpaca farmer for crying out loud.”

The deliverer shuddered. They couldn’t go back to their client with news like this, they wouldn’t live to see another day.

“This- this can’t be right.”

“It-it is, I am afraid.” Lyrem mocked ruthlessly. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind getting out. I’ll need to carry on a conversation with a few of my new friends- seeing as I’ve wasted much of my energy with you idiots.”

The stand was covered in a black cloth just as it had come in originally. Lyrem ushered them through the side door of the shop and followed them out, locking the door behind him.

The deliverer muttered to themselves, the confusion that had been dropped before them. Lyrem tutted with a fake sympathy.

“Before you leave,” he added, with just the slightest tinge of genuine wisdom to his voice, “Understand that I have my own bargains to uphold, just as you do. If your client is serious in gaining favour with my client, then cheap attempts to trick me, will not get them what they want. You can tell them that for me, if you wish.”

The deliverer nodded, and entered their black van as the object of interest had been secured into the back. They drove off slowly down the damp alleyway of reflected pools of streetlight. Lyrem turned, and unlocked the door to his storage area. He closed his eyes tightly, held his breath, and stepped over the threshold.

His eyes were opened the moment he heard the door click closed behind him. The darkness was unrelentingly thick. His footsteps sounded dull, and softened against the floor. Clapping his hands twice turned on some lighting from an indiscernible area.

The captives squealed as they hid away from the sudden brightness.

Lyrem smiled as he disturbed them. The shackles jingled heavily against the wall as they straightened out, pressing their backs further in, in the effort to keep away from the strange, looming man.

He looked to each of them fondly. None of them dared to speak. That was good. It meant that he had already left a lasting impression. It meant that they had already tried and failed to scream and be heard from someone outside. But this storage room was soundproof and built to perfection on the border between worlds; a mixture of celestial, earthly, and infernal construction. His absolute favourite style of architecture- besides Manueline, of course.

“Hm.” He hummed, and scratched the back of his head in thought. He only needed one of them to regain what energy he had lost. “Which one of you should I choose first?”

Marcus flinched backward. Lyrem shook his greying head at him.

“Oh, I will have to save you for last. I hope you don’t mind being locked away for weeks on end. In fact, I think I may save you for a more special occasion.”

He switched, turning his gaze onto the boy Kyle and met his eyes. The boy tried and failed to look away from him. His eyes darting back every second just to check if Lyrem was still studying him.

“What’s wrong? Having a bit of trouble speaking up?” Lyrem tutted. He angled his head towards the girl. “What about you? Will you pick up the mantle? Go on, sweety. Show these boys what true bravery is.”

Jess’ eyelashes had begun to fall down her face. Her make up smeared and ran down her cheeks from the constant tears, and was only worsened by Lyrem’s taunting hand, softly wiping them away as he squatted over her. He pouted, mimicking a sympathy that mocked her from head to toe.

“Don’t touch her!”

Lyrem lit up with joy.

“Finally! A winner!”

Jess sobbed as the attention was driven from her to Kyle. “N-no, no, no,” Her voice repeated incessantly. “Please stop- please. I’m so sorry for what we did. I-I promise, it- it won’t happen again.”

Lyrem stopped at Kyle, and moved his lips as he made his decision between them. He looked at Jess. He placed his elbow onto the back of his hand that sat across his upper abdomen. The other hand rested under his chin and it looked more like he was busy judging a piece of artwork, not debating who he would like to kill first.

“You really couldn’t make this decision easy on me, could you? On one hand I would love to make this piece of shit suffer,” He kicked Kyle’s manacled feet around lightly as he regarded Jess with gleeful sadism. “On the other hand, you are so adorable when you’re scared.”

Lyrem took another pause before fully making his decision. Pulling out a blade from his belt around his side, roughly the length of his forearm, he pointed it toward Kyle carefully and knelt down in front of him.

“This is for what you did to my Segovia album.”

Lyrem dragged the blade along the top of the boy’s cheekbone, giving him one smooth slice under his eye several inches long. Kyle whimpered, feeling the sharp sting linger for what seemed like an eternity and began to shout out as the blade continued into the more sensitive skin just underneath his eye. The jingling of chains around his arms and feet grew louder as he tried to ease the pain; too fearful to move his head, lest the point of the knife met his eye. The shouting cries and jingling ceased as Lyrem pulled the blade back.

“You scratched it, so now I scratched you.” Lyrem smiled lightly. “You see?”

Kyle’s eyes opened as blood poured down from one side. Sweat and tears mixed together to add to the stinging pain cut across his face. Lyrem cleaned off his blade onto Kyle’s shirt collar. He gasped as it reached dangerously close to his neck.

Lyrem stood over them again, waving his knife eloquently. His eyes rested on Kyle.

“Now, I do believe I have made my decision.”

Kyle closed his eyes tightly, knowing it would be him- certain of it. He heard a whimper, then a slice, and then gurgling.

He turned his head. Seeing Jess’ neck dripping a steady stream of blood down her blouse, he cried out; his mouth was left gaping as he had no hands available to cover it with.

Lyrem hovered over the body for a while, still gripping the hair that felt like nylon between his fingers. She was still somewhat alive- the expression was clear in her blue eyes that were beginning to look a glassier with each passing moment.

“The whining was already becoming a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

The boys didn’t answer Lyrem. They didn’t say anything as Jess’ spirit left her body. Lyrem licked Jess’ blood off the edge of his knife, grinning.

#mystics by alpaca #mystics #writing #writing blog #creative writing #whump #whump writing #nonbinary #whumpblr #torture #nausea #character death #minor character death

[cagestark]

can you write something soft with SIM!tony and his boy Peter that he has to hide, because he's his only weakness? smut please also ilyyyyyyyyyyyyy

I guess I use SIM to just be a synonym of Dark!Tony, because this ended up being mafia!au...if that doesn’t work for you please let me know and I’ll work something out.

Warnings: graphic violence and torture. Dark!tony but for Peter he is murderous mush. Smut. A mention of vomit.

Read here on AO3.

-

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Tony admits. He closes the door behind him so that he and Toomes are alone. Having built this addition to his Malibu house, Tony knows it and it’s benefits well. The walls are thick and concrete, soundproofed to screams and gunshots and all manner of things. The lights are receded into the ceiling, no risk of tampering, and they give the room a cold, exhaustive feeling. The drain on the floor is helpful. Tony hates when blood pools on the floor.

Today it has a single table with two chairs in it. Bucky placed them there that morning. Toomes has been strapped to one for the better part of sixteen hours while Tony’s temper recedes. If he made his moves when he was high on anger, he’d never have made it this far in this particularly delicate industry. Peter had been more than accommodating, letting himself be used as a soundboard for Tony’s fury. When Tony had pressed his chest into the mattress, the force with which he’d snapped his hips into the young man had left the kid’s ass red like he’d been spanked. Tony had rubbed cream into every mark—

But Peter isn’t what he wants to be thinking about in this moment. His baby makes him soft (and admittedly hard, but in only the best way). For Toomes, he needs to be as cold as the ten by ten concrete room they’re in.

Tony takes off his suit jacket and puts on the back of his chair. Toomes watches, one eye swollen half shut. When Bucky and Steve had brought him in, Tony had given them permission to rough the older man up, and they had made good on that blessing. For being and then left to stew for the better part of an entire day, Toomes is remarkably composed. His composure is one thing Tony liked about him. Past tense.

He does flinch when Tony pulls out the chair and the legs squeal against the concrete though. Fuck, that’s satisfying. Sitting down with a heavy sigh, Tony starts to roll up his sleeves. He hopes he doesn’t have to torture the man—not when he’s got plans with his baby boy this evening—but by failing to prepare, one prepares to fail. Torture is all in the buildup. The laying out of tools, the demeaner of the torturer. The nerve of a man is what Tony aims to break. Bones are a close second.

“I thought we had something, you know,” Tony says. “A real connection. When we had dinner last month, I looked you in the eye and asked, Can I trust you? And you remember what you said to me?”

Toomes licks his lips. When he speaks, his voice is rough from disuse and dehydration. Maybe screaming—who would know. Yes, the soundproofing is that good. “It wasn’t personal.”

“Wrong,” Tony says firmly, pulling out his phone. “You didn’t say, It wasn’t personal. You said, Yes Tony. You can trust me. That makes all of this so, so personal, Adrian. My feelings were downright hurt when I heard that my boys had picked you up trying to break into my warehouse with Beck’s shoddy tech.”

“I’m sure,” Toomes says with flat amusement. “So what’s next, Tony? I’ve broken your trust. Obviously. Where do we go from here?”

Tony reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cellphone. “I’m glad that you asked. I’ll tell you my ideas and then you’ll get to pick. Isn’t that swell of me? I’m a very generous guy; you’d do well to remember that. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to show you a video on my phone here. It’s of what happened to the last lackey of Beck’s who double-crossed me. Then, you’ll get to decide if we recreate this video together—or if we go upstairs like two fucking gentlemen. Upstairs, I’ll cook us dinner, I’ll serve us wine, and then you’ll tell me every last goddamn thing you know about Beck and his next move. Do you understand, Adrian?”

“There’s no need,” Adrian says. “I’ve been around the block, Tony. Do you think a little torture is going to have me betraying Quentin?”

Tony places his phone flat on the table and slides it towards Toomes. Against the man’s will (and maybe it’s curiosity—that killed the cat, Tony knows), his eyes flick down to look at the screen. Tony begins the video. It is fourteen minutes long.

Toomes makes it to minute eight. Tony has been sitting back, one leg propped up on his knee, watching the man’s face. The graphic compound fracture at minute three had made him flinch. The fun with the surgical implements at five and a half had turned him white, then green. The screams (and other sounds, wet, horrible sounds) brought back fond memories. Tony had been the one filming that day.

“Promise me immunity,” Toomes says, sweating. His lips quiver. “I know you’re a man of your word—I—I know that I can trust you if you say it.”

“I will give you immunity for all previous actions,” Tony says agreeably. “When we go out that door? You’ll start fresh. But one more wrong move, Toomes, and it will be the last move you ever make. I can guarantee it. I won’t even take the time to torture you. I’ll kill you quick, and I’ll dissolve you in chemicals until there aren’t even any teeth left for them to compare dental records to. Understand?”

“Yes, yes,” Toomes agrees. “I swear it Tony. On my wife, on my daughter. I swear to God.”

“Don’t swear to God,” Tony says, standing to untie the shaking man. “Swear to me. Let’s go. What are you thinking, Adrian? Chinese? Or should I go with something more delicate, something that won’t remind you of what happened at minute 6 of that video—oh, yikes. A little warning before you throw up might have been nice. Get it up, buddy. You’ll feel better.”

After Toomes yacks up his every last gut (who knew that drain in the floor would be good for more than just getting rid of blood?), Tony unlocks the door. Steve and Bucky are outside, and they nod in greeting when Tony passes.

And Toomes—his new start lasts as long as it takes to get upstairs.

Because upstairs, Peter is waiting. The kid is lounging on the loveseat, his tiny body spread sensually where he waits, looking toward the front door. He’s wearing the black semi-opaque stockings that Tony loves to drag down with his teeth, the red silken kimono style bathroom that Tony had bought him.

It’s clear that Peter didn’t know Tony was home—and why would he? After Tony had fucked him blind and sent him to university with his cum still plugged up in the younger man’s ass, Tony had told him that’d he’d be leaving soon himself. Staying in the house with Toomes in the basement would have been too much of a temptation. Tony had returned well before the kid’s classes let out, but he hadn’t let his boy know that. Tony had worked hard to make the entire basement separate from the upstairs house so that he never bothered his angel with his comings and goings.

Peter has obviously been waiting for Tony to come home, and what a sight he would have made when Tony walked through the front door…

But instead, Tony walks through the door that leads up from the basement. Peter’s head jerks around, his eyes growing wide when he sees Toomes. Tony feels his own face pale, going green around the gills the way Toomes did when he saw what Bucky had done with the other lackey’s organs.

No one knew about Peter. Tony runs a dangerous, dangerous business. The threat of death is constantly hanging over his shoulders—and the shoulders of his associates. If anyone had ever known (Beck, God, fuck) that Tony had a lover, a sweet baby boy with skin like snow and eyes like the whiskey Tony favors, a mind like a whip and a heart of gold? Peter would be taken alive. He’d be taken apart.

No one can know.

“Who—?” Toomes mutters under his breath.

Tony reaches into his concealed holster, pulls his gun, and removes the safety. “Sorry, Adrian,” he says. He really does regret it, too. “Wrong place, wrong time, buddy.”

Tony blows Adrian’s brains out. The body slumps to the floor and Tony immediately wipes the arm of his suit jacket across his face feel the slick spray of blood and the flecks of bone. Peter looks like a Victorian woman prone to getting the vapors, one well-manicured hand clutching at his breast—oh. Clutching the robe closed. Beneath, he is most likely naked.

“Hi, honey,” Tony sighs, holstering his gun. “Did you get out of school early?”

“Lab was cancelled,” Peter gasps, his breaths coming fast. “I should have messaged you—I’m sorry. I—I wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m very surprised,” Tony says wryly.

Bucky and Steve burst through the open doorway behind him. Peter blushes fiercely, grabbing a nearby pillow to hold in front of his crotch. The two men pointedly search for anywhere else to look—the dead body on the floor is a nice scapegoat.

“Damn it, Tony,” Steve says. “On the carpet? Why not down in the basement?”

“He saw Peter,” Tony says. “I told him, he’d get one more chance after we left that room—I guess he didn’t think his chance would come up so, uh, soon. Alright you dogs, clean this up and quit looking at my gem. Call the usual cleaners; they’re organic.”

“Couldn’t you have wrung him for info first?” Bucky mutters.

“And give him even the slightest chance of escape? Think again, Barnes—wait. No. Don’t. I’m not paying you to think.”

Tony heads upstairs with Peter on his heels. Tony starts the shower in the en suite bathroom and begins to strip himself right there. Using his wiry strength, Peter hauls himself up onto the marble top of the sink to watch while Tony methodically undresses. The robe relaxes lose around him revealing a thin but well-muscled chest, abs to die for, and silken red underwear that cup his cock nicely. His face is serious, gaze stuck on the blood that has splattered Tony’s shirt collar.

“Did I mess up?” Peter asks at last. His voice is quiet, barely heard under the roar of the shower. “I know how important it is to you to keep me separate from—your work. I try so hard to stay out of it. Did—did I make you fuck up?”

“No,” Tony coos, naked. The shower behind Peter fogs up until the reflection is gone. He brackets the smaller man with his arms so that he can nuzzle their foreheads together. Peter’s breath catches, and it isn’t until Tony pulls away that he sees it’s because Adrian’s blood is still fresh on Tony’s face—now smeared onto Peter. A glance down though shows that the kid is more than half hard, cock tenting the silk. He reaches up and nudges the robe away from where it clings to Peter’s shoulders until it pools around his waist. Despite the heat, Peter shivers. “Adrian was an ant baby. Do you feel like you’ve fucked up when you step on an ant?”

“As a matter of fact,” Peter breathes. He sways forward toward Tony the way some people sway when they stand too close to the edge of buildings. “I like ants.”

“Do you like Adrian Toomes?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Was.”

They kiss. Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck and slips down off of the counter so that they can press against each other from top to bottom. The kid is a few inches shorter, so Tony’s interested cock nudges just below his belly button, smearing precum on the cut abs.

“You killed him because he saw me?” Peter pants when they part, not even giving Tony time to answer before he is opening his needy mouth against to suck on Tony’s full bottom lip.

“Of course, I did,” Tony growls, broad hands wrapping themselves around the narrow hips. “I’m no fool, baby. I know you’re my weak spot. You’re my Achilles Heel. This world burned me every day, did it not? I drowned in the river Styx, sweet boy. The Gods must have thought me too powerful, because of course they gave me you…and I’ll be damned if I lose myself by losing you. Do you understand?”

“God,” Peter gasps. He stands up on his toes to grind his cock into Tony’s. “Please, Tony. I need your cock.”

“Be patient, Peter,” Tony says firmly. He reaches one hand down to wrap it around the young man’s cock and give it several long strokes, twisting his hand to rub his palm over the sensitive head on the upstroke until Peter is whining breathily, still on his toes, thighs trembling. “I’m not fucking you with some cunt’s blood on me. Get in the shower with me; let’s get clean so we can get dirty.”

It’s no surprise to him that he ends up with one palm braced against the shower wall and the other hand tangled in Peter’s wet curls while he fucks the young man’s mouth. Peter sucks cock like a champ, so Tony can’t let him at it for long lest he cum early. He needs to be inside him lover, feels the tight anxiety in his chest that always comes with the idea of someone finding out about Peter. Someone taking Peter. Someone hurting Peter.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks, blinking up through the water at Tony. When the man glances down, he sees that he’s gone soft. He pets Peter’s head lovingly.

“Nothing, sweet boy. I think we’re clean enough.”

“Your cock sure is,” Peter says, kissing Tony’s navel softly.

He helps the young man up and they stumble from the shower into the bedroom, only bothering to towel off a little before Peter is dragging Tony onto the bed over his slim body and wrapping his legs around his lover’s hips. The kid is still hard—such is youth. Tony coaxes him onto his hands and knees, a hand between his shoulder blades pressing his chest into the bed. The pale skin is still damp and flush from the shower when he spreads Peter open. The plug Tony had put in him earlier is gone (likely already sterilized and tucked back into the drawer by the bedside). The only sign of their fucking earlier in that day is the soft give of Peter’s hole when Tony presses his tongue against it.

The kid yelps, thighs shivering as he flinches away. Tony spanks him, hard on the flank and he hears the laughter Peter muffles into the bedspread as he stills and relaxes himself. Once he’s sure Peter isn’t going to move again, Tony leans back down and licks a long stripe from balls to tailbone. The taste is clean with a hint of soap—but it’s expensive soap, imported from Europe, so Tony will gladly lick it off.

He takes his time, lapping with the textured flat of his tongue and then using the hardened tip of it to press inside until Peter is soft and shivering, a whining mess with his cock dripping precum onto the bedspread. And Tony knows that he could do this for hours if it weren’t for the stiffness in his jaw, the ache in his tongue. Peter would let him. He’d lay there lax and content for Tony to do as he pleased, and he wouldn’t complain once.

“I love you,” Tony says. He opens his mouth and bites at the back of one of Peter’s thighs.

Peter groans, turning his head so his mouth is free of expensive cotton to say, “Love you more.”

“How do you want me, baby?”

Peter perks up, looking over his shoulder. “Lemme ride you.”

Tony sits with his back against the headboard, chest heaving as Peter slowly lowers himself onto the thick, aching cock. Those whiskey eyes are closed in concentration, blocking out stimulus so that he can focus on the sensation, both his hands planted on Tony’s shoulders. Tony reaches up with one hand and uses his thumb to nudge at one of Peter’s flat, pink nipples. The ass around him flexes and makes him hiss.

The next few minutes after Peter finally rests, ass against the tops of Tony’s thighs, are spent kissing. Slow, wet kisses. Thank God you’re mine kisses. I’d burn the world down without you kisses. Every now and then, Tony’s cock jerks where it’s buried inside his young lover and the kid groans in his throat, his own neglected cock twitching where it is pressed between them.

When their lips are raw and puffy, Tony pulls away. “Go on then,” he says roughly. “Ride me, sweet boy.”

Peter’s fingers tighten where they’re gripping his shoulders, his thighs flex where they’re braced on Tony, and then he lifts himself up up up and let’s himself down all at once, gasping when he bottoms out. But his lover can do more—Peter works out an hour a day five days a week, and their lovemaking is all the better for it. He grits his teeth and sets a punishing, rewarding pace that has them both struggling to catch their breath.

When Tony reaches down to loosely take Peter’s cock into his hand, the young man bats it away.

“Talk to me,” Peter gasps. “Please—want to cum just like this, from your cock and your voice.”

“It’s hardly my voice you want,” Tony growls. “You want my words, don’t you? What do you want me to say, Pete? You want me to say how I’d kill a million men for you? How I’d burn countries to the ground for you? I’d raze whole planets for you, sweet boy, and then I’d fuck you in the ashes and the rubble. And I think you’d like it.

“When Bucky and Steve came up the stairs and saw you, I noticed you playing shy, putting that pillow in your lap. But you weren’t naked, so what were you hiding, baby? Don’t whine, it’s alright. I know. You were hard, weren’t you? Did it get you hard, watching me work? Watching me kill for you? I didn’t even give him a chance, Pete, once he’d laid his eyes on you, he never had a chance—”

Peter cums with a strained shout, nails digging into Tony’s shoulders. His cock spurts between them, ass tightening around Tony’s cock. When the kid goes lax and unable to continue the pace, Tony reaches out to palm the narrow hips and bounce the young man on his cock, fucking himself until his balls draw up and he sees white, just white, white and Peter.

Just how it should be.

#starker #violence #mafia!au #nff #tw: violence #tw: torture #tw: vomit #it's softer than it sounds lol

[good-doctor-imagine]

Scar » five

four // six

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Summary: Some shenanigans at the Loser’s sleepover leads to the discovery of your soulmate.

Word Count: 2400+

Warning(s): swearing, a sexual comment, not proofread

It was the weekend before school officially started, before you and Richie had to stop playing at the arcade continuously, before the losers had to stop everything in their lives to do homework or study. Taking this as their last opportunity to do something fun together, the losers decided to have a sleepover. You weren’t technically invited at first, which really didn’t bother you, but Beverly convinced the rest of the losers to let you go as well. The guys didn’t really mind, you were quickly becoming part of the group anyway. Plus, all of the other losers were convinced that there was something going on between you and Richie and thought this would be the perfect opportunity to expose you two.

Beverly’s plan was different. She knew that you had a scar on your hand but she swore that she wouldn’t look for your soulmate. Beverly would never break your promise, but a selfish part of her wanted to understand her own soulmate’s scar. When she noticed a couple of months ago that her own scar blended in with her soulmate’s, her heart stopped. She knew it was one of the losers because she obtained both of them on the same day. Beverly hoped that she could eliminate some possibilities through you finding out who your soulmate was. However, she wasn’t going to go against her word and deliberately seek out the scar that matched yours, she was hoping that it would come more naturally.

You, of course, were clueless about this. You were excited to spend the night with the losers but also a bit nervous given that you were only one of the two girls attending. You trusted the boys and knew that they would do anything to cross the line but you never spent more than an afternoon with all of them before. Just from those afternoons, you knew their dynamic was a bit… rambunctious. It could get very wild very quickly and you wondered if you’d ever get sleep that night. There were two people in the group that would intervene if it ever became too uncontrollable. Mike was the person who put most of the losers in place and sometimes Stanley would help too. However, two people trying to calm down five other people was not too promising in your eyes. Before you left your house, you waved your sleep goodnight and headed to Bill’s house, ready for an all-nighter with permanent markers and warm water.

When you arrived, everyone was there except for Eddie who strolled in shortly after you with red cheeks and a sweaty forehead. “Sorry guys, I had to do the dishes before I left.”

“Aww, mommy made you do the dishes?” Richie sang with a proud smirk on his face.

“Shut up Richie, at least I know how to do the dishes. You’d probably break ten plates before you would successfully clean one.”

Richie was going to bite back at Eddie but was interrupted by Bill who sat in the living room in front of his TV. “S-So,” He started, hands pulling out some VHS tapes from his TV stand, “W-What movie do w-w-we want t-t-to watch f-first?”

Beverly made her way over to Bill and crouched next to him, eyes drifting over the tapes that he pulled out.

“Really? I came here to have some fun, not watch some lame ass movies all night.” Richie whined.

Bill didn’t respond to Richie, instead, he seemed too focused on the girl next to him. His eyes were not moving from her, only moving slightly as Beverly comfortably sat on the floor.

“Okay,” Mike spoke up, “So what should we do instead?”

“Hide and seek?” Ben suggested, his eyes shifting between Bill and Beverly.

“No offense Ben but that game is for sissies,” Beverly smiled, “How about truth or dare?”

“Hell no!” Eddie hollered, “Richie would make me do something like lick the toilet seat or something. There is no way in hell we’re playing that game.”

“You could pick truth,” You responded, although no one seemed to hear you.

“Maybe we could play seven minutes in heaven?” Richie beamed, eyebrows wiggling as he looked at Bill almost like he knew something.

“Beep beep Richie,” Stanley interjected, closing his eyes as he let out a sigh of defeat.

“C’mon Stan, you’re just mad because you can’t get any-”

“OKAY!” Mike once again spoke up, being the mediator of the group. “How about we start with something easy, like a board game or something?”

“Board games?” Richie was quick to jump in, “What are we- eight?”

“You just say that because you know you can’t win a game,” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re going to regret that sugar,” Richie threatened before turning towards Bill, “Do you have Monopoly?”

“U-Uh, I th-think so,” Bill responded, head snapping from Beverly to Richie. In an almost robotic fashion, Bill stood up from his position next to Bev and traveled to his basement door, hand hesitation before he turned the doorknob to walk in.

It had been a few hours since you started the game, deciding to play with partners so everyone could participate. You were happy that you chose Mike as your partner. Not only did he calculate the decisions you made, but he would also calm you down whenever Richie would try to rile you up. He often made the smart decisions to use your money wisely rather than using it all at once like Richie tried to pressure you to. In the end, you and Mike were the ones that ended with the most money while Richie and Eddie found themselves in third, right behind Bill and Stanley.

“What the fuck?” Richie cursed when Eddie told him how much money he counted. “Are you bad at math or something? Let me see.” Even though Richie recounted the money that was on their side, they still ended up losing.

“Told you you’d be a sore loser,” You sent Richie a teasing smile while patting Mike on the shoulder.

Although Richie was normally quite playful, his response to you was fueled by his competitive nature and underlying humility. “It’s okay because you were riding Mike’s di-”

“I-I-I’m going t-to m-ma-make some popcorn,” Bill spoke before Richie could finish his comment, his face pink as he left the room.

“I’ll come help!” Beverly called after, rushing to go to the kitchen, not noticing Ben’s face fall when she left his side. Of course, Ben tried to cover it up before anyone noticed but you caught him.

“Are you okay, Ben?” Your voice was quiet so you wouldn’t attract the other’s attention.

Richie scoffed at you as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. Eddie rolled his eyes at his best friend, knowing that Richie was staring at you the entire time.

“Oh so now you care about people?” Richie complained, tilting his head roughly to the side making his glasses droop again.

“I only care for people who aren’t assholes like you,” You shot back, your mind completely shifting away from Ben. Ben felt a bit out of place, not sure whether to answer your question anymore.

“Bitch,” Richie shot back, successfully angering you.

“You want to fight?” You shot up, jokingly taking steps to Richie.

Mike put his arm in front of you to make distance between the two of you, once again calming down the situation. “How about we set up for a movie before the popcorn gets cold,” He stated, not even leaving room for comments.

You walked to Bill’s couch, trying not to pay attention to Richie as you walked around him. Plopping onto the furthest side of the couch, you let yourself sink in as you got comfortable. Richie whined again, stomping over to stand in front of you with the corners of his lips pulled down.

“That’s my spot.” Richie stood so close in front of you that you had to pull up your feet so that you wouldn’t touch him. Eddie shook his head and rolled his eyes before sitting next to you, crossing his legs in front of him.

“Really?” You feigned sympathy, leaning forward to look behind you. When you turned around, there was a proud look on your face. “I don’t see your name on it.”

“You can sit on the floor with me,” Ben offered, taking a seat on the carpet.

Instead of fighting, Richie grumbled and took a seat in front of Eddie, making it a point to glare at you.

Sometime in the middle of the movie, you began to notice Richie and Eddie conversing quietly next to you. Eddie was crouched over while Richie leaned up, whispering into his ear causing Eddie to start giggling. To mute himself, Eddie covered his mouth with his palm. When you made eye contact with Eddie your face was contorted in confusion, eyes squinted at him as if you were trying to decipher what they were talking about.

Richie, being the loudmouth asshole he is, sent you a glare and spoke despite the movie that was playing. “What are you looking at, sugar?”

“I could ask you the same question,” You quickly quipped, sending Richie your own nasty look.

“Will you just shut up?” Stanley’s voice boomed from the other side of the room. The glow from the TV allowed you to see part of his face when he rolled his eyes and begrudgingly looked back at the screen.

Although you wanted to say it wasn’t your fault, you just crossed your arms and leaned back into the couch, eyes avoiding Richie and Eddie at all costs. To your surprise, Richie didn’t respond either and turned his attention back to the movie.

Eddie and Richie didn’t try to talk to each other for the rest of the movie. Only after Bill turned the lights on and everyone else started talking about the plot of the movie did they continue their secret conversation. With Eddie and Richie being between you and the rest of the losers, you were bound to get annoyed and a bit suspicious of their whispering and giggling. You didn’t hold back from the hard looks you made sure to shoot at them as you tried to pay attention to everyone else but them.

All of that was thrown out of the window when Eddie just about pounced on you, making you paralyzed from the waist. As you tried to maneuver his body off of you, Richie lunges for your feet, fingers dancing across the bottoms causing you to jump and start to kick.

“W-What are you doing?” You rushed out, the rest of your air lost from your laughter. Richie was giggling as well, telling Eddie to keep his hold despite your protests. He was determined in getting payback for telling him off and what was a better way than making you laugh until you cry?

As you were flailing your limbs around, the heel of your right foot caught the ground and dragged against the floor, pulling your sock from your foot. Noticing this, Richie reaches out for it, knowing that it would be more sensitive than the other with no barrier in between. When he got close, however, he froze. Your movements didn’t stop, your foot swinging up and hitting him in the face, kicking him backward.

Feeling your foot connect with something, you instantly cursed and put all your force into pushing Eddie off of you and onto the cushion beside you.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” You apologized, clambering to the floor in front of Richie. His eyes were wide and unfocused and his face was pale.

Your hand reached towards his face, where there was a growing red mark from your foot colliding with it. Before you could touch it, Richie flinched away, shaking his head. You were surprised, Richie was never one to move away from you.

“Are you okay?” You asked with a more serious tone, afraid that the force of your hit was a bit more powerful than you realized.

Richie was in shock, his mind trying to replay what he just saw. He remembered the time back at the quarry when he swore he saw a line at the bottom of your foot but he convinced himself that it was just him imagining things. Now that he saw it again, he was having trouble denying it. There was no way that his brain could be tricking him again.

“What is that thing on the bottom of your foot?” Richie asked when he found enough courage.

“The bottom of my foot?” You shook your head, beginning to believe that you did hit his head too hard. You glanced at the sole of your foot before focusing your attention back on your injured friend. “Are you talking about my scar?”

Richie didn’t respond, his breath leaving him once again. Now he could confirm that it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him.

“W-Wait what?” Eddie peered at you. His face was a bit red from the roughhousing just a minute prior. He knew about Richie’s soulmate mark, as well as Stanley and Bill. They were the only people to know other than Richie’s parents.

“Uhh, I-I think we s-sh-should leave th-them alone,” Bill spoke up, leading most of the losers to the kitchen. Eddie didn’t listen to him so Bill just grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

Your mind was completely perplexed at the situation that was unfolding. You had no clue why Bill wanted you and Richie to be left alone, or why Richie was so quiet.

After a few more moments of silence, you decided to question Richie again. “Richie, what’s going on?”

The curly-haired brunette swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. “How did you get that scar on your foot?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and throw a tantrum. You just wanted to know what was going on, not talk about the scar you’ve had since you were little.

Begrudgingly, you decided to tell him anyway. “I was pretty energetic when I was two and didn’t listen to my parents when I stepped on some glass.” You were expecting for Richie to follow up after, but he just nodded his head, eyes wandering off and glazing over as if he was lost in his head. You started to get annoyed, starting to feel dumb from not understanding what was happening. “Richie, what the hell is going on?”

He, of course, did not answer your question. Instead, he avoided it by asking a question of his own. “Do you have any other scars?”

“Yeah, Richie,” You scoffed, letting yourself roll your eyes, “I have one on the palm of my hand. Now tell me what the fuck is happening.”

Once again, Richie failed to answer your question. His hands took a hold of your left, forcefully turning it around so your palm was facing the ceiling, revealing the scar that formed a few weeks earlier.

“Holy shit,” Richie swore under his breath, eyes not leaving your palm.

“What, Richie?” You snapped. Just as you were retracting your hand, Richie took his left hand and flipped it over, uncovering a scar that was identical to yours.

“Holy shit.”

six

Masterlist

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier series #scar #x reader #imagine #series #reader insert #it 2017 #it 2017 imagine #it 2017 x reader #it chapter one #it chapter one imagine #it chapter one series #soulmate au #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard imagine

[poeticblissme]

Are You Ready?

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, more smut, more fluff 

Prompt: You wanted to watch an Animal documentary, Seokjin has other plans. 

Word Count: 3,576

Warnings: Virgin!Reader, Unprotected Sex (Wrap before you tap!!!!) Orgasam denial...ish? 

A/N: IM DYING LAUGHING THIS WAS SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR THE LITERAL LONGEST!  I would like to kindly point out that this is loosely related to a dream I actually had like LAST YEAR and I just found it, and added a couple things.  Yall wanna see what I was dreaming about a year ago here it is LOL Im so shocked. Not really  Im getting back into my writing groove les get it! 

Feedback is Appreciated! 

With a hand intertwining in yours, you feel yourself being suddenly pulled from your attempted descent down your stairs. You gasped silently, your brain remaining in a small jumble.

Your body was turned, then pushed lightly into his bedroom. Much like the rest of the house, your shared room was not too big, if you were to jump on your tiptoes, your fingertips may just be able to touch the ceiling. Looking forward, you see the nicely made king size bed is perfectly center with the 55 inch TV that was mounted on the wall just in front of the furniture. On the dresser under the TV, were three sets of gaming systems. Its common knowledge that you both would always be ready to play games at any time. It was also helpful to have for when his brother Jungkook comes around, a family that games together stays together after all. The sets of mini circular lights built into the ceiling above you gave the room a nice glow, all in all your shared bed room was made for both your tastes and it was the perfect place to sit and relax....among other things. 

You heard the lock of the room door click, and instantly your attention was drawn back to why you were dragged here in the first place. You turned around, facing the culprit himself, who simply gave a small playful smile. 

“And would you like to explain to me exactly why you stopped me from going to get my snacks, my love?” 

Seokjin smirked, fully turned to you, his attention on your entire form. His stance alone was enough to change the entire atmosphere in the room, making you slightly flustered. It was clear the true power he had over anything and everything he came into contact with. 

 From the way he was eyeing you, you could guess what he wanted, but being the person that you were, you had to push him, test his limits so to speak. You could call it part a stubborn streak, but in the end, you both always got the good end of the deal. You watched his right hand tremble slightly, before his long slender fingers slowly dropped from the door knob, and down to his side gently. The tips of his pointer and middle finger on his right hand began to tap on his leg in a playful manner, while his left hand remained perfectly still. 

Such a small gesture should not have worked you up this much, but with the current feel of the room, and your past experience with each of his very skilled fingertips, you could feel your body tremble, and your legs shake in silent anticipation with what was to come. Were you scared? Absolutely, What was about to transpire went well beyond of boundaries of everything you two had done together over the past year. This was all new territory, you were about to cross a line you had been afraid of crossing for the longest. No matter how much you may openly flirt, no matter how much foreplay or touching you do, and no matter how many times you tell yourself you are ready, It does not stop your nerves from tightening at the thought of going all the way, and losing the very thing you were told to treasure for your entire life. 

You were not scared to lose your virginity to Jin. You knew a long time ago that he was the one you wanted to take it, it was just....you had so many questions, so many concerns. Would it hurt like everyone said? Would your lack of sex in that way make this encounter a little too....boring?  Would he even still want you afterwards knowing you had no experience? 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know, you explained your purity to him on your fifth date, and he was nothing but respectful and understanding of it. He made it perfectly clear that he would wait until you were ready, and when you were, he would be there. 

He kept to his promise since that day. Time and time again you would work each other to the brink of total exhaustion, always doing the most make sure each person was left somewhat satisfied, but never truly going  all the way. Still he would wait, still he stayed with you. You could never ever thank him enough for that. Then, on a date you can no longer pinpoint, you realized that the closer you got to him, you knew the small back and forth could no longer be enough. 

It was no longer enough to have your mouth wrapped around his cock, his hands gripping your hair to keep you in place as he fucked your mouth the way he liked most. It was no longer enough that if you were a good girl, he would use his long marvelous tongue on your aching cunt, sucking and swallowing every drip of juice that slipped out of your clenching, desperate hole. No, the playing was no longer enough, how could it be? He could not have been more eager to finally give you both the relief you both deserved when he heard the news.

That was exactly how you had got into this situation that you were in now. You were certain you wanted tonight to be the night, and with that in mind, you made yourself look extra alluring, a web for the fly if you will. The black off the shoulder shirt, and black leggings you wore hugged you tight, accentuating each curve of your body delightfully. Your hair was pinned up in a classy, sophisticated bun, showing off the smooth skin of your neck and collar bones, something you knew would make your seokjin weak at the knees, seeing as he adores sucking on both. 

You knew that your plan had been working beautifully. You watched his movements with interest, loving how you could always meet eyes with him no matter what he had been doing during the day. You felt powerful, watching him silently squirm  as he watched you lick your fingers clean as you ate different foods that you had gotten for lunch. You felt needy, watching him smirk and bite his lip while he shot a wink in your direction, indicating that he knew precisely, what you were doing, and you would surely pay for it (Promises, promises). 

“You have really been testing me all day haven’t you, my love?” He mocked, his eyes still locked on yours. 

“I assure you, I have no idea what you mean.” You lied, cocking your head to the side. 

“Is that so?” He asked you, an eyebrow raised in your direction, to which you gave a single nod.

He nodded, his eyes slipping from yours for only a moment to gaze at your smooth neck. He quickly found his composure, though you did not miss his moment of weakness. His eyes met yours again, before he spoke, his tone firm, “Ah, pity. My mistake then, lets go get the snacks then, shall we?” 

Your eyes opened a little more, a pinch of shock picking at your nerves, usually he is clairvoyant enough to see through your bluff, had your acting been a bit too good?

He moved away from the door, holding up his hand toward it to gesture you to leave the room. You gawked at him for a moment, not sure how to respond. You could feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment, you knew your pride would get in the way of you actually saying anything to him, and you were also to shy to speak out about not really wanting to leave the room, so, with a small huff of disappointment you made your way to the door.  

How humiliating is this? Does he not read the novels? Male makes a flirty remark to girl, Girl responds in a flirty teasing remark and boom, you could have your way with each other. . Maybe your voice did not have the right inflection? You have to admit reading how to flirt in book form is perhaps not the smartest way to learn, but hell you read enough to get at least a jist of how to do it....

With your thoughts going round and round in your head, you tried your best to try and understand where you went wrong. Then you feel yourself getting bold, slightly agitated. No way is he gonna end it like this! You will see to it! You think of a quick retort, while pretending to turn the knob of the door to make your fake exit...

Only, the knob would not budge. 

You paused, thoughts on hold as you turned the knob again, pulling at it with all your might, a look of utter confusion on your face, when the sudden revelation came across your face. 

Jin had locked the door. You were so preoccupied with your head you totally forgot he had locked the door when he came in here with you. 

“Yah, well, isn’t this a shocking turn of events.” You heard from behind you, his voice a lot closer than you had anticipated. 

You chuckled, goosebumps trickled onto your skin as you felt hands creep onto each side of your hips. His grasp  around you tightened, his long fingers digging into your flesh. Before you could even speak, you were forcefully turned around, your back meeting the wooden door. 

You gasped, looking to meet dark lust filled pupils. With another eyebrow raised, you could see the smirk once again grow on his lips as he gave you yet another once over. You turned your head away from him and scoffed, more so at yourself, all this time you were planning to trap him, and yet here you are, the fly, to his spider. 

“You ma’m have been acting up all day.” He spoke, his eyebrow raised, his voice smug and low. 

“Define acting up” You play smoothly. “Because all I remember doing is wanting to get some snacks before we watch the-” 

“How long are you gonna keep this up?” He interrupted, his thumb rubbing circles on your arms. “The faster you admit your wrong doings, the faster I can show you why you should save the snacks for later.” 

“Jin!” You exclaimed in fake shock. “All I wanted was to watch an animal documentary!” 

Jin rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his face. “Oh Please, you have watched the same season of planet earth fifteen times, I’m sure you’ll be okay.” 

“Oh? I was not aware.” You nodded. 

“I can see, that’s why I told you.” He smirked, his focus on nothing but your eyes. You could see the admiration he had for you, you could feel it, and it made your heart clench. You could feel it start to beat faster, sending loud beats through your ears. "Wow.” you thought to yourself. “What a beautiful piece of music.” 

You hope that he can see the absolute trust and love that you have for him in you eyes as well. You always had that fear, that perhaps you are not expressing your love enough, so you made a promise to him and to yourself that no matter what, you would give your all to him, and he promised he would give his all to you. You were a partnership, a union, pieces of a whole, and you needed each other. 

Jins left hand slid up from your arm slowly, making your skin prickle and become cool with want and anticipation. Finally, he reaches his destination, the base of your neck. The spot he has always loved to play with first. “Who doesn’t love the neck?” He would say, shocked that anyone could think any different Its a great starting point and its super smooth....like my face” 

He smiles as his fingers reach the base of your neck. He presses his fingers down, adding only the tiniest bit of pressure to let you know where he was, and finally after what seemed like forever, he leans forward, pressing a small kiss on the free side of your neck. 

You sigh, the feeling of his plump lips sending shock waves of heartfelt desire through your body in bursts. He kisses again, the tip of his tongue caressing your skin for only a second, causing you to sigh once more. You can feel a slight smirk on you skin, he knows he has you where he wants you and he has barley lifted a finger to you yet. What a Man he is 

“Do you know how much I adore your body?” He whispered against your skin, placing another kiss into the dip of your neck. “I really adore every inch of you, we could literally never leave this room and I’ll just enjoy getting to touch you like this forever.” 

“You are exaggerating.” You pushed out, sucking in a breath as he nibbled lightly on your skin. 

He broke away slightly “Well....maybe about the never leaving this room part but the rest? No way.” 

He comes up to meet your eyes before placing his lips against yours. The moan against his lips was inevitable, feeling him so close to you always caused your body to react that way. It was like a switch in your brain, like his body was a beacon for your deepest desires in mind, body and soul. You knew he was the one meant to do this with you, you knew he was meant for you. 

Your lips mold together, his tongue granted quick access to your mouth as you move into a slow yet powerful dance. You moan together, both feeling the cages keeping you both at bay slowly breaking. Your breathing has quickened in pace. even more so now as you feel your legs squirm in slight irritation. You want him so bad, you can feel it in your very core. He wants you, you can hear it in his trembling breaths, you can feel the arousal pressing against his dark blue jeans, taunting you. 

“Are you ready Baby?” He asks, parting with your lips and meeting your eyes once again. 

He was taking care of you, just like always. He was once again asking if this is what you truly wanted. This was it. The land of no return. if you say no, you move on and wait, or you say yes, giving the consent that you were indeed ready for what would come next, Were you truly ready to let go? 

Yes. Yes you were. 

“I’m ready baby.” You nod, a sweet smile on your lips as he smiles and nods in return. 

He pulls away from you and takes your hand, leading you backwards toward the bed. You feel your stomach churn with nerves, your insecurities threatening to spill out. You look to Jin, who is still holding your hand, and looking directly at you. Once at the side of the bed he pulls you into him, kissing you once more, it was his silent reassurance that you would be fine, that he was there for you. Smiling into the kiss, your shoulders relax, your body submits to your heart, and before you know it, your head is against the pillow, clothes long forgotten on both your persons. 

His fingers find your clit with ease, his past experience with your body proving so useful in both your time of need. He rubs your clit with haste, causing sparks of fire and energy to build within your body. You can feel it circling your very soul, building and building the more he touches you, the faster he takes you. You want to tell him how good it feels, how much you love his touch, how much you have needed this, but all you release is a hearty moan, the sound vibrating through your body, to your core. 

“I know baby.” He speaks, as if he is reading your mind. “ohh fuck, I know I know baby.”   He watches you breathe harder and harder, your eyes closing by nature. The flame is so much higher now, your body is on fire, and god it truly does feel so good. 

You’re almost there, the flames ready to burst inside of you. So close to the edge of eternal bliss, when he removes his fingers and moves from beside you. Your breath halts, your eyes open in protest, when you see him smirking down at you, while overlooking your entire form. Has he lost his mind?!

Still out of breath, you try and speak to him “What... the hell Jin?” 

“You really thought you were gonna lose your virginity with my fingers? If that was the case we popped your cherry ages ago.” He laughs, moving his body to hover above you. 

oh. 

That’s right. 

You were so in the moment you had forgot the actual intercourse part. Old habits die hard  You thought to yourself. 

You feel Jin rub the tip of his cock against your slick folds and you gasp, nerves and a quiver of arousal hitting you suddenly. You look down to watch, your curiosity and slight fear kicking in once again, 

“It’s okay baby.” He speaks, using his left elbow as leverage to kiss your forehead. “Remember it is gong to hurt a little, then it will get better.” 

You nodded pushing your head back into the pillow “Super glad I took the pill, makes this feel more organic.” 

Jin chuckles, looking up at you right as he pushes a small part of himself into you. You clench a small pain pushing through you. 

“Oh jesus baby dont...dont clench okay..please dont clench I will not survive this.” He speaks, you mutter a small apology and let him continue. 

“How are you baby?” He asks pushing in, little by little. 

“I’m...I’m okay it hurts but, I guess I was so wet its going in a bit smoother.” 

“Glad to be of service.” He winks,pushing more of himself into you. With a little time and patience he finally bottomed out. The wait together was not awkward. He simply played with your hair, kissed parts of your face. It was when you laughed at his kisses could you feel him slide against you, making you both moan out. 

“Ohh okay, okay I’m ready, i;m ready.” You moan out, to which he nods. 

He starts off slow, his pace cautious and careful. His strokes are smooth but steady to ensure your safety, making your body shiver, but it was not enough, you needed more. 

“Faster.” You breath. “Go....go faster.” 

He complies, his strokes now faster in pace, and now a lot more calculated than before. You felt stretched, more open, more free. Your were somehow wetter then you were before, and now that you could truly feel him, you let yourself go, you need him to do the same. 

“That....That feels so good baby. So so good, please...” you moan, your cries desperate. 

You can feel his body stiffen once more, but this...this was different, he stroked hard, purposefully,  hitting a spot inside of you that had you crying out to him, begging him to hit that spot again and again and again. 

He complied, your bodies moved in sync, with each other. You met his thrusts, your tongues dance happily. Never did you have that thought that you would feel this close to someone, to be so full, so happy. 

The fire was back, circling around in your stomach, ready to explode, its wants to be free so bad, you long to let it flow out of you. You know what this means, you have to tell him, you have to tell him how close you are. His pace is fast and dominating, calculated, and hard. 

“Jin..” You breath out, your moans loud and needy and he thrusts into you mercilessly . “Oh fuck ...fuck Jin please-” 

“I know baby I am too.” He calls out still, as if he knew your thoughts. His thrusts were now sloppy, much like your motions against him. He brings his right hand to your clit, fingers stroking back and forth against your bundle of nerves at an accelerated pace. 

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You moan out, not able to hold back the fire now beginning to spill out of your very body. You call his name, your breathing harsh and unsteady. “Please, Baby I love you.”  

“I love you So much Y/N, you did so well for me. That’s right baby let go, come for me, Cum just for me.” He gets out before letting go himself, his seed shooting inside of you in small spurts. He gasps loudly, your name slipping through his tongue multiple times. 

It was pure euphoria, you could feel your body cool down, your body sinking into the mattress below you, shoulders slumped, body tired.

Jin holds himself above you long enough to soften,Then slowly takes himself out of you, to which you both groan. 

He plops back first onto the bed, turning to you with a  sheepish look. 

“No.” You start, your breathing now at least partially back in order. “Don’t do that, it was perfect Jin.” You state, turning your body to face his. You lift your hand and place it on his cheek. “It was more than perfect and I love you. It was always meant to be you, that will never change.” 

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[irelise]

Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider

Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.

Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!

Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused) aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.

Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.

So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.

The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships

at the end, on a dusty road  (8154 words, Yassen/Alex) aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!

Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:

The wind scatters your brave songs Across the green field. Songs of the past, Leaving them alone with your glory, And right at the end, on a dusty road…

i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.

ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”

ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:

1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.

2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.

He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.

He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.

.

...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.

(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)

---

Lemniscate  (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen) Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type

Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again  - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)

---

This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia

closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen) aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?

This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:

Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing

Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days

Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.

Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.

There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.

Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.

A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.

Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.

And an excerpt:

Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.

Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.

He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.

There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.

The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”

In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.

#fandom: alex rider #My writing #meta

[honeymoonjin]

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 eventual yoonji x reader, reader x ??? || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 crack

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 your new roommates may be a little odd, but it’s fine, we’re all only human.... right?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 cursing, mentions of blood

𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣 || 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 || 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner, she really is the best thank you to @honey-boyyoongi​ for beta reading this and helping immensely with storyboarding and brainstorming xx

--

“So: why are you wanting to rent the room here?”

You tilt your head in confusion at the intimidating look the boy across from you is trying to send. “Because… I would like a place to stay?”

He nods with a scoff, eyebrow quirking. “I bet that’s what you want us to believe.”

You blink. “Are you not-? I’m sorry, I thought the ad said you were looking for a roommate. I’m pretty sure this is the right address.”

“Or is it?” He leans forward on the couch, resting an elbow on his grey sweatpant-clad knee. You stare blankly at him as he holds his eyes open, widening them as the lashes flicker. Finally, after a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence, his eyes blink shut for the slightest second and the stern facade drops, him sighing in defeat. “Fine! Okay, you win, you can stay. Rent is one hundred and twenty a week.”

Your attention is caught by the woman sitting next to him, who perks up at this, breaking her apathy to look over in curiosity. “You pay a hundred and twenty every week?” A disbelieving smile stretches across her face as she glances across the young boy to the man on his other side. “Jin, you’re an asshole.”

The third member on the couch shrugs, disturbing the chunky cat that rests its head on his shoulder. “It’s my house. Anyways, Jeanine, was it?”

“Y/n-”

“Margaret, our rules are simple here. Do your share of the cleaning and don’t ask questions. No pets except for Vlad. She’s a vicious hunter and doesn’t like to share.” He pauses for effect, as the tubby grey cat snuffles and readjusts herself, thick paws stretching out. “When she’s… When she’s not asleep,” Jin explains.

Your mouth opens and closes again slowly. The man in the middle senses your unease.

“Great,” he declares dramatically, “you’ve scared her off with Vlad. I told you.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “No, that’s not the problem. I just… You said don’t ask questions but I have, um, several. I don’t even know your names.”

The woman, who had returned to lounging back against the chair of the sofa, sits back up again with an unreadable depth in her black eyes. “Names have power, girl.”

“This is Yoonji,” the boy supplies helpfully, ignoring the hissing noise that comes from the back of the lady’s throat. “I’m Jungkook, and that’s Jin. We’re all super friendly, I promise. And you can ask questions, just not...questions, you know? Like for example if you saw a red superhero suit in my closet you wouldn’t ask me about it just in case I was Spiderman.”

You blink. “Right.”

“I mean, in this case my suit is just for dress-up, I’m not actually Spiderman, but you get me, right? I could be. Does that make sense?”

You pause, unsure how to respond.

Yoonji sighs and raises a perfectly arched brow, her disapproving pout even more prominent with a solid matte layer of the darkest velvet red lipstick. “If I wrote a list of all the things you’ve said that make sense, I’d already be done.” Her gaze flitters to you and you can’t help but gulp in reflex. “Y/n, don’t meddle and we can all coexist here.”

“O-okay, sure, that’s fine. Thank you guys for letting me stay, I really appreciate it.”

Jungkook grins, glancing back and forth happily between his two roommates. “I told you this was a great idea! We’re gonna have so much fun. Let’s do a game night tonight and get to know each other better.”

“Ah!” Jin calls out cheerily, standing with a flourish. “Let’s play Cards Against the Humans, that’s my favorite! I’ll make some jjajangmyeon for us.”

Jungkook bites his lip, staring up at the handsome man, who wears what looks like a very expensive silk bathrobe, patterned with purple flowers. “Jin, are you gonna add… you know?”

“Why else would I eat it? I have to get my five pints a day.” the man declares in a matter-of-fact tone.

Jungkook widens his eyes meaningfully, jerking his head at you, but Jin doesn’t relent. Eventually, Jungkook sighs, and turns to you. “Anyway, Y/n… Can I call you Y/n?”

“That is my name.”

Jungkook ignores his two roommates who both leave out of boredom; Yoonji slinking silently like a cat, disappearing up the stairwell at the back of the house, and Jin hustling down the hallway fast enough so that his robe billows out behind him. “Just sign the lease and I’ll show you around. Jin and Ji like eating dinner before the sun goes down.” He leans in conspiratorially. “They pretend like they’re having an early night, but I totally hear them sneaking out. I think Jin has a penchant for clubbing, and Ji is probably out howling at the moon or something. Or summoning Satan. Who knows. Anyways, I’ll find you a pen to sign. Is a quill okay? We’re out of ballpoints.”

--

As it turns out, your room is on the second floor. The house itself is impressive, an old gothic two-storey refitted with modern facilities and littered with small details that speak to its occupants; unfortunately, it’s too dark for you to make out what any of these things may be.

Heavy curtains are draped across all the visible windows, the same deep red as the carpet, an odd marbling effect across the fabric. There’s a trail of sconces that lead down the corridor below and up the stairwell, fitted with LED lights in the shapes of flames, flickering in an artificial orange glow. You stumble up the stairs, so plushly lined with carpet that not a single step creaks, and blindly follow the white of Jungkook’s baggy t-shirt through an open doorway, swallowed in black before he flicks the lights on.

“Home, sweet home,” he chimes, flourishing an arm to display the modest bedroom. A double bed lies undressed with a pile of folded linen resting at the end of it, the only other furniture being a small nightstand and a dresser with a mirror, covered in an old, discoloured sheet. He gives a weak smile. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but… You’re more than welcome to redecorate however you want. The door to your right is the bathroom, and the one across is Yoonji’s bedroom.”

You blink. “Wait, I- Am I sharing it with her? Your ad said a personal bathroom.”

“Oh, Yoonji doesn’t use the bathroom,” he explains easily, taken off-guard when your face crumples up in disgust. “No! Not like that, she just… There’s an ensuite in her room. She has the master bedroom. Sorry, I should’ve phrased that better.”

You sigh in relief. “Okay, right, that makes sense. So you and Jin are on the first floor?”

“Me, yes. Jin has the basement.” He steps forward, flopping himself onto the bare mattress. Staring at the ceiling, he yawns. “So, what made you pick this place? We ran the ad for almost a year and never had an applicant until you.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? I just took it up because it was the only place close to uni I could afford. You really are paying $120 a week? The ad said it was $50 all-inclusive.”

Jungkook’s eyes go cloudy. “Hm. I think Jin and I need to have words.” He sits up and twists his torso to face you, eyebrows narrowed in suspicion, though not directed at you. “What else did this ad say? The other two haven’t let me read it.”

You go to answer, but you’re cut off by a long, primal yell, echoing up the stairs. You turn, staring back through the door way in the direction of the sound. “Are they okay?”

When you turn back, Jungkook has hopped up off of your bed, hitching up his sweatpants and rushing over to the doorway, barreling past you. “Jin says it’s dinnertime,” he calls out as he passes.

“Wha-?” You let the air settle from his sudden absence, taking a moment of silence for yourself. “Holy fuck,” you murmur, “what have I gotten myself into?”

—

Dinner is an awkward affair. You had expected this for the fact that you don’t really know them. You hadn’t expected that it would be because of Jin’s eccentric cooking.

Though he prepared the meal, it’s not him that sits at the head of the table. Yoonji, in a velvet black turtleneck and dark wash jeans, impatiently drumming on the mahogany surface.

You sit to her right, with Jungkook directly across from you staring intently at the bowl of steaming ramen that lies between you. Unsure whether you should make conversation with the two others that seem completely uncaring of your presence, you watch him fall into a near-catatonic state, the only thing that moves is his nostrils flaring at the rich smell.

“Boner petite!” You crane your neck as Jin enters from the kitchen behind you, a frilly apron reading Kiss the Cook! tied securely around his slender waist. In one hand is a plate of cuts of raw beef, the delicate pattern of silver fat marbled through speaking to its price, and in the other is a gravy jug. “Dinner is served.”

“Do you mean bon appetit?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yoonji. Anyway, here we go. Susan, help yourself.”

You thank him awkwardly, not bothering to correct him on your name again. You stare in confusion at the offerings as he takes his seat beside Jungkook, who’s already descended on the noodles like a man starved. “...Um, do you have a barbecue set or something?”

Jin, tongs gripped around a thick slab, still dripping with blood. “What for?”

“For the meat…” You trail off as he lifts up the dangling strip, resting it in his mouth and sucking out the fluid obscenely, closing his eyes in enjoyment. “Never mind.”

“Jin used to be a real chef, you know,” Jungkook explains cheerily, using his bare fingers to pick out some thinner slivers to add on top of his ramen, “he’s shown us so many fancy foods. Like steak tartare. You want some?”

You try to suppress the shiver that runs through your body at the thought of raw meet squishing between your teeth. “I think I’ll stick with ramen.”

Yoonji tucks her raven-black hair behind her ears, exposing the piercings that run up the length of them. “Come on, Jungkook, don’t hog the meat, you pig.” She wrestles the tray out from underneath his hands and slides it right beside her, delicately plucking off more than half of what remains. “Can you pass the sauce?”

Your attention is drawn back to the other end of the table, where Jin is pouring a thick sauce into his bowl, reddy-brown like a mix between barbecue sauce and chilli.

“What is that?” you question curiously, watching it get passed down to Jungkook - who takes a big helping, wiping the spout with a finger and sucking it off absentmindedly - and finally arrives in Yoongi’s hands, the fine china clinking against the metal of her rings.

“Sauce,” she answers flatly. “What does it look like?”

Jungkook bites his lip, looking sheepish. “It’s, uh, very iron-heavy. Yoonji has anemia. It’s an acquired taste, but it’s good. I used to get sick all the time when I first started having this but now I feel better than ever. Want some? Oh- Yoonji, why didn’t you save any for Y/n?”

“It’s okay,” you assure hurriedly, “really, I’m a, um, I have a low immune system so I won’t, um, risk getting sick.”

“Low immune system, hm?” Yoonji fixes her dark gaze on you as she stirs in the sauce with a single chopstick. “You don’t have HIV, do you? Hep B?”

“N-no.” You frown at her. “I don’t have any diseases or anything.”

“Good to know.” Without further comment, she twirls a thick clump of ramen around her chopsticks and shovels it into her mouth, the dark sauce collecting at the corners of her lips, almost the same shade as her lipstick.

Thankfully, while you don’t have a refined-enough palate like the other three, you greatly enjoy the ramen. Perfectly savoury and moreish, cooked to perfection and with just enough broth to keep them hot while you eat. “I really appreciate you letting me stay,” you announce to the table, “and for cooking this wonderful meal. I’m looking forward to getting to know you guys better!”

--

It’s short, but I really wanted to see how you guys like it! It’s a little different, I know it’s just pure crack atm but I swear we have plot (including feelings, angst, fluff, the works) to come xxx let me know your thoughts!!

#bts x reader #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #yoongi x reader #yoonji x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts series #bts au #bts crack #jin #jungkook

[vtscasefiles]

Case File 563-7

Trigger warnings: blood, gore, death, infant death, guns, gun violence

[Editor’s note: this is one of VT’s shorter cases. It does not have a happy outcome. You have been warned.]

Case begun: 1/12/20**

Case concluded: 1/13/20**

Case locale: [REDACTED], Nevada

Marked as Closed

From the outset, this case stunk. Even Ramona had misgivings. She practically begged me not to go. “VT, there’s something wrong here. I don’t know what, but I just have this feeling.”

“It’ll be fine.” I’d assured her. “It’s a simple shakedown. It’s just a spirit. It’s nothing too insidious.”

Famous last words.

This case came to my from a friend of a friend. It was a simple haunting, the spirit was pestering a young family. Nothing a few sprinkles of blessed water and a liberal application of smudging couldn’t fix. Worst case, I’d have to exorcise.

Still, Ramona’s words bothered me, so I packed up a few extra goodies. Salt, my saint bone necklace (It’s only a toe bone, don’t ask where I got it.) and a few rounds of my most potent ammunition. I don’t want to say what it was made out of, due to the...questionable nature of how it was sourced. Point being that they’d deal with anything short of a god.

My friend, [REDACTED AT SUBJECT’S REQUEST], met me at the bus station. My car was out of commission, due to it being a piece of shit. Though [REDACTED] was more than happy to loan me their car.

I really wish I’d listened to Ramona.

I arrived at the client’s house around noon. They were a friendly enough couple. Due to ongoing SC investigation, I’m only going to refer to them as Husband and Wife. I could get in a lot of hot water if I put their names out there and someone fucked up the investigation.

Husband was tall-ish. Only a scant few inches taller than myself. He was your typical, hipster fella. Too tight pants, a band tee with a band he listened to “before it was cool” and a scruffy little beard with an overly manicured mustache. Wife was more my speed, though. Overalls, splattered with paint and a tank top. We love a handy lady.

They welcomed me graciously, introduced me to their newborn, who shall be known as Baby. She was a cute, little thing...even I could admit that and I hate babies. They scream, puke and shit, usually at the same time. Not for me, nope. Even so, I held the kid at their insistence and the girl just...stared. I couldn’t help but pull faces until the child started to laugh.

So, maybe “hate” is a strong word.

They took me to the room where their little spirit friend was causing the most havoc. It was to be Baby’s room. A crib settled in a corner, toys strewn around for the child’s amusement. A light fixture shaped like a unicorn.

Oh, and let’s not forget the words “HELP ME” painted on the wall in bright, yellow paint. Perfect décor for an infant, right?

“So, Husband.”, I’d said, turning to face him, Baby still in my arms. “We going for an escape pre-school motif or something?” he laughed a strained laugh.

“We didn’t have this problem when we moved in.” he said, rubbing at his eyes beneath the glasses that I don’t think he actually needed. “After Baby was born everything sort of...escalated.” he shuffled his feet and frowned. “We don’t want to move. We put a lot of work into our home, VT.”

“Well.” I said, foisting Baby off into Wife’s arms. “It might be a wandering spirit...might even be a kid. They tend to gravitate towards new parents, in hopes someone can help them. I’ll come back tonight to see if we can’t contact the spirit and figure out what’s going on.”

“Tonight might be...problematic. We have a little ceremony planned for Baby.” she said, smiling and dimpling in the *cutest* way. “All the neighbors will be there!”

You see where this is going now, right? Fuck, I wish I had.

“I mean, so long as it isn’t in this house. Large gatherings might upset the spirit.” I said, softly. Baby was already dozing in her mother’s arms. “If it has to be here, I can always come afterwards.”

They agreed and [REDACTED] had me drive them home before I took the car to their motel. I was scheduled for another walkthrough around ten, tonight. That gave me time to shower, check my gear, take a nap and check my gear, again.

Then it all went to hell.

It’s no secret that most PEs are riddled with ink. I’m no different, but all of mine are on my back and upper arms. It took time to learn which portion of my skin would react to whatever was in the air. 

The dead center of my back, right on top of the upper portion of my spine, lit up like fire. Usually, it’s a small, specific spot, but it felt like there were three or four of the small, inked runes lighting up at once. 

Necromancy.

Blood magic.

Demonic presence.

Those are the big three tattoos. If one of those goes off, I know I need back up. If all three go off...run. Just run. Necromancy in of itself isn’t a strictly forbidden art in the SC, but blood magic is. Demons, on the other hand...well, they’re just like other members of the SC. Some are good, some are bad and some...some need a hot lead injection right between the eyes.

That tattoo only lit up in the presence of a demon with evil on the mind. Feeling the pain in my back, my fight or flight responses kicked in. I strapped Peace to my thigh, shouldered my bag and made for [REDACTED]’s car.

I made it to the house at 9pm, a full hour before I was due. Cars were lined up down the block, so I just parked in a vacant driveway. I could apologize later. My phone jingled it’s clarion call and I answered immediately. I always answer Ramona as quickly as I can. “VT!” she was practically in the midst of a panic attack. “I was scrying and I had to call. VT, you need to come home now. Whatever case you’re on, drop it.”

“There’s a kid in there, Ramona.” I protested, eyes on the lit up windows of Husband and Wife’s home. “I can’t walk away.”

“VT, you don’t even like kids. And honestly...all I saw was blood. I hate to say it VT, but that child is probably -- “ “I know!” I shouted, the burning in my back getting all the more intense. “I know. Look, I know I don’t like kids, but that doesn’t mean I want to let one die. If there’s anything I can do, I have to do it.”

Ramona went silent, and I waited. “...I’ll pray to the spirits for your protection, VT. Come back to me alive, okay?”

“You got it.” I responded, my finger making for the screen to terminate the call. “Bye, Ramona.”

“Wait!”, her sudden shout stilled my hand. “Give ‘em hell.” I smiled and terminated the call.

The time for subterfuge and lockpicking had passed. I emptied a box of Elinor’s “special blend” into my pocket and checked Peace’s cylinder. Everything looked ready.

I bolted for the door and hammered on it. No answer. No sound beyond the door. I kicked, just next to the deadbolt and only got a wonderful jolting sensation that sent me limping and cursing in a circle. 

I wasted no time in stepping back to the street and running, full tilt, for the nearest window and diving straight through. I felt the glass slice open my arm as I covered my head for protection. 

I rolled across the carpet as I landed and came up with Peace in hand. Nothing. No one. The house was completely empty.

All of these houses were built the same, so it was a fair guess this place had both and attic and a basement. My leg still smarted, so the thought of climbing stairs up didn’t appeal, so I resolved to check the basement.

It’s always fucking basements.

The door was easy enough to find, right beneath the stairway to the second floor. It was locked, so with some creative ingenuity, I had it open.

[Editor’s note: Creative ingenuity means VT shot the lock off.]

The instant that door swung open it felt like someone had pressed a branding iron to my back. I ignored the pain and sprinted down the stairs, slamming into a wall as I reached the bottom.

The metallic scent of blood hit me with all the force of a sledgehammer to the nose. Corpses. Corpses everywhere. All in various stages of decomposition. I recognized Husband and Wife, not by their clothes, or faces...but by their hair. Wife’s golden mane of unruly curls and Husband’s stupid little manbun. (Why don’t they just call them buns for fuck’s sake?)

Every corpse in here wore the same robes, bore the same jewelry. I recognized the design. They worshiped Death. Not Elinor’s Death, the supposedly nice lady with the kid. They worshipped violent Death. 

They worshiped murder.

I fought valiantly to keep my dinner in as I saw what they’d had on the altar in the center of the room. I lost.

I couldn’t bring myself to unwrap the bundle that had no less than thirteen or fourteen daggers sticking out of it. The amount of blood on the altar told me, if the daggers didn’t, that they’d finished their sick little ceremony.

Baby was the sacrifice.

Human sacrifice has been a thing since the dawn of time. So has child sacrifice. It’s become taboo in the SC, due to the fact that pure innocence is a force so powerful that it often rages out of control. 

Doesn’t stop a few fuckwits from using it and dying for their trouble. I felt no sympathy, in fact I’d dearly hoped their deaths were slow.

“Do you want to kill them?” a voice, so sweet in my ear, practically lulled me straight to sleep. “See them suffer? I can make that happen. I can make every sick fuck out there pay for the wrongs they do.” it was my voice I was hearing. “We can slaughter them all. Val, we can -- “ That snapped me out of my daze. “Only my mother calls me Val.” I said, squeezing Peace’s grip. “And I hate that bitch.”

I turned and saw who’d been whispering. It was a mirror image of myself, albeit a perverted one. My features were too fine, too distinct. It was like someone took my face and stretched it over my bones. It smiled in a way that if I ever say that expression on my own face, I’d lay down on some train tracks and wait.

“What? You don’t want to make them suffer? They killed an infant, and for what? Power? To summon something they shouldn’t? C’mon, VT, we both know better.” the mirror me scoffed and threw up her hands. “You do this job because you like the blood.”

“Not really.” I said, conversationally. I knew what this was, this was what they’d summoned. After killing it’s summoners it still wanted more. There was only one way to deal with something as malevolent as this. Deprive it of power. “I do this job because it pays the bills and I was born into it. Plus, I just so happen to be very good at what I do.”

“Murdering living things? Banishing non-living things?” it asked, grinning.

“No. Dealing with trash like you that only exists to hurt others.” I smiled right back. “So, I suppose you could call me a glorified garbage woman.”

That pissed it off. It’s face warped into an unholy mask of fury and it lunged. When a demon takes on a form, it’s trapped with that form’s physical ability. The demon was just as strong as I was, with none of the training. Meaning it’d be dangerous, but manageable. 

It grabbed onto me and we both tumbled to the floor. Peace skittered away from my grip as the demon slammed it’s fists into my face. I felt my nose break and my lip split beneath the melee onslaught. It seemed to notice the gun and lunged off of me to make a wild grab.

I took my chance. The instant it’s weight left me, I made a wild grab for it’s hair and yanked. It screeched it’s rage and continued to paw for the gun as I mounted it’s shoulders and slammed it’s face into the concrete floor again and again and again. I couldn’t kill it, not with my bare hands. The more effort I wasted on the demon, the stronger it’d get. I shoved to my feet and aimed a hard kick to it’s ribs, leaning down to grab my gun. The demon was already on it’s feet, thick, black blood oozing across my distorted features. “Yes...yes...fight. Struggle. Feed me.”

“Nah.” I said, wiping my bloody, broken nose on my sleeve. “It’s garbage day, bitch.” I pointed Peace dead at the demon’s head and fired. My ears rung with Peace’s gunfire scream. The demon’s head was decimated and it’s true form started oozing out. A thick, gray mist that hung in the air and screamed. I couldn’t very well shoot that.

A demon can’t be killed. Some make physical forms for themselves, examples being incubi or succubi. Some take on forms of those they find aesthetically pleasing. Some take on the forms of their victims...but when the body dies, their true self escapes. The dingier looking the cloud, the more evil the demon.

And this bitch looked like pollution. 

I made for the stairs, determined not to let the demon try and slide it’s way into me. Possession is tricky enough to deal with, I didn’t want to cause another PE more trouble than they already had.

The second I topped the stairs I realized I’d made a mistake. Someone was already waiting.

And she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her skin was olive in coloring and flawless. Her hair hung about her like a veil made of pure shadow. Her eyes glowed an unearthly green, devoid of pupil. I barely even noticed that she was wearing a billowing robe that seemed to want to suck me in.

“Run.” I panted, trying to push past her to no avail. “Demon. Very angry demon.”

She smiled, softly and nodded “I know. Please, stand aside, VT.”

VT? She knew my name?

She brushed by me, leaving my skin like ice. I couldn’t move, speak or think. I don’t know how long I was standing there, staring into space. A horrifying screech pulled me from my hypnotic trance and sent me barreling down the stairs. The demon was trying to cling to the pipes that ran along the ceiling of the basement.

The woman was inhaling it. “Stop!” I shouted, grabbing her shoulder “It’s going to kill you!” she paid no attention, continuing her upsettingly long inhale. “Stop!” I shook her, but too late. The last of the demon had just vanished past her full, stupidly kissable lips. 

Fuck.

She coughed, swallowed and smacked her lips. “Unpleasant.” she said, rubbing her throat. “But slightly tangy.” she smiled and looked to me. “You’re covered in blood, will you be alright?”

I wiped the blood from my face and nodded. “Yeah, nothing serious. What...are you?”

The woman laughed and I felt my stomach drop. “Oh, silly, little girl...you know already, don’t you?”

That’s the first time in my life that being called a silly, little girl was a turn on. “No.” I whispered, softly. “I have no fucking idea.”

She laughed again and approached the bundle. One by one she pulled the daggers free. I take no shame in saying that I looked away. I just wanted to go home, at this point. When I was finally able to look back at the woman she held a baby in her arms. No. Not a baby. The Baby.

The bundle was still slack and bloody on the alter, but Baby was sleeping peacefully in this woman’s arms. Either I’d gone crazy or --  “Its her soul.” the woman said, conversationally. “It had been locked up in here as bait for the demon.” she caressed the infant’s cheek with a finger.

“No!” Husband’s voice sounded off like a gunshot. “No, you can’t do this to us! We command you.”

The room was packed. The robed figures were all standing atop their corpses, slowly approaching the woman still toying with the sleeping infant. Wife spoke next “She was our ticket to immortality! To godhood! You can’t stop us! We own you, now!” they weren’t paying any attention to me...and the woman wasn’t paying any attention to them.

A voice I didn’t recognize rang out “Kneel before your masters!”

That brought the woman from her trance. She didn’t look angry, only mildly annoyed. “Kneel? Own? Command?” she asked, frowning. “No one commands me, fools. I cannot be contained. I am not some dog on a leash.” she snapped her fingers and the spirits all dissipated with a clarion scream. “This is tiring.” she said, shaking her head. “It’s my granddaughters’ birthday party today, can I not get one hour’s peace?” 

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step forward. “What are you?”

The annoyance fled her face and she smiled, sweetly. “I said you already know.”

The entire world dropped from beneath my feet. Primal fear exploded through my being as every atom of my being screamed at me to run. Run and never look back. “Death.”, I whispered, causing the woman to laugh. “Elinor’s Death.”

“I am everyone’s Death, child...but you may call me Isali.” she smiled. It was a smile only a mother could possess. “My...husband gave me that name. Isn’t it so strange. You exist for so very long by one name...and someone gives you another. One that you love with all of your being.” her eyes met mine “You know that well, don’t you...VT?”

VT. Ramona had given me that name and I’d latched onto it with all my might. “Yes.” I whispered, nodding slowly. “I do.”

“Do tell dearest Elinor I send my regards.” she said, enveloping Baby in her robes. “Oh, the corpses here have your payment for this job. You may empty their pockets, if you wish. I believe it shall more than cover your expenses.”

“Isn’t that...disrespectful?” I asked, feeling squeamish at the thought of looting corpses.

“Are you implying they are deserving of respect?” Isali asked, an elegant eyebrow raising. That was a fair point. I immediately started to rifle though the corpse’s belongings. She watched me, carefully as I did. “I must go. My granddaughters will be ever so upset if Grammy isn’t in attendance. VT, we will meet again.”

“Wait.” I said, pushing to my feet, still waring with that primal desire to bolt. “Elinor...Elinor said you have a son? How?”

She laughed, brightly and shook her head. “Love, child. Love.” she looked thoughtful for a moment then turned her back to me. “Come with me.” she took a step forward...and I followed.

The world went topsy-turvy, and my brain felt like a block of ice in my skull. When my feet stopped moving I was at Ramona’s bedside. Alone. I didn’t know how much time had passed, or if any had passed...but Death -- Isali, she knew what I wanted more than anything in the world at that moment. And gave it to me.

I pulled back the sheets to Ramona’s bed and crawled in next to her, snuggling up to her back and trembling. Even in her sleep, Ramona’s a caregiver. She rolled and threw an arm over me, squeezing me close. Come morning, she raised hell for my staining her sheets with my blood. Isali was never mentioned.

Case closed

#tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: infant death #tw: guns #tw: gun violence #VTverse #OC #writing #horror

[1-800-channie]

Cigarettes & Mint | Chapter 1

→ Chapter: 1  |  2  |  3  | 4 |  5

→ Genre: Very Angst / Fluff / Highschool!Au

→ Warning: Strong language; slight eating disorders; cursing; bullying;  smoking; heartbroken; 

→ Pairing: Badboy!Hyunjin x Innocent!Reader;

→ Summary: When your ego is bigger than your brain, you don’t mind breaking someone’s heart. As soon as the smell of cigarettes and mint invade your nostrils, your heart starts beating faster and your life starts falling apart. I bet you will end up broken.

→ Playlist for the Chapter: 

    ↳ Paper Doll - Bea Miller ↳ Fool - NCT 127 ↳ Best Friend - iKON  ↳ Friends - Chase Atlantic ↳ Colours - Day6 

→ Words: +2K

→ N/A: Hiii everyone! I’m so excited to finally post my lovely ‘Cigarettes and Mint’ Fiction! It took me so long to write, every chapter was carefully written and revised at least five times. This is very important to me, so, i hope you love to read it as much as i loved to write it. OH and… Prepare your heart ;)

[Previous] [Next] [Masterlist]

[01:20 PM/ ONE DAY BEFORE THE BET]

The Canteen has never been a clean place, the tiled floor was always dirty with stains that would make your trainers get glued to the floor, but it’s was always a place full with enthusiasm and freedom, where everyone can talk aloud, and curse as much as they feel like to. The thin walls painted in white with the word ‘CANTEEN’ in yellow did a terrible job to preserve the loud yelling from inside, but no one seemed to care, almost like the canteen was a holy place, where everyone was free to do and say what they want.

The yellow color from the large wooden doors seem to become more vivid when the room is full, inside, students that could be mistaken to animals due to the amount of food they eat and for talking with their mouth packed, something that always made you want to throw up, are openly hanging out.

As everyone feeds their cravings for food, you feed your dark eyes by watching shamelessly the boy that is currently laughing at something that his best friend showed him on his iPhone. He is like a k-idol, impossible but inevitable to fall in love with, and you couldn’t help it but admire how handsome he was.

The music that echoes inside your brain from the headphones you have plugged in, is from a kdrama, where the boy stays under the freezing rain to kiss his beloved. And because of it, you feel your heart skip a beat while imagining you and Hyunjin on the same plot. As the slow beat went on you got lost on him.

As you stare blanked at the bad boy in front of you, your innocent brain makes it more accessible to cloud your eyes and make you face the scenario of him, drenched, over the icy rain, his huge hands on your tiny ones while he confesses the love he holds for you. His brown hair glued to his forehead and his lips red from the cold.

When someone yanked your headphones out of your ears you came back to reality, and there he is, in front of you, with a destructive smirk on his full red lips. He seemed much taller than you, and you felt so miserable staring at him while sitting down.

“Listen to me, Angel…” Hyunjin’s seductive voice orders you. “I know you like me very much, but the constant staring makes me uncomfortable as fuck, so please, stop staring at me like that, yeah?” As soon as he ceased talking everyone already had their attention on both of you, and they were giggling and pointing at your petty figure.

Your cheeks heated up from embarrassment, at that moment you wanted to dig a hole and hide inside until next week, so everyone would have forgotten about it already. When you stood up to excuse yourself, your legs weak and trembling, the hero of the story comes to the view to save you:

“Hyunjin, you didn’t need to be such a dick to her. You could’ve just talked to her privately, why humiliate her like that?” Hendery replies, a mad emotion taking advantage of his heaven made features.

“Look, you dont-” Minho came to help his friend, but your friend didn’t even let him finish. Hendery’s veiny hands gripped his shirt and he almost lifted him off the floor, angriness taking advantage of his bright form.

“Hendery~” Your scared frame whispered while tugging at his shirt. “Let them be… Please. It’s ok…”

Your childhood best friend takes a glace of five seconds at your appearance. You are bitting your lip nervously, he perceives your body trembling from the hand you have gripping him, the blush on your cheeks is redder than ever and small, hot and salty tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

He releases the bad boy and gets closer to Hyunjin, their noses practically touching and he threatens him:

“Dont come close to my best friend ever again, or ill beat you until you can’t fucking walk, understand?”

Hyunjin grins. “Yes, sir.” He salutes him before turning his back at both of you and going back to his original seat.

You, with your whole body shivering, grab your green backpack and wander out of the happy canteen, where you were starting to feel suffocated in. The tears in your eyes seem to be stronger than all the strength in your body and they flow down your jowls, making you despise yourself for being so pity.

The tall man that just defended you runs after you on the immense corridor, his steps loud and lucid, and he grabs your wrist, holding you back.

“Let me go… please.” You beg your voice muffed, making it crack from all the sadness peaking up at the exterior.

“You know i can’t do that.” And with that said, he draws your body against his, your head leaning on his shoulder as you whine. “Why do you always fall for the bad boys huh?” He jokes while caressing your wavy hair.

You let a timid laugh escape your edges as you sob, the sense of being protected drowning you completely. Hendery is that efficacious, he makes you feel special and safe. He has eternally protected you, but you, being the careless silly you are, never really paid attention to it.

As you feel your body calming down, you lift your face to gaze at him, a dumb prince-like smile displaced on his margins.

“You always show up at the best timing… Do you have any kind of seventh sense to know when I’m in trouble?” The laugh that he left out could be considered the cutest laugh you have ever heard if you weren’t stupidly in love with the bad boy that just shamed you in front of half of the school.

“I do, babe.” He plays and laughs right after, a pleasant silence involving you both on your walk out of the school. The endless corridor is full with lockers in both sides and your steps are echoing inside it, due to it being empty. The only light inside it is provided by the little lamps on the ceiling, that unsuccessfully make their job of brightening your way.

As you both sit down on a bench, outside, the wind feels refreshing on your hot cheeks. The sun seems to fade away at the right time, leaving you and him on a fresh shadow. Hendery has an adorable little pout on his thin lips, you watch him confused:

“What’s wrong, big boy?” You ask while squeezing his cheeks, he groans annoyed and takes your hands out of his appearance.

“Just because i had to save the beauty from the beast, i didn’t get to eat lunch. Now, I’m hungry.” He informs you in a grumpy tone, crossing his arms over his chest like a child when their mom doesn’t give them what they want.

“Here.” You say, taking your lunchbox out of the backpack and handing him the food you should have eaten on the first break.

Hendery looks at you irritated. His thick eyebrows pushed together and his lips pressed in a thin line, making it pretty obvious that he was about to lecture you about not eating your food.

“Are you doing it again?” He asks more concerned than angry. “I dont want you in trouble again for throwing food out on the bin when it’s totally eatable. And, please, dont tell me you are stopping eating because someone called you fat…” He explains, his hand brushing your hair comfortably and his eyes stare deep into yours in genuine love.

“No… It’s not that!” You lie, taking his hands off of you. “I just dont like this conserve my mom chose…” You try to cover up your dirty lie and he seems to fall for it, at least for now. You feel relieved that he didn’t dig deep on the problem.

Hendery feeds the bread calmly, casually sipping the juice he bought not too long ago, pineapple flavored, also your favorite. The package of it it’s simply colored in green and yellow, with a picture of a pineapple, kind of aesthetic pleasing in your eyes.

“Are you… hmm… alright? After what he did?” His clumsy self asks without looking at you. So he could avoid your hurt expression because it would damage him too.

“It was my fault… i completely froze while looking at him, i would feel exactly like him if i was in his position.” You answer honestly, and Hendery couldn’t believe that you saw the good side of what that sucker did to you, and even defend him.

“Still…” The cutie sitting next to you remarks, stuffing his mouth. “He didn’t need to be that bold and rude.” He blunts out shrugging, talking with his mouth full.

Noticing the gross action, you slap his shoulder playfully, making him laugh and almost choke. Then, when you both were calmer, you leaned your head on his shoulder, seeking a way out of the images of Hyunjin.

[11:20 PM/ ONE DAY BEFORE THE BET]

The sounds that could be heard from the bottom floor were laughs and loud RnB music while the three friends hung out at one of their houses. Changbin is the one that has more money out of the three, his house looks like a palace, and it’s so quiet that Hyunjin envies it.

The spot where they usually stay is Binnie’s basement. It’s a big, cozy room with an even bigger TV, where they usually watch films. A fluffy carpet that they use to lay down on, and an expensive bathroom that always smells like vanilla.

Hyunjin was laying on the sofa, watching Changbin, that was sitting down o the fluff carpet playing ‘Call of Duty: Zombies’. Minho just came out of the luxurious bathroom, smiling at both of his best friends paying so much attention to a game. This makes him feel like he is the most mature out of the three.

“I want to do something fun…” The older boy says kicking Hyunjin’s body so he could sit next to him on the comfortable sofa. Changbin, the owner of their favorite place to hang out, turns off the PlayStation and turns his attention to the boys behind him, resting his head on his hands cutely.

Hyunjin already had a dangerous cigarette caught between his full lips, the urge to take those memories out of his mind was killing him. Binnie, scenting the disgusting smell of the smoke, mad, took the tobacco of his best friend lips and put it on the trash bin in a fast movement.

“I told you, no smoking inside my basement didn’t i?” The back haired boy warns his friend, watching Hyunjin groan out of annoyment. He just needed help to forget you and your sad eyes.

“I need to fucking get revenge out of that motherfucker,” Minho said angrily, he hated to be threatened, especially from someone as insignificant and poor as Hendery.

The three of them didn’t like him, but Minho was the one that hates him the most since the girl he was trying to date was stolen from him. Hendery and Lee’s crush, dated for one year, and she was treated like the queen she was. When she showed up in front of Lee Know, her neck full with bruises from a night of pleasure, he felt extremely jealous and swore to himself that the prince-charming needed to pay.

Hyunjin wanted to be left out as much as possible, he didn’t want to talk to you again, because now, he couldn’t stop seeing your hurt expression, and he felt bad for what he made you go thru. He hated Hendery for always being there and not leaving you alone.

The seductive boy plays with his lip ring as he thinks to himself how impulsive he was, and how he could have talked to you more carefully, without calling your best friend’s attention.

“What do you plan to do, huh?” Changbin asked while bitting the gum he had bought just for this specific moment of being with the only people that understand him.

“Get him hurt. I want him to suffer…” Minho said, his eyes traveled at the boy sitting on the sofa next to him, his legs wide open, his head was thrown back, he knew something was up with his friend, but he couldn’t bother to care, not when his ego was hurt.

“We need someone to get to him, right?” Binnie asked with a smirk on his lips.

“Guys please let him be… or dont get-” Hyunjin was trying to make his bestie quit the idea of hurting the boy because after all, he was just taking care of the girl he likes.

“THAT’S IT! THE ANSWER IS YOU, MY FRIEND.” Minho yelled, not letting his devastated best friend finish talking.

“I told you. I’m not doing it…” Hyunjin assures.

“I just needed you to fuck, Kim Sun, the girl you humiliated today, and make him suffer. I know he is in love with her ever since they met. If you hurt her, you will hurt him.” The blond man says smartly, feeling proud of all the sin inside of him.

“Nah. Nop. Fuck… No. I’m not doing that.” The lip ringed boy sifts uncomfortably on the sofa, a weird pain consuming his whole body just by thinking about you.

“I can do it,” Changbin says, the confidence taking advantage of his short body. “She is hot as hell, i dont mind doing it.” His large hands drawing an invisible line of your ass and tapping it right after.

“Nah man. She won’t ever let you close to her…” Minho denied his friend, and Changbin felt ridiculous for being left out of the group once again. He misses those times where the three of them would do everything together for fun, and not bother other people. He was afraid that if he refused to do what his friends wanted he would be left alone. And he dislikes being left alone.

Lee Know turns to the tall man next to him once again and tries his luck once again.

“Come on, Jinnie… She has a big ass, just like you want. She is quite pretty… It won’t be that hard.” He blunts out. “She is totally in love with you, she will be yours in just a few hours.” He feels his smile fade away when the stubborn man beside him shakes his head in a negative way for the third time.

“Well, i guess you are that weak, huh? Can’t even make a virgin girl fuck you without catching feelings.” Minho spits angrily those vulgar words, he knows Hyunjin will give up. Just because his ego is way bigger and stronger than his poor brain.

“What the fuck are you talking about man?” The smoker yells. “I can fuck her in less than three days, just by looking at her, i know she will fall on her knees for me!” Jinnie says full of himself, the images of your broken face being replaced by imagines of you moaning out loud his name.

He is Hwan Hyunjin, the biggest playboy of the school, not just someone.

“I bet you can’t get into her pants in three days and then leave her right after,” Minho smirks and throws fireworks inside him, he finally got what he wanted.

“I bet i fucking can!” Hyunjin was obviously irritated, and his ego was hurt.

“Good, we start counting tomorrow then,” Changbin says, forcing the angry boys to look at him.

Hyunjin knows he shouldn’t do this. He will hurt you, he will break you., he will tear you apart, but he couldn’t care less, because his ego was being tested.

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#stray kids #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #straykids fluff #kpop #kpop angst #fanfic #chapter 1 #smoke au #high school au #hwang hyunjin #changbin #minho #hendery #female reader #angst #kpop smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin au #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Cracks. (Defective Series 3)

In a request from @burtlederp for my @badthingshappenbingo​ card, this will be based off of the trope: Lifted by the Neck. (Requested squares are white hearts, completed squares are red hearts. If you want to request any, send an ask with the trope and (optionally) a character of mine to fill it with.)

The previous entry in this series is here. 

Tagging @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ as well, who wanted to see another continuation of this :) Since this will probably be an ongoing series now, anyone can ask to be on a tag list or taken off.

One final announcement! These characters now have names since I’ll be continuing the series. The sister (previously X) is Elle Valencia, and the brother (previously Y) is Jirard Valencia. As for the box boy’s name… well, you’ll just have to read a little further.

By the end of his first training session, the boy had passed out. Jirard figured he pushed it a little too far when it almost lost its voice from screaming near the end, but he had reached his goal. Whether by obedience, delirium, or weakness, his boy had stopped pulling away altogether by the fourth cauterized knife wound. Elle had gotten a little bored when she realized she wouldn’t get to shock him any further, but he promised he’d make it up to her. So, a few days later, he invited her back over.

“What’re you doing, Jirard?” Speaking of his sister, she must have let herself in. He closed the book in his hands and looked over. 

“Just writing in my journal,” he shrugged, setting it aside and standing up.

“Journal, eh? Didn’t know you kept one.”

“I do now: started the other day after you left, actually. It’s mostly to write about the boy and observe his progress. Whumpee Barn is getting a strongly worded letter on the importance of quality control when I find the patience to write it, and I’ll need to remember details. Thus, journal,” he gestured to the book once more before starting down the stairs, waving Elle after him. “Plus, I can’t lie; it’ll be nice to have a window down memory lane when it’s finally properly trained.”

“Speaking of it, did you think of a name yet? Might be easier to train commands into if it has something to respond to.” 

“No, I haven’t actually, but you’re right about that. The instructions I read through mentioned names too. You have anything good in mind?” Jirard stopped at the landing of the stairs, leaning against the basement door just opposite them. 

“Personally, I thought it’d be funny to name it something strong sounding. Maybe like Maximus or Orion. More satisfying to talk down to it, then.” Elle smiled, and her brother paused with a contemplative look on his face. A few seconds later, he looked back up with a grin.

“I like your style, Elle... You sure you’ve never owned one of these bad boys?”

“Just got good taste in friends, I guess. I pick up a few things being around them and their pets enough.” she laughed, walking down to the basement when Jirard finally opened the door. 

“Yeah, isn’t one of them some hotshot blogger now or something? The one with the wild green hair?” He made some awkward gestures trying to describe them, and Elle snorted at her brother’s ignorance.

“Oh my god, you turn thirty and suddenly you’re completely out of touch. You’re literally only five years older than me, you dolt; you should know they’re a YouTuber. We should totally watch some of their videos later if we get time. You’d like them; they’ve got flair.”

“Ugh, whatever you say. Those videos do sound like they might be fun though,” he said as they finally reached the boy’s room. “Getting down to business, the boy hasn’t been too active since you were last here, though I’ve really only gone in there to feed it. Thought it should have some time alone in the dark to really think about what’s important, you know?”

His sister took that as a rhetorical question and stayed quiet when Jirard opened the door. He flicked on the light to illuminate the room, and his own face lit up when a groan came from inside. In the corner, he spied the boy curled into itself, squinting against the light assaulting its vision. 

“Oh, so you are awake this time! Honestly thought I might have broken you for a bit there. Well, broken you more anyway. You’re already aware of your manufacturing defects.” Jirard walked across the room to sweep a hand across its cheek and down its bare neck which still bore marks from the shock collar. It made sure not to flinch away from the touch. In fact, it almost seemed to lean into it, as both he and the boy realized.

“...I almost want to take that back. Seems like your training did pay off a little after all, huh?” It nodded its head slightly at that, almost akin to bowing it down in shame. Its face remained set in a grimace. “Hey, that’s not a bad thing. You’re just fulfilling your purpose as a product; nothing wrong with that. Oh, speaking of! The manual didn’t give me anything to call you, so I’m just gonna have to name you. What do you think about Maverick?”

The grimace set in deeper as it frowned disapprovingly.

“I, personally, think it’s a lovely name. Suits it well.” Elle butted in with a sparkling smile.

“It’s decided then. You’re my little Maverick, and you’re going to respond whether I call you Maverick, Mav, or any matter of pet names. Got it?” The nod he got in response was short and clipped this time, but it was an agreement. It was beginning to learn what he wanted. “Great. Elle, you can take it. I trust it knows its place by now and won’t try anything, but here’s the obligatory warning just in case, Mav. Don’t go getting your priorities switched up now.”

Jirard turned around before it could respond and his sister walked over instead, grabbing it by the back of its neck and pulling forward. It got up on unsteady legs, trying its best to keep up with the quick pace already being set as it was dragged along. Maverick was almost choking around the strong hand, but its cramping legs had trouble keeping up and staying stable. If it didn’t trip on its own, some strand of the long, plush carpet threads would catch on its toes anyway and send it stumbling behind only to be yanked forward again.

And god if that grip didn’t already hurt. That shock collar had left scarring that Elle’s rough hand now rubbed painfully against with every movement. Up the staircase, she stayed one step above it, moving opposite it and pulling up hard on multiple occasions.

At the top of the steps, Mav finally got a full scope of the house. There was a large, luxurious entrance, lit by a glittering crystal chandelier and framed by a curving wooden staircase. It couldn’t see the scope from just one room, but this house could easily be an entire mansion. No doubt it was fit with a high end security system that would lock all the doors and windows at the tap of a finger, leaving no way to escape…

“Maverick,” Jirard’s call lingered in the air for a few seconds before it remembered that was supposed to be its name, and lifted its head. “Did they at least teach you how to complete basic chores where you were trained?”

It gave a curt nod, eyes still wandering the open space. Fingers snapping in front of the boy’s face brought its attention back to the situation at hand, and looked back at Elle, whose fingers had just retreated from its face. She shook her head and pointed back in front of them, to her brother who was staring with a less than pleased expression.

“I may as well address this now rather than later, Mav. I’d love it if you could give some verbal responses every now and then. You know, so I don’t have to constantly stare at you to have a conversation. Not to say I didn’t wish I could stare at you all the time, of course.”

“...okay, then.” A hint of sass shone through the words.

“So how would you answer my previous question…?” he asked expectantly, leading it on.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” The boy only stared blankly with a carefully guarded expression, lip twitching. “...Oh, come on, I’m sure they gave you a few ideas of what to call your owner back where you came from. Sir, Master, Mr. Valencia… take your pick. Honestly, I’m really not all that picky as long as you can show me some basic respect.”

His boy seemed to have frozen halfway through the statement, eyes blown wide and somehow clearer than they had been in days. It trembled in an unnatural way, which would have been interesting to him had it been in fear and not what looked to be pent up rage. He made eye contact with Elle over it and she only tightened her fingers on its throat, adding her other hand for extra security. 

Only Jirard saw when it broke, something greater than itself taking control of its body, and signaled a warning to his sister just seconds before Maverick reared up against the restraining hands, teeth bared and snarling. 

“Valencia, VALENCIA! I knew you were familiar. Damn it, it’s you- it’s fucking YOU! You’re the asshat from up the street who would never stop harassing my mom before she- she-! And of course you’re enough of a sick BASTARD to treat a fucking human being as a pet! Fuck you! Fuck-” Its words were cut off by its head slamming into the wall, and feet leaving the floor, hands curling further around its neck, cutting in and taking his breath until it could only wheeze through sobs and tears that spilled down its cheeks. Its expression only dropped further at the realization of what it had just done--what it had just said!--and the surely looming consequences he couldn’t even dream of. 

“That’s. Enough.” Elle hissed as her hands closed over its throat, and it could only gasp fruitlessly and scramble for footing as Jirard stepped closer, expression unreadable.

“Let off a bit, Elle.” He stalked forward, talking slowly to his boy now as if addressing a toddler, “I think we need to have a short discussion before I beat you senseless for what you just did, don’t we Mav?”

“Th-tha’s not- nah-” it sniveled and cried as it spoke, knowing any more of its defiance would only make things worse, but some spirit had awoken inside that it couldn’t push down.

“Are you trying to tell me Maverick isn’t your real name?” A brief moment passed, as if he was expecting a response. “Okay, sure, I’ll indulge you,” Jirard remembered the manual advising strictly against speaking over a boy’s past, but he figured it already broke that boundary for him, “What is your ‘real’ name then?”

The boy froze at that, looking ahead with empty eyes. Its lips trembled and breath hitched around Elle’s hands, but it was still silent. He resisted the urge to smile at his risk having paid off. With specific memories so fresh in its head, Maverick would need more of an overhaul than he had planned for, but it would certainly be interesting to try out.

“Oh, can you not remember? Are you sure you really ever had one in the first place? Because from what I remember, you never had a proper name until today. Anything that came before must certainly have been miserable--something you’d never want to remember, of course--for you to sign up for a program like this.” The words came sweet from his lips, but his boy was having none of it with what those memories had instilled in him. It muttered things about how it didn’t agree to this, how it had people down the street that cared about it, and it only saw Jirard’s raised fist right before it smashed across its cheek. 

The hands on its neck held Maverick in place as its face snapped to the side, a wretched, choked moan escaping its mouth. Elle eyed her brother, but he nodded in a motion for her to keep holding it. Punches came in strong to its head, hitting anywhere that wouldn’t make it immediately pass out, and pained noises became shouts that rang and echoed in the open space. Elle counted seven before he finally brought his fists down, and the body under her hands groaned deliriously. 

“Very elegant. Beating it senseless, you said?” She smiled, letting it drop to the ground, barely clinging to consciousness.

“You see it having any senses right now? It should have a few concussions by now, at least. Figure that’s the easiest way to mess with its head.”

“Well, it’s not gonna take to anything you tell it right now. Gonna need, I don’t know, at least an hour if I had to estimate.” She nudged the boy with her foot, and it leaned faintly into it in its half-conscious state. Maybe the training the other day had caused that, but she wouldn’t place bets on it with this one. “...maybe two, actually.”

“Is that enough time to watch one of those videos you were talking about earlier?” Jirard’s voice rose in a hopeful tone, and Elle smiled back.

“Oh, definitely a few at least!”

She grabbed Maverick’s arms while her brother took the feet and they dragged it to the living room with his flatscreen TV, abandoning it on the floor in favor of sitting up on the couch.

“Okay, so we should definitely start with one of the earlier videos,” Elle scrolled through the channel on her phone which was streaming to the TV, “would you rather the collar haul or the prank video?”

“Ooh, the prank sounds fun…”

Videos played on the screen for hours as Maverick lay on the floor, disoriented by its throbbing head and swirling vision, unable and unwilling to force its confused body to move, and hearing only the muffled sounds of audio and the piercing, too loud laughter of its owner and his sister. In the back of its head, memories of defiance and punishment danced like a curse, and it just wished it could think clearly enough to remember what it was trying so hard to defend.

#oyyy mateys we've passed 2000 words in this one #sorry it got to that point lol #hope giant chapters aren't a dealbreaker because I seem to have problems with that #whump #box boy #box boy whump #defective series #Jirard Valencia #Elle Valencia #Maverick #lifted by the neck #most of it is more #grabbed by the neck #but I figured it was fine #choking #a 'shameless' reference to a certain other box boy series in there #gotta support that #box boy universe #beating #delirium #BTHB #bad things happen bingo #concussed #got some more of that nice sibling banter because I actually can't help myself #there's 400 words of pre-whump content in here at least lolol

[vladimira-shakahn]

Grim Fate

No one is safe...

--

Last Friday was the first time Vladimira decided to venture outside of the beautiful, creamy-white stone walls of Stormwind. Her destination wasn’t Elwynn, it was Westfall. The idea was to learn how to be more hands-on rather than magic-reliant. With how the world was changing and how quickly a life could change in a split second, she wanted to be prepared for anything... Most of all, she wanted to learn how to properly care for a Horse before purchasing a Stead for herself. 

 Friday and Saturday flew by. She met new people and some who became friends. Memories were made. Snapshots were taken by the Gnomish engineered cameras that everyone seemed to have these days, and even little games were shared from Quel’thalas to Westfall for the children. 

 The golden plains were certainly a culture shock in comparison to what she was used to. Quel’thalas had magic brooms and carpets. Floating flora, and even magical fauna. The horses were for the Knights and the Hawkstriders stuck to those who were not among the order. It wasn’t ordinary for a Knight-less lad or lass to be found with a Horse as their companion in short. 

 Sunday came and it was time for Vladimira to pack up her things, check out of the Inn, and make way back to Stormwind. By foot it should have taken a little over half of a day since she always enjoyed to stop and smell the Peaceblossoms that were one in many on this new land of hers. That was when everything changed. 

 After she crossed over the bridge and waved goodbye to the fellow Guards and Stormwind Knights, the woman was quick to disappear from sight as she walked with no real thoughts on her mind. It was a dream. All of it was. It was as if Quel’thalas was truly in its own world and that this... All of what she experienced were lives that she always read about. Of course she could have found a way to sneak into this area decades ago, but did she really want to? No. 

 It was while her head were in the clouds did she get caught off-guard. Vladimira was at a point in her path where no guards were to be found and no passersby could be seen. It was where if something bad was going to happen, that this was the time and place for it all. Oh, and it was. 

 One minute her vision was clear and the next the road was smoke filled with puffs of cloud. Powdery-blue eyes squinted in the dull of her minimal vision, teeth clenched and hands grasping at the one dagger on her right hip and the libram that shot off of her hip and split open with preparation for any upcoming incantation. 

 “Who is it.” Her voice hallow and direct. “Are you a Bandit? Mm. I will say that this is not a tactic I expected. Are you a double agent within the Alliance? I see how some of the people stare at me. Distrustful and angry, despite the Ren’dorei showing our pride and promise among them. Who is it.” She grunted. 

 There was a snaky laugh- it was almost... animated. Someone who had this all planned. It was no Bandit, and it was no double agent within the Alliance. It was of a familiar voice, but she didn’t get the chance to figure out who it was. One knock over her head and the woman was out. The next thing she awakened to was a grimy cellar and the nail-like noise of risen Ghouls being chained against the wall nearby. 

 Vladimira perked in her damp chair. The only light that came through what she assumed was a cellar inside of a basement was by a slit of light that was purely accidental because of a crack that could have formed by war or by nature. Nasty droplets of dirty water continuously spilled onto the top of her mane of violet-indigo, the star-spangled beauty tied down by sharp wire. Any sign of struggle and the woman would find her wrists and ankles sliced through. Her mouth was covered by a tight linen and her weaponry were gone and across of the room. 

 Footsteps that clearly were not hers echoed through the dark chamber. Somehow it sounded louder than the Ghouls near her. Perhaps it was her elven ears being more sensitive than usual as she was more alert than usual, or perhaps it was the fact that the person making an entrance wanted to... Make an entrance. 

 There was someone else with the shadow-lapped figure that let out panting cries. All Vlad could get from that was that the unknown walker had another hostage, and it was another woman. 

 “Pl... Please. N-Not her.” That voice. She knew that voice. It cut through her heart like a poisonous dagger. It was her sister: Delilah Auri’elle Sunrose. What was happening? 

 A low and deep chuckle escaped the confined figure. “Shut up, girl.” The assault-ant was a woman. Who? That she still couldn’t quite place a finger on. Her voice was mechanized by whatever mask she wore. Smart. 

 Delilah was tossed onto the ground beside Vlad. It was obvious that she was taken hostage for weeks it seemed. Her normally bronze skin was now a dull pale with veins showcasing beneath her redden and wet eyes. Wrists bruised by the bounds of chains. “V-Vlad.” She whispered and quickly stood up to wrap her arms protectively around the Ren’dorei. The woman was a Priestess and for some reason it didn’t hurt to be near each other. Was her magic... gone? Was it because of her mana being steamed out, or was it gone entirely? 

 There was a primal growl that escaped Vlad in the comfort of her sisters arms. What could she do in this situation? Vlad was the fighter. Vlad was the one who protected. Vlad was the one who went to the other side to protect Delilah. Before she was turned, the woman went by the name: Kariss Delia Sunrose. 

 “Mm. Not the family reunion you both wished for, right? One of you is going to have to die today.” The figure finally split from the shadows and stepped into the slim light that danced within the middle of the damp chamber. 

 “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ael’dine Wrathsun and I am here to correct Azeroth. You see,” she rolled her shoulders and drawled out an elongated sigh. “Our factions are neutral now, but I do NOT agree with that. I have heard tales of the great Vladimira Sha’Khan protecting those who needs protecting. Cute, I will give you that. My issue with you is that you need to remember that the Alliance and the true Horde will never. Ever. Be cordial. You are known as one of the greatest fighters to your people now- you were to us as well. You served in almost all of the wars, right? Heh. I need to give you a reason to not be able to sleep comfortably in your daydream life that you’ve somehow managed to create with the Lions, Vladi. You are not safe. You will never be safe. None of your people will be. You are a traitor. A downright, disgusting, void-infused, traitor.” She spat while taking Delilah by the bountiful of her lush blonde locks. 

 Vlad flared with a heavy aura of void magic around her figure. There was no step between. She was taught to master the art of perfecting her emotions in order to perfect the proper usage of void, but this... There were few cases where she would break from what she fought so hard for and this was one of them. Azure hues split into deep purple- but that didn’t last too long. The bounds on her wrists glowed with an orange ward, completely stunning the woman from progressing any further. 

 A shock ran through her body and a loud wail left her lips. The void was simmered and she returned to her new and normal form. “Do not---” 

 “Do not WHAT, Vlad?” Ael’dine growled happily to her as she pressed the chilled blade against Delilah’s neck. “I will be here to break whatever peace or happiness you attempt to get. I will be here to ruin your damn life until you UNDERSTAND that WE will NEVER be neutral. You have gotten too damn comfortable. You were one of my greatest Knight’s at one point, Sunrose. Look at you now. A DISGRACE. A time ago you were spitting prayers to the Light, and now you heed for the Void. TRAGIC. I will NOT have it. I want you to remember this moment whenever you look in the mirror every morning. I want you to take yourself back to this moment and LIVE with the fact that YOU have FAILED your people. You have FAILED your family. You WILL NOT prevail. Peace will not prevail over wrath.” 

 “N-NO!” Vlad screamed as she watched Ael’dine cut a clean slice across her sisters throat. It was the most fruitless death for a woman who she knew deserved to be a mother to a beautiful family one day. 

 Sha’Khan was in pure shock. Even after being cut free as Ael’dine slipped away and then her Acolytes, the woman could do nothing else besides stare and feel every figurative piece of her puzzle of a heart break and clatter. There was blood on her toes, blood that came from her sister. The woman who she finally set onto her knees to hold Delilah close to her chest. “I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry.” She whispered against the matted hair of the dead in her arms. “I... I.” 

 “RELEASE them.” Ael’dine’s voice rang from the other end of the hall. Just like that, the sound of chains breaking off of the Ghouls came to life. 

 The Ren’dorei forced herself back to reality. She raised Delilah into her arms and set her onto the table where she replaced her weapons with Del, then spun on her heels and successfully fought off the Ghouls. After the task was done and despite her heart telling her to run after Ael’dine for a selfish form of justice, she forced herself to carry Delilah to the nearest flowerbed of woodland beauty that she could find to bury her there. 

 Vladimira tossed the last pile of dirt over the now graved Delilah. Down onto one knee she went, head bowed, mind boggled. “I will have justice for you. I will find a way to pay you my respects. I will murder her and every last one of her family members if I must--- I.” The Sorceress stopped herself. “You would have wanted me to stay true to who I am. You would have wanted me to be smart about this. I failed you, Delilah. I will not fail again.” She stood and made her way back to the main road. Wherever she was would eventually bring her to Stormwind. Matted in blood, eyes dull from emotion, and body a mere vessel to a broken soul. She should’ve known. Her life in Stormwind was going too well for it to last.    

One final step and she was inside of the comfort of her loft- where she turned everything upside down. Furniture was thrown. Pots and plants were thrown. Everything was turned upside down until she had her fill and forced herself to bathe and readjust herself. After the shower she stared at herself in the cloudy mirror that had exactly one, Vladimira hand-sized swipe through it to give her the clarity to see her reflection. The same mirror that often found a smile in there now saw anger and sadness. Vengeance and a budding terror. “I will kill her. I will kill every last one of them. For the Alliance.” 

#Grim Fate #TW: blood #TW: mutilation