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burntsaltsblog · 28 days

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tw: drug use

Chapter Four

"Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never run around and desert you."

A steady headache at the base of my skull pulsed in time with the beat, which was courtesy of Rick Astley. But I couldn't even hear Rick singing, thanks to MM, who was belting out the tune like he had written the song himself.

"Never gonna make you cry. Never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you."

He had claimed this was the only way he could adequately prepare for a mission, and I wasn't one to judge a guy for the way he chose to get in the zone. But, as soon as Rick Astley's voice blared from the mini Bose speaker in the common area of the basement for the 27th time (yes, I had been counting), I was contemplating storming from the confines of my room and hurling the stupid speaker against the wall until it inevitably shattered into a thousand different satisfying pieces.

I assumed I had finally gone deaf when the song cut out midway through the second verse, but then Hughie timidly eased my door open and slipped inside. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" I replied dryly, flipping through the latest issue of Vogue that Frenchie had swiped for me from the bookshop down the street.

"Yeah." Hughie said, hesitating before continuing, "Anyways, we're about to head out, and I wanted to say goodbye."

My gaze drifted from pictures of Chanel bags to Hughie's nervous face. "Alright. Well, Godspeed. And if you happen to use Butcher as a human shield, which results in him getting maimed, then please do so. I can promise to compensate you for your efforts."

Hughie perched on the side of my bed, taking an unusually great interest in a loose string in his jeans. "How long do you plan on staying mad at Butcher for?"

"Why?" I questioned as I resumed paging through my magazine.

"Because the tension between you two is making it a bit awkward for the rest of us if I'm being honest."

"I'll stop being mad at Butcher when he stops being a world-class ass. And knowing him, that could take a while. So I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"Why don't you just key his car or something?" Hughie sighed. "You know, perform some dramatic act of revenge so you can get even with him and move on?"

I titled my head in consideration before I found fault in my friend's idea. "One, he'll just get his stupid car fixed, and two, my revenge needs to be something that's going to impose lasting pain. Emotionally and physically. And that's going to take me a long time to figure out."

"You're insane," Hughie muttered as he stood, adjusting his jacket. "Oh, and by the way," he added, heading for the door. "Butcher told me to tell you to be on your best behavior while we're gone. He also told me what he would do to you if you didn't in significant detail, but I do not feel comfortable repeating any of it."

"That kinky, huh?" I smirked, watching Hughie squirm uncomfortably.

"Seriously, Jo," he lamented. "Can you at least try not to be reckless tonight? I know that's asking you to go against every basic instinct of yours, but Butcher is right. You need to stay here and rest so you can get better."

"I make no promises," I replied sarcastically before I took stock of Hughie's desperate face and relented slightly. "But I will try to be good. Is that better?"

Hughie nodded, offering me a small wave before closing the door behind him.

I strained my ears to hear four different pairs of shoes trample up the basement steps before clamoring loudly over my head. Butcher hadn't returned since his anger-induced exit earlier, so I assumed he was somewhere outside waiting for them.

A sting of jealousy flowed through me as I pictured them all embarking on this mission without me. Evading a security system as tricky as the CIA's was right up my alley, and I was exceedingly bitter that I was missing out on all of the fun.

I looked around my room, mindlessly studying the tattered posters I'd hung on the wall to cover the cracked walls. Tom Cruise stared back at me, dawned in his pilot's outfit, and I glared at him. If I lived in the film Top Gun, I wouldn't have to live with Butcher and his infuriating face, which I would confess was quite handsome if I wasn't so pissed at him.

Bored of Dior's spring line and Harry Style's exclusive interview about the highs and lows of fame, I tossed Vogue aside, picked up my phone, and scrolled through my unopened messages. Brandon had texted me under an hour ago, informing me of a party he was throwing at his apartment. Apparently, he was being evicted tomorrow, so he was hosting a rager the night before to trash the place as a big "fuck you" to his landlord.

I had to admit that the party sounded fun. I'd been alone for roughly five minutes, and I was already bored out of my mind. My biggest problem, though, was that I had the matter of my brand-new stitches. After MM sewed me up for the second time this afternoon, he'd made me swear that I wouldn't move a muscle so as not to rip them again. So, I suppose it was a good thing I'd had my fingers crossed behind my back because how could I break a promise that I technically never made?

I took a deep breath as I sat up in bed. Other than a small amount of lightheadedness and some minimal pain, I felt surprisingly good. And I knew after a couple of drinks, any discomfort would be a distant memory.

After rummaging through my small collection of clothes, I pulled on a clean pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved shirt that had the faded Vought logo, and my trusted combat boots. I studied my reflection in the camera of my cracked phone and felt satisfied enough, so I headed out the door and started for Brandon's place.

I was careful to shut off my phone when I was still inside on the off chance that Hughie tried tracking me if the guys returned to the pawn shop before I did and noticed I was gone. However, I figured the odds of that happening were pretty low, considering I only planned on staying at this party for a little while and breaking into the office of the deceased deputy director of the CIA would surely take all night.

Brandon's door was closed, but music and the hollers of guests could be heard loud and clear. I peeked through one of the bullet holes in the wood and saw it was a packed house. But that was no problem. Since becoming a wanted criminal, I haven't socialized much, so it would be good to see everyone.

"Holy shit, I can't believe you came!" exclaimed Brandon as I entered his apartment. He threw an arm around me before instructing me to 'help myself' as he gestured to the powder that covered almost every surface.

But I wasn't in the mood for coke. It was too exhilarating for this time of night, and I was craving something with less evident and lasting effects. I spotted a vape that was being passed around by Heath, one of my old buddies back from my dealing days, and I promptly approached him. I didn't have much trouble nicking the vape off of him, and I settled into the comforting high from the weed as I conversed with everyone.

They were all thrilled to see me walking around free and not locked up. I was ambushed for details on my anit-supe work, but I was dubious with most of my answers, only doling out basic information and keeping most of the details to myself. I considered almost everyone here to be a friend, but paranoia danced around my head, and on this rare occasion, I listened to the internal warnings and kept my mouth shut.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, I had moved from weed to more potent stuff. Molly was my newest friend for the evening, and it caused me to deviate from my original plan of leaving early. One hour turned into two, and pretty soon, it was nearing four am, and I was passing out on Brandon's couch.

༺༻

Light snuck between my swollen lids, piercing my eyes, and I groaned, slapping a hand over my face as I searched for some much-needed darkness. Someone nearby was shuffling around the room, and the noise quickly became too irritating to ignore. I assumed it was Hughie, and I wrenched my eyes open, intent on telling him to shut the fuck up, when I realized that it wasn't my best friend causing the noise, and I wasn't under the pawn shop. I was still in Brandon's apartment from the night before.

I abruptly sat up and watched as the stranger causing the ruckus shuffled out the door, not even bothering to close it behind them. My teeth sank anxiously into my lower lip as I pulled out my phone to check the time. After the device finally powered on, my eyes widened as I saw the numbers flashing before me.

10:29 am

Fuck fuck fuck. I was completely and totally fucked.

The boys were definitely back by now, and I was sure that they had noticed my absence.

Right on cue, notifications of missed calls and texts began flooding in, and my stomach flipped when I saw the ninety-three missed calls from Butcher. Hughie had called a whopping forty-two times, and there were a few messages from MM and Frenchie telling me to get my shit together and come home. I couldn't help but scoff at Frenchie; he and I ran in the same circles, and not a day went by where he wasn't high. Saying that I was miffed at his hypocrisy would be an understatement.

I stood from the couch on weak legs, fought the fatigue that was encompassing my body, and forced myself to focus on the act of getting home somehow. I was too tired for the almost hour walk, but I didn't have money for a cab either.

As if my phone could read my thoughts, it immediately lit up, notifying me that I had an incoming call from Butcher. I guess he thought that the ninety-fourth time was the charm.

I stood in Brandon's apartment, which was lacking the owner himself, amongst other passed-out partygoers who I assumed had stayed overnight unintentionally like myself as I contemplated whether or not to accept Butcher's call.

In the end, as I silently cursed myself, I took the call. I brought the phone up to my ear but quickly drew it back when Butcher's voice bellowed from the other end, not even giving me a chance to say hello.

"Where on God's bleedin' earth are ya'?"

"Uh, Brooklyn," I responded hoarsely as I walked through the open doorway and scanned the empty hall.

"Stay where you are. I’m coming to get ya’."

"Butcher, it's fine. I can get home on my own."

"The hell you can. Send me your location."

I didn't have the opportunity to argue before the line went dead. So, with multiple knots in my stomach, I begrudgingly dropped him a pin of my location. I was already in deep shit, and now I was forced to face a car ride with Butcher, where he'd have ample time to yell at me. And with my blurry vision, chapped lips, and overall feeling of sickness, I was not in the mood.

I stumbled out into the December morning air just as Butcher pulled up in his beat-up Cadilac. He shot out of the driver's seat and stalked towards me like I was prey that he had finally cornered after much anguish. I suppose that wasn't far from the truth.

I barely had time to attempt an escape before Butcher had me slammed up against the car with a firm hand on my chest, keeping me pinned in place while he used his other hand to point a threatening finger inches from my nose.

"Dontcha ever pull some shite like that again. Do ya’ understand me? I was out all night, runnin' around like a fuckin' headless wanker lookin' for you, only to find ya’ here in this bloody crack den."

"This isn't a crack den."

"Well, it makes our little bunker look like Buckingham fuckin' Palace, don’t it? And if I ever catch ya' here again, I swear to God almighty, you won't be able to sit for a fuckin’ year."

Butcher's threat was low and husky as his whisky-tainted breath fanned over my face, and desire pooled in my belly.

"Do you understand me, Josephine?"

"Wow, you're using my full name? I must really be in trouble," I snickered. Any sane person would immediately agree to appease someone like Butcher with his bugged-out eyes and bared teeth. But I had fallen off my rocker years ago.

My breath hitched when Butcher raised his hand to my neck and squeezed in a warning. "I would choose your next words very carefully, princess."

I stared up at Butcher, challenging him as our breaths began to mingle. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Yes, but that won't stop me from throwin' ya' over my knee and spankin' your arse till it’s red and raw. I don't care if we're in the middle of the goddamn street. I bet your other druggie friends around here would like a little show."

My pussy clenched desperately as images of Butcher punishing me out in the open like that swarmed my mind, but I reeled them back in as I did my best to keep myself together. I prayed he didn't notice my quickened heartbeat and sweat that now coated my forehead, telltale signs that my body craved for him to take control of me right here, right now.

With much-needed force, I shoved Butcher off of me and watched in satisfaction as he stumbled back. His shoelaces flew around his feet instead of doing their actual job and keeping his boots laced up.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. It's not attractive on a man your age," I commented passively as I opened the passenger's side door and plopped down in the car.

I kept my eyes staring straight ahead as Butcher rounded the front of the car and gruffly sat down behind the wheel before starting the engine. He navigated the narrow streets of New York City, weaving between cabs and delivery trucks and honking at pedestrians loitering on the curbs. "These fuckin' kids have no place better to be? When I was their age, I had a job to keep and rent to pay. I didn't have time to hang around street corners like a fuckin' muppet until my next wank."

"Yeah, well, when you were their age, electricity was still new, so people liked staying indoors more."

I couldn't resist peaking over at Butcher to see his reaction, and I caught him rolling his eyes before changing lanes. "Good to know all that dust didn't wipe out your charmin' personality."

"Actually, I didn't do any lines last night. I was a good girl and stuck with some nice MDMA. Aren't you proud of me?" I asked, with a mocking smile as I twisted my shoulders to face Butcher head-on.

"I don't think proud is the right word, sweetheart. More like so bloody furious I might handcuff you to your bed so ya’ can't sneak out again."

I raised my brows as my smile turned from mocking to teasing. "Damn, I didn't realize you liked to get so frisky, old man. Exactly how deep into BDSM are you? I mean, for someone with your level of anger issues, I'd guess pretty far."

Butcher growled, illegally parking his car in the alley next to the pawn shop. He slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward, and dug his fingers into the roots of my hair, tugging till my eyes bored into his own. "Get out of my fuckin' car before I make good on my earlier threat. Don't be so naive, darlin', to assume I would pass up the opportunity to teach ya’ a lesson on obedience, you little cunt."

My arousal from earlier returned, more powerful than before, and I was all but panting when Butcher used the hand that wasn't holding my skull captive to throw my door open. "Get," he barked.

After I removed my seatbelt, noting how my hands shook ever so slightly, Butcher shoved me out of the automobile. I had barely landed on the ground, my boots thudding loudly in the process before Butcher was zooming away. His tailpipe blew exhaust all over me, and I coughed and sputtered, throwing my middle finger up in the air, hoping he would see it in the review mirror.

When his Cadillac was around the corner and out of sight, I turned on my heels and headed into the small pawn shop. I avoided making eye contact with the tattooed man behind the counter and quickly descended the basement steps.

I kicked off my boots and tossed aside my jeans and shirt after entering my room and climbed into bed. I curled up into a tight ball as I tried to ignore the intense throbbing between my legs because I refused to give in to the pleasure that I so desperately craved. Even though it wasn't necessarily true, it felt as if touching myself to the memory of Butcher's harsh yet tantalizing threat felt like I would be letting him win. Winning what, I wasn't sure. Nevertheless, I was too sore of a loser to go through with it.

Eventually, I began drifting in and out of sleep, and it was only when I couldn't take anymore that I pulled my underwear to the side and ran a finger through my slick folds.

I shivered, biting my lip as I attempted to suppress a moan that was on the tip of my tongue. Once my restrain was broken, there was no holding back. I pushed two fingers into my dripping hole and wasted no time in finding a fast tempo. The heel of my hand slapped against my swollen clit every time my fingers entered my cunt, and I came embarrassingly quick.

After clearing my head from my intense orgasm, I examined the juices that coated my thighs. This was all Butcher's fault. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be such a fucking mess right now.

Resigned to the fact that I needed a shower, I tiptoed through the common area, desperate not to be caught in this state, and snuck into the cramped bathroom. I wish I could say that I practiced the art of self-restraint and didn't touch myself again as Butcher's voice echoed in my head, but that would be a lie. It wasn't until the water ran cold and my legs began to weaken that I actually cleaned myself up before darting back to my room and swiftly passing out in bed.

༺༻

I woke up to panic ensuing in the common area. I stumbled out of my room and regarded the scene through my sleep-hazed vision. Everyone was running around tossing things in bags as they threw clipped commands at each other.

Finally, MM spotted me and rushed over, shoving an empty duffel bag into my hands. "Pack fast, kid, we gotta go.”

"Why, what's going on?" I called as he crossed the room and busied himself, placing our spare laptops and other electronics into brown corrugated boxes.

"We've been burned, mon ami," Frenchie informed me as he passed by, with his arms full of different bottled chemicals.

It took me a moment to process what he said before my heart stopped, and I clutched the bag closer to my chest. "What? How in the fuck did that happen?"

“Don't know," Butcher said, loading his handheld. "But, my guess is that someone spotted ya’ at that little swarae you went to last night and followed ya' back here."

"No, there's no way," I insisted. "I knew everyone there, and none of them would ever do that to me-"

Butcher charged forward, abandoning his gun on the coffee table as his eyes darkened in anger. "Don't be such a daft cunt. Of course, one of them turned ya’ in. You're the most wanted criminal in the fuckin' country; turnin' ya’ in is the dream of every junkie in the Tri-State Area who's desperate to get their possession charges wiped from their record. You handed yourself over to them, all wrapped up in a crimson bow."

I opened my mouth to debate Butcher, but MM walked in between us, pausing the dispute. "Butcher, I get that you wanna to rip her a new one, but we gotta leave. We're lucky if Homelander isn't already here.

I glared up at Butcher, conveying that if it weren't for MM, I wouldn't be backing down from this fight.

"Go," MM begged, pushing me back into my room. "Pack only the essentials."

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart as I threw the ripped duffle on the floor and knelt under my bed, pulling out all of my belongings, which consisted of another pair of black jeans, a couple of t-shirts, some magazines, my hygiene products, and my earbuds.

I dumped everything into the bag, forgoing any form of folding or organizing, and swung the bag over my shoulder before heading back into the common area, surveying the chaos that was still transpiring. I had already pulled my clothes and boots from earlier back on, so I was all set to go. Since that was the case, I offered myself to MM, helping him finish packing the rest of our equipment.

Minutes later, an eery silence fell over the group as we huddled together before Butcher spoke. "I think it's best if we split up. For safety, that is. We'll be harder to track in smaller groups, thus makin' it harder for those twats to find us. We can meet back up in a couple of weeks or so once things have calmed down a tad."

"Butcher's right," MM agreed. "So the question now is who's going with who?"

Kimiko quickly linked her arm with Frenchie as she smiled, signaling to the rest of us that they were paired up.

"Alright, kid. You're with me," MM said, waving a hand to Hughie.

Misery settled in my bones when I realized my fate.

I was stuck with Butcher.

The devil himself flashed a toothy grin at me as he trotted over and slid an arm across my shoulder. "I guess that means you're with me, princess."

"Shoot me," I groaned as I pushed Butcher away and followed the rest of the group up the rickety stairs for the last time. Even though the place was a fucking hole, and I had honestly been in crack dens that were nicer, I was still going to miss it. In the three months that we'd lived here, we'd managed to make it a home, and I had enjoyed the feeling of having one after so long on the run.

I exchanged goodbyes with the rest of the group: a kiss on both cheeks from Frenchie, a pat on the back from MM, a hug from Hughie, and another bone-crushing one from Kimiko. She stepped back and beamed up at me as she moved her hands into different positions, communicating with me. I recognized them from the time she had spent teaching me her sign language. "Bye. Be safe. I love you," she said, and I signed the same sentiment back to her.

"Oi," Butcher yelled, opening the trunk of his Cadillac. "We don’t got all bleein' day, sweetheart, unless ya' wanna die by Homelander laserin' your gams off."

I rolled my eyes before hugging Kimiko one more time and jogged over to Butcher. "No, I'd prefer if my gams were left unscathed."

I dropped my duffle bag into his trunk before rounding the car and settling myself in the passenger seat. I watched everyone peel away in their respective vehicles, and my stomach knotted at the realization that I was now alone with Butcher, and that's how it would be for the next few weeks. Fourteen days might not seem that long to some people, but spending the entire time with someone you simultaneously hated and loved sounded like borderline torture.

"Here," Butcher mumbled, dropping a blanket in my lap before turning the key in the ignition, and the old car roared to life.

My brows creased as I ran my fingers over the soft fabric. "What's this for?"

"S'pposed to be quite chilly tonight, and we've got a long drive ahead of us," he replied, avoiding my eyes and instead focusing on the road ahead.

"Oh." A warmth covered my cheeks, and I kept my head down, pretending to hyperanalyze the blanket.

The conversation ended there as Butcher turned on the radio and cranked up the heat. Don Mclean's voice spilled from the staticky speakers, and I curled up with Butcher's blanket, appreciating the extra warmth. I didn't bother to ask where we were going because I soon learned our destination when Butcher entered the highway and followed a green sign that had New Hampshire printed in bold letters.

My head began lulling to the side before I finally rested it on the window, and my eyes fell shut, letting sleep take over for the second time that day.

༺༻

“Oi, sleepin' beauty, get the hell up. We're here."

"Where?" I asked groggily as I brushed the hair out of my face. I noticed the greased strands at the crown of my head and made a mental note to take a shower the first chance I got.

"Haverhill, New Hampshire." Butcher announced before departing from the car and walking around to the trunk.

I stumbled out of the automobile after him and wrapped the blanket he gave me around my shoulders. As I leaned against the car, I yawned as I waited for him to get the bags. My eyes traveled the expanse of our surroundings that I could see so late in the night: green grass, red brick buildings, and paved streets. When I finally looked at Butcher, I saw him with both our bags in hand, regarding me with an expression I wasn't used to. His features were softer, not forced into hard lines like they usually were.

"What?" I prompted, wrapping the blanket tighter around my frame. The Brit silently shook his head before walking past me and up the stairs of the quaint Bed and Breakfast he had chosen for us to stay at for the time being. I hurried after him and nodded in appreciation as he held the door open for me.

I was immediately greeted with decor that exuded way too many pastels. Floral wallpaper and dried flowers covered the walls. The whole place looked as if it had fallen from a Beatrice Potter book. Butcher rang the bell at the front desk before shoving his hands in his coat pockets and whistling an unintelligible tune under his breath.

After a brief waiting period, an older man with snow-white hair exited the back room, smiling widely at us. "Good evening, travelers. Welcome to Ed and Eva's Inn."

I had to turn away, snorting at the corny name. And even though I tried to be discrete, Butcher pinched my arm, causing me to whine softly. But he ignored the sound as he focused on making introductions with who I assumed to be Ed, one of the owners of the Inn.

"Evenin', Govonor. Fancy givin' us a room?"

"With two beds," I added.

Butcher merely shushed me before turning back to Ed. "Preferably one with a nice view."

"I've got the perfect room for you both!" Ed beamed as he opened a drawer under the counter and produced a shiny brass key. "How long are you folks staying?"

"Don't know. But we'll be here for at least a couple weeks."

"Wonderful." Ed clasped his hands together before adjusting his green cardigan sweater. "It's forty a night."

"I'll cough up five hundred and sixty smackers upfront. Sound good, mate?"

Ed agreed, and Butcher pulled out his wallet and handed him multiple hundred-dollar bills. "I only pay in cash. I don't trust those dodgy banks."

"Fine by me. We don't even have any fancy gadgets you need for credit cards anyway," the elderly owner chuckled.

Upon his words, I took inventory of the front desk, noticing it indeed lacked a computer and anything resembling something from this century.

"So, where are you folks traveling from?" Ed asked as he began counting the cash.

"Boston," Butcher said, wrapping an arm around my waist. "We're actually here on our honeymoon."

"Oh, well, isn't that sweet," Ed smiled as he handed the key over.

"We're not actually married," I cut in. "It's more of a legal agreement if you want to know the truth. He's gay." I pointed to Butcher. "I'm just his pesky beard. You know how that goes." I waved a hand as Butcher tugged me away from Ed and up the flight of stairs. I'd never forget the look of shock Ed had, and I knew it would comfort me in many years to come.

Butcher grumbled profanities as we stopped outside of our room and fumbled with the key. He threw the door open, and we were met with what I could only describe as Cinderella's bedroom.

"Ugh, it looks like a fairy godmother threw up in here."

"I think it's lovely," Butcher proclaimed, dropping our bags and walking over to close the curtains.

"Of course you do. You only like it because I don't."

Butcher made a snarky reply, but I missed it because my eyes had finally landed on the bed in the middle of the room—the one bed, to be exact.

There was one fucking bed.

Fuck me.

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muffinsin · 8 months

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hiii! can you do a cassandra reaction to her attempting to explore a kink that reader is not comfortable with, and reader yells out the safe word, which is stop? you can choose which kink. it starts out normal smut then slight angst before turning into fluff + aftercare.

— asian anon (could i get a tag?)

Heck yeah! More Cassandra-loving!🙇‍♀️

Let’s get into it! :)

Regarding the tag- as there’s a tag limit at the blog, I’ve found the solution:

Creating a post with all specific anons as tags :) by selecting the tag, all works of this anon can be found

The post can be found here

Masterlists

Frankly, she’s very surprised when you at first agree to indulge her as it comes to her sadism

She knows, you can take light pain

Little spanks here and there, light bites

Nails dragged across your skin, ticklish rather than painful

Never does she quite penetrate your skin, save for when she drinks from you

Even then, it’s always so careful. She is

It’s no surprise nor secret that Cassandra can be very rough, sadistic and murderous

Yet, she keeps you shielded from such dark tendencies

She finds herself flabbergasted when you ask her about her darker kinks one day. It’s very obvious she’s holding back during sex, after all

At first, she’s very reluctant to tell you

Still, with encouragement and some prodding, she opens up about a few

One of them catches your attention in particular

A knife kink? Cutting? You?

She senses your uncertainty, and immediately ensures you know; she doesn’t expect such a thing from you

You’re her sensitive, tiny human. Her little lamb. Her precious morsel

She doesn’t want to hurt you, she assures

Oh, but she does, in only in best way. She wants to see you shake below her, bloodied and broken in all the best ways

She wants to smell your fear

And while she denies this, you know it

Really- between the many kinks she’s mentioned, a knife one doesn’t seem so bad

How bad can it hurt, after all?

She practically beams when you tell her, you’d like to try this kink with her

Of course, she prepares you properly for it all

You’re told to let her know the second you begin to feel even slightly at unease

She will slow down, or stop immediately depending on what you’d like of her

Despite the more sinister nature of this kink- even more so with her- she promises she will be gentle

No deep cuts, none that are vertical and hurt more

Merely stinging pain, she assures

No scars, no everlasting damage, she promises

Wet rags, food and water, even a bucket of ice stands in the room for when your activities come to an end

She ensures you have eaten, and massages your arm gently as she guides you to lay down on the bed

You’re beautifully naked below her, her smooth, bare thighs on either side of you

She’s as bare as you, pale skin revealed, soft fingertips tracing your skin

Gently, she binds your arms above your head and restrains you

She doesn’t want you to jerk away and accidentally hurt yourself

Still, she ensures you know you can stop this whenever

Your mouth is uncovered, allowing you to yell “Stop” at any point

You gulp when you see the knife at last- a large blade, clean and neither too sharp, nor too dull

Your cheeks flush and your heartbeat immediately picks up. She smiles, wide and eager

Cassandra nearly moans at the fear she smells on you

She can’t help but grind down on you a little bit

At last, you gasp when she flips you and lifts tilts head back by your hair

Her grip is tight, but not painful

She’s careful with you, even as her eyes glisten with sadistic pleasure and her chest heaves with each pant

Never have you seen her this riled up

This…hungry

She looks as though she can’t wait to pounce and take you

When the edge of the knife is pressed against your throat, you squeak

It merely presses against you, and her grip on your hair tightens to ensure your head doesn’t accidentally push forwards

You feel your own fear, the sweat and the shaky breaths leaving you

By her dark chuckle, you can tell she knows of it too

“Beg for more, morsel”

Only another shaky squeak comes from your lips

Your brows furrow when the knife pressed against you a little harder

Not pushing in, not breaking skin. Merely reminding you of its presence

You blink, feeling your eyes burn slightly

Stubbornly, you force yourself not to cry yet. Nothing’s even happened yet

The knife trails alongside your skin as the hums, as though waiting

Yet, when you part your lips to plead like asked, no words come out

She laughs, and you practically hear the satisfaction in her voice

“Mhmm, not up to talking, are you?”

Even without being able to see her, you know those stunning, golden eyes are shining bright

The cool blade runs up your neck, to its side until it disappears behind you

For a moment, you wait, anticipating the pain that is sure to come

She enjoys watching you squirm, and crackles when she lets go of your hair and you gasp in surprise

Still, your head stays raised, and she smirks as you attempt to turn

But you can’t see her. Aren’t granted to

Perhaps, she hums, she will allow you to see her if you behave

You gasp when the blade is set to your back, and can’t help but cry out when, at last, pain is inflicted on you

It’s sharp, stinging, as she slices down

And, immediately, it brings tears to your eyes

She merely moans as the scent of your blood hits her

The cut isn’t deep, placed on your left shoulder blade

You grit your teeth when you feel her tongue against it, dragging lightly across it

It stings, but soothes your skin a little all the same

You attempt to look behind you, but can’t see her, nor the blade

Another cut

You feel tears run down your cheeks and fall on the pillow below you

Again, she soothes it

She doesn’t squeeze out more blood, or sucks on the wound. Merely tastes your blood

You feel her moan against your skin

Then, a third one comes

You can’t help it

You scream, loud and clear

A loud “Stop!”

Immediately, the knife drops to the sheets, and sharp nails cut through the rope binding your arms

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry”, you cry out when she pulls you to her, gently

She makes sure to avoid the area around your cuts

You barely hear her hushed reassurances over the thoughts occupying your mind

You know, this is what she likes. Immediately, doubts start to take over

Are you right for her?

Can you be right for her?

When you cannot even grant her this…?

You know, she is sadistic. You know, this is reflected in her personality, and the sex with her

Yet, you’re sensitive

And it just- hurts

You feel your back ache and cry more

Her hand around your waist barely does anything to calm you

Do you deserve the comfort she offers you?

Cassandra, too, thinks similarly

Is she right for you?

Was she too rough?

She tried so hard to hold back

Has she still pushed too far?

Should she not have allowed herself this? Should she not have allowed you to offer such a thing to her?

Are you lost now? Will you be gone?

Will you leave her?

Are you hurt?

Was she unable to control her strength and hurt you too much?

Is she a monster?

You’re sobbing in her arms, yet cling to her

Does she deserve your touch?

She fights to urge to swarm away

“I’m sorry..”, she whispers, a tear slipping from her golden eye

A single moment of vulnerability

You look up at her, puzzled

Does she blame herself?

And she notices your expression, too

Do you blame yourself?

Words clash against one another as both of you attempt to reassure, it’s not the other one’s fault

It brings a small giggle from your lips, which makes her smile softly

It’s as though your giggle is enough to pull her from the darkness of her mind that insists, she is a monster

You reassure her, you aren’t hurt

You reassure, you aren’t leaving her, and you don’t hate her

You reassure her, she is no monster

She reassures you, she isn’t angry

She reassures you, isn’t disappointed

She reassures you, she loves you

With a gentle, caring smile and a concentrated frown on her face, she works on covering the small cuts on you up

You appreciate it, and hum at her surprisingly gentle hands and fingertips ghosting over your skin

While she would have normally proposed a bath, this time you find yourself laying with her

Cuddled underneath the blankets, her arms around you and lips- no longer bloodied- pressed to your head

Giggling as she feeds you some of the snacks she’s prepared, she watches you fondly

You truly are her sweet, little lamb

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #asian anon

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whumpzone · 2 years

Note

Not sure if that’s something you’d do, but can we see the latest vampire-au chapter from Col’s perspective? please? <3

please enjoy!

(masterpost)

CW pet whump, vampire whump, dehumanisation, thoughts about deserving to die

Pet was still figuring out what exactly he was to this Master. The demands he was given didn’t line up with the soaring reward of daily feedings, and there was no threat anywhere in the transaction. Pet obeyed and he was rewarded, surplus to requirement.

This morning, all he had to do was stand. If he didn’t know better, he would question his Master’s judgement. Pet had taken enormous amounts of pain to reduce him down to his knees, and of course he now knew he needed it all, and he’d take it all again tenfold to keep being good- but Master wanted to undo it.

Even worse, Pet was taller. He knew he would be before he even stood up. His legs unfolded like a stiff book, taking him up and up, and surely Master didn’t intend for his Pet to literally look down at him?

His head swam with new pain and the crushing confusion of it all. Master said something about furniture, and Pet should have heard but didn’t, and he had learnt that there was no excuse, not with his crystal clear hearing. Pain shouldn’t cloud it- only disobedience clouded it. He nodded, tried to look more alert, and then Master mentioned breakfast, and coming downstairs, and Pet was left to grapple with the fact he was still being fed.

He climbed into the chair again. It was easier to sit from a standing position, as opposed to crawling and then pulling himself up. He still didn’t know the appropriate way to sit, so he folded his knees against his chest. It was the smallest he could make himself, and it protected his vital organs. Probably an old human instinct still blinking out an occasional signal.

Master had his back to him as he prepared the blood, leaving Pet to look around. Master’s house was very handsome, he thought. There was something elegant about how he had arranged his personality and all his material interests in such an appealing way. It was tidy, but it wasn’t: the clutter was deliberate, so much so as to make Pet second guess if it was really clutter at all.

One thing that certainly was missing from Master’s home was any identifiable vampire security. The curtains, currently closed, could only be opened by grabbing and pulling. A longer string would mean he could quickly pull them apart even from a distance. Pet remembered the system the training facility had, when he caught a glimpse of his handlers’ common room. A string every metre or so, just in case.

There was no silver, either, aside from a small amount in the cutlery draw. His handlers had so much that the smell had made Pet’s nose sting.

Whatever Master’s game was here, Pet had yet to catch on, and that was bad news.

He was distracted from his worrying by the bowl of blood Master set down in front of him. He restrained himself like a good pet, glancing at Master only once, waiting for permission. When Master nodded, Pet let his low vampire urge take over. The blood was funny-tasting, not that he would dare complain. It slid down his throat and filled him up. What else could Pet possibly want? And what could he possibly give to his owner as thanks?

He had licked the bowl clean like a mongrel, but at least Master would know he was grateful. Pet had returned to the fog of his thoughts, teasing out every word, every hint, trying to find his purpose, and that was when Master’s arm appeared in the present, so startling and so close to his face that Pet had reacted before he even knew what he was doing.

He felt his jaw snap shut, and by then it was too late. His world went into slow motion as he realised what he had just done. Before the bowl even hit the floor, dropped by his horrified owner, Pet knew there was no coming back from this.

“No, don’t!” Master gasped, backing away in fear until his body hit the kitchen counter, shielding his face with his arms. “Don’t, please, I’ll turn!”

Pet’s thoughts were going into overdrive. Master was going to kill him, and it was a fact that filled him with certainty and terror. What could he do? What could he do?

Master was good to him. He was generous, softly-spoken, patient. Pet didn’t want to scare him, never, and certainly not any more after what he had just done. He could move towards his owner with that unnatural speed, and reach for the knife himself to get it over with. Press it into Master’s hand and tilt his head back, as if he were the human about to be butchered and Master the vampire about to indulge. But Pet wouldn’t scare Master, who was already shaking. They locked eyes, and Pet was sure he looked wild. Untameable just like the handlers had always said.

A second passed, then another. With some effort, Master lowered his trembling hands and used them to brace against the countertop instead. Pet could hear his heartbeat pounding.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, unsteadily. “I promise- I’m going to feed you, okay? I’m going to feed you every day, and it won’t come with a price. It isn’t going to be like your old life. Even if you can’t trust me yet, I need you to believe me.”

Pet listened intently, the pit of despair in his guts only widening, sucking more of him in. Why was Master bargaining with him? Why was he leaning away from his initial terror, trying to calm himself down, when he should lean in, let it swell into justified anger. And why on earth was he using the words every day, as if Pet had a future after what he had just done?

Pet needed to die. He needed to. He was dangerous. He had tried so hard to be good and it had failed. The first fright he got and his mouth became a weapon again.

Sure, he hadn’t aimed for Master’s skin, but just clamping his teeth down was bad enough. Not least right next to his wrist, for goodness sake.

The despair was now sorrow, self-hatred, regret, anger, and mostly fear. Pet didn’t know why he wanted to live so badly, all he knew was that he did. Desperately. But he had never been allowed wants, and this was just another one he wouldn’t get.

Master waited a few more seconds. His heartbeat was beginning to slow again. “You stopped yourself. Well d… thank you. I’m pleased. I hope you’re pleased too.”

Yes, yes of course, yes Master I would never want to hurt you I’m sorry all I’m good for is being your pet and I can’t even do that-

“Was it because I moved the bowl away? And my wrist was so near?”

Pet had been asked a direct question, and shook his head truthfully. Good dogs didn’t get protective over their food, and Pet had been beaten for hours at a time for even looking at a human’s wrist.

He wanted to apologise. He was beyond begging for Master to show mercy, he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He just wanted to apologise.

“Then… what? Can you show me?”

Pet stayed rigid, uncertain. Any wrong move could be his last.

“You can move. You’re allowed.”

Pet couldn’t refuse, although he was afraid of doing anything that could be seen as an accusation. He clumsily feigned a slap.

“No, I promise, I would never hit you. I was just cleaning away the bowl. Next time, you could put it with the dirty dishes yourself?”

Pet tried to find any evidence of the joke on Master’s face, but there was nothing. He didn’t understand, and Master kept on speaking, drawing his pet further into this mindgame.

“If I gave you a piece of paper, could you write a message, perhaps? We could use that in the future.”

Pet could understand that, at least, and ignored Master’s mention of a future. His orange eyes flicked down to his own hands. The handlers had focused hard on them, and rightly so. How easily Pet could snap a neck. Writing, though, was something he hadn’t done in years. His handwriting had once been a smoothly flowing river, but he was sure there would be none of that style left now.

Master gave him time, picking up the bowl (Pet should have done that) and washing it slowly in the sink (Pet should have done that too). God, how utterly worthless he felt. He couldn’t hold back as all his amplified emotions spilled over the page. He was just utterly desperate to apologise, and here was an opportunity to.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry your pet is so sorry Master Master I won’t do it again I never meant to I’m a good boy I’m good now I promise I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

He went overboard and even wrote I deserve to die, then tried to scribble it out. He didn’t want that at all, and if Master intended to show him some mercy, then he wouldn’t fuck it up by being ungrateful.

The awful tension of the whole scene finally became too much for him and he dropped the pen, running upstairs far quicker than any human could ever hope to. He fled into the bedroom Master let him stay in and forced himself under the bed.

There was only one thing Pet knew for sure.

If Master didn’t kill him, his brother would.

And that was the only conclusion Pet reached all night, no matter which path he went down.

tagging: @whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs

@octopus-reactivated i know you requested Col's POV too!

#vampire col au #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #pet whump #linden and colton #asks #anon

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grailfinders · 1 year

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Grailfinders #324: Jacques de Molay

ayyyyy its time to get spooky! at long last the Halloween events have returned, and they’ve returned with three new servants! we here at Grailfinders are, of course, going in servant ID order, so first on the chopping block is the disgraced crusader Jacques de Molay! they started off as a holy knight, but ever since their fall they’ve been tainted by lies and slander, so while they start off semi-holy as a Death Cleric they fall pretty fast as a Fiend Warlock by the end of the build. basically they’re kind of a discount, evil paladin, which fits nicely!

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: I'm pretty sure I can't include a picture on the next one without getting banned.

ancestry & background

obv jacques is a human, buuuut her final form is a grey-skinned humanoid with glowy eyes and horns, so why would we miss this chance to go tiefling? specifically we’re going with the glasya tiefling variant so eventually your Legacy of Malbolge (mispronounced to your liking) will give you access to disguise self, and then you can look human that way! right now, it just gives you Minor Illusion. you also get Hellish Resistance against fire damage, as well as Darkvision to clown on those dumb “human” knights. you also get +2 Dexterity and +1 Wisdom thanks to Tasha’s trivializing ancestry differences.

you’re not a good Acolyte, but you’re definitely an acolyte, so you still get Insight and Religion proficiency all the same.

Ability Scores

we’re starting off as a cleric so your Wisdom needs to be pretty good, at least for now. after that, your Dexterity- you’re uh. you’re not partial to armor. (though I would accept an argument that your first ascension has light armor on, but that’s still mostly dexterity based.) third up is Charisma- this will be better later, but if you had high charisma before you died, you probably wouldn’t have died. your Constitution is above average since you were a knight and all, but that means your Intelligence isn’t that high. you’ve got the megane look, but we just don’t need it for the build. finally, we’re dumping Strength. you’ve got actual knights for heavy lifting now.

Class Levels

1. Cleric 1: starting off as a cleric nets you Wisdom and Charisma proficiency as well as History and Medicine, warrior monk and all that. starting off as a Death cleric specifically gives you proficiency with martial weapons, so you get your sword and shield right off the bat! you’re also a Reaper now, so you can learn an extra necromancy cantrip like Sapping Sting- it deals a little damage and knocks people over! I mean, you’re not winning any shoving contested rolls any time soon, might as well turn to magic, right?

oh right, you can also learn and prepare Spells as part and parcel of being a cleric by using your Wisdom. since you can swap spells out each day we won’t be super in-depth about which ones you learn when, but we’ll point out the cooler ones to look at each level.

first though, your regular cantrips! Guidance and Resistance are subtle, but powerful- a great excuse to not do anything yourself! also grab Sacred Flame or something to attack people while your dexterity isn’t high enough to reliably use your sword.

as for your first level spells, you get False Life and Ray of Sickness for free, but there’s plenty of other spells to look into too. Shield of Faith is a pretty good alternative for mage armor at the moment, giving you or an allied creature +2 AC for up to ten minutes, concentration pending. it’s no shroud of turin, but it’s not like you used the real thing either, right? Bane is our very first curse, reducing a group of creature’s checks for a while if they fail their saves. also, Ceremony is the closest we can come to your “turn everyone evil” technique for now, although it only reveals a creature’s original alignment, not a new one. I guess the dedication ceremony could technically count?

2. Cleric 2: second level clerics can Channel Divinity in one of two ways once per short rest- Turn Undead (boo hiss) forces wisdom saves on every undead creature in the area, making them run away for a minute, or until they take damage. good for when you have to clear a room, I guess. the death clerics have a CD with some oomph though- your Touch of Death lets you make a necrotic smite dealing up to 25 extra necrotic damage in a single hit as you level up.

3. Cleric 3: third level clerics get second level spells, but you also get a free copy of Disguise Self from your Legacy of Malbolge. once a day you can look like any humanoid you like, though physical inspection can turn up discrepancies. luckily, as long as you aren’t getting headpats regularly “you, but human” is a pretty safe option.

as for your second level spells, Blindness/Deafness is a fun curse to throw around, as is Ray of Enfeeblement, and both will always be on your spell list! the heavy hitter this level has to be Spiritual Weapon though- you can make a big floating weapon and use bonus actions to move it around and hit people- essentially, it’s your very first summonable knight. I know those knights are mostly just part of your Noble Phantasm animation, but if Stheno can get knights, so can you.

4. Cleric 4: normally we’d use your first Ability Score Improvement on raw stats to improve your offense or shore up some weakness (y’know, improving an ability score), but right now our most pressing issue is getting the War Caster feat. sure, it gives you advantage on concentration checks and makes shield of faith a much better defensive spell. sure, you can cast inflict wounds as a reaction now, but the most important part is you can cast somatic-based spells while both your hands are full with a sword and shield! most DMs probably won’t care too much, but really every part of this feat is super useful for us as an IKEA paladin.

to celebrate the occasion, you can cast Thaumaturgy now. really sets the mood for a dark mass, you know?

5. Cleric 5: fifth level clerics can Destroy Undead of CR ½ or lower when they turn them successfully, which actually makes it even worse for our purposes, since this is also the level they can cast third level spells like Animate Dead. it makes skeletons and zombies- either creating one or reasserting dominance over up to three per casting. you can command one or more of them as a bonus action each turn, but they’ll only listen to you for the first 24 hours after you cast or recast the spell on them.

you can also cast Invisibility once a day thanks to your legacy- it’s not in character but it is useful!

as for other spells to look out for, Bestow Curse does just about any negative thing you want it to- if you’re going to be evil, it will help out a lot. I’d also grab Speak with Dead so you can really connect with your undead minions, and Spirit Shroud for a creepier ambiance next time you stab someone.

6. Cleric 6: at level six you can channel divinity twice a short rest, and you have an Inescapable Destruction about you that makes your divinity impossible to resist! literally- it prevents the necrotic damage your spells and CD do from being resisted. now you can beat up aasimars with your (currently) 17 additional points of necrotic damage per attack!

7. Cleric 7: seventh level clerics get fourth level spells. your freebies are Blight which is cool, it doesn’t really specify how the target got dehydrated, and Death Ward. it’s not quite the invincibility we want for your shroud ability, but it’s less dying which is useful. I’d also grab Guardian of Faith so you can get a whole knight instead of just a sword, and Divination because you’re still god’s specialest little princess, probably.

8. Cleric 8: eighth level clerics get another ASI, and its about time we start thinking about getting evil. the Flames of Phlegethos are as hard to spell as they are useful, increasing your Charisma by one while also letting you re-roll ones on fire damage from spells. you’re not all that fire-and-brimstone, but it’s a nice touch. even better, after casting a fire spell, you can cover yourself in an evil aura for a round, causing you to glow and counterattack anyone stupid enough to hit you with a melee attack. like. she’s on fire. of course you’re going to burn your hand.

additionally, your Divine Strike adds a bit of necrotic damage to your first weapon attack you hit each turn. you’re kind of a paladin, so now you have a low-level smite, go nuts. (also destroy undead works on CR one creatures now but hush)

9. Cleric 9: ninth level clerics get fifth level spells. Cloudkill is probably the closest thing to your NP if we’re going by the animation, but it can be pretty finicky. it’s strong, but a good gust of wind will destroy it pretty fast. your other freebie is the real prize- with Antilife Shell you finally have a shroud of turin to protect your team with, at least against melee enemies. it keeps anything that isn’t undead or a construct away from you, but you also can’t move them through the barrier or it breaks as well. thankfully most of your party by weight is undead at this point, so it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

that being said I’d also grab Flame Strike for a more consistent NP attack and Hallow- we can’t turn people evil, but at least we can turn everything else evil!

10. Cleric 10: tenth level clerics get one more cantrip, so now you can Toll the Dead to deal some ranged damage, especially if you kick people while they’re down. I guess this is your scarf thing?

also, you can get some Divine Intervention, if Shub-Niggurath is feeling benevolent that day. as an action you try to get your god to help out, and if you roll a 10 or lower on a d100, it works. if it worked, you can use it again in a week, otherwise you just have to wait a day. dang, I wish worshipping the devil worked like that irl too.

11. Warlock 1: okay, time to break out the goats. as a Fiend warlock you have access to the Dark One’s Blessing- whenever you reduce a hostile creature to 0 HP, you get temporary HP as a little kickback for sending a soul his way.

you also get Pact Magic, which you cast using your Charisma. you get a different set of spell slots that recharge on short rests, though you can use warlock slots for cleric spells or vice versa. also, when you pick your warlock spells you’re stuck with them until you level up again, so we’ll be more hands-on this time.

grab Eldritch Blast and Mind Sliver for some casterball-ish cantrips, as well as Arms of Hadar to finally make some tentacles to slap people with, and Charm Person to get started with seduction.

12. Warlock 2: at second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, ways for you to customize your fall into madness and depravity. Armor of Shadows will give you mage armor whenever you want, so you can finally wear that cute backless dress you’ve been meaning to! Beguiling Influence gives you proficiency in Deception and Persuasion- I bet you thought I forgot to pick those up at the start, didn’t you?

also, you can Hex people now, mostly because we needed a warlock-based curse option for stuff later. now you can deal extra necrotic damage to creatures you attack! annoyingly, this is not affected by your cleric features!

13. Warlock 3: at level three you can summon a cute lil goat man thanks to your Pact of the Chain giving you free uses of find familiar. also you can hit people with the ol’ Crown of Madness to make them turn on everything they knew and loved before. I guess we can make people evil after all!

14. Warlock 4: at fourth level we get another ASI, so bump up that Charisma for stronger spells! now it’s time to ascend for a better weapon- with Shadow Blade your sword can be upgraded to deal psychic damage, and if you throw it you can summon it back as a bonus action! plus- since this is making a weapon, and not directly attacking someone with a spell, you can add all your fun cleric abilities too!

15. Warlock 5: fifth level warlocks get their best boon to their knight corps(e), the third level spell Summon Lesser Demons, letting you drag up to eight demons knights to the material plane to fight! they’re hostile to literally everything, so good luck controlling them though. good thing you know Hallow!

you also know a Maddening Hex now, so whenever you hex someone you can deal psychic damage to them, as well as everyone else around them, as a bonus action with no save!

16. Warlock 6: at sixth level, you have the Dark One’s Own Luck- once a short rest you can add a d10 to any check or save. things always go the villain’s way, at least until the third act. also you can cast Tongues now to understand every spoken language and be understood in turn. I know this is more of a holy sort of effect, but it’s still super useful when you’re evil.

17. Warlock 7: at level seven you get fourth level spells like Shadow of Moil to give you a more thematically appropriate evil aura. for up to a minute after casting the spell, you’re surrounded by darkness that heavily obscures you, giving you resistance to radiant damage and another kind of counterattack. the worst part about turning to evil is all the other paladins suddenly have a problem with you “living”, and “drawing breath”, and “corrupting the innocent”. such a hassle.

18. Warlock 8: one last ASI, so use it wisely. I mean, use it charismatically. it’s for Charisma. you can also cast Raulothim’s Psychic Lance now! I know yours is more of a literal lance, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

19. Warlock 9: our final spell of the build is Negative Energy Flood, taking your NP’s animation a bit too literally, but at least it’s a single target attack again. when you hit a living creature with it you’ll force a constitution save against your spell, dealing 5d12 necrotic damage on a failure, or half on a success. furthermore, a creature killed by this spell becomes an uncontrolled zombie the next turn, going after whatever is closest. if you target an undead, they’ll gain 5d12 temporary HP instead, so your generals will be more protected.

you also get one last invocation, and with Whispers of the Grave you can cast speak with dead at will to really get to know your potential recruits better.

20. Warlock 10: finally, a tenth level fiendlock has Fiendish Resilience, letting you pick a damage type each short rest to gain resistance to it, as long as its not from magical or silvered weapons. that’s why we’ve still got shadow of moil for the paladins. you also get the cantrip Chill Touch, I guess. reach out and touch somebody, with gross skeleton hands.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

you might not have the unlimited power of a sorlock, but having warlock slots to burn on Animate Dead means you can keep a huge army in check for relatively little cost- even just one short rest a day can supply you with fourteen extra bodies to fight with!

it’s honestly super refreshing to see a spellcaster with a shield. that, plus your healing from fighting and your various ways to resist incoming damage, make you a longer-lived spellcaster than most. having an AC of 18 thanks to mage armor plus two good saves in the big three, plus up to two resistances will help you eat any stray attacks coming your way.

most stories like treating demons as major threats, locking ways to deal with them behind quests and such, so being able to draw demons out for your own benefit can be pretty dang useful in certain situations. unless your playing something like curse of strahd, calling on the forces of evil is usually out of left field enough that whatever you’re fighting won’t have many defenses against it.

Cons:

on the opposite side of that coin, most campaigns assume you’re good. I would consider myself pretty open-minded, but I would have reservations about helping someone walking around with an undead army, I’m just saying.

your undead army can also easily be blasted apart by aoe spells, like the kind your cleric half brings to the table which make up your strongest firepower for most of the build. one wrong move, and suddenly you’re starting from scratch again.

we’re using a lot of different ability scores in this build, so you’re all over the place statwise. I would’ve loved to get more swordplay in, but we had to spend points on two different spellcasting stats, leaving you without a single maxed stat, plus lower constitution than I’m entirely comfortable with a gish having. still, doing a little of everything tends to be the most useful path forward, just ask bards.

#fgo #D&D #DND5e #jacques de molay #warlock #cleric

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kpopimagi · 8 months

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A Flower Under The Rain [Part 12]

Characters: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Kang Gyuri (OC) Genre: Angst, Romance Au: Hanahaki!Au Type: Series Word count: 2,120

It all began with a cough and then, a subtle sting in her chest. Kang Gyuri cried, knowing that in a matter of months, she would be another figure in the death toll of the most dangerous and cruelest outbreak in human history.

Baekhyun was running.

Something within him made his body move so fast as if the world might end if he didn't, but the moment he turned around a corner and found Gyuri’s parents sitting on a bench, he froze. As if the sight of them clutching at each other was a wrench thrown in the corks of his entire being, Baekhyun found himself voiceless and unable to move.

“Omma,” Baekhyun called her in a painful squeak. “What's going on? Where's Gyuri?”

At that moment, they all heard a clash of metal and a scream, followed by the foulest of curses. A nurse staggered out of the room, pulling her blood-dripping surgical mask off to reveal her face, looking as pale as a ghost.

“Today’s a very bad day.” Gyuri’s mother said it absently.

The nurse pulled the surgical gown off as if it were on fire and cursed her way to the office. More metal clashing came from the room, but they all stayed in their spots, frozen in surprise and shock, and yet Baekhyun forced himself to move.

“She told us not to tell you.” Her mother whispered, her eyes lost somewhere far away, as a painful cry erupted through the atmosphere.

“Not tell me what?” Baekhyun asked, slowly getting closer, “What happened?”

“She’s sick.” Her father said from his seat, wincing as another scream filled the hallway. “She caught the curse.”

“Was it me?” Baekhyun asked.

And that was all that came out of his mouth.

That was all he could think of.

All he was strong enough to say.

Suddenly, several alarms went off, making everyone flinch, and a group of young doctors rushed into the hallway as the nurse explained what happened. Baekhyun and Gyuri’s parents watched them prepare, dressing up in surgical gowns, when another painful scream teared the tension in the place and everyone reacted. Baekhyun was the first to reach for the door when a male nurse got in the way and an impossibly handsome doctor zeroed his full attention down on him, making him back off.

“Dr. Kim, why don’t you give Baekhyunie a moment?” Her father said,

Finally getting up from his seat, he stood in the middle of the hallway, slowly but deliberately standing between the doctors and the newly arrived. Baekhyun noticed the endearment in his voice and faltered under the sudden attention and recognition glimmering in everyone’s eyes. They all seemed to know him when he had no idea who anyone was.

“Jongdae, gear him up.” The handsome doctor in the front ordered, still observing him.

Everything happened so fast that Baekhyun followed every instruction without making a sound. He just let the nurse wrap him up in a similar blue gown, a hat, gloves, and cover his face with a face mask, then pulled a transparent face shield over his head.

“I’ll be right behind you.” The nurse said, letting him through the door.

Baekhyun stiffened, unsure of what to do. His first instinct brought him there, but once inside, all that confidence was long gone. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to find there, much less any clue as to what to do. He gave a hesitant step when the realization of the dreadfulness in front of him started to sink in.

The place looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Baekhyun saw several metal carts with all of their surgical instruments spread across the floor. The nurse behind him reached for the closest cart, tipping it straight, and started to get the contents back in place. Baekhyun kept going further into the room and stopped at the sight of a hospital bed covered in red. A few steps further in, and he found a trail on the floor that he couldn’t figure out if the reddish color of the substance spreading across the floor was blood or something else. An overwhelming sweetness filled the air, making him gag, and he cursed when he tried to cover his mouth, only to bump his hand into the face shield. The sudden movement made his entire head spin while panic rose in him, knowing that he could pinpoint that smell right away and associate it straight with Gyuri, but there was nothing he could do to stop it from reaching his nose. He could smell it, even through the layers of gear, and his stomach churned in disgust. It was Gyuri’s scent amplified to a thousand, and his entire body reacted against it. Baekhyun ignored it all—discomfort and nausea—and followed the trail of flower petals, blood, and stomach juices till another door, where he finally could hear the faint sound of her sobbing.

“Gyuri…” He said, his voice steadier than he expected, even behind the layers of gear. “It’s me, Baekhyun.”

He didn’t get an answer, but the wailing that he heard through the door made his throat twist in a knot. He could feel the pain in her voice, and the desperation in her cries was almost palpable. He stood by the door, stricken by shock, when a loud thud on the other side burst him out of his stupor. In that same surge of instinct and emotion, he slammed his shoulder against the door, which gave little to no resistance.

He stumbled into a bathroom, but there was nothing that could have prepared him for what he found there. A sterile and open washroom. The white, cold floor was stained with bright red blood and flower petals that pooled slowly yet nonstop across the tiles.

The thick red trail that Baekhyun had followed from the bed meandered through the room to a corner behind the blurry screen of the shower, and he could see the small figure cowering in the corner. He called her name, taking a hesitant step closer, and the shade behind the screen squirmed.

“Go away," she begged.

“I’m coming closer.” He said, giving another step.

“No!”

“Gyuri, it’s me.” He whispered, almost begging.

“No,” Gyuri cried. "Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Baekhyun came closer. He was close enough to look around the blurry screen, and he found her there, shuddering against a corner. He just stood still, but nothing in him registered that it was Gyuri herself. It couldn’t be her. He refused to believe that the wounded body belonged to her.

It was trembling too much.

It was thin.

Too thin.

Too fragile.

It was not her.

It couldn’t be her.

It had been only a few days since he last saw her. She was fine. Looking a bit off, but fine. He remembered the fire in her eyes. Her strong voice and the resolution in her words. She was angry. She was furious at him. And she was alive. Gyuri was alive.

There was none of that fire left now.

All that was left of her was the weakness in her whimpers and the pain in her voice as she cried. The flimsy hospital gown she wore barely managed to cover her body and the damage the curse inflicted. Spike-like things protruded from her back, splitting it open, as the blood trickled down her skin with every tremor. The tips of her delicate fingers and toes were bruised with the darkness of the disease that ran through her veins, slowly taking over her flesh.

Gyuri looked over her shoulder, and when she found him there, she recoiled even more into herself as a new spasm contracted her body into a painful fit. She wailed, desperately trying to cover her head with her arms. She was begging him to leave. The horrible, dark, and twisted mass growing in her back, whatever it was, started to twitch with every breath, making her scream. And still, even in her pain, she kept begging him to leave. She cried for him to save himself when she was breaking apart.

“Fuck this.” Baekhyun mumbled, pulling the face mask off.

If it bothered him, he didn’t show it as he moved again, possessed by something raw and unstoppable. He removed every piece of gear from his head and reached for her. He cursed the instant he touched her cold skin, and when he tried to pick her up, Gyuri fought back. She tried to push him away, but there was no strength left in her bleeding hands. She wriggled in his hold, and Baekhyun whispered to her everything that came to his mind to calm her down, but the more he tried, the more she twisted.

“Hey, it’s me.” He said, throwing all the caution aside to wrap his arms around her in a hug, “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

He hugged her tight as she cried harder and harder. All the while, he never stopped talking to her, and for the longest time, he thought it would never stop. After a while, Gyuri finally started to calm down. She had stopped fighting back. Her small hands held into his shirt in a tight fist, and her small and broken body wasn't trembling anymore.

For a moment, Baekhyun was scared to move, afraid that if he did, she might start fighting again. However, he felt her body relax, and her cries mellowed to the tiniest of sounds. It wasn’t until her fingers uncurled from her hold that he dared himself to loosen up and cradle her mangled figure with the utmost care. Yet again, he was not ready for how light and fragile she was, and a chill ran down his spine when her head lolled back and he could finally see her face.

It wasn’t Gyuri.

But it was Gyuri.

She looked like her, but at the same time, she didn’t. Her eyes were so bloodshot they were almost black in their entirety, and the same bruised lines that had spread through her fingers were now stretching across her jaw. Her features were different; her cheekbones were higher and her lips were so chapped, they were bleeding, or maybe it was all the red juices dripping down her chin. He couldn’t tell anymore. All he could see was a small smile spreading across her face.

“I love you, Baekhyun.”

Her confession came out softly. It was merely a whisper. Yet it was so definitive and final that it was loud enough for the curse to react. Her body twisted in his arms, and for a split second, Baekhyun thought something pulled her heart deeper, making her curl into a ball. He held her close to his body, struggling to let the fit pass without panic taking over. He felt so powerless while her entire face scrunched up in pain, and all he could do was watch. Thankfully, as soon as the spasm started, it ended.

“You silly genius,” he chuckled, because that was the only way he could find to stop himself from breaking apart. “I love you too.”

Gyuri went still. Her impossibly black eyes looked at him, and despite all that, he could still see the warmth glimmering in them and a whole mix of conflicting emotions going across her expression. She was confused and taken aback, as if she could not believe him.

“I thought you knew that already," he said, smiling and pushing her hair off her face.

Baekhyun wished he could say more—that he meant it and was sorry, that he should have seen the signs and been more careful. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted her to know, but no matter how much he tried, no words came out of him. Even less when she reached out to touch his face. Her fragile hand touched his cheek, only for him to realize he had been crying all along, and despite it all, she tried to dry up his tears. The gesture overwhelmed him. He brought her closer, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before apologizing, but the coldness of her touch was gone. Her hand had dropped, and her eyes were now closed.

“No,” he said, patting her cheek to wake her up. “Gyuri, don’t do this. Don’t die on me. Not yet.”

Her eyes stayed closed.

“Gyuri, you can’t go.” He said, bringing her body closer to his, “Not when I’m here. Not when I love you.”

Gyuri didn’t move.

He tried to stir her awake, to make her open her eyes, but only the black swirling roots of the curse responded. He watched the darkness spreading across her skin, stoppable and brutal, and he found himself screaming his head off for help. He just screamed for someone to help. For someone to help her.

For someone to do what he couldn’t do.

To save Gyuri.

Angst Pure angst with this one. Short but painful. Sorry, not sorry but we're reaching the final stretch of this story. What are your bets on Gyuri and Baekhyun? I would like to hear your theories about what will happen so leave your comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And once again. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this painful story. Bye

#EXO #Baekhyun #EXO Fanfic #EXO Fanfiction #Kyungsoo #AFUTR #Hanahaki #Hanahaki Disease #Angst #Romance

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mach-speed-spin · 2 years

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Evil Beyblade organizations rated based on their ability to work as a cohesive unit

Dark Bladers: 10/10. They may not be the strongest team, but they show immaculate teamwork and work together exceptionally well

Biovolt/ Demolition Boys: 8/10. Their top bladers work well together and even their regular bladers are pretty strong. The reason it's not a 10/10 is because Kai doesn't have much loyalty to them. As a whole, they're a well oiled machine with one defective piece

Team Psykick: 6/10. They start off as a 10/10 but between their elite team having to be mind controlled, 2 of their top bladers planning to betray them, and Doctor B trying to kill everyone in the building, I have to deduct some points

Saint Shields: 9/10. Mariam and Dunga don't always get along but overall they still cooperate on the battlefield

Zagart Industries: 5/10. Doctor K accounts for 4 of the 5 lost points. The other one is Zeo

Parts Hunters: 8/10. King and Queen work well together. Doctor K holds them back

Barthez Battalion: 2/10. Barthez struggles to keep his bladers in line and they revolt against him

BEGA: 6/10. The Training Squad works well together. The Justice 5 does not. Brooklyn and Mystel are often just doing their own thing. Crusher's loyalty wavers. Garland and Ming-Ming are the only ones keeping the team together

Face Hunters: 10/10. They're just a Kyoya fanclub

Dark Nebula: 1/10. I get Doji's reason for letting almost anyone join, since the worst case scenario is that they get fed to L-Drago directly. But the complete lack of loyalty, presence of a spy, lack of communication (Tetsuya didn't know he accidentally set them back by months), and the entirety of Battle Bladers make this one of the worst groups when it comes to teamwork

Hades Inc.: 6/10. Ziggurat, Damian, and the Garcias are on the same page. Zeo has to be blackmailed and Jack is too unstable. Faust should be the most functional part of this group, but like a machine with no off button, he keeps Tempo spinning even when Ziggurat needs him to stop

Nemesis Bladers: 8/10. While the Legendary Bladers they had on their side eventually turned on them, they were prepared for it. I can't give them a 10 because betrayal still happened, but I can't go below an 8 because it was expected

DNA: 2/10. The Garcias are the only ones who work together besides Kira and Yoshio, who have their own agenda that goes against the Garcias. It's just too disconnected of a group. Also there's a mutiny

Dominators: 0/10. Absolutely no one is on the same page here. Only their leaders know what their end goal even is. Jake and Sting are there for the fun of it. David and Gigante end up on opposite sides. Odin betrays them. The whole system where they torture and kick you out for losing in Judgement Bey doesn't exactly foster team spirit

Snake Pit: 0/10. No one has any loyalty to Ashtem. At most, the masked bladers (except Red Eye) do, but they all get kicked out pretty early on except for Yellow Eye. And Yellow Eye doesn't last that long either. Red Eye, Boa, and Gold Eye all used Ashtem and the Snake Pit to further their own goals, and were ready to throw Ashtem under the bus

Dread Tower: 7/10. Hyde, Kyle, Evel, and Damon work well together. Count Nightfell does not. And Evel betrays Hyde

Inferno: 1/10. Arthur wants world domination via streaming. Gwyn joins because he seeks to understand human emotions and doesn't care for Arthur. Joe is planning to overthrow Arthur. Blindt is there because he wants Delta to notice him, and ditches Inferno once he gets what he wants. The single point is because Another is actually loyal to Arthur

Nexus: 7/10. I'm counting Nexus as a villain group because Burst lacks those, and Nexus fits the bill for villains better than Rideout or the Raging Bulls. It's a 7/10 because Bashara leaves them, but Rashad and Ilya work well together

#beyblade #beyburst #mfb #beyblade burst

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demona-andariel · 1 year

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Object of Obsession - 36 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,633

Chapter 36 - Blood and Death

Michael trudged back home, his body ached and he was bleeding from his wounds. What an unexpected turn of events. There he was happily plotting the murder of Brandon's parents only to get sidetracked by Dr. Loomis. He should have figured Loomis was in town. It had been a couple days since Michael had taken Gretchen to that clinic doctor. Undoubtedly, the rumors of him returning had been confirmed to be true.

He couldn't help but feel a little bit impressed. The doctor had actually come prepared.

"You die today, Michael Myers." Dr. Loomis's words circled around in his head. Michael's body tingled slightly as his heart picked up at the recollection. He paused in his steps for a moment and frowned. Was he… anxious?

Impossible. Excited was more like it.

Michael wasn't scared of dying. Why would he be? It had always been kill and eventually be killed. He expected to die some day. That eventual fate didn't bother him before.

Before she came into your life.

A stinging pain in his side caused him to look down. His clothing was torn and he was covered in blood of his victims. Well, he could make an argument that they weren't his victims this time. They did attack him after all.

He snorted and winced. Okay. Not all of the blood was from them. Some was his own. They were good, the five men who came storming into his childhood home to kill him. But, Michael was better.

The smaller rooms in the house made it easy for him to keep his attackers singled out. Forcing them to come at him on a one on one basis. He used their altruism against them. Injuring one and leaving just enough of an opening for an attempted rescue. Their firearms were practically useless once they realized Michael had no problem using one of their own as a human shield. That man's body armor came in handy, although, it did make Michael discard his knife for the rest of the fight. Well, not before he managed to cut the throat of one.

A cut throat here, a bashed head there, broken bones and panic shouts. It actually amazed him that more people didn't show up. No police, no nosy neighbors. Michael sighed as that killer part of him soaked in the memory of the lives he'd taken just an hour or so ago.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Which was a little disappointing. Well, Dr. Loomis tried. The look on the good doctor's face when he saw the bodies of the men he'd hired surrounding him with Michael looming in the darkness. He really thought they could kill him? How cute.

"What are you waiting for, Michael? Just kill me already!" Dr. Loomis had demanded with some desperation, when Michael stood over him.

The thought, the temptation, did cross his mind. Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have given the doctor what he wanted and finally end his life. But Michael had a soft spot for the man. He enjoyed seeing the look of horror and terror on the old man's face at what his former patient was responsible for. Besides, Dr. Loomis had changed things. He'd brought in outsiders to help him get rid of Michael. And Michael was curious as to what other plans Dr. Loomis had.

Michael lifted his arm then winced as pain shot through him from his wounds. He wasn't entirely sure what injures he had. He didn't sit there in the house and check to see where he was hurt. He wasn't about to show Dr. Loomis that his men had done some damage. Besides, his body yearned to return home to rest and heal up.

His mouth quirked into a small smile. Or "rest". He had Gretchen after all. He rather liked the way she attempted to take care of him when that dog bit him a week ago. And they weren't in the stage of their relationship that they were in now.

Relationship.

His heartbeat picked up at the thought. Him? Seriously?

He rolled his eyes at himself. He planned on keeping her the moment he realized he couldn't kill her. They were going to have some form of relationship. Although, he never imagined it'd end up where they were now. It was only supposed to be sex after all.

Michael pushed himself forward again. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could lay down in bed. The sooner her hands were on him and eventually, his cock would be in her pussy.

He couldn't help but grin at the thought.

Michael's senses tingled for a moment, and he paused again. He shifted his body weight as a feeling he didn't like settled back on him. He was uneasy again. He felt it earlier, when he returned to Gretchen's car to head home. Something didn't sit right with him. But he had pushed that feeling to one side.

His eyes slowly scanned the forest around him. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head.

You're not being followed, he chastised himself. What was there to be uneasy about? No one had ever followed him. And he wasn't stupid. He had parked the car just out of sight and waited for a little bit before heading home. He would have noticed if someone was following him.

The forest opened to reveal his home. He was being silly. Soon he'd be-

Michael froze. That… That was impossible. His body battled too many emotions as it tried to figure out what he should be feeling.

Gretchen.

He moved automatically while his muscles tensed. An SUV was parked in front of the house. Someone or multiple people were in his home. Her family? He gripped his knife summoning his energy for another battle.

Yes. Had to be them. He did promise not to kill them. Although, that was when he expected to see them out in town. He didn't expect to see them in his home. If they tried to take her away he would have no choice. There was no way she didn't know that. He would kill to keep her, and that included her family. He didn't bother entertaining the thought that her family would be okay with him as her lover. He was a serial killer. They would be crazy if they accepted him.

Michael felt his skin rise as he stared at the slightly ajar front door. Why? To lower his guard? Make him think it was safe? Taking in a deep breath, he held it to listen. No voices, no noise. There was an eerie quietness about the place.

Michael set his fingers on the door and pushed it open. His blood went cold. His nose caught the very familiar copper smell of blood. Not that he needed the smell. There was blood on the floor and wall in the back hallway. Her broken mug was by the foot of the stairs.

"Gretchen," he mumbled.

He was in front of the steps in a matter of seconds and picked up a piece of her mug. There was blood along the edge. Hers? He followed the trail with his eyes. There was a lot of it, for some reason, and it led to the basement. Her smaller bare feet were a clear contrast to the larger bloody shoe prints.

Michael rushed down the hallway.

"You're too late," a strange voice stopped him in his tracks as he passed the kitchen.

Michael spun to face the man.

The stranger sat on the floor, his back against the kitchen island. Blood dripped out of the corners of his mouth and down his ears, and there was two smaller pools by his wrists. She must have cut them. He'd tied some cloth around them, but it only slowed his death.

"Shut that fucking bitch up for you." His voice held faux pride. "Hours ago." He partially laughed, only to choke on blood, causing him to cough. His body shuddered in pain and he groaned.

Michael grabbed the man by his shirt and picked him up. He raised his knife to end the man's life.

There is no time for this.

He let the man drop onto the ground with a loud thud, causing him to cry out in pain. His leg twisted at an odd angle.

"I heard her beg," the man taunted from the ground. "She screamed your name. " He sounded almost desperate.

The basement. She'd gone down into the basement. He needed to get to her.

"What are you waiting for? Kill me, you piece of shit." The man coughed, gasped and choked on more blood. Michael would go back to watch the man die, once he found her.

"We raped her before we killed her, you piece of shit! Do what you do best and fucking end me."

Michael willed himself to move forward. Desperate taunts and pleas from a dying man. And, if what he said was true, he better hope he was dead by the time Michael came back for him.

Michael's heart pounded hard against his rib cage. "I think I die here, Michael." Her words echoed in his mind.

No.

She was strong, a fighter. She got rid of a ghost somehow and the blood in the hallway couldn't all be hers. He tightened his grip on his knife ignoring the pain. She was still alive. She had to be.

Opening the door leading to the basement, Michael felt a little bit of relief. A body lay on the bottom of the steps. Not hers. It was immediately evident that the body was that of another man. His limbs and head were bent in an odd angle, indicating he had fallen and never got up.

Perhaps she locked herself in the storage room to wait for him. His moment of relief was brief as he spotted another set of bloody shoe prints on the ground by hers. One more assailant. The storage room door was closed.

Gretchen.

He threw the door open, steeling himself for whatever he was about to see. Relief and worry filled up inside of him.

Gretchen sat on her knees, hands resting on them, in the middle of the room. Her side was to Michael. In front of her, laying flat on his stomach, was the final man. His unseeing eye stared at her.

Michael's long legs brought him to her in a matter of seconds. She didn't move or acknowledge him, although her chest rose with deep steady breaths. Her clothes and skin were covered in dry blood. She looked roughed up, but nothing indicated that they'd raped her.

"Baby," he said softly, dropping to one knee. He reached out running his right hand along her left cheek. She didn't react. Her eyes stared ahead. Her skin was cool to the touch, but she was alive. He forced her head to turn to look at him. There was a vacant look on her face.

"Did I ever leave?" she asked him. Her voice was hoarse.

Leave? His mask. He quickly pulled it off his head.

"Yes," he said softly. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer to kiss her. The only reassurance he could think of to prove he wasn't mad at her. There was a little bit of copper taste from blood on her lips. He pulled back and started to run his hands along her face, searching for any wounds.

"They came to take me away." He didn't like the way her voice sounded. As if she hadn't used it in a while.

He glanced down at the man. His skin was pale with a bluish tint to it. Dead. Rigor mortis was clearly setting in, meaning he'd been dead for a couple hours at least. She'd probably been kneeling there for that amount of time as well. He needed to get her warmed up.

"I… I…" Her body shook uncontrollably as she looked down at her hands.

Hooking one arm under her legs and the other around her back, Michael stood up. His body protested his movements and her extra weight, but he ignored it. He needed to get her out of the basement. Out of the one area she thought she died in.

"There's so much blood," she said softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his skin.

His grip tightened around her. He should have killed the one in the kitchen. For once, he regretted his decision in wanting to let the man suffer. There was little doubt in his mind the dying man would try and mess with her head. She didn't need to deal with that right now.

To his relief, no sound came from the kitchen. A quick glance and he could see the man wasn't moving. Michael angled his body to shield her from the view. It didn't matter. She kept her face buried in his neck.

Michael paused in the middle of the hallway. His eyes went to the front door. His home was no longer safe. Somehow, they figured out he was there. They came for her while he was away. Undoubtedly, more would come in search of their friends.

Michael gave Gretchen a side-eyed glance.

But, this was his home. Let them come. He wasn't going to let them scare him away, make him go on the run with her. He would kill every last one of them till they left his home alone.

The stairs creaked with each step he took as he made his way upstairs. Clearly, the fight stayed downstairs and in the basement. His fingers dug into her skin automatically as a rage built up inside of him. A fight that he should have been there for. The cowards waited till he left?

He set her on the counter in the bathroom. Letting her go, he started to move away. She grabbed his arm in a panic.

It's okay. I'm here now.

His hands brushed her hair back and he leaned in. She placed her hand on his chest, stopping him from kissing her.

"I killed them," she said softly.

He nodded, suppressing the unimportant question of "how". He searched her face for some clue as to what she was thinking, how she felt. She was always so expressive and yet, at the moment, she was unreadable. Maybe it was because he couldn't relate to the feelings of guilt that she probably had going through her. He was a killer after all. Taking lives didn't bother him. But…

He cocked his head slightly. He wasn't entirely sure she was bothered by the lives she'd somehow taken. There was something about her look that puzzled him.

Her eyes softened as her body relaxed. He was there and she… She felt safe with him.

She gasped. "Michael! You're injured," she exclaimed, surprising him with her sudden animation.

She dropped down from the counter then cried out as her right leg buckled. He caught her before she could fall and picked her back up.

Really? He gave her an annoyed look and set her back on the counter. She should have known she was injured.

She brought her right foot up and rested it on her left knee before he could do anything. There was a gash on the bottom of it. She must have stepped on a piece of her broken mug. At least the wound wasn't still bleeding. That explained her bloody footprints.

Michael turned and walked out of the bathroom, heading to his room. Going into his closet, he pulled out the medical bag and then paused. She needed fresh clothes. Searching her duffel bag, he grabbed her jogging pants and a loose t-shirt before returning to the bathroom.

Gretchen stood on the ground, setting all of her weight on her left foot. She leaned against the sink and ran her left index finger down her cheek.

He set the bag on the counter, followed by her clothes. Then he gripped her face with his hand and turned it to examine her. She had only cleaned up part of her left side. Her skin was smooth and unmarked. Whatever she thought she saw wasn't there.

Her eyes stared past him at the doctor's bag then she looked at him.

"I'm going to shower," she said softly.

He nodded his head. She was covered in dry blood it made sense she'd want to clean it off. Her fingers brushed her arm as he turned to leave, making him pause. Her brow was knitted with worry as she looked up him.

Leaning in, he cupped her face and kissed her long and deep.

Safe. Remember?

She brought her right arm up and wrapped it around his neck to help support herself. Her lips were still soft and warm. His blood rushed through his body at the sudden need to push things further. To fuck her. To fully search her body and make sure that her foot was the only injury she'd suffered.

Shaking his head, Michael released her and walked out of the bathroom. Her fingers briefly brushed his arm. He didn't know or understand grief or guilt. But, she probably wouldn't appreciate him turning on the steam for his own satisfaction. Later, in bed, he'd search her. He'd fuck her. For now, she needed time to calm down and relax.

Michael walked downstairs into the basement, resisting the urge to go back up into the bathroom and strip to join her in the shower. He returned to the storage room and carefully examined it. A syringe lay on the floor next to the dead body. Meant for her?

He pushed the body over to examine her final assailant. Like the man in the kitchen, dry blood covered his face, coming from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

Michael looked at the needle. Poison? She said they came to take her away, but maybe that wasn't the case. What if they came for her to get to Michael? Kill her for his sins. Then again, why would they assume she wasn't his victim anymore? He was pretty sure the clinic doctor thought Gretchen was still a victim.

Michael took his time, examining each body before taking them outside and tossing them into the back of their SUV. He wasn't about to sully Gretchen's car with their putrid, rotting bodies. He would dump their car on the other side of town. Or maybe he'd park it in front of his old home for Dr. Loomis to find.

Michael frowned. Did Dr. Loomis send those men? It was possible that he knew about the current home Michael was inhabiting. But, he should have assumed Gretchen was a victim. Did she attack them?

The thought startled him. He shook his head. No. She wouldn't have done that. But, maybe she resisted. She tried to get away and their encounter turned violent and she defended herself.

Michael stood in front of the SUV and looked toward the house. Here he was, mentally asking himself questions that she had the answers too. She was still alive. She survived the encounter. She'd tell him once she processed everything.

He got into the driver's seat and froze. What the fuck was he doing? Leaving her alone again? After she'd just been attacked? He couldn't leave the SUV parked in front of his house with the dead bodies in there. But, he couldn't leave her alone either. With her injured foot she wouldn't be able to make a long trek back home without exacerbating the injury. She could follow him in her car. Would she be up for that?

He would have to see. His heart picked up at the thought and inevitable release of some control. He was going to have to trust her. Trust her not to take off in her own car and leave him. But then again, if she took the opportunity to escape him, then he'd chase her. He'd eventually find her and she would disappear from the world forever.

Stepping back into the house Michael stilled, hearing the sounds of the shower running. He let out a sigh. The water had to be getting cold by this point.

The bathroom door was open just the way he'd left it. He could hear the water hitting her body. The thought to say something before opening the curtain crossed his mind too late. He steeled himself for her to scream or get mad at him, but she didn't. She sat in the tub, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees.

“I killed them,” she said. “Oh gods. It was me.”

He crouched down next to her then reached out and turned off the water. She turned her head to rest her cheek on her knees so that she could look at him.

Her face had a graved almost pained expression. Her eyes seemed to search his for something. Releasing her legs, she turned to face him better.

"Michael?"

His mouth twitched as anger filled up inside of his body. He reached his hand up and touched her neck. She winced. The dry blood had hidden the worst of her injuries. Clear fingerprints bruised her soft skin. The man had tried to choke her to death. It explained why her voice was hoarse.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. They will say." Her words and that triumphant, dangerous, daring, deadly look she'd given him days ago in the basement flashed in his mind.

His eyes widened slightly as he studied her. There had always been something special about her, from the very start.

She placed her hand on his wrist, forcing him out of his thoughts.

"I need to talk to my uncle," she said. "I don't care what day it is or how old I am. I need answers."

Okay.

He nodded his head. He'd give this to her. A ghost haunted her and she somehow banished it. These men came for her and she somehow killed them. She said her uncle had answers for her. It was time the man gave them to her. And if he refused, well, Michael would have to hunt him down and drag him to personally give her the answers she sought.

Chapter 37 - "Did I..."

#michael myers x oc #smut #horror #noncon tw #slashers #fanfiction #michael Myers fanfic #tw noncon

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inkrabbit · 2 years

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Summoning - Beta

I've had this sitting in my laptop for a bit. tossed it into grammarly, didn't skim through it after that. So enjoy what is meant to be the prologue to a fic where Nihil summons his ghouls and goes throughout life with them. this will most likely not be worked on anytime soon

Word count: 3,233

Disclaimer: I called Nihil "Damien" in this fic. I coined it as his first name since "Nihil" is meant to come from Ares later on

The book is open in front of him, his eyes scanning the old text. Okay, Sister said to do this one at a time. He takes a deep breath, staring down at the knife in his hand as his hold on the handle tightened. He could do this. Some blood and a clear mind. He brings the blade up, pressing it against his palm. Breathe in. Breathe out.

One... two... three-

He slices his palm open with a cry, the blood rushing to the service. He curls his hand closed, letting his blood coat his fingers before reopening, moving on his knees and pressing his palm against the cold stone floor. It stings so bad, tears pricking at his eyes, but he tries to focus on the summoning – tries to swallow down the rising anxiety that's choking him.

“I call upon you, my faithful ghoul,” he starts, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. His heart is hammering in his chest, threatening to break through his rib cage as it thunders in his ears. “As you listen to my every command and take care of me, view me as your master, I, too, shall see to it that you are safe and shall prosper.”

He knows he's fumbled over his words, silently cursing himself for sounding so foolish. But he feels how the air around him grows cold, a soothing scent flooding him. The smell of a crisp, autumn night with a hint of metal. The flames that lit his candles flicker before suddenly going out, smoke enveloping the room. His body shivers at the temperature drop. This... isn't what he had expected. Creatures from Hell were meant to be hot, right?

It's a strong wind that makes his eyes clamp shut, chin tucked against his collarbone as he tried in a futile attempt to shield himself from the cold.

“Excuse me? Master?” The voice is so soft as the wind finally dies down. He brings his head up, a soft squeak escaping his lips at the sight. The sketches in his book couldn't have prepared him for this.

Standing before him is a ghoul, his skin a light gray, as are his eyes, those vertical slits sending a shiver up his spine. But despite it all, he looks... human. Sure, the weird pupils, black sclera, gray skin, and curled horns were a dead giveaway that this was something entirely unearthly, but everything else was normal. That light, sandy blonde hair, curling and falling just past the end of his eyebrow. His lips – albeit a darker shade of gray, almost reminding him of a corpse's lips – were plush-looking and parted as he stared down at him, bent at the waist. The letterman jacket catches his eye; red with white sleeves and accents. He recognized that jacket. That was from the local college, right? Yeah. It was funny, in a way. The ghoul even looked familiar to him... if he looked past all of the demonic traits.

“I- uh...” He's at a loss. Truth be told, he didn't think any of this would work. He still thought everything was bullshit – that he would return to the surface and be laughed at. Tossed out on his ass and sent on his way.

But that's not the case, is it? This is all real. Everything he's been through – everything he's done. Everything he's going to do.

He fucked up.

Now's not the time, he decides. Clearing his throat, he straightens himself up, picking himself up off the floor. His bleeding hand is clenched in a tight fist as he gnaws at the inside of his bottom lip, picking the words carefully. He was supposed to be commanding; assertive. But this... creature. His mismatched eyes glance down, admiring those sharp, black claws adorning his slender fingers. How easily could they slash his throat if he was too harsh and made the ghoul snap?

“Hello... ghoul,” he starts slowly, forcing a smile to his lips. He wished it would've looked genuine, but he knows he looks terrified. “I'm Damien Emeritus, your new master.”

“It's nice to meet you.” And he bows. It's a sight to behold, one that makes Damien... a little uneasy. It's so new and foreign. The ghoul actually drops to one knee, his head hanging as he props his elbow on his knee.

“Ah... you can... stand up now.” It's a small detail, but he notices. When the ghoul picks up his head, he doesn't make eye contact. Instead, he's looking... at his cheek? Now that he thinks about it, the ghoul wasn't holding eye contact earlier either.

Maybe it's just a ghoul thing. “What's your name?”

“I'm-” But he stops abruptly. It's now that Damien sees the spade tail behind him, flicking back and forth. Is he upset?

“You don't have to answer,” he tells him quickly, the worry of having upset the ghoul having scared him.

“It's okay!” And yet, he's the one taking a more defensive position, hands up as he shrinks back just that little bit. “I-I do have a name but... masters typically name their ghouls themselves. Knowing our real name takes a lot of trust.”

“I'm sorry.” He stands there for a bit. Naming his ghoul? No one told him he had to name these things! He literally had a cat as a teen that he just simply named Kat. He supposed he could just name them all Ghoul and be done with it but... this all felt different. Like, in a way, he actually knew the ghoul. “What's your element?”

“Air.” Okay. He could work with this. His mind draws a blank for a second, but he remembers the old mythology books that he had on his bookshelf... somewhere. There was an air god. Four of them, if he remembered correctly.

“Notus?” The name comes tumbling from his lips, faster than he intended. Still, the ghoul gives him a bright smile, nodding his head.

“If that's what you wish to call me, master.” And again, he bows. Not as deeply this time, but his hand goes over his heart as he bends at the waist.

Notus steps out of the drawn pentacle, taking a stand in the far corner, his hands folded in front of him. Alright. So far so good. Though he felt hesitant about all of this at first, he can feel the pride and excitement well up in his chest. Maybe he was actually good at something.

He repeats the same action, summoning the next ghoul. He wonders if it'll be another air ghoul. Would they all be air ghouls? He was told they would match his energy. Would this element be his match?

The smell that envelopes the room sends his mind back. It's like he's back at the lake and, for a moment, he lets the memory wash over him; the sound of the crickets chirping as he laid on his towel. His eyes slip shut, reveling in the memory. The warm summer breeze that had washed over him; the soft music coming from the car as his friends laughed in the distance.

A shadow is cast over him and his eyes snap open, his jaw-dropping. This ghoul is a sight to behold.

“Oh.” He swallows thickly as he towers over him. “You're... big...”

The ghoul is almost a foot taller than him, his skin a desaturated blue, and his curly hair stopping just above his shoulders. Those eyes reminded him of the ocean, such beautiful orbs that could've held him in a trance. His tail is held up behind him, but he's surprised to see it's not in the shape of a spade. Instead, it's a giant, flowing, colorful fin; a beautiful coral red color starting at the base, blending into a cobalt blue before finally transitioning to a light blue. It reminded him of one of those betta fish he would see at the stores, swimming around in those small little glass bowls.

Just like Notus, this ghoul sinks down to one knee, his head bowed. His horns are curled and smooth, a light blue color that almost bordered indigo. However, he stays silent.

“It's nice to meet you,” Damien tries. The ghoul picks his head up, giving him a smile, a small chuff being sent his way. Okay? Damien glances over at Notus, seeing how he shrugs. “Ah... are you also an air ghoul?”

He shakes his head. Glancing around the room, he points at the water bottle Damien had left forgotten on the old table.

“You're a water ghoul?” A nod. Okay. He's getting somewhere. “Should I also name you as well?” Another nod. “Okay. How about... Neptune?”

It seems good enough for the ghoul. And to his surprise, the giant creature stands, taking him into his arms in a sort of hug. Really, it reminded him of a child picking up a stuffed animal and squeezing it, his face nuzzling against Damien's cheek. He's surprised none of his bones snap underneath the pressure. But still, seeing that smile on Neptune's face transferred to his. He even laughs softly as he watched him join Notus in the corner, arms open like he was inviting the other for a hug as well. It was no surprise when the smaller ghoul politely declined.

Yeah. This was gonna be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

And so he begins the next summoning with the two ghouls watching him intently. Just like Notus, the air drops considerably, shaking him to his core. This feels so much worse and he watches as his fingers turned a bright red. He could even see the other two shivering in the corner, Notus having gotten closer to Neptune for any bit of warmth.

The smell is what gets him next, hitting him like a freight train. It's sharp, suffocating. The smell of iron; rust; something sickly that makes his head spin, but there's something else. Something that makes his nose scrunch up as he coughs. It smells like a fire, that invisible, thick smoke closing in around him. But the smell of smoke isn't normal. It's not the same smell he'd get whenever he was close to a grass fire, and it's more than the burning wood one would smell from a campfire. There's something underneath it all; something that smelled like charred meat and it's making him sick.

The ghoul that appears before him is quite the sight. Though he's nowhere near as tall as Neptune, he looks like he's made of pure muscle. And despite the questionable, scary scent he had brought with him, his face was beautiful. White eyes seem to glow as they stare at him, his large horns decorated in what seemed to be lightly colored runes. His hair is shaved at the sides, the rest of it separated at the top in three braids, with the thickest being in the middle, decorated with silver beads. The face paint is beautiful, a stark white against his dark skin, those bright freckles dusting his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. There's such symmetry in his markings, and he notices more as he looks at the ghoul's hands. His fingers are lighter than the rest of his skin, though those black claws still adorn each digit. He reminds him of those Vikings he had heard about. He never did much research on them, save for the one project his old professor had the class do. Did he even finish that project?

“Master.” The title is bitter as it escapes the ghoul's lips, sending a chill up his spine. He missed the silence he got from Neptune. Still, the ghoul looks around, eyes lingering on the other ghouls when he sees them. “What is my purpose?”

“I would like to go over that when everyone is here.” Oh, if looks could kill. There was a dangerous fire in his eyes, but he just lets out a low and menacing hum. Still, he takes the same position as the others.

“What shall my name be?” He picks his head up. A part of Damien feels bad as he stares at him. The ghoul looks... tired; irritated and, in a way, unnerved. “I will be your quintessence ghoul for as long as you'll have me.”

“Quintessence?” he parrots softly. That wasn't a word you hear every day, but he could work with it. His eyes flick over to Notus. “Astraeus.” He turns his gaze to the ghoul bowing before him. “Is that okay?”

“Whatever you see fit.” He stands, not even sparing a second glance as he joins the others. Damien watches him carefully, seeing the way he hesitates a bit as he gets closer. He even shrinks back when Neptune opens his arms. Hopefully he would find peace with the group.

The next summon fills the room with a smell that reminded him of the woods. But this ghoul is different from the others. The antlers catch his eye first, dark tips transitioning to a light color. Sharp teeth also hang past his lips, reminiscent of an oni devil. The scar on his neck looks nasty, but he decides questions like that should be saved for a later date. The ghoul is about the same height as Astraeus, but he's a bit thinner. His hair is a dark brown, almost black in the dim light, wavy and stopping above his shoulders just like Neptune. And like Astraeus, he has freckles that decorate his cheeks, along with red-orange markings on his cheeks and underneath his eyebrows. He also notes the dull fingernails that would normally adorn human hands.

The ghoul doesn't bow, either. Instead, he slowly walks around the small room, eyes trailing over everything and everyone. Damien stays kneeling on the ground, intimidated by the ghoul that stands before him now, a smirk on his face.

“You should be loyal to your ghouls,” he tells Damien. His voice is the scariest thing about him. It's like multiple low and raspy voices overlap each other and the only word he can think to describe it is: demonic. “they could turn on you.”

Okay. Good to know. “What element are you?”

“Earth.”

He wracks his brain for a bit. An earth ghoul. If his memory served correct, he remembered reading about a god who protected the forest, or something similar to that. “May I call you Silvanus?”

A scoff. “Sure. Why not?” His eyes linger on him for a moment longer before he finally turns. His tail is tipped with dark fur. How odd.

Damien's heart breaks a bit when he sees Neptune, again, open his arms for the ghoul, only to have Silvanus growl out, “Don't touch me.” He hoped they would all get used to each other soon. He didn't know how to stop demons from fighting if it came to that point.

Okay. One more. He had enough energy to summon one last ghoul. And he only had enough blood seeping from his palm for one last ghoul. So he presses his hand to the cold stone floor one last time, calling out into the night. He's tired. He's intimidated. He's regretting every decision he's ever made in life that has led him up to this point. He's just over it.

This time, the temperature rises, and quickly. He sees the ghouls in the corner move, spreading out and looking uncomfortable. Silvanus is even removing the leather jacket he wore, his face upturned in a scowl. The smell of gunpowder is strong, along with that faint smell of charred meat. Just like Astraeus.

Sweat is beading on his forehead as the last ghoul appears in front of him; the shortest of them all, he assumes, but the most aggressive looking. His jaw is clenched, hands curled in tight fists as those violet-blue eyes glare down at him, his lips curled up into a sneer. His horns are black and rigid, curled high and intimidating.

“Hello, ghoul,” Damien starts slowly, finally standing up, his knees aching. He's only a couple inches shorter than the last summon. So why does he still feel so small compared to him? “I'm-”

“I don't care.” Okay. That was quick. “I'm a fire ghoul. Just name me and tell me my purpose.”

Perfect. He already knows what to call this one. “Would Ares work?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, his tail flicking behind him. But the second he looks around, that rage seems to get worse. “More ghouls?” He turns his attention back to Damien. “Just what the hell do you want with all of us?”

“That's what I'd like to go over with you all now.” He gives him a smile, opening his arms a bit. “I'm Damien Emeritus. I've summoned you all for a project this church is working on.”

“Church?” Silvanus parrots, rolling his eyes as his arms cross his chest. “If the only thing you want us for is to show off, I'd rather go back right now. I don't have time for this.”

“It's not to 'show off!'” When he was summoning these ghouls, he didn't think any of them would have such an attitude. “Look, I'm still new to all of this-”

“That much is obvious,” Ares sneers. Was it too late to send them back? At least him and the earth ghoul.

“But I'd like to make all of this work.” They're looking at him curiously. The unease on Astraeus has only worsened and he watches as he scoots further to the back. “Our project is called Ghost. Sister Imperator, Mr. Salturion, and I wish to spread the word of Satan through music.”

“And you just... assume that we all know how to play instruments?” Silvanus asks. He had a point.

“I can only play the piano,” Notus chimes in.

“You fucking would!”

“Enough!” Notus had moved further behind Neptune when Silvanus snapped, shooting Damien a thankful look. “Whether or not you guys know how to play doesn't matter. We can always practice.” He smiles at Notus. “The fact that you can already play the piano is great. We need a keyboardist.” He turns his attention to the others. “Can any of you play any instruments?”

“I think I remember how to play the guitar,” Ares responds. “I'll probably need a bit to... get used to it again.”

“I used to play the drums for a small band in my town,” Silvanus says next. “Before...” It's the first time he pauses, a distant look in those mossy-green eyes. “Well, before I had to stop.”

“Perfect!” He looks at Astraeus with a smile. “Can you play anything?”

“I doubt I'd be any help,” he scoffs. “Back when I was alive, I only played a lyre.”

“Alive?” He forgets all about the whole project,now focused on the information the ghoul just gave him. “You were... wait, were you a human before?”

“A Viking,” Astraeus clarifies. “We didn't have anything too fancy back then.”

“You, too?” Silvanus is finally showing interest. A thought crosses Damien's mind.

“Raise your hand if you were human before becoming a ghoul.” There's a moment of stillness. Finally, they all raise their hands.

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crazy-cat-lady42 · 2 years

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Tell me what y’all think please!!

My first interaction with a member of the -REDACTED- was on a rainy, full moon night as I was taking my trash can to the curb. Dressed only in shorts, tank top, and flip flops, my mind was fully occupied on what to make for dinner when I nearly tripped over one, who had sprawled themself halfway across the sidewalk, as if trying to escape the rain solely by dragging itself by its primary set of arms. I jumped back, then froze in my tracks, trying to slow/quiet my suddenly loud and rapid breathing.

It --they, remember they-- were bleeding, somewhere, as I watched their neon-blue blood mix with the oil, dirt, and rain and make its way lazily down toward the gutter at the end of the block. A sudden groan, I think, made its way to my ears, startling me back to the matter at hand. The -REDACTED- was looking at me. I thought back to all the posters, video clips, and public announcements about certain manners one was supposed to use when dealing with their kind, and slowly bowed at the waist, palms up, in a sign of trust (or so I've been told).

Shakily, and oh so very slowly, they raised three of their arms, palms up, and then beckoned me closer. As I approached, I began to smell Sulphur, stinging my nose a little. They began to ‘type’ on a small arm communicator, a much smaller model than the standard ones made available for humans.

“Human,” I heard a robotic voice call out, “I require assistance.”

Ok, don’t panic, I told myself. You’ve had tons of medical training, book wise and hands on, and are completely prepared for all kinds of minor injuries. Human injuries, but eh. Details weren't all that important currently.

“Greetings, -REDACTED-. My name is Myra.” I said softly.

“Tobin.” was all that voice got out before the low battery hologram popped up. Tobin, I assumed, groaned in what I assumed was frustration, then they pointed to themself, then to me, then to the back door of the apartment I had only recently closed. Understanding, I motioned for them to stand. They struggled to get to their feet, nearly falling over twice. As I came up to their right side to stabilize them, I noticed their fourth arm, the lower left arm that is, was bent the wrong way and had something protruding from it. Oh. That’s a knife. A very big knife. Ok. Well. Don’t panic, I told myself. Really important that you don’t panic.

As I put my hand on their back, their right two arms snaked around me, one around my shoulders and the other around my waist. Bracing myself for their weight, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that this particular –REDACTED- weighed about as much as I did. Grateful for small miracles, we staggered to the back door. We had almost made it, only about 10 feet to go, when they let out a grunt and collapsed completely, thankfully against the building's outer wall. I let a few choice words slip under my breath, then stepped back to assess the situation. Ok. I had a few options as to how I was going to get this –REDACTED- up to my apartment, and none of them looked too dignified. In this particular alley, there were no overhangs to shield us from the rain, nor was there much of anything, really. A few trash cans, a dumpster, and an old wagon, left by some kids who lived on the floor below mine.

Ah-ha! Perfect! I snagged the wagon, hoping the squeaky wheels wouldn’t alert anyone, and braced it against the wall next to Tobin by using the old brick doorstopper nearby. This particular –REDACTED- was a lot heavier than I originally thought, and I barely managed to get the upper half of their body onto the wagon before I was panting from the exertion. Folding all their limbs onto the wagon was going to be impossible, so I settled for just their arms. Then, I dragged the wagon, full of alien, over to and through the now properly propped open door, down the hallway, and to the elevator. Praying had never been a regular occurrence for me, but nevertheless I did so heavily as I waited for the doors to open, hoping no one would be there.

Making it all the way to my apartment unseen, I quickly got the wagon inside and locked the door behind me. My elderly half-blind cat Donovan was happy to see me, until the rain-soaked, blood-cover alien became apparent. Hissing and spatting at the frankly odorous guest, Donovan happily accompanied me to the bathroom to get the first-aid supplies.

#first part of a story im never gonna finish #wip #aliens #blood #ocs

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thehoneybeast · 3 years

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Magic (Silco/fem!Reader) 14

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We're nearing the end!

I'm so happy when I'm done with this!

It was now or never. You knew that you couldn't think too much about this, or your nerves would get the better of you. Pulling the hood deeper into your face, you took one last deep breath, before letting the electricity of your magic travel through your body. It was the first time you would use this spell in field, so you wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, uncertain as for how long it would actually last. You felt the tingle of the spell surround you, a thin skin of magic covering your being. You peeked around the corner of the building you had been hiding behind in order to approach unseen. The sight was as expected, enforcers guarding the middle of the bridge, barriers shielding the road. Lucky for you, there was enough space for you to slip past without getting into contact with anyone, if you only hurried and kept quiet while doing so. Trying hard not to shake, you took first steps towards the group of people. Nobody reacted. So you continued, your heartbeat increasing the closer you got. When you reached the first part of the barrier, you stopped for a moment. Choosing the best spot to slip past, you heaved yourself in between the hurdles, nearly crashing into one of the unmasked enforcers passing by. You caught the gasp of surprise before it could leave your mouth, forcing yourself to stay as calm as possible. Once you were used to being invisible, it got easier to move along, following the patrolling enforcers, blending in with their movements and quickly making it to the other end of the bridge.

Only when you heard one of them speak, you came to an abrupt halt again. "This will be the first time I actually enter the undercity. Sad that it will probably be the last one, as well." That caught your attention. The one he was talking to, turned slightly and answered with disgust in his voice. "Believe me, you're not missing anything. It's filled with human scum down there." Your eyes narrowed at this comment and when the other snickered, a shiver of fear ran down your spine. "Well, not after tomorrow, it won't!" What? What was he implying? His partner gripped their shoulder, the next words an angry whisper. "Shut up! We're not supposed to talk about this!" Your throat tightened. A third enforcer approached the pair and that brought you back to reality, quickly avoiding their path, sneaking down the rest of the way until you finally reached the end of the bridge, leaving the enforcers and the sting of toxic water behind you. Only when you reached an alleyway out of sight of the road did you come to a stop, leaning against one of the white brickwalls behind you, calming down from the rush of adrenaline. The words stuck in your head. What was going to happen tomorrow? Actually, it was quite easy to guess. Zaun was still expecting repay for the attack on the council. It had made sense for them to wait, think things through, maybe prepare certain kind of weapons. The thought alone had your heart racing again and you sank down against the ground, trying to steady yourself. It was late evening and the darkness provided you with a sense of safety. If they did plan to attack Zaun, your home, with Hex-tech weaponry, there was no way to predict the outcome of that. They could very well destroy everything you knew. And a certain someone that you couldn't keep out of your head. You had chosen a great day for this trip.

---

Sevika looked at her boss with determination as she explained to him the way she planned to await the enforcers in the streets. She knew about the very real threat that was coming, not really expecting to make it out alive, but wanted to at least take as many of these bastards with her as possible. "And how do think to proceed from there on out? Fight until you die?" His voice was cold and unfazed, his eyes still lingering on the list of artillery they had in store. He had gathered everything in reach, even going as dar as to ask his underbosses for what they could afford to give. "If necessary." She answered just as coldly and Silco sighed. He had heard similar before and the idea of just waisting the life of his right hand to a couple of enforcers seemed very unappealing. "I would prefer to have you by my side. We fought together through this all, you deserve to face the final battle at the frontline." To anyone else, it would've sounded like a suicide pact, but Sevika knew that his wish came from a place of trust in her loyalty and it filled her with pride. "I will tell my henchmen to do it without me, then." Silco glanced up at her, nodded and waved her off with a motion of his hand. She understood, leaving him alone in his office. When the door fell shut, he sighed, leaning back and staring up at the roof. He couldn't help but think of you. Where would you be when the battle started? Would you run? Would you offer your services to Piltover to save your own life? He didn't think so. Which most likely would mean your death. So what if you died? He had to think about his daughter, his nation of Zaun. Even if this seemed hopeless, he had to fight the best he could. For her.

---

Again, you had made a decision. The decision to keep your promise. A promise you had nearly forgotten about. You had promised to get rid of the gem stones. To destroy them. It had taken you months for just one, but you hoped that the magic you had absorbed from it provided you with the power necessary to repeat the process faster, more effective and in a greater scheme. It was that, or dying with all the others in an attempt to be true to yourself. You made a promise to yourself now. That no matter the circumstances, you would never kill another living creature again, enforcer or not. The spell had worn off an hour ago and now you were searching for a hiding spot. Trying to find the entire stock of gem stones would be a headless chase which you wouldn't even know where to begin with and considering you only head a maximum of maybe 12 hours was to tight of a schedule. So instead, you would try something even more stupid, trying to catch them on their way into battle. Disarming them on their way to war. Brilliant.

They didn't see you. No one had witnessed you climbing the building, no one suspected a thing as you had used a hiding spell again as soon as you had reached your destination. From here you had a perfect overview to the street leading to the dreaded bridge connecting both cities. If they would head for Zaun, this was the way to go. And you would be ready to stop them. It was still very early morning and you had most likely a few hours to wait. So you took your time taking in the view of this part of Piltover. The contrast to the city you knew was even bigger than you had expected. While the undercity stank from trash and toxins that collected in every street, here was no sign if any of that. Even the alleyways were tidy and pretty, no sign of amy dirt whatsoever. It had you impressed but also angry, seeing how deeply privilege seemed to run in the veins of people up here. When the sun started to shine its first light through the clouds, you could watch as the citizens of Piltover came to life. People left their homes, headed to work or the markets from the looks of it. Everything was peaceful, no lurking shadows in any part of the streets, the only sign of onlookers were the group of enforcers travelling onto and off the bridge, patrolling, you assumed. It took quite a while for you to get used to the sight of enforcers kindly interacting with other human beings, something you didn't get to witness a whole lot, where you had lived. They acted so very humane that it was almost unsettling. Around twelve, things started to change. You saw people peeking out of their windows, avoiding the main road. The enforcers stopped coming altogether, most likely due to the approaching time of attack. It had you nervously shifting in yiur place, the reality of what you were trying to stop finally settling in your haed. You were attempting to disarm an entire army. There were a thousand different ways this could go horribly wrong. However, if you were to turn around now just to watch your hometown get destroyed, you would never forgive yourself. So you stayed. You muscles tense and your senses alerted, keeping track of every movement down below.

When you caught the first glimpse of a moving mass in the end of the street, it was followed by a wave of electricity in the air. A kind of electricity you had come to know very well over the past year. Immediately, your brain was wide awake, fingers harshly gripping into the edge if the roofs low railing as you saw the forces approaching. Enforcers. Of course, you had expected that but the sheer amount of people marching in your direction was a sight you were not prepared for. Neither had you anticipated the power radiating of them, magic filling the air to the spot you were hiding in, the density increasing with every step they took. This was the moment of truth. A few more seconds and they would be right under you.

Standing up on both feet, you took a deep breath, inhaling the energy hanging in the air, preparing yourself for what was to come. This ad the potential to tear you to pieces if you didn't do it right. If a gunshot wouldn't kill you first. When you looked down again, you spotted something odd. At the frontline of the uniformed bodies of Enforcers, you spotted a man in a different attire. An almost knight like armor wearing, he carried a very heavy looking hammer in his hands. From you position you could only guess his expression, but you thought to make out anger in his relatively young looking face. However, you had no time to ponder about that right now. They were in position. And you were filled with a new determination to even out the odds for this battle. Raising your hands, the first thing you did was search for a connection. To get a sense of how many gems you were dealing with in the first place. In your mind you formed a map based on the energy cores you could make out, thw tingling sensation in your fingertips felt familiar and when you opened your eyes again, you realised that they were glowing. A victorious feeling built in your chest. You had successfully connected their energy to yours. Now to the difficult part. If you wanted to destroy them, they had to come closer. Which meant you would habe to raise the gems towards you and that would definitely catch the attention of their owners. Time was running, the mass of people already slipping closer to the edge of the reachable radius. Fear and excitement filled your brain and goosebumps arose on your skin as you collected your energy and carefully, like picking up a basket hanging on thin string, you started to pull. Immediately you realised the amount of weight that what hanging to you, nearly bringing you to your knees. Instead, you put one knee down intentionally, giving you more stability before pulling again. The strength was overwhelming. Your chest felt heavy, compressed by the tension building in your body but you refused to admit defeat. This was your only chance. Pictures of your parents flashed through your mind, gentle words and gestures until the vision faded from the loving eyes of your mother to the sharp features of the man you loved. We will change this world. Together.

A spark ignited in your chest and with one sudden movement, you raised your hands to the sky, standing back up while doing so. The pull was hard, the resistance massive. And still, you felt it loosen, the energy's sources stopping their motion forward and instead raising into the air. You heard gasps and angry voices but they faded into the background as your eyez caught sight of the outcome of your actions. Floating in the air in front of you were about a hundred weapons, the gem stone inbuilt in their system lifting them. You had no time to feel proud, you felt your energy slipping rapidly, you had to keep going. With one more determined pull, the gems broke out of their prisons, and now you were surrounded only by a circle of blue shining orbs, emitting an unfathomable amount of magic. Your muscles started to tremble underneath your skin, your strength reaching its limit. Now or never. With something akin to a battle cry, you tore at their surfaces, violently forcing your own magic through their skin. Then, with one loud crack that sounded like thunder roaring through the sky, they broke all at once. In your hurtful concentration, you nearly forgot to breath as you opened your system for them to enter their energy in order to keep the entire city from tearing apart in one big arcane explosion. It was too much. All if it. The strength you had spent to do it, the noise rumbling through your body, the energy filling your body like a men drowning would fill with water. Was it possible to drown in energy? You hoped not. And yet, your skin felt as if it was going to burst under the intensity and the battle cry turned to one of utter misery, your eyes filling with tears as even them were overtaken by the pulsing energy inside you. Your cover was gone, that much was certain. Not that you would've noticed. Your world had shrunken down into one small space filled with a blinding blueish light, erasing everything else from your mind. And then there was anger. A distant memory of the emotion rolling over you in waves. They made you do it. They were the reason for all of this. It would be so easy now, one lash out and they would be gone. Forever. No one would dare to try overrun Zaun ever again. It would be so easy. And yet, the colour blue saved you from loosing yourself in the pool of energy, the face of Jinx slipping into your mind and with her, her father. Not that he of all people would mind you wiping Piltover out of existence. But his face reminded you of who you were. And more importantly, who you refused to be. Under massive willpower, you forced your eyes to return to reality. The sight was not what you had expected. You were floating. A mist of blue radiating around you, circling you like prey. Under you there were covering people, fear and schock on their faces, no sign of aggression. They were terrified of you. The man in armor stared up at you, eyes wide with fascination, his anger replaced by endless curiosity. You felt their heartbeats, felt the places where their bodies connected to the ground and suddenly, you knew what to do.

With more of an instinctive reaction, you moved forward without ever touching the ground. The magic carried your body like it was water and you decided where the river flew. The people reacted with more fear as they saw you come to life, backing away, some fleeing the scene, but you ignored them. You had a feeling that the possibility of bursting from energy was still very real and you wanted to get rid of that pressure as soon as possible. You didn't know how mich time you had, how long you would be able to control the emotions that were still fighting for release in your chest. Your goal was the same river you had once started the experiment of taking the gems apart, and due to the fact that you were floating like an abstract version of a balloon, you reached it in no time, leaving the mortified people of Piltover behind you. You didn't notice the few Zaunions watching you with similar expressions all you could think of was to let go of the enormous power filling your system. In a way that wouldn't tear the ground apart or give someone else the opportunity to misuse the gift of your people. When you felt the ground underneath your feet, you nearly stumbled, an electric schock heading into the ground from the tip of your feet. Heaving, you crawled forward, desperate reaching for the toxic water flowing by. This was were you had started. This was the closest representation of magic you had found. Without any feeling of disgust, you entered the water. Immediately you felt the slight tingling sensation of the waters chemicals against your skin but it somehow made the pulsing inside you less painful. All you wanted was peace, all you craved was the merciless embrace of the river. And when you head was swallowed by the waves, you let go.

---

Silco had his people come together in front of his headquarter. Ut was a massive amount of people of all species, all sizes and ages. They knew he was their best option to survive this, to have a chance against the Enforcers. Maybe that idea would've changed, had they known what he knew. He was hoping for victory. He hoped for a prideful death. Dying while fighting what he had always been ready to fight. He would've preferred to present a better future for all of them, but if this was the outcome then so be it. He had only just made a step into the open, when the ring of blue had flashed through the streets a wave of electricity rolling over them like a wave before dissappearing again. Everyone started freaking out immediately after, calling questions imto the air, searching for answers in each other. Silco was the only one who recognised the kind of energy that had just made an appearance and as he rushed back inside, climbing two stairs at a time until he reached the roof, he felt a spark of hope come to life inside of him. He nearly crashed into the railing, catching the source of the unusual light in the distance and his eyes widened slightly as he realised the core of energy, a shine of blue, was located right at the edge of Piltover and with a racing heart, he felt you return into his thoughts.

---

Surprisingly, you didn't feel like you were drowning. The water around you felt like a different kind of air, despite it never entering your lungs. Instead, it swirled around you, almost as if trying to avoid touching your skin. Only then did you realise that it wasn't water at all. It was magic, exiting your body in silent motion, copying the waters antics, mixing into it. The sight was mesmerising, enveloping you whole. Cautiously, you reached a hand out to the liquid, feeling it graze your skin. To your surprise, the tingling was gone, as was its aweful smell. It was clear. Delight spread within your chest as you realised this was your doing. You wanted to dampen the energy in the water, instead you found it following an underlying wish of yours, bringing back the beautiful, deep blue clarity, freeing it from its pollution. Smiling like an idiot, you reached deeper, enjoying the freshness of water against your skin, repaying the favor and washing some bits of dirt off of you. You felt a sense of belonging, bringing tears to your eyes. Curiosity and motivation bloomed in your head as you wanted to increase your impact. Following yiur instincts yet again, this day they seemed to be in good shape, you guided the water-magic-mix to carry you from the bottom of the the river to higher grounds, until the surface broke and the not so clean air hit your face. You felt powerful and endless and your curiosity for what else you could do pushed you on. Feeling high on pride, you spread your hands into the air and suddenly,the energy pulsed from you into the air and into the ground, the water building a round crater around you, also following the pulse. You felt a large part of energy leaving and it was as much relieving as it was deflating. Finally, your feet settled on the ground for good, steady enough to carry your weight again. You were shaking a little with excitement, your mind a rush of adrenaline. The air felt just as clear now, lifting your spirits even higher. What else could you do? One glance at the empty, sad ground and you knew where the last part of your magic would go. With joyful energy, you ran through the streets, blending out amy weird looks or comments amd nobody dared to step in your way. Everyone could feel the power radiating off your form.

---

Silco had watched the blue light wander until it dissappeared somewhere in the lanes like it was swallowed by the earth, leaving no trace behind. Sevika had come to his side, stopping the questions from spilling out of her mouth as she saw the look in his eyes. "What was that?" His face was back to its unbothered facade but she knew her boss well enough to see that there was something lying beneath his intelligent eyes. "Her." His voice was a harsh whisper and she wasn't sure whether he was angry or desperate. His black eye seemed to waver at the thought of you, his scarred lips thin and stiff. She knew that he didn't want to talk about you, but this could be important. "Is she fighting for or against us?" His head snapped around to her and if she were anyone else, she would've been terrified by the fury in his eyes. After a short pause, he turned back before retreating from the railing. "It doesn't matter." He decided, his voice cold and with no room for arguments. "We will approach now. Get ready." And with that, he slipped back into the building, leaving Sevika with a bitter taste of uncertainty behind.

---

Rune after rune you left behind, a few hundred meters in between until you were satisfied with the looks of it as you came to a halt at the top of an old rusty building in the lanes. You felt the invisible net you had spun, reach around most of the area. The magic had fuelled your speed like nothing else before, therefore it had only taken you about half an hour to prepare. Now, you were ready to part with the last bits of your energy if only the result would be what you hoped for. Taking a moment to calm your nerves, your eyes wandered above the place you called home. Finally, you could help. One deep breath, fingers reaching out one last time. You remembered the first time you had spoken the spell. You thought of all the small plants you had fertilised, your biggest success had been achieved as a child. Now was time to improve upon that. This time, the magic left you gently, like rain washing over your body, it dripped out like sweat, each drop following the prepared path of magic string. Like a swarm of bees leaving its hive, they headed out into the city, fulfilling your desired destiny for them. And you felt it. The time the first drop made contact, you felt it rumble through your veins as life blossomed in the earth, spreading out in little roots. The next one hit the stem of a dead tree, bringing it back to life and making it grow. Everything started to breath around you, grass, trees, flowers, ranks amd roots, filling the underground and its top, tying loose earth back together, cleaning the poison out of unseen places and covering everything in life. In your bliss of feeling all of this unfold, with closed eyes still seeing the beauty you created, you entirely forgot to watch your limits. When you finally realised that your head was spinning, you already slipped, only with luck escaping a fall from the edge of the building. When you raised your gaze, however, you were breathtaken from the lively, vital green of the plants around you. Your breath hitched as tears streamed down your face, only to suddenly gasp for air as you saw the bridge. Or rather, the group of people approaching it. Oh no.. It didn't take much of a genius to know what was going on. Fir a moment you were frozen in place, the recent success already forgotten at the thought of them marching right into a war you had desperatly been trying to avoid. ..but had you? Didn't you just want to give your people a chance of winning? What would stop the topsiders from thinking it was just that, an attempt to weaken their strengths? And if they saw the mass of people approaching, they wouldn't run. No, you believed them to be too proud to admit defeat. With an energy you didn't think you had left, you stumbled down the old rusty staircase at the side of the building, heading straight for the bridge yourself. The half run, half walk was exhausting your last resorts but you blindly followed your instincts, carrying you through side streets and short cuts and onto the bridge. You were here first, arriving before your people and the only idea that came to mind now, was to try and talk to the topsiders. Part of you expected to be shot in your jog over there, but instead you were suprised to see that the people that spotted you hastily retreated, making space for you to walk. Trying to fit their image of the mighty magician you no longer felt like, you forced your speed to lessen until you reached the person you assumed to be in command. The young, black haired men was the one of the few not shying away at your sight, instead he approached you with a prideful stalk. Your heart was racing again but you tried to not let him see.

"Brave of you to come back." Were his first words and he sounded like he was hurt in his pride rather than scared or impressed, but you still saw that curiosity lingering in his eyes. "You don't seem like that big of threat anymore." Was your fast reply, trying to not sound too arrogant. You came here to make calm the fronts, not provoke him. "I would say, a battle wouldn't be smart to do now." You continued, trying to seem more confident than you felt. He watched you for a moment, visibly weighting his chances. "Are you threatening us?" You bit your lip. "That was not my intention, but it sounds like it, doesn't it? But no. I don't want a battle. I would prefer it if we all headed home. And maybe don't try to weaponise magic from now on, huh?" The last bit left you unintentionally bitter, causing your opponent to narrow his eyes. "What does a magician have to do in a city like ours?"

You looked at him with with annoyance, hoping to overplay your fear. You recognised him now, having seen his face in the Piltover books you read during your research for the gems origins. "Your name is Jayce, right? You are the reason I am here." Making a step forward, you kept eye contact, seeing his eyes widen at your words. "You more or less forced me to interwine. Using hex tech for your daily comfort? Fine, I can life with that. But using the gift of my people as weaponry, trying to overrun my home, filled with people suffering under your ignorance? That crossed a line." The words were sharp and angry and he made a step back at the anger in your eyes, before his started to mirror your emotion. "We didn't want to start a war! I had a deal with your leader, but he broke the contract and he attacked us! He killed good people! Do you think we will just accept that?!" To your shock, there were tears in his eyes and you realised that this was more personal than you had anticipated. You took a deep breath, running a hamd through your hair, throwing a cautious glance back at the bridge. No one to see yet. There was still time. Turning back around, you softened your gaze, letting your empathy take control now. A discussion wouldn't be of help. "Listen, I understand that you're upset-" "Upset?! Silco broke-" "LISTEN!" Now it was his turn to take an audible breath and you continued, gentle but insistent. "I'm sorry for what happened! But spilling more blood won't do any good! I could've used the energy of your gems to destroy all of you. But I didn't! Because I don't want anymore people to die." Your voice was soft now and you saw him ponder. "I want this to end. I know, it won't be as easy as I want it to, but please, please let it end for today. I took your upper hand away from you. You are going to loose if you push forward." You were pleading with him now and when you saw his shoulders slack, you allowed yourself to hope. "This will happen, we have gone to far for it not to." He took a glance around his people, sighing. "But not today." He agreed and to your surprise he held out his hand to you. Hesitating, you returned the gesture. "I hope we won't meet again." You forced a smile at that, nodding before turning and your stomach dropped the second you layed eyes on an enforcer, fearfully calling out to his commander as he ran towards you. "They're coming! They're armed!" Instantly, you turned back once more, shock and betrayal in the young scientists eyes. Before he could say a thing, you blurted out " I will talk to them! To him! I will try to change his mind!" While still talking, you already stumbled back onto the bridge. This could be your last chance. The thought of seeing him again however, had your mind racing and your heart skipping a beat.

While you should be thinking about how to convince Silco to stop, you instead found yourself wishing to apologise, to make him understand that you felt awful without him by your side. This might be your last chance to speak with him and despite your passion for your people, you couldn't help but feel your love for this man overpowering your desire to keep peace.

@liv-victoriano @potato-dragons @sunflowercandie @motherswarrior @yesnessieme @eprilin @imalovernotahater @htmlbitxh @illiniana @silcovinzant @redsakura101 @faerieandfishsticks @stainedpomegranatelips @subbing-for-clones @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sana-within-you @oodanijadeoo @lenaexplorestheinternet @janilovecookies @shameshomalo @creepysupermarvelpaladin @shadow-pancake9 @komatheterrible @ilikemymendarkandfictional @the-not-so-iconic @rosenightwings @vaaalexandra @usualsworld @janesofia7 @ancientbeing10 @shuttlelauncher81 @deviljoonie @accordionplayingrat @nsfw-kill-me-now @aadelyn

#arcane x reader #silco #silco x reader

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illusionsofdreaming · 3 years

Note

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #alberu crossman #choi han #kiss #pre relationship #confession..?#i honestly don't have enough brain power to tag things rn #i also have not proofread this much so #it's A MESS #i'll come back to edit this when I'm more awake or something #ngl the whole time while i was struggling with this #i was thinking how ridiculous that i've spent so long agonising over writing with words #but consuming it would only take less than a minute LOL #now im back at 0 and im feeling a bit sad

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captains-simp · 3 years

Note

Hey!! I was wondering if there’s a chance you could write Angst 4 with situation 4, with Wandaxfem!reader? Thank you so much anywho, I hope you have a great day

I absolutely can and you have yourself a great day too

"Wake up, dammit!"

Warnings: injury detail, near death, thoughts of death and me once again not really understanding how the human body works

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being an Avenger required a lot of skills. Practical, physical and mental. You excelled at most of it, your life and that of your teams depended on it. But you had a tendency to let personal matters get in the way.

You weren't the only one guilty of that. You were pretty sure you could name a time it had happened to everyone on the team at some point.

But you and Wanda were much more liable to let that get in the way than the others. You had both made a couple of bad decisions in the past to protect one another's safety. It was hard to control. Your first instinct would always be to protect your girlfriend, as was hers for you.

That was when things were good between you. Things being bad was a new concept, especially the way it affected a mission.

"Clear on the fourth floor C corridor." Wanda said through the comms. You jaw clenched tightly as you withheld the urge to role your eyes.

"I just confirmed that, Maximoff." You said back. Wanda didn't respond to that, not that you expected her to.

You were both working your way up a building that Hydra agents were supposed to be hiding out in. Wanda took the left side and you took the right, there were times where you met in the middle with no exchange of words.

"Thanks anyway, Wanda." Natasha said in an attempt to ease the obvious tension.

You continued to up the stairs to the next floor and tried not to think about the fight you had had the night before. It was a blur the next day, the reason it all started was unknown to you both. You had both been in a bad mood and things had soon escalated...badly. You had both said hurtful things, things you wished you could take back more than anything. The pair of you had formed a habit of giving each other space before apologising, but you had been forced together on the spontaneous mission that has thrown you both off, even more so by the fight being the worst one you two had ever had in your four years of dating. You had no idea where you stood with Wanda.

When you arrived in the center of the fifth floor you and Wanda rounded opposite corners into the main hallway at the same time. You paused when you saw her, she did too.

You were about to say something to her. Something that wasn't bitter or tense. You had the sudden urge to spill out an apology but she spoke first.

"Clear on the fifth floor corridor A." She didn't spare you a second glance, continuing through the building. You nodded to no one and hastily blinked back the tear that threatened to spill.

Focus on the mission. Focus on the mission. Well you didn't have much luck doing that.

"Going on to the next floor." You said steadily. You hadn't done a proper sweep of the floor, but nothing in the building showed any signs of people being there and you needed to put more distance between yourself and Wanda.

You should have waited for her. You knew that. She knew that. No one protested.

As soon as you were on the second floor you let your guard down and leant against a wall to take a moment to gather your thoughts. That was a mistake. A significant one.

You weren't in the right head space for that mission. That become so much more apparent when you when two bullets hit you.

Whether it was shock, panic, being distracted or a most likely combination of all three, you barely registered the first bullet. You saw who shot it though. One single Hydra agent who made a break for the exit behind you.

Just as you raised your gun to fire the second bullet hit you and sent you falling to the ground. You registered him jumping over your immobile body towards the stairs but before he could put one foot on them red swirls surrounded his body and threw him against the wall, knocking him out cold.

Wanda emerged from the hallway and skidded slightly in panic as she stopped to turn your way. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood covering your clothes and hands. You were shaking violently while trying to put pressure on the wounds, but you didn't know where exactly they were. You couldn't feel any pain. Just numbness. And that was terrifying.

"You...no, fuck. M-medical assistance- now. Y/n's...been shot." Wanda stammered in panic as she knelt down beside you.

Natasha was giving Wanda instructions but you weren't paying attention to anything except your girlfriend.

"It's...okay." You struggled to say. Your breathing was laboured and speaking was even harder. The distinct taste of blood was in your mouth but you had to ignore that.

"I shouldn't have let you come up here alone." Wanda scolded, tears trailing down her cheeks as she found the two wounds. She ripped some fabric from her shirt into two pieces and held them against your stomach.

"I probably...would have...bitten your head...of if...you tried to." You laughed, instantly regretting it as pain shot through you. The shock was wearing off and the pain was taking its place in the most unmerciful way.

Tears fell from your eyes and your head fell back against the hard ground as you gasped, struggling for air. Wanda moved behind you and placed your head in her lap while she continued to apply pressure.

"I'm sorry." Your voice broke as you spoke. "I'm... so sorry for...last night." Wanda instantly shushed you and shook her head. Her left hand stayed on your stomach and her right combed through your hair to calm you.

"We both said bad things."

"I didn't...mean it...any of it." You tried to lock eyes with Wanda through your tears.

"Neither did I, we'll talk about this when you're better." Wanda promised, nodding her head to assure herself that you would be fine.

But just as she said that it became increasingly difficult to stay conscious. It was as though there was something in the dark calling to you, urging you to let go. It would be so easy. There would be no pain. But Wanda wouldn't be there.

You put your hand weakly over hers, wanting her to be the only thing on your mind incase it was the last. The feel of her skin against your own, her soothing voice and the accent she tried to conceal but you loved, the way she cared for you like no one else ever had. The thought that you may never experience that again made your heart drop.

The shaking was getting worse and you felt so cold.

Go to the dark. Don't go to the dark. So easy. No Wanda...Wanda.

You couldn't help it. You couldn't stop it. It washed our you like a wave. The sounds around you became distant, as though everything was far away. You couldn't make out what Wanda was saying. She sounded desperate. You couldn't see her either. Everything was blurred. Then it was all gone.

The recurring beeping from the monitor was the only sound in the room. Wanda had always thought she would find them annoying, but the Sokovian never wanted to hear it stop. Not until you didn't need it anymore. Until she didn't need it.

It had been a week since you were shot. A week since she had seen your bright y/e/c eyes. The doctors were skeptical. Wanda vaguely remembered them talking to her about your injuries, the severity of them and how they would effect you if you woke up. Once you woke up. They said it was a slim chance.

Wanda sat curled up in the chair next to your bed watching you, wondering if it felt peaceful to be in that state. She wore your favourite hoodie and had a blanket from your shared bed over her, it was the only thing that brought her comfort.

"Wake up, y/n." She whispered, as though trying to secretly communicate with you. "Please." She raised her voice slightly, thinking it could make a difference. It didn't.

"Y/n." She leant forward in her chair and took both of your hands in her own. All she had been able to think about was your fight. It had been stupid, so so stupid. You hadn't fixed it, not properly. Wanda needed more than than the brief moments on the mission. She didn't get to apologise. She couldn't let you go before she got to apologise. She had done it over and over to your sleeping form. But it didn't count. She needed you to wake up. To look at her again. To smile. To speak. To go on another date. To share another kiss. To sleep in the same bed...to get married. There was so much left to do. Wanda wasn't prepared for it to be cut short. It wasn't fair.

"Y/n please wake up. I'm so sorry." She pleaded as she gripped your hands like a lifeline. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pleaded over and over.

"Wake up, dammit!"

When your eyes finally flickered open you shut them again instantly. It was bright, far too bright. You gave a soft groan at that and tried to shield your face with your hand but found no energy to do so.

Your throat was dry and scratchy and your eyes were stinging from the exposure to the light.

You became aware of the beeping and glanced at the monitor as you tried to adjust to your surroundings, taking a for moments to remember how and why you were even in a hospital bed.

In the corner of your eye you saw movement on your left. You slowly turned your head in that direction and had your breath caught in your throat at the sight of your sleeping girlfriend. Was she still your girlfriend? Your heart dropped at the possibility that she might not be, but you hastily pushed it to the side and appreciated her company.

You had missed her. You had no idea how long you had been out. You had no memory of what it was like. All you knew was the familiar feeling of coming home deep in your chest.

Wanda's slim hand was resting on the bed next to yours and out of pure instinct you laced your fingers through her own, still unable to get over how perfectly they felt entwined together. Would she pull her hand away when she woke up? Would she shout at you more?

Fortunately you didn't have to wait long to find out. Wanda stirred from her uncomfortable looking position on the chair and blinked a few times before her eyes fell to your hands.

She furrowed her brows in confusion at the sight, not remembering putting them together but one look up told her all she needed to know.

"Y/n." She said as a sigh of relief, sitting up straight and gleaming at you.

"Wanda." You croaked with a weak but genuine smile. She picked up on that and with one flick of her tinted red wrist a small cup of water came floating towards you.

"Thank you." You said gratefully and took the cup with your free hand, wanting to hold Wanda's for as long as you could. You gulped the water down quickly and placed it on the bed side table before looking back at Wanda.

"You scared me." She admitted, concern prominent in her shimmering eyes.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head and was quick to speak.

"No, no more apologies from you. I'm sorry. For everything. I-" You cut her off by placing a finger to her lips with a smile.

"Stop."

"I really am though." You knew that, you could see it.

"I know you are." You said genuinely. "And I am too. I don't even know how it..." You trailed off as you opened and closed your mouth, not knowing what you were even trying to say. Wanda laughed and nodded, you had missed that sound so much.

"Are we...are we okay?" You asked timidly, fearing the response so much you couldn't look her in the eyes, only staring at your entwined hands.

Wanda lifted your chin with one of her fingers, wanting you to look at her as you spoke. Her warm smile greeted you like a treasured friend.

"We are. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

"Well then that's going to get confusing really quickly because I'll be doing the exact same." You declared. Wanda laughed again and brought your hands up to her lips to place a soft kiss on them. A smile spread easily across your face at the gesture.

"Come here." You muttered as you moved over to the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet back for your girlfriend.

She eagerly accepted the offer and slipped in beside you, instantly wrapping her free arm around you to bring you close while her other still held your hand.

"I love you." She whispered as she kissed your forehead.

"I love you too." You smiled and held onto her loose clothing and...how the hell did you miss that? "Is that my hoodie?"

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #angst

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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

detention retention finale p.1

masterlist (read parts 1-2 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no this series is from my original idea however i did take inspo from quite a few people (credited at the bottom of this)

summary: gryffindor y/n is put to the test when she tries to use her detentions with draco malfoy to get close enough for him to share his secret. unfortunately, things are never as simple as they seem. (set in 6th year)

warnings (plz pay attention to these this time): blood, violence, mild gore, mentions of wanting to throw up, you’re just kinda not having a great time during this chapter. also, kinda dark!harry trope here. it is a little ooc, i know, but it was what worked and so i ran with it. also, i play around with the timeline of events that occur in hbp so just expect that

a/n: the long awaited p1 of the finale is here! the second half is almost entirely written save for a few scenes, and i expect to get that out in the next few days (so much less than a week). i really appreciate you all being patient--i wrote and rewrote the potion scene about 3-4 times because it just wasn’t the vibes that i wanted, but i’m semi happy with how it turned out and at this point i’m just gonna go crazy if i keep trying to restructure it so here we go. all the loose ends will b tied up in the last part and y/n is finally gonna catch a break ;) so as always lmk what you think!

word count: 8.7k

here’s a spotify playlist inspired by this fic!

tags: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss

enjoy >:)

Snape’s stores were much more difficult to crack than she’d expected. She’d managed to steal one ingredient from there once, but back then all she had to do was disengage the multiple jinxes that guarded the door. Since, unfortunately, her slimy old Potions professor appeared to have felt a compulsion to fluff his nest and redecorate. A new painting was hung on the door--one of a large raven with beady, intelligent eyes that followed her as she walked past as inconspicuous as she could, no doubt preparing to fly off into the painting’s grey sky to alert his master. Her father had something similar to this in front of his Gringotts vault. She resolved to speak with him over the break to try and find a way in.

Not like she’d had any chance to execute her plan, anyways. It had been two weeks since Y/N had so much as had a simple interaction with Draco. Every time she tried to talk to him, he turned his attention away from her, offering her a disinterested sniff in response or just outright pretending like he didn’t notice her. Pansy Parkinson seemed to take joy in this development, though she was hardly getting anything on her end save for a few dry looking conversations as Draco’s body angled away from her.

Without the “distraction” of friendship and genuine human connection, Y/N had plenty of time to emotionally free-fall into an internal moral crisis. She supposed that Draco wasn’t expecting her to keep up her end of the deal now, just as her Gryffindor friends had given up on trying to make her useful. Physically, nothing was stopping her from walking right up to McGonagall during one of her detentions and telling her that Draco Malfoy was making an attempt on the headmaster’s life. But was it really worth it? Every time the thought crossed her mind, all she could think about was the way Draco looked when he talked about his mother, the way a shiny film glazed over his eyes and his eyebrows knit together.

She’d made a promise. Too much was at stake. While she had failed her friends, she was at least not going to fail Draco...not when the rest of the world had betrayed him.

Y/N was slowly sifting through thoughts like those when Katie Bell stepped foot into the Great Hall for the first time in a month. Her legs, slightly wobbly from being on bedrest for the better half of November, carried her down the aisle towards the trio of Y/N’s now ex-friends. Her soliloquy was interrupted by the familiar sound of Harry’s voice as he spoke, hushed and rather quickly, to Katie, his hands animated and his frame bent slightly lower so he could speak quietly. It didn’t take much imagination to discern what the topic of their discussion was as their eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. She managed to hear a few snippets as the wind from the owls blew in and carried it towards her:

“Malfoy--”

“Was it?”

“...remember?”

Katie, lips pressed into a thin line, shook her head. Harry bit his own lip and swung around to look at a blond figure further down the aisle. Draco. He was staring at the meeting, his body entirely frozen while he took it in.

Oh, Draco.

Before either party could say anything, he was already turned around and speeding off outside of the hall. She swallowed; Harry and the rest of her Gryffindor peers were conversing and not casting a single look her way. Taking a deep breath, she got up from her seat, leaving her half eaten toast behind.

It didn’t take long to locate Draco--Myrtle’s bathroom was hardly a minute’s walk away from the Great Hall. He was in the same position she saw him there last, his head hanging over the sink basin while his body heaved.

“Draco,” she called out.

He snapped around, his eyes wild and his hair slightly wet at the tips. It occurred to her that he’d splashed his face with water. “Come around again for a formal Katie Bell confession?”

“No!” she exclaimed. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get herself past the doorway. Not when his wand was raised at her like that. “I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he snarled. “Do you really expect me to believe anything you say?”

“Please,” said Y/N. “Please let me explain.” Despite the sting of his words, she couldn’t help but feel some degree of relief when she realized that he was finally speaking to her again, finally acknowledging her again.

He let out a huff of disbelief. “This isn’t about you. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter whether or not you explain. You lied to me. You put my family in danger, me in danger. And for what? A date with Potter?”

“What?” All the air left her lungs as she stared at him. “It was never like that!”

“Save it.” His tone, a bitter blend of vileness and defeat, echoed off the stone of the bathroom floor. Y/N was overwhelmed with the urge to run up to him and just beg him to forgive her, but the fire in his eyes and the angry twist of his mouth told her that that wasn’t an option. Instead, she slowly crept towards him. His eyes blazed as she neared him holding her hands up. “Please, Draco. I’m begging you.”

His composure slipped, his wand shaking slightly in the air while he caught his bottom lip on his teeth and stared at her with a look she couldn’t quite place. She was just about to ask him about it when a pair of footsteps stopped right outside the bathroom.

“I know what you did, Malfoy!” Harry appeared, brandishing his wand and pointing it at him with conviction. “You hexed her, didn’t you? Katie?”

Draco sucked in a wheezy breath, struggling to stand up entirely straight as he held his wand at the ready.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Let me guess, Y/L/N couldn’t get a confession out of me so you’re here to pick up the slack?” Draco finally snarled. “How cute.”

“Shut up!” roared Harry. She’d never seen him look so furious before. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said menacingly, the usual cool confidence she associated with him slowly reappearing in his demeanor as he twirled his wand around his fingers. Y/N finally let out the breath she was holding as Harry zeroed his focus on her.

“And just what are you doing here?” he hissed. “Hermione was right, huh? You were with him the entire time. I can’t believe I expected anything different from you.”

Despite the fighting nature of the words coming from one of her best friends, she couldn’t help but glance at Draco as confusion briefly rippled through his features.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was being shunned by her friends for not telling them anything.

“I was just checking on him!” she wailed.

Visibly unsatisfied with the answer, Harry just scoffed and aimed his wand at Draco. “You’re going to confess what you did or I’m going to make you regret it.”

Harry wasted no time with firing off the first spell--a weakly cast Stupefy that hardly missed her head as Draco’s Protego ricocheted it in her direction. She yelped as she dodged it, smacking into the side of the stall door and falling on the ground unceremoniously hard. Frantically, she dug through the pockets of her cloak to locate her wand, but she was too late. A flash of light was headed her way.

Instead of it smacking into her chest with the force of a curse, the green light spread around her, creating a shield-like sphere. She met Draco’s eye’s briefly in shock.

He’d cast a protection spell on her. In the middle of a duel that she was hardly formally a part of, he cast a protection spell on her.

“Diffindo!” The puddles from the eternal broken faucet glowed red as Harry parried Draco’s attack. It again went flying in her direction, breaking through the shell of the Fion Duris charm. In a stroke of luck, she rolled out of the way. A light blue flash followed from Draco--a nonverbal.

Finally. Y/N managed to close her hands around her wand, mind racing with thoughts of who she’d disarm first. Her wand had just begun to point towards Harry as the aftershocks of a Levicorpus charm slammed her to the ground once again, her wand bouncing on the cobbled stone once before rolling under the stall door. Y/N swore. “Harry, stop it!”

Harry was clearly losing composure. Despite his magical talent, the speed at which he was rattling off curses compromised his control...and his aim. Draco sent a few Fion Duris and Protego Maxima charms her way, but it still didn’t help when Harry had completely lost it.

Things turned for the worst when his Tergeo actually sliced Y/N--just barely, but enough to draw a significant amount of blood in her wand arm. Even if she wanted to try and find her wand behind the toilets, she wasn’t even sure if she had the strength to fire off anything.

Her cry of pain prompted Draco to immediately turn his attention from Harry, angling his body towards her instead, an indistinguishable expression etched into his face as he took in the bloodstained white sleeve of her arm.

Under normal circumstances, Y/N would’ve swooned at the fact that he willingly forfeited the duel just to check on her. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Harry’s rage-filled expression and clenched jaw reminded her of this as he reeled his arm back and shouted out, “SECTUMSEMPRA!”

She didn’t think about it. To her credit, there really was no time to think. The cracking crimson light flashing towards Draco’s distracted figure was enough for her to launch herself at him with the intent of knocking them both to the ground--but she was too late, far too late. Glowing red light encased her entire body for a few tense milliseconds before she crumpled to the ground.

The Sectumsempra curse felt like every single nerve ending in her chest was being massaged with a sharp knife. Hot, sticky blood filled her mouth as she blinked, glassy-eyed and dazed, up at the ceiling. Distantly she could hear familiar voices over her body. There was a wet warmth that bloomed on her chest. She managed to glance down at her midsection to see an array of deep, short slashes scattered across her torso.

“Am I okay?” Her voice sounded tinny and funny to her. A pair of light gray eyes came into her vision as she managed another breath. “Draco? Is that you?”

If he leaned closer, she couldn’t tell. His face was beginning to swim in her vision, blending in with the glass ceiling. Finally, a familiar voice, albeit strained and cracking: “You’re okay.”

She felt something shaky brush past her cheek and the coolness of metal rings dance over her skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re going to be okay.” He sounded so far away for someone who was leaning right over her. She could see out of the corner of her eye a figure, cloaked in dark robes, raise its wand and recite an unfamiliar incantation. The metallic taste in her mouth began to subside as she felt the warm stickiness of her own blood seep back into her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for but doing it anyway. She thought she could feel the warmth of someone’s fingers softly cupping her face, but it could’ve been the heat of the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with the desire to just be held, to not be lonely. “Please don’t go,” she begged.

The last thing she heard was a tense, “...Okay.” Then everything went black.

Y/N spent the majority of her break obsessing over the last memory she had of Draco--the startled way in which he gazed down at her as she bled out in Myrtle’s bathroom and felt his soft hands brush the hair away from her face. It was almost as if there had never been a problem between the two of them, like he’d forgiven her at that moment, but she knew that wasn’t true. Their last Potions class together had made that very clear. While he, thank Merlin, wasn’t letting Pansy hang off him like he did in 4th year, he still pointedly ignored her even though she had to nearly hobble into class. So why had he looked so worried if he didn’t care? And why, whilst surfing the high of a cocktail of pain potions, did she feel like she remembered someone with light blond hair at her side in the hospital wing?

“And you’re sure your bandages are comfortable?” Her mother interrupted her train of thought,, the plate of ethically-sourced willowbird lying completely untouched in front of her.

“Yes, Mum,” groaned Y/N for what had to be the hundredth time of her Christmas break. “I told you. Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey made me their top priority over the last week of school. They say that I won’t even need them come January.”

Mrs. Y/L/N hummed as she delicately picked through her salad.

“I can’t believe that Potter boy’s nerve,” said Mr. Y/L/N from the foot of the table. “Hexing his own friend like that?”

“Dad, he didn’t even know what it did!”

“Exactly! What kind of person does that?”

“He’s just stressed,” Y/N mused, though she was personally a tad miffed at the fact that she’d been brutalized by someone she once considered her best friend. “And he was a little angry at me. He thinks I’m in cahoots with Death Eaters.”

“Ridiculous.” Mrs. Y/L/N vigorously shook her head. “Anyways, dear, no relation to the previous topic: I ran into Minerva at Wurgie’s the other day while I was shopping for gifts. She told me something very peculiar. Is it true you’ve become friends with the Malfoy boy?”

Y/N paled. Dealing with the backlash of Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been bad enough, but her own parents? Over the winter holidays? “Draco?”

“Yes, unless the Malfoys have another son I’m not aware of.”

“Well…” Y/N searched her mother’s face for any sign of animosity but found nothing but genuine curiosity. “Yes. We both had det--I mean, we were partnered for a class project together in Potions. He seems to have grown up a little.”

Oblivious to the slip up, her mother nodded. “Interesting. I was actually quite close with Narcissa myself back in the day. The Malfoys certainly don’t have a great track record of picking the right side, but we were two quaffles in a case throughout our schooling.”

“You knew Mrs. Malfoy?” asked Y/N, her eyes wide. “I had no idea!”

“Of course, we disagreed on the pureblood values and traditions that should be followed with children,” continued Mrs. Y/L/N, “But despite that, she was always kind. I hope she’s faring well.”

Y/N gulped as an idea slowly began to form in her mind. “Er, Mum, actually...Draco told me some things about...well, his mother.”

Both of her parents perked up.

“So you know how you guys always talk about how the Order owes you a favor for the time you went undercover in the first Wizarding War?” asked Y/N. They both nodded. “Do you think...we could cash that in right about now?”

A month later, Y/N stood in front of the painting that hung on Snape’s door, frowning at the raven that stared right back at her, daring her to try and open the door. In all the excitement of Christmas and explaining to her relatives that she’d nearly been murdered by her ex-best friend in a haunted bathroom, she had completely forgotten to ask her father how to distract a charmed guardian painting, and it’d hardly be beneficial to owl him during a busy work month. It was still completely up to her.

The dungeons sent a certain chill through her bones as she ran through possible plans, prompting her to tuck her hands into her pockets and shiver so hard that she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching.

“What are you doing down here?” came the snotty, posh voice that she knew belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

“Parkinson,” Y/N greeted, snapping her head up to see that she didn’t come alone. Draco strode next to her, though he wouldn’t look at her directly. “Come for a rematch?”

Parkinson pulled out her wand and scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on it, but if you’re offering…”

“Pansy!” Draco hissed, yanking her away and forward. “We have places to be. Don’t waste your time.”

“But--”

“She almost got killed by Potter, like, yesterday,” he continued in a hushed voice. “Do you really want to make that worse?”

Parkinson sent her one last sour look before she was dragged off by Draco (who still refused to make eye contact with her). Y/N slumped against the wall, wincing as one of her injured spots bumped against a protruding stone. Why was he ignoring her? He’d protected her during the duel. He was even the one who stood over her as she lay crumpled on the floor.

A lump began growing in her throat again as she realized just how lonely she was. With her friends gone, all she had now was...her owl, Edison? Yes, that was it. Edison and Hannah Abbott, who clearly was just letting her sit next to her for meals out of pity. Y/N wished that she had the strength to sit alone and just say fuck it so she wouldn’t have to be the kickstart to a bleeding-heart Hufflepuff’s philanthropy career, but she was already beat down enough as she was. Sitting alone would just seal the deal in her new life as a social reject who dreaded classes where the professors let you choose partners. It was like she was a shy first year again, too nervous to talk to anyone and instead sitting alone at the breakfast table, praying that she’d make friends with someone, anyone, even though she was too afraid to figure out how.

And then came Ron, the sweet ginger boy who she’d met once when she went to a wizarding play with her dad. He’d plopped into the space next to her one day, eyeing the untouched plate of toast in front of her.

“You gonna eat that?” he’d asked. Y/N had just stared, mouth agape that someone was actually talking to her. “Hey, you’re the Y/L/N girl, right? My dad works with yours.”

Without waiting for her reply, he’d just popped the piece of toast in his mouth and continued talking at her as if they were old friends. Before she knew it, she was getting swept up into the social swirl of Harry Potter and his friends, helping them as they made their way through Hogwarts and took on the challenges brought upon them by Voldemort and his cronies. For once in her life, Y/N felt like she actually belonged.

And she’d thrown all of that away.

“Y/N?”

An unfamiliar, dreamy voice sounded from a little further down the dark hall, snapping Y/N out of it. She hadn’t even noticed, but she’d slid down to the ground and tucked herself into a ball. When she touched her face, she felt wetness on her cheeks. The raven in the painting made some kind of weird cackling sound.

“Who’s there?”

A girl in Ravenclaw robes, strange eyeglasses, and shockingly white-blond hair that rivaled Draco’s stepped into sight. Luna Lovegood. She’d seen her a few times--mostly during the Dumbledore’s Army meetings they’d both attended last year--but had never had a private, one-on-one conversation with her beyond the time that Y/N threw a protection charm to protect her from Bellatrix’s Avada Kedavra at the Ministry and she’d thanked her.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” said Luna as she settled in next to her, crossing her legs. “Isn’t Snape’s raven lovely?”

“I suppose so,” mused Y/N.

“His name is Marvin,” continued Luna, “and he always listens.”

“Huh?” Y/N balked, giving Luna a funny look. No wonder they call her Loony Lovegood she thought. “It--he can...talk?”

“Oh, yes,” said Luna, apparently not noticing her confusion. “Marvin is quite the conversationalist, to be honest. Snape is a very fortunate wizard to have him in his possession.”

As if to accent her point, Marvin crowed a few times.

“I was actually coming here to have a chat with him about you,” said Luna. “I think it’s terribly unfair how your friends are treating you. I thought that Marvin might know what to do. He always seems to.”

“Luna,” Y/N murmured, not expecting the way that her eyes began to swim with tears. “You...you really think so? I’ve been feeling so awful about what I’ve done…”

If she seemed taken aback by Y/N’s emotional outburst, she didn’t show it in the slightest. “Y/N, you just care about other people. And you know what it’s like to be lonely, so I understand why you didn’t want to leave someone alone when they felt that way, even if it was Malfoy.”

Y/N bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

“My mother had this saying about kindness,” said Luna softly. “She told me that it’s easy to be kind to people you already love. But you can really tell how caring someone is by how they treat those who are different.”

Marvin made a sound that was eerily similar to a jackhammer in the background.

“Thank you,” managed Y/N, letting the girl pull her into a hug. “I...I can’t say that enough. I really needed to hear that.”

“I know,” Luna replied wistfully. “I’m sure your friends will come around, too.”

“I sure hope so.” She swallowed, giving her a small smile as Luna squeezed her hand.

“Marvin is such a funny bird.” Luna shifted onto her feet, creeping towards the painting. “He loves shiny things. Now that I know the spell that weakens the barrier between the natural and painted world, I like to give him things sometimes. If he likes it enough, he’ll fly off to his flock to gloat to his murder for the rest of the day. He’s so proud.”

Something clicked in Y/N’s head. Was this her answer as to how to distract Marvin?

“It’s Transcendere, if you were wondering,” continued Luna, making to walk away. “Just in case you wanted to know. I can’t imagine why you’d need to, though. Anyways, I’m off to meet with Snape over a few questions on the exam. I don’t imagine he’ll be around here for the next hour!”

Before she could even thank her, Luna was already gone and down the hall. Y/N felt her pockets frantically, trying to find one thing that might appeal to the raven. He looked at her expectantly.

Her only piece of jewelry was her family ring, and apart from her obvious personal ties to the object, something told her that giving Snape’s guard bird a concrete identifier as to who broke into his stores would not be wise. So that left….She reached into her pocket, taking out the glittery quill that Draco had gifted her last fall. Giving it one last look and closing her fist around the feather one last time, she thought about how much she wished to go back to the simpler time.

Marvin made a little chirp, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Transcendere.”

The quill poked through the canvas and into the scene, slowly changing so it fit the art style that the painter used to bring the raven to life. He wasted no time snatching it out of her grip, giving an appreciative gargle before he took off, flying away into the grey sky.

She was in. A quick Alohomora charm opened the door, and Y/N made quick work of deactivating the jinxes that guarded the entrance and was happy to see that he hadn’t changed anything else with his security measures. Finding the potion was easy, and before she knew it, she had reset all the security charms, shut the door, and made her way all the way up to the Gryffindor tower with the vial tucked firmly in her pocket.

Getting Draco alone was the hardest part of her plan. Every time she saw him, he was either surrounded by a gaggle of Slytherins or darting off down side corridors that she could never quite locate. Carrying around the vial of stolen potion was getting increasingly stressful, too, especially now that their DADA class with Snape was coming up. He had to have noticed that his stores were broken into at that point, but given that he hadn’t stopped a meal yet to berate the student body on the importance of integrity and “keeping one’s grabby hands to themselves”, Y/N assumed she was somewhat in the clear. On the bright side, Y/N was enjoying mealtime much more now that she was eating with Luna. Her new friend even convinced her to go to the library with her one night to study--something that Y/N was not too familiar with.

They’d left right before the library closed, going their separate ways. Something crossed Y/N’s mind as she realized what day it was--Saturday. Draco always worked on the cabinet on Saturdays, and of course he wasn’t going to bring his friends along with him.

Quietly, she sank down next to the stone wall at the entrance, waiting for Draco to exit. She waited, and waited, and waited. Y/N was just beginning to wonder if Draco had switched his schedule around when the telltale sound of stone bricks scraping against each other snapped her to attention.

Draco looked more frazzled than usual as he stepped out of the newly-constructed entrance, his hands shakily running through his hair and his tie out of place. Y/N felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought that she was going to add even more stress to his night.

“Draco,” she said, standing up and teetering at the sudden motion.

He started at the sight of her before setting his jaw and turning to continue a walk down in the opposite direction.

“Please,” breathed Y/N, jumping forward to latch onto his wrist. “I need to talk to you.”

He immediately snatched his hand away, his scowl deeping in his features. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, though sheer exhaustion seemed to replace the usual venom in his voice. “If you’re here to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But--”

“I don’t have time,” he repeated once again, desperation seeping into the edges of his tone. “I don’t have the time to figure out whether or not I can trust you again.”

“Then let me make it easier.” Y/N reached into her pocket, producing the potion vial that had miraculously not been shattered after she’d carried it for so long. Draco arched an eyebrow. “Run a diagnostic spell on it. I want you to know that I’m being completely honest.”

“Y/L/N, I told you, I don’t want--”

“Please, Draco,” she pleaded, holding it out to him. “Just do it for me. If you do it, we’ll be even for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to.”

He sucked in a breath, begrudgingly casting the spell. The vial glowed and cast a bright emerald light on his surprised features. “How did you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” rushed Y/N. “Just ask me anything. I’ll take it if you want.”

He looked like he was about to leave her in the corridor alone, so she did the only thing she could think of--uncorking the vial and downing it all in one go. It went down like water, hardly feeling like anything. She was surprised. Wasn’t it supposed to feel more compelling?

“Y/N, you are such an idiot sometimes,” he growled, but he turned back to her anyway. “Okay. Fine. Did Granger put you up to talking to me?”

“No. Harry did,” answered Y/N, the words coming spilling out of her mouth without her even thinking. Draco’s briefly softened expression immediately hardened.

“I suppose that answers it then,” he snapped. “I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish.”

“Ask me something else!” cried Y/N. “Something you don’t already know the answer to.”

His silence was evidence enough that she was maybe, potentially, possibly getting to him. Something twanged in the pits of her stomach, reminding her of the time that she’d eaten bad fish in Greece and was sick for days, but she cast the thought aside for just a moment as he finally responded.

“This is ridiculous,” he clipped. She waited, turning the empty vial over in her hands. Finally, after a few agonizing moments of silence, his voice sounded again. “Why are your friends mad at you?”

Just as she was about to tell him, the tell-tale sound of footsteps and a cat’s meow echoed down the corridor. Filch. Panic-stricked, Y/N launched herself in the direction of the Room before a hand closed over her forearm and pulled her back.

“That’ll take too long,” Draco whispered, so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck and had to try not to shudder. Without waiting for her response, he yanked her into the broom closet across the corridor and softly shut the door.

It became fairly apparent that the broom closet was perhaps not the best hiding space for two adults, a fact that Y/N quickly noticed as she realized that the only place she could comfortably place her hands was lightly on top of Draco’s chest. His own hands pressed into the wall on either side of her head as he used it to push himself as far away from her as possible. When her eyes flickered up, she could see in the dim light that he’d shut his eyes. She couldn’t blame him--when she ran the plan through in her head, it rarely ever included getting stuck in a tiny broom closet together, and it never crossed her mind that it could happen before he’d even forgiven her.

“I heard something too, my pretty.” Filch’s voice floated down the corridor as he neared them. She sucked in her breath, intent to hold it. She wished that she could cast a Silencio on the broom closet, but there was no way to be able to do that in such close range. Plus, she was quite preoccupied with the churning in her stomach that was getting significantly worse.

Filch’s steps were getting louder as he called out, “Anyone there?”

“Yes,” Y/N let as a tortured, strangled whine. Realization flickered across Draco’s face as his hand shot out to clamp over her lips. She tried not to focus on how warm and nice his skin felt touching her and instead on the fact that Filch was still walking.

The footsteps finally paused outside of the broom closet. Y/N could feel Draco’s heart racing under her palm. She vaguely registered that her hands had long since curled into fists, clinging onto his shirt.

“Anyone in here?”

“Mmph,” responded Y/N, hardly able to enunciate anything over the death grip Draco had on her face. This only made the lurching in her middle worse, so bad that she felt like she had bile rising in her throat.

“My lovely? What’s that?” A cat’s meow rang out from across the corridor. “Over by the Charms classroom?” Another meow. The sound of quick shuffling would’ve come to Y/N as a relief if she didn’t feel like she was about to puke the entire contents of her stomach up on Draco Malfoy’s hand.

“Thank Merlin.” Draco exhaled. Y/N could feel his shoulders relax under the grip she had on his shirt and took note of the fact that he smelled very strongly of that stupid rich scent in her Amortentia, something that was somewhat difficult when the cramping in her stomach had gotten so bad that she could hardly stand up straight.

Then he let his hand drop.

“They’re mad at me because I didn’t tell them about you.” The words came spilling out so fast and without prompt that Y/N felt like she was out of body, watching someone else speak for her. “I couldn’t ever bring myself to hurt you like that because even though you’ve been mean to me and my friends and I technically have no reason to want to protect you, I still do and it’s just so complicated because I thought I was just being a good person or whatever but honestly now that I think about it f it came down to it I would choose you over anyone else here and that’s scary and ohmygodIcan’tstop--” Y/N managed to suck in a small breath as the magic in her system propelled her forward, barely catching the widened eyes of Draco, “--It’s been so hard being away from you and I understand why you’re angry at me and I’m such a hypocrite for being upset that you were a Death Eater when I didn’t tell you why I started talking to you in the first place but I couldn’t just confess to you when I finally had a reason to spend time with you and I didn’t want to fuck it all up but I did and Draco please help I can’t stop I want to so badly you were never supposed to know all of this I thought that it would just make me tell the truth not everything--”

“I know,” His hand came up one more time, covering her mouth and muffling her voice. Without being able to move her lips, the words died down once again while the waves of nausea and agony hit in their place. Draco’s face had once again adopted that unreadable, somewhat sad expression as he moved his free hand so he could thumb away the tears that were collecting on her cheeks. Her fingers twisted into the soft fabric of his button down as she choked back a sob against his hand. “I know. That was really fucking stupid, even for you. You do know you’re not supposed to take more than an ounce of Veritaserum, right? This is going to take forever to get through your system. You just have to let it run its course. I’m sorry.” The potion was closing in around her throat as she blinked up at him through tear-ridden lashes. “I hear Filch escorting a student to McGonagall. This is our chance to get out.”

Y/N nodded as best as she could without loosening his hold on her, and they were creeping out of the broom closet and slowly making their way down the hall as silently as possible. He was to her right, his left arm slung around her shoulder so he could keep her quiet without sacrificing too much of his balance. He pulled her away from the direction of the Gryffindor dorms.

“Not happening,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing past her ear. He was so close. She shivered. “Filch went that way. Plus, I need to keep an eye on you until you’re back to normal.”

She nodded again. By some miracle, they made it to the Slytherin dorms without much of a hiccup beyond the awkward shuffle down the stairs. “Purity,” muttered Draco, prompting the cobblestones to rearrange themselves into a door. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Y/N scoffed behind his hand. The Slytherin common room was, thankfully, entirely empty, but very eerie and cold. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that he’d obviously drawn the short straw when it came to lodging, but when she felt his palm tighten over her lips, she was reminded that that wasn’t an option.

“Here we are,” murmured Draco, his voice still low and careful as he led her to the end of the hall of the boys’ dormitories. Something other than the effects of the Veritaserum she consumed set off the butterflies inside of her once again when she thought about the fact that she was really going to see Draco’s dorm room. His door, black and heavy, was completely unblemished apart from the silver numbers of his room.

Before she could think any further, he turned the knob and spun her so he was looking right down at her. “The less you talk, the longer it’s going to take for you to be normal again. Try not to be too loud, though. I wanted to sleep tonight.” With that, he released her once again.

“You have really nice hands,” she blurted out, immediately clapping her own palm over her mouth again.

“Oh.” An uncharacteristic blush rose in his cheeks.

Squeezing her eyes shut and steeling herself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth next, she let her hand fall. “I--I actually think I can control some of what I say now.” She took one more breath in to check. “Yeah. Thank god. It’s not just...coming out of me anymore.”

“I’m not too surprised,” he said. “You were on quite a roll back there in the broom closet.”

“So, um…” She shuffled her feet. “Are we good now, do you think?”

Draco sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone willingly down two state terrorist interrogation sessions worth of Veritaserum just to apologize to me. So, yeah, I guess. I think you should probably try and get some sleep. Chances are it’ll wear off some by tomorrow morning.” With that, he rested his hands on her shoulders and steered her towards his bed.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, sinking down onto his black silk bedding and meeting his eyes.

He shrugged. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything before you sleep?”

“I’d really like it if you held me until I fell asleep,” Y/N said so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to look away from him. He blanched, his eyebrows raising but his lip quirking up.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were going to ask for water or something.”

“Draco, please don’t be mean,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out. I would like some water, though.”

“Your wish is my command,” he drawled, disappearing into his bathroom before coming out with an empty glass that he cast a quick Aquamenti into. “Go slow. I really don’t want you coughing up water on my sheets.”

“Me neither,” she said between sips. “Merlin knows I’ve embarrassed myself enough already.”

When she finished, she handed it out to him. “Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this. I mean it.”

He snorted on his way to put the glass away. “Of course you do. That’s the beauty of Veritaserum.”

“You’re actually funny sometimes, you know,” she said.

Draco smirked at her again. “Veritaserum. You’re doing wonders for my ego tonight.”

While he was doing whatever he was before getting into bed, Y/N went ahead and slipped under the sheets, rolling over onto her back so she was closest to the wall. She felt the bed slightly dip to her left and a throat clear.

“What is it now?” muttered Y/N.

“You know, it’s really hard for me to do what you asked when you’re on your back like that,” he said.

“What?”

“Like, do you want me to be on top of you or something?”

“What are you even talking about?”

Draco huffed and reached his hands out to grab her shoulders once again, turning her to face him. Before she could register what was happening, she felt his own hands come around under her arms to rest on her back. Her head lay on the swath of skin between his shoulder and his collarbone, and she could feel the quickening of his pulse. “There. Honestly.”

“This is really nice,” Y/N blurted out, physically cringing when she realized that in her position she couldn’t easily cover her mouth.

“Yeah?” She could feel the laugh rattle through his diaphragm.

“Yes.” Y/N huffed. “Stop asking me questions. This isn’t very kind of you.”

He let out another light laugh, his fingers moving to thread through her hair. “Is this okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted--” Y/N buried her face into his shoulder, silencing the words that were about to come out of her mouth. “Oh, my god,” she said after she resurfaced. “I think I want to take a vow of silence after this is over.”

Y/N could hear his smile as he offered her a, “What a load of good that thought is doing you now.”

“Please, just knock me unconscious until it all goes away,” she groaned.

“Stop demeaning my work,” he said, mock offense creeping into his tone as he continued to card his fingers through her hair in soothing motions. “What do you think I’m trying to do? If you want me to give you blunt force head trauma, then just say so. Sheesh.”

She sighed dramatically. “At this point, maybe.”

“Seriously, though, are you feeling okay? That was a lot of Veritaserum,” he murmured.

“I’m just feeling mortified right now,” she answered.

“You still need to tell me where you got it.”

“Oh. I stole it. From Snape.”

All at once, Draco dropped his hands and pulled slightly away so he could gape down at her. “You did what now?”

“Yeah,” she said, confusion creeping into her tone. “It really wasn’t that hard, you know. I’ve done it before.”

“When?”

She felt another lurching sensation. All of the questioning was starting to make her stomach turn again. “I was a second-year. Harry had to brew Polyjuice Potion and he needed an ingredient we couldn’t find anywhere else.”

Draco let out a low whistle. “At twelve?”

“Eleven. My birthday hadn’t come around yet.”

“That’s…” He’d shifted so she wasn’t pressed up to him, catching his lip between his teeth as he thought. Y/N hadn’t made much notice of this development as the growing pain in her midsection grew. “That’s quite a lot for a kid.” The way his hair glowed in the soft moonlight made her heart twinge. It looked so soft. Y/N noticed that she’d been staring at him for far too long without saying something when he blinked, planning on opening her mouth to apologize or crack a joke when instead:

“I have the biggest crush on you.” The words left her lips without any prior consent, the consonants and vowels forming before she could even think.

He was completely frozen in place, his expression entirely unreadable.

“Oh, god, and now I’ve ruined it all because I know you said that I didn’t have a chance that one time in detention and you don’t see me like that and I’m pretty sure you’re with Pansy and even if you weren’t I’m not enough for you and I wish I hadn’t taken this stupid potion but I know that I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant that you would trust me--”

Her words stopped abruptly as Draco silenced her--not with his hand, but by placing his lips on hers. The kiss was brief and shy, more of a question in nature than a statement. Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt as he pulled away, a rather frazzled and deer-in-the-headlights look etched into his features.

She was speechless. Absolutely, completely, irrevocably speechless. Despite the insistent gnawing of the Veritaserum at the lining of her stomach, she could only manage to blink owlishly up at him, mouth agape.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low.

“Ehm…” Her lips refused to move. Draco frowned, dropping his hands from her sides and sitting up straighter. Something impartial washed over his features, turning his expression from hurt to uninterested, like he’d woken up from a pleasant nap and was snapped back to reality. His legs pulled away so no part of her body was touching him.

“I--er, didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just wanted to make you quiet again, y’know, before you said anything else you regretted. And I thought that...kissing you would shock your system enough to make you stop talking.”

Her cheeks turned a violent red as she realized the depth of his statement. “So you...don’t see me like that?”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair once, took in a deep breath, and dropped his gaze to the comforter. “You should go to sleep. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

At the very least the potion was beginning to settle in her stomach as Draco’s breathing turned slow over the next hour or so. She didn’t know all too much about the mechanics of Veritaserum, but at this point, she had almost nothing left to confess anyways.

Y/N tore her eyes away from his sleeping form, turning around to face the wall. His bed was soft. And it smelled like him, like the perfect blend of black tea and sage and snobbery that was in her Amortentia. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished to be anywhere but there. When he kissed her, it felt like he wanted her. Yes, of course he was timid, but she’d thought he was just nervous. But what was there for him to be nervous about? She’d already confessed under literal truth serum. He knew how she felt, and he didn’t even say sorry for kissing her and telling her he didn’t mean it like that. He still didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t when Pansy Parkinson in all her obnoxious Slytherin perfection was right fucking there.

She was just beginning to feel sleep tug on the strings of her consciousness as she felt her hair get tucked behind her ear by a warm hand coming around from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s better this way, you’ll see. It wouldn’t be fair if I...if it was different.” Despite his words, he let his fingers brush over his jaw as he moved closer, his shoulder lightly pressing into her back.

At that moment, there were so many things that Y/N wanted to say, ranging from “I am never going to live this moment down because I’m positively lovesick over you” to “I am going to beat you up for kissing me and then telling me it didn’t mean anything after I confessed.” Two schools of thought, neither of them perfectly encapsulating the true essence of her feelings. Her most traitorous thoughts told her to stay still and enjoy the final moments of affection she’d get from Draco, but she’d given into impulse a little too much that night.

He must’ve noticed that her breathing had changed because he suddenly shifted his weight onto his free arm, keeping his hand poised by her neck.

“Please stop touching me.” The words that came out of her mouth sounded much more pathetic than they did in her head, a voice crack finding its way into the final syllables. He jolted away.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I thought…” He swallowed. “I thought you liked it when I touched you.”

“Yeah, before you told me you didn’t feel the same way,” she mumbled. “I really would appreciate it if you didn’t make me rehash that again. Today has been humiliating enough. I’m not looking to set a record or something here.”

She’d thought that her quip was pretty good, but Draco remained completely humorless. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. It was stupid of me to act on impulse like that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Never meant to--” She stopped in her tracks, instead letting out a sharp huff. “Nevermind. I don’t want a fight right now. I just want to sleep.”

Much to Y/N’s horror, her throat began to tighten up again with the tell-tale coming of tears. The next breath she exhaled was embarrassingly shaky and loud, and the movement that it sparked in Draco was even more mortifying. He made a small sound of sympathy. “C’mere, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I know that must’ve hurt you.”

Undecided between feeling pissed and just wanting to forgive him, she slowly sat up and faced him. His arms were out in a motion of invitation, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” The Veritaserum in her system didn’t care much about her emotional turmoil, much to her horror. Y/N began to turn away, a watery scowl fixed firmly on her face, but Draco’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“If I...wanted to be with you,” he began, his tone careful and clipped, “It would never work. Okay? Trust me when I say it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong.”

“I kind of did.”

“Yeah, well, we both did. But I don’t want you to think that I, er, never thought about it.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what the underlying meaning of that was.

“So... “ He motioned again with open arms. “Do you...want to? I’ll play with your hair again until you fall asleep.”

Y/N stared at him, completely astonished. “Why? If you don’t see me like that, then why?”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight anyways,” he said softly. “And I want to help you feel better.”

She opened her mouth with the hopes of a biting retort coming out, but instead she was met with silence. Against her better judgement, she set her clenched her jaw and gave in.

His arms were wrapped around her in an instant as she tentatively settled back into his chest, her hands lightly rested on his shoulders. Despite the humiliating previous events, it didn’t feel awkward, especially when Draco’s long fingers slowly threaded through her locks and brushed past her neck. A small, forbidden sigh of contentment left her lips when he let his touch linger over the back of her neck. His deep, slow breathing and the steady beat of his heart began to lull her to sleep.

The next morning, she was able to lie convincingly enough to Draco, telling him her name wasn’t Y/N Y/L/N and that she was 80 years old. Confident that she wasn’t about to spill all of his secrets to the student body, he told her she was free to go.

“Draco?” she asked poised by his door.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’ll see you much after this? You know, now that we aren’t Potions partners and don’t have detention together anymore?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll see you around at pureblood functions or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to think about the implications of pureblood functions still existing in the future after this. What kind of world did Draco think this would turn into? “But this is probably it, right? The last time I’ll see you like this?”

She didn’t even need to see his nod. She knew. That’s why he offered to play with her hair despite not even liking her--it was his way of apologizing for roping her into this, for tricking her, for shutting her out, for the Sectumsempra curse...for everything. His way of apologizing before they parted ways.

final a/n: ty for reading! first off, congrats to the anons that guessed veritaserum. that shit took me forever to write bc i had such high expectations but it turned out to be quite the challenging scene since i still had to juggle draco’s conflicting emotions/distrust and the fact that i really wanted him to make her feel better fjdkas; i thought i’d mention someone who helped me write this (even tho i don’t think they realized how much they helped lmao)L i’d like to thank my 🌟 anon for giving me some inspiration. i was struggling with the first half of this story in terms of pacing for quite some time but found some help in an ask they sent me mentioning how they related to y/n feeling lonely/would like to see luna and neville mentioned. unfortunately, i haven’t quite been able to fit neville in yet (and i’m not sure if i can without it seeming just like a random extra bit of story that isn’t helpful to the plot), but hearing some affirmation that y/n’s loneliness was something that actually resonated w them really helped. it made me realize that the isolation from her friends/draco didn’t have to just be a logical turn of events for the plot to proceed in a sensical way and instead could be used to explore y/n’s character. i hope you all enjoyed! i promise the stuff w her dad and the order will be cleared up next chapter

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 16

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

Highly recommend to read a summary of events prior to this in the plot review!

After the fog disperses in Loveland City, the Hunter Game seems to be discontinued

However, MC notices many coordinates moving on an island south of Loveland City called “Small Rock Reef”

She suspects that "Humans” who were caught by “Ghosts” during the Hunter Game were sent there and are trapped

Since the island is inaccessible across the sea, she heads to STF to seek assistance

There, she bumps into a familiar face, Tang Chao:

Tang Chao tells her that Lu Yi (whose Evol is gathering and transmitting data) noticed abnormal Evol energy fluctuations and an increasing number of people on the island. Because of poor signal and the fog, STF didn’t have the time to send anyone over

When the signal eventually returned, Gavin dropped by STF and decided to go to the island by himself, suspecting that the island is an important factor in the Hunter Game

Lu Yi was also sent to the island, so the both of them are currently there

At this moment, Gavin contacts the STF and gives a report on the situation: 1942 people are trapped, 284 are injured. The arena is underground and there are no exits. Since the arena is surrounded by water, they can’t break down the walls by force. Gavin suggests that they use Evol to carry out the evacuation. Even though there’s no poisonous fog, there’s insufficient oxygen

Gavin asks Dai Yue (whose Evol is creating passages between two points) and Tang Chao to head over to assist in distributing supplies and assisting with the evacuation

At this point, MC speaks up and makes her presence known:

MC: I can help too.

The earpiece goes quiet for a moment. Then, Gavin’s confused voice drifts over.

Gavin: ...MC? You’re in the STF?

Gavin seems very surprised to hear my voice. I shoot a meaningful glance to Tang Chao.

MC: I happened to investigate leads related to the Small Rock Reef, and came to STF to report it.

Gavin: You...

Gavin seems to hesitate. In that moment, a small chink seems to appear in his solid armour.

As though he realises something, he swallows the words back into silence, taking a deep breath.

Gavin: The situation here isn’t as simple as you think. You don’t have experience in rescue operations, so I wouldn’t recommend you to come.

MC: But you just said that there are “many people trapped”, and it’s a part of the Hunter Game. The mastermind is very dangerous. I just experienced the game in its entirety, and many doubtful points in the Hunter Game are hidden there. Aside from helping in the rescue, I have many things to tell you “in person”.

I pause, then continue softly.

MC: You should have found... “something special” there, am I correct?

Gavin’s breathing halts for a moment, and I know that my guess was correct.

Perhaps the thorn-covered “8″ symbol representing the Lighthouse is there.

Gavin: You know what it is?

I glance around the meeting room. Information regarding the Lighthouse hasn’t been verified. Hence, it isn’t appropriate to announce it publicly, and should be told to Gavin directly.

If I were to verify it only after the rescue, it’d be troublesome for both me and Gavin, who has been temporarily relieved of his duties.

Since the situation is already under control, verifying the state of affairs there while assisting in the rescue is the best choice.

MC: I can only give you an answer after I see it. Gavin, I can help you. I definitely won’t cause trouble.

Gavin seems to sense that I’m hesitating to say something. After a moment of silence, he sighs softly.

Gavin: Tang Chao, retrieve the communication earpiece from before, then give her some of the lighter self-defence equipment.

Tang Chao notifies Gavin that STF received a warning from “the other side” - which turns out to be NW - that they will handle the situation on the island and prohibits STF from going near

Gavin doesn’t care LOL

After the call, Tang Chao prepares the inventory:

MC: Tang Chao, isn’t Gavin currently relieved of his duties? You...

Tang Chao: Are you asking why we’re still following Captain Gavin’s commands?

I nod, watching as Tang Chao quickly makes an inventory of the supplies in the storehouse, turning his head.

Tang Chao: I don’t know about others, but to us in the Special Operations Team, Captain Gavin is Captain Gavin. It has nothing to do with whether he’s relieved of his duties or not.

While saying this, he lifts a gigantic box, his tone resolute yet casual, as though he’s talking about a completely ordinary fact.

Tang Chao: Also, he’s definitely not resting even though he’s been relieved of his duties. He simply worries even more. It’s best for him to return to the team sooner.

Hearing Tang Chao’s grumbling, I can’t help but laugh despite the tense situation.

Dai Yue creates a passage and they head towards the underground arena in the island. MC notices a bunch of people curling up and trembling while staring in a certain direction:

Just as I’m about follow their line of sight and look over, a shadow flies towards me at a great speed.

Instinctively, I dodge to the side. However, Tang Chao reacts even faster, rushing forward and immediately getting smashed to the ground by the shadow.

Tang Chao: Be careful-- oof!

MC: Tang Chao! Are you okay?

Tang Chao: I’m fine, I’m fine. What’s going on?

I push aside the “shadow” which is pressing him down, and discover that it’s a person who has been beaten to a pulp.

MC: Who would be so ruthless...

Looking in the direction where the man came flying from, the weak light casts a shadow on a rugged stone wall.

I nervously shield the fallen Tang Chao from the front, lowering myself and feeling for the tranquilliser gun I carried along with me. My hand trembles involuntarily.

??: MC?

Hearing this familiar voice makes me react instantly.

MC: ...Gavin?

Hearing my voice, the sound of running footsteps drifts from the passageway. Very soon, a slightly fatigued face appears in my field of vision.

In that moment, I finally hear the weight in my heart falling to the ground with a thud.

The moment he sees me, his eyes immediately brighten. He takes brisk steps towards me, supporting up me by the shoulder and giving me a check over.

Gavin is completely covered with dust and ash, and his hair is a little messy.

His fatigued state further cements my guess regarding those clusters of wind in the city earlier.

Gavin: Are you okay?

MC: Are you okay?

We ask the same question in unison. In the next second, we smile while looking at each other.

Gavin: Sorry, I didn’t control my strength earlier.

MC: I’m fine. It’s all thanks to Tang Chao for covering me.

Only now does Gavin’s gaze shift to the side, and he spots Tang Chao who remains on the ground.

Gavin: Why are you still lying there? Waiting for me to help you up?

Tang Chao: Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay?

Gavin: If your reaction is this slow again, you don’t have to stay in the Special Operations Team.

Tang Chao chokes, then shuts his mouth before getting up. Gavin doesn’t add more, and returns his gaze to me.

Before Gavin can continue, an electronic announcement blares, informing them that this is the final round of the Hunter Game. They can accumulate points by killing people, and those who rank in the top three will be sent to a safe place. There’s also another reminder that water surrounds the arena, so they shouldn’t even think of breaking the walls

Gavin explains what happened when he first arrived on the island: the place was in a state of chaos, and people were killing each other. He kept everything under control with this guideline: “You either forget about the rules in the announcement, or get a beating.”

Gavin orders Dai Yue to strengthen and widen the passageway, Lu Yi to gather everyone and evacuate through the tunnel in phases, and for Tang Chao to distribute supplies

MC helps maintain the order:

Gavin: You’ve grown pretty used to the pace of STF.

MC: It isn’t the pace of STF that I’ve grown used to, but the pace of Captain Gavin. After all, this isn’t the first time I’m your “team member”.

Perhaps recollecting a similar memory, the corners of Gavin’s lips hook into a small smile.

MC: Shouldn’t we follow them?

Gavin: No, we have something else to do. Follow me.

Gavin brings MC to a place with a special apparatus. The both of them surmise that this is the apparatus Joker has been using to gather Evol energy in order to unseal the Lighthouse

They decide to study it properly after the evacuation

All of a sudden, the passageway is filled with fog and everyone starts panicking:

Waving his hand, a wall of wind appears as far as the eye can see, enveloping everyone within it and separating them from the stinging fog.

This looks incredibly similar to those clusters of wind I saw on the streets of Loveland City.

I lift my head to look at Gavin. His fringe has long since been drenched, sticking to his forehead. However, his eyes blaze like torches as he observes the surroundings calmly.

Gavin: MC, stay here.

With this, he turns around and leaves the cluster of wind, vanishing into the fog.

At this moment, I understand everything.

While Gavin was controlling the chaos here, he was also constantly using his Evol to maintain over a hundred clusters of wind in the city.

But Gavin never said anything.

He has always been like this, seeing no need to explain, and seeing no need to express.

He simply grips onto his choice stubbornly, pressing forward with an indomitable will.

My heart seems to be bridled tightly by something, and I find it difficult to breathe.

A notification beep sounds in the earpiece. Gavin’s lowered voice drifts into my ear.

Gavin: Someone released tear gas, probably to control the crowd quickly. Tang Chao and Lu Yi, remind everyone to take note of the boundary, and evacuate as soon as possible. MC, tell those within the wall of wind to stay where they are. I’ll be back soon.

After straining himself to pass on the commands, he turns off the communicator, resting his hand on the cement wall of the passageway.

A heavy dizziness continuously invades his mind. Even the crevices in his bones transmit pain.

Maintaining the clusters of wind within the city and controlling the chaos here expends even more energy than he imagined.

Gavin grits his teeth, straightening himself up, He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain conscious-

He will definitely not collapse here.

He spots three suspicious people. After a scuffle, one of them recognises Gavin

They are from NW, and they’re apparently here to assist in the evacuation after noticing abnormal Evol energy fluctuations on the island

However, Gavin has his doubts about their true purpose since they are too well-equipped for an evacuation mission

Gavin gets them to clear the tear gas and assist with the rescue:

By the time Gavin returns, the wall of wind is gone, and the tear gas permeating the air earlier vanishes without a trace.

I rush over to Gavin’s side, noticing the three strangers behind him.

After giving them a cautious glance, I turn to Gavin frantically, worried about his condition.

Gavin: I’m fine.

MC: I can tell when you’re lying to me.

Gavin: When did you learn Tang Chao’s Evol?

Gavin speaks in a soft voice. He can no longer conceal his fatigue, and it sprouts quietly while he leans against me lightly, letting it melt into the weight.

Gavin: I’m a little tired, but those people are here.

His shoots an icy glare at the three people at the side.

MC: Who are they?

Gavin: Have you heard of the New Weapon Project?

When I hear this name from Gavin’s mouth, I feel the tips of my fingers turning cold.

Even after such a long time, I’m unable to forget that day when Gavin was taken away by the group of uniformed men.

Neither can I stop myself from recalling that experiment he went through.

The NW organisation still exists, and there must be a special reason for their appearance here.

MC: I heard a little about them, and how their studies are highly confidential. As an organisation for scientific research, what are they doing here?

Gavin doesn’t know either, and MC recalls how NW sent an order prohibiting STF from going to the island. She finds it strange that they sent their own people instead

At this moment, new information from STF is sent into your earpiece - Loveland City is once again in a crisis. The fog has reappeared, and the Hunter Game is continuing

Meanwhile, the numbers on the apparatus continue to rise

In order to stop Joker, the both of you decide to dismantle the apparatus

NW attempts to dismantle the apparatus, but it triggers a device which Joker had prepared in advance. Poisonous gas fills the underground passageway. Even though Gavin tries to create a wind barricade, there’s too much gas coming from various places

Fortunately, NW has a conscience and assists with the evacuation

An electronic announcement blares: Due to the someone breaking the rules, the arena will be sealed up

Everyone starts panicking again, scrambling to the entrance:

At this moment, a strong gale courses through the middle of the crowd. Akin to an iron net, it “presses” everyone onto both sides of the wall.

Gavin: I’ll repeat myself. No one will die here. I won’t allow such a thing to happen. What all of you must do is trust me, and leave this place safely.

??: Why should I trust you! Will you take responsibility if I die?!

Gavin: I’ll take responsibility.

Gavin says these words firmly. In an instant, only the whistling sound of wind can be heard in the air.

Gavin: Trust me. I won’t let any of you die here. Everyone, leave one by one in sequence. Got it? If I see any actions disrupting the order, I won’t go easy on you.

Along with Gavin’s words, the wind reminiscent of an iron net disperses. Everyone is quiet, lowering their heads and waiting for the plan to proceed.

Just as Gavin mentioned earlier, fear is the fastest way to destroy order, but it’s also the fastest way to construct order.

Gavin staggers slightly. When he’s about to take a step forward to steady himself, I squeeze over to his side, bracing him just as he’s about to fall.

Gavin: !

MC: It’s okay, I’ll help you stand straight. Just lean on me.

Those amber eyes stare at me deeply, hiding all his thoughts within them.

Gavin: I’ll have to rely on you then.

At the same time, Gavin presses on his earpiece.

Gavin: Dai Yue, can the entrance of the passage be widened?

Dai Yue: I’ll give it a try.

With the effort of two Evolvers who can transfer objects, most of the people are evacuated slowly. However, I can sense that Gavin’s condition is continuously deteriorating.

Maintaining the clusters of wind has expended too much of his energy.

I hope he can leave this place as quickly as possible. But I know that he will only be at ease to evacuate only after the last person leaves.

I sigh. After acknowledging this point, I simply support him with even more strength.

Vaguely, I think about the sound I heard earlier.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

Gavin seems to sense my hesitance immediately.

MC: After that man cut the wire earlier, I think I heard another sound. It wasn’t just the emission of gas. It was the sound of something cracking.

RUMBLE--

Right after I finish speaking, a large tremor makes me almost lose my footing.

??: What is it now???

Gavin: This is bad!

Gavin quickly uses a wall of wind to encase the remaining crowd, sending all of them into the passageway with Dai Yue and the NW members.

Using the last bit of energy left in his body, he leaves us around ten metres away from the entrance of the passageway.

Gavin: Leave first...

He collapses onto the ground, as though the breath he had been holding for a very long time was finally exhausted completely.

I grit my teeth and hold onto Gavin, not letting go.

MC: I won’t abandon you!

I continuously head towards the passageway, dragging the weakened Gavin along.

Just a little more. Just a little bit more.

That large black coloured door is right before my eyes. It’s as though I can touch it just by reaching out.

In the next second, ice-cold seawater surges in violently, engulfing us instantly.

In the icy cold torrent, I grab onto Gavin tightly, spinning along with the surging water in this underground labyrinth.

The crashing barrage of seawater stirs up violent waves. I feel myself getting tossed around several times by this force. By the time I stop, I feel a little dizzy.

I struggle while swimming upwards, my arms quickly growing sore and weak.

In the icy cold seawater, all effort seems incredibly insignificant.

Just before the final wisp of oxygen leaves my chest, I halt my breathing, feeling for the portable oxygen concentrator I carried along with me.

...at the very least, Gavin has to leave this place safely.

In the dark waters, I try my best to feel for the corners of Gavin’s mouth, stuffing the portable oxygen concentrator into it.

All of a sudden, I feel the corners of my mouth being pried open by something icy cold.

MC: Mmph?!

I take a breath instinctively, but don’t get choked.

When I open my eyes, Gavin’s frantic expression crashes into my line of sight. The tips of his fingers press against my lips, and he seems to be confirming if I’m biting on the object in my mouth properly.

In the dim light, I see that the portable oxygen concentrators in our hands are on each others’ mouths.

The arms around my back tighten. I lift my head to look at Gavin, and realise that he has a small smile on his face.

The engulfing water, the dark labyrinth, bloodthirsty slaughtering, a silent scheme. All of these things make it difficult for me to breathe.

It’s been such a long time since I saw such a relaxed smile from Gavin. It’s as though we aren’t amid these dark waters, but are underneath tender sunlight.

It’s as though he has finally found an answer he’s been searching for for a very long time.

While I’m in a daze, Gavin pulls me as we swim upwards.

When we emerge to the surface, it’s as though we’ve survived a disaster. Gavin and I remove the oxygen concentrators, taking in large gasps of air.

For a moment, we look at each other, neither of us speaking. Perhaps there aren’t any suitable words which can express everything that I'm feeling right now.

In the end, I simply gather them together, assembling them into a simple phrase.

MC: Gavin, are you okay?

Gavin: MC, are you okay?

We ask each other in unison once again. The corners of our lips curl upwards, knowing the answer through a tacit understanding.

After they’ve composed themselves, Gavin gets everyone to report on their status. Tang Chao states that the evacuation was a success

Gavin tells Tang Chao and Lu Yi to meet up with them, then uses this opportunity to destroy the apparatus:

I retrieve a folding knife from my pocket, handing it to him.

MC: Gavin, even though I can’t do much, I want you to remember that you aren’t fighting alone.

Gavin seems to be taken aback for a moment. In the dimness, there seems to be faint light dancing in his eyes.

Gavin: ...I’ll remember.

He gives me a deep stare, then re-enters the water without a turn of his head.

As promised, Gavin returns in around ten minutes.

Gavin: The apparatus happened to be right underneath us. The circuit had already been damaged by seawater, and I dismantled a few key components. Also, the people from NW are finding a way to draw out this water.

MC: That’s great...

While you’re talking, the water has already begun to recede. I release a soft sigh of relief.

Gavin reaches out, brushing aside some stray hairs sticking to my forehead, his voice softening.

Gavin: When I knew you were coming over, I was really worried at first. Now, I just feel that it’s a good thing you came.

With this, he takes a deep breath, leaning the side of his face against the top of my head.

Gavin: I’m tired. Let me rest for a while.

MC: Even though I can’t be of much help, I can be your human crutch now that I’m here, right?

Gavin: Not everyone can be my crutch.

His words are dyed with a smile. He relaxes completely, leaning against me.

Tang Chao: ...cough cough, sorry to disturb.

Gavin: Turn around.

Gavin doesn’t open his eyes nor move, but his voice is exceptionally cold.

Tang Chao: Yes sir. I’ve checked the route. Once you’re done resting, we can leave.

Gavin: If you want to run laps, just say so directly.

As the water level decreases, I’m able to step onto the ground. At this point, Gavin stands up straight.

MC notices that the number on the apparatus continues to increase. The two of them think that the collection of Evol will only be controlled if the Hunter Game is brought to a complete end

They return to Loveland City

Gavin decides to use his Evol to disperse the wind from the TV tower. He tries all sorts of methods to no avail. That is, until he creates a hurricane powerful enough to envelop the entire city

Meanwhile, MC remains below the TV tower for safety reasons. When she doesn’t hear news from Gavin after a while, she rushes up to the roof to watch as Gavin “retrieves” the thick fog, compressing it into the size of a basketball

With this, the Hunter Game comes to an end. He asks Lu Yi to broadcast his message to the public, and announces that the Hunter Game is over:

Gavin: Eli, I’ll leave the rest to you.

Eli: Got it. The reinforcement has arrived, hasn’t she?

Gavin doesn't respond. After confirming that the team members below the TV tower have properly retrieved the cluster of wind, he removes his earpiece, then reaches out to turn my communication device off.

MC: Gavin?

Gavin: It’s too noisy. Let’s have some peace and quiet for a while. Why did you run up by yourself? Didn’t you say you’d follow orders before taking action?

MC: But I also said that it’s up to my own judgement whether or not to come up and find you.

I give him a meticulous look over. The gale has caused his hair and clothes to become messy. Perhaps due to exerting too much energy, his lips have turned slightly pale.

Yet, he continues standing upright, the glow of sunset reflecting into his eyes, which seem to glisten and shine.

At this point, he no longer conceals any fatigue, displaying it before me completely.

I stand on my tiptoes, tidying the ends of his hair which have been blown messy by the wind, feeling both proud and a slight ache in my heart.

MC: Captain Gavin seems to be a little exhausted today.

Gavin: Is that so? In that case, rest with me for a little while.

Gavin interrupts me softly, pulling me towards a wall at the corner and sitting down.

I sit beside him. The sky appears close enough to touch.

For some reason, I feel a sense of deja vu.

The roof of high school, a Ferris wheel operating at night... Along with the tender night breeze, all the memories related to him surface in my mind in fragments.

I had once received much warmth and comfort from him. When he needs me, I hope to be able to give him support.

I scoot towards Gavin, letting him lean against me like before.

MC: Isn’t the roof a little cold, Captain Gavin?

Gavin: Mm, a little.

Gavin’s voice is slightly hoarse, but it carries within it a smile, accepting my excuse in tacit understanding.

Then, I suddenly feel a weight on my shoulder. Gavin has tilted his head over.

Gavin: Wake me up after five minutes.

MC: Okay.

I try my best to straighten up, wanting him to lean more comfortably.

The tender evening breeze blows his fringe up. Only then do I realise that there are fine beads of sweat on his forehead.

Everything that happened today has been expending him continuously.

He has been holding himself together in front of others till now. Only when the two of us are alone together can he let himself have a moment of rest like this.

Even though I know that he’s very strong, and know that he shoulders a great responsibility, there should still be a limit to how much effort he puts in.

Wiping his sweat gently with my sleeve, I realise that he has already fallen asleep.

A fierce ache surfaces in a certain corner of my heart, yet there is also a faint hint of sweetness.

I really want to tell him that he has the right to play coy and show his weaknesses sometimes.

I also really want to thank him for not hiding this moment from me.

Seeing his brows quiver slightly, I sigh quietly. In the end, I choose the simplest phrase.

MC: You’ve worked hard...

Our hero.

Even though Gavin told me to wake him up after five minutes, I can’t bear to do so.

The curtain of night descends. Seeing that he’s still in a deep sleep, I call Eli over to send him to the STF’s hospital.

He probably wouldn’t want many people to see him in such a fatigued state.

I guess this counts as maintaining the reputation of a certain Captain of the Special Operations Team.

The doctor does a check-up for him. Fortunately, there aren’t any major issues. He simply needs to nurse himself back to health and get more rest.

However, based on my experience, Gavin has never properly followed the advice from doctors...

As such, I decide to stay in his ward throughout the night, ensuring that he keeps the infusion bag on till all the fluid is gone.

When I wake up from a nap on the second day, a thin blanket slides off me.

I pick it up in slight confusion. When I lift my head, I meet Gavin’s eyes which carry within them a smile.

Gavin: You’re awake?

MC: Mm! Why are you up so early?

Gavin: Maybe it’s because the wind is really comfortable today.

Following his line of sight, I turn towards the window. The branches of the trees outside are swaying gently in the breeze, causing speckles of light to stir.

At this moment, this ordinary sunny day enables one to develop a sense of ease which has not been experienced in a long time.

MC: Maybe after that gale last night, grey clouds won’t draw near to Loveland City for a while. How do you feel now? Do you feel discomfort anywhere?

Gavin: Nope, there’s no need to worry.

His response is overly straightforward, which makes me suspicious. I reach out to feel his forehead.

His temperature is normal, and I heave a small sigh of relief. Just as I’m about to retract my hand and tell him have a good rest, a knock suddenly comes at the door.

Gavin: Come in.

Tang Chao: Captain Gavin, you’re awake so... early?

Tang Chao speaks while pushing the door open. When he sees me, he suddenly pauses.

Tang Chao: Ah, I’ve disturbed you again, sorry about that.

After saying this in one breath, Tang Chao shuts the door with a thud.

I glance at Gavin in slight embarrassment. He seems to have guessed this development, and his expression is the same as usual. It’s just that his tone is much icier when he speaks again.

Gavin: Tang Chao, come in. Don’t make me repeat myself.

Tang Chao: Captain Gavin, I’m not the only one here...

Gavin: All of you, come in.

Tang Chao and Eli enter the room to give Gavin updates on what happened after the fog was retrieved

The fog has been sent to be studied, but the apparatus was taken by NW. They’re still trying to locate Joker

Gavin: Anything else?

Eli: Nope. Tang Chao happens to have an itchy throat, so I’ll get him checked out.

Eli offers an obviously fabricated excuse, giving me a wink before wedging Tang Chao underneath his arm and slipping out of the ward.

The ward returns to silence. Gavin coughs softly, changing the subject.

Gavin: What are you planning to do next?

MC: Tidying up some recent work at the company, and continuing our “collaborative program”.

I wink, and Gavin nods in understanding.

Before, Gavin had asked for my cooperation in pulling the wool over people’s eyes. This way, he’d have an easier time investigating an incident related to an old ex-policeman...

Even though the Hunter Game disrupted this plan for a while, I can vaguely sense that these incidents are somehow connected.

Gavin: There are certain developments regarding that matter. I’ll find a suitable time to keep you updated.

He leaves no traces behind, scanning his surroundings. I nod, knowing the severity of this incident.

MC: But there’s something I need to follow-up on.

Gavin: What is it?

MC: Before you’re completely restored to health, you can’t sneak out of the hospital.

MC leaves the hospital and returns to the company

After work, MC receives a call from a member of Black Swan, and finds out that a combination of exposure to the fog and overuse of Evol could result in pathological changes in Evolvers

MC recalls the sheer amount of Evol Gavin expended recently, and decides to check up on him:

It begins to drizzle. Without any hesitation, I immediately rush towards the hospital.

When I reach the hospital, the nurse informs me that Gavin has already been discharged.

Stepping out of the hospital furiously, I take out my phone and dial Gavin’s number.

MC: Gavin, why aren't you in the hospital?

Gavin: I headed out to handle some work. I’ll be back very soon.

MC: In that case, I’ll wait for you in the hospital. There’s something really important I need to tell you.

Gavin seems to say something, but I’m unable to hear him clearly. A series of disordered sounds are suddenly at your ear. With a final “thud”, it sounds as though something fell onto the ground.

MC: Gavin, Gavin? Did something happen?

I keep calling out to him. After a few seconds, I hear Gavin’s voice again.

Gavin: Sorry. Someone bumped into my phone earlier. I need to meet someone today, so I might only return very late. I’ll contact you again when I have time another day.

Detecting his prudent choice of words, I can’t help but recall how he reminded me that his phone may have been wiretapped when we were investigating the old ex-policeman.

As such, I calm myself down before responding.

MC: Could I look for you in the hospital tomorrow?

Gavin: Tomorrow... might not be possible either. There are other developments in the matter I was investigating before. I heard from Minor that you have all sorts of work to do. Why don’t we talk about this after we’re both done with work?

Gavin says all of this in one breath, and I find it difficult to get a word in.

But it’s a fact that we’re both busy. After composing myself, I try to speak in the sternest voice I can muster.

MC: In that case, you must first promise me one thing.

Gavin: Go on.

MC: Don’t use your Evol for now. You used too much of it before, and your body might not be able to take it. I recently discovered some things. Even though it hasn’t been verified, I suspect that... overusing Evol may result in a certain deterioration of the body according to the Evol’s characteristics.

At the other end of the line, only the soft sound of falling rain can be heard. A faint sound of breathing draws near to my ears, which makes me think that-

Gavin seems to be near me.

I instinctively look up, scanning my surroundings, However, I’m unable to see that familiar figure.

Gavin: Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll also look into what you mentioned earlier. It’s almost time. I’ll contact you again when I’m free.

After he hangs up, I stand in place and hesitate for a while.

I keep sensing that something’s not quite right, but my train of thought is unable to latch onto anything.

I shake my head, deciding to set aside these messy thoughts temporarily.

Perhaps after that momentous Hunter Game, everyone needs some time to return to their original rhythm.

Gavin quickly leaves the crowded block, leaning against the wall where nobody is. He looks at his right hand quietly.

It was only when his phone fell from his hand earlier did he realise that changes were happening to his body.

Even though his sense of touch is still intact, a few fingers on his right hand have turned transparent.

Ever since he retrieved the fog that day, he has been feeling that something was off.

However, since he didn’t feel any pain as compared to his usual injuries from missions, he didn’t pay much attention to it.

He recalls what the girl mentioned earlier about her conjecture regarding Evol deterioration, and he furrows his brows tightly.

He told her a lie. Of course, not only then.

If he hadn’t pushed himself that day, the fog would never have been retrieved so easily.

However, from the very beginning, he was already prepared to give his all.

His phone vibrates. Gavin looks at the screen - it’s a message from the girl.

Words of concern appear on the screen, and he subconsciously thinks of the girl’s worried face.

He isn’t good at lying to her, neither does he know if his “acting” from before was enough to deceive you.

This place isn’t far from the hospital, and she could be nearby. Gavin puts on a jacket and hood, covering more than half of his face.

An evening breeze brushes past, and he lifts his hand slowly.

Faintly discernible wind gathers around him, but it disperses very quickly. Gavin purses his lips tightly, forcefully concentrating his willpower, once again trying to control the wind in his surroundings.

As though losing control, a large gust of wind carrying rain lunges towards him violently, causing his clothes to get drenched.

A few black wisps entwine around his almost vanished fingers. Gavin frowns while looking at them, then puts down his hand.

The glass beside him reflects the bright lights of the evening. Gavin tugs his hood downwards.

His phone vibrates a few more times, and he decides to turn it off.

Then, he walks into the night without even a turn of his head.

[ Gavin’s Scene in Chapter 17 ]

The weather is slightly gloomy. A breeze brushes the drying pole in the courtyard, causing a few pieces of children’s clothing to flutter.

Gavin tidies the suit that he doesn’t wear often, walking into the small courtyard with slow steps.

An elderly man carries a girl off a wooden horse and back into the house. Then, he returns to the table in the courtyard, looking at Gavin fixedly.

Elderly man: Just because I agreed to meet doesn’t mean that I trust people in the STF. It happened such a long time ago. What else do you want to ask about?

Gavin shakes his head lightly.

Gavin: I’m not representing the STF, neither am I asking you to trust the STF. This is an investigation I’m conducting in a personal capacity.

The old man releases a long breath.

Elderly man: I’ve met too many people like you. It doesn’t matter if you’re an individual or representing the STF. In the end, they end up with nothing definite. You aren’t the first person to see me, and you won’t be the last.

Gavin is silent for a moment. Then, he retrieves his gun and badge from the inner pocket of his suit, placing them on the table.

Gavin: In that case, let me be the last.

The man seems to be given a fright when he sees the gun. However, he quickly reveals a doubtful expression.

Gavin turns the gun in the other direction, the handle facing the elderly man.

Gavin: This is my gun and police badge. They are the evidence of me joining the STF and becoming a member of the Special Operations Team. I’m handing them over to you. After I ascertain the truth, I’ll use the truth to exchange them back with you.

In the icy wind, Gavin’s eyes blaze like torches, akin to a sharp blade glistening with a cold tip.

Elderly man: You’re from the STF. Why would you investigate such a thing by yourself?

Gavin: My position and the truth are two separate things. I only want the latter.

The dark coloured gun looks a little incompatible with the small table.

Lily petals quiver gently in the breeze, akin to a tottering omen.

[Trivia] Lilies generally symbolise purity and virtue, but they’re also commonly associated with funerals as they symbolise the restoration of innocence to the soul of the departed

[ MOMENTS ]

Gavin’s Post: Almost didn’t make it for a routine report. Regardless of the means of transportation, there’s always a possibility of arriving late.

MC: Is flying more reliable?

Gavin: It is, but there should be air traffic control too.

Gavin’s Post: Almost didn’t make it for a routine report. Regardless of the means of transportation, there’s always a possibility of arriving late.

MC: Sparky faces traffic jams too?!

Gavin: There was a car accident, and the entire road was blocked.

Gavin’s Post: Almost didn’t make it for a routine report. Regardless of the means of transportation, there’s always a possibility of arriving late.

MC: In that case, how did Officer Gavin manage to reach in time?

Gavin: I left Sparky in the carpark and flew over. I picked it up afterwards.

Phone calls: First ll Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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