#I won't stand another day at that hellhole | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thegeniusofplaytimeco · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: not here. not now. not anymore.

Y/N would probably have thought of everything, except what he just heard on his phone, it hits him harder than he would have expected. Then theres this Problem with CatNap and a missing Worker, this will get weird.

---

This chapter contains some depressive behaviour… i think.

---

Nothing.... at all... I hear absolutely nothing as I simply push my phone back into my coat pocket. A Headache starts, a very bad one, my head throbs as if someone had shot me. I... I can't do this...

"Why?" That's all I say... I just can't say anything else. I just don't understand it... 'Why me? Is this the karma for my actions here in this fucking shithole? Just thinking about it makes my head throb harder. 'Shit'

No matter what, showing emotions in this Hellhole won't get me anywhere, especially not with the Experiments. 'I need to distract myself, which experiment do I still have to visit?'

While I'm thinking about the other experiments, a memory comes up out of nowhere that I had long forgotten.

Me and Rin on the football pitch, well..not exactly, we were sitting on the grass both eating an ice cream. 'Siblings are great'. Shit, what am I thinking, I haven't spoken to him for years. And now that mum's funer-

"Fuck!" I shout it out loud, far too loud for the dark passages that await me here until I arrive at the lab. I can't distract myself, and I won't see the lab for another 700 meters, so there's plenty of time. Enough time for my thoughts to slowly consume my Sanity…

And I have to get out of here slowly, the stuffy air and my flaming head are killing me down here, and I also have to talk to Elliot later. 'Pathetic' Pathetic to ask someone if you can take time off because someone has died.

'Wait a minute, someone? My mum isn't just a someone, is she?' No, I don't need permission from someone like him, who lets little kids and staff down here turn into monsters just because they don't dance to his tune.

But am I that much better? After all, I have the direct position under him and carry out the operations that turn people into these flesh-filled abominations.

My eyes tremble as I can finally see the light. 'The lab' I literally grind my feet against the glass door as I slowly pick up the handle and press on it 'Its cold', I haven't even opened the door and there are already 2 people running towards me.

Before they say anything I check them out, thats what i always do. Stacy and John, both wearing their hair up today. With Stacy being about 5.5 ft and John standing taller than me, at 6.2 ft. They both stop Running to me and just stay here, well not long… Cause Stacy begins to Speak.

"Y/N you have to ma-"

"The Smilling Critters, right?"

"Shit… youre Scary... but yeah, Them. well actually just CatNap but I heard they need a medic down there for the kids and Lukas has already been down there for a day." She talks way too fast, Lukas is not the smartest nor the physically strongest so he's probably lost somewhere. 'Wouldn't be the first time'.

"Wait a minute... How did you know it was about the Smilling-"

"You're both far too worried to have just one employee down there, you do realize we have almost 10,000?" I quickly reply,trying to not waste Time.

"Hey, you don't think that way about us, do you ?, or when we get lost down there?" John starts to mumble, and quite heavily at that, but there's not really much he could have said.

"I don't think you're that incompetent, after all, you're scientists here, and not an electrician who can't tell left from right."

"Man, Lukas is really nice, you really don't have to look down on him like that, you know?" I stopped listening at the beginning when I heard the name Lukas. That guy got lost many Times before already.

"Yes, and Lukas has to be found quickly and brought here, he didn't want to go under there but it was an emergency!"

"Hm?" Well, now they had part of my attention. An emergency ?

"Yes, and also it's his Mother's birthday tomorrow, and he doesn't want to be late."

"His mum? He can be la-" 'Wait, what?' I feel like my brain has just stopped, like I'm seconds away from a panic attack. His mum? He has to go to her birthday?’

"Hello... earth to Y/N?" My brain is completely switched off I can't hear anything apart from my pounding heart,dammit. And on top of that, my fucking head is throbbing more and more. 'Mother'. The only thing working in my head right now is the amygdala, the emotional memory system.

'Birthday' was all I could hear, but I could still see all of my mother's last 60 birthdays before my eyes. As a family on the couch, or in the restaurant, even in the car when we just drove to another Place. 'God damn it' why now? And then the birthdays of the last 5 years.

Where I wasn't present because I was: 'working', I didn't do shit. I spent the days turning the employees who threatened to 'talk' into neglected monsters who could neither talk nor think for themselves. No 'monster' doesn't even begin to describe what I did to them, from drugging them to slowly pulling out some of their nerves so they would be so scared they wouldn't even dare to think about driving this company to ruin.

"Hey Y/N is everything good?"

Goddammit... I wasted my time down here in this hole using my brain while out there the people who brought me here were running out of time but I didn't care.

"! Y/N HEY Y/N!"

No I didn't give a shit, I've been doing the same thing for the last few years and now time ran out for my mom... How much longer do I have until my father dies?

I'm about to fall to the floor,but I just about catch myself. 'What the fuck?'

"Hey?" 'Yeah, what is it? what do you want?'

"Y/N" ‘Yes?’, they’re both staring at me like I'm a little kitten they just found on the street.

“Well sorry that I pushed you” Yeah yeah very sorry, ‘I know you don’t give a shit about it’.

"I was just thinking about something..." I'm not lying, but I've been doing a lot more than just thinking about it...

"Damn Y/N it looked like you saw a ghost hahaha... You were really petrified for a few seconds, but that's with you with your whole... I'm sure it's normal with your big brain and knowledge" Damn he talks a lot, he likes hering his own voice so much.

"Funny... I'm on the way" I turn around and walk through the clean and all white lab, I don't need to turn around because I know how Stacy and John are probably staring into my Soul.

As I walk through I see a tall man coming through into the lab with a small child. 'A little girl? how? she's not old enough for the experiments' I decide not to get loud now and jeopardize the researcher's job. Besides, the little girl would probably start screaming if she knew that nobody wanted to adopt her, but that people trained and educated by *me* would be taking her organs from her body in a couple of hours. And Stuff that shit into some fucking puppet.

But I just leave the laboratory. ‘I have more important things to do' Saving a man with a family like Lukas or a little orphan without anyone, its not that hard of a decision.

I walk out of the door and a couple of employees come towards me again, 'I just hope they don't talk to me'.

And they don't, but they stare at me far too long for that. Of course every member of staff here knows me, and I'm in the direct position under Elliot Ludwig, but I'm not a god or anything, I'm just the guy who turns people into experiments.

At least I'm not one of the lowly employees who has to take the train to Playcare at Gamestation, because I got a master key personally from Elliot, and as I slowly slide my hands under the soft smock material in my pants pocket to get the key out, I can already see the elevator from a distance. !HIGHER MANAGEMENT ONLY! is written large on the front in dark red letters.

I take the golden-brown key in my hand and slide it under the shield into the lock. Turn it twice to the left and three times to the right. That was the combination, not everyone is allowed in here. The clean metal doors open and I stand in the open doorway.

And the lights around the room start to go on 'at last'. Theodore is supposed to have something, or as the rest of the gang call him CatNap. In my opinion the thing is a far cry from CatNap which now takes care of the children who don't want to sleep, after all it's not really alive anymore as I removed the heart and only left the operating part of the brain in the puppet.

But that was necessary because Theodore had a friendship with the Prototype and almost escaped with it, but I knew about their plan long before that. I knew that the prototype had chosen some kind of outsider among the children. would pick some misfit among the kids and make him obsessed with the 'Freedom', very predictable. and i was even sure exactly when they would pull it off. So I changed the green hands of the grave pack to non-functional ones so that anyone who tried to use them would be electroshocked.

The plan worked and the next thing I found was the badly burned, barely breathing, and bleeding Theodore Grambell on the operating table. He was to become a puppet that would only obey orders from the staff not the prototype. And now the 7-year-old sits in a corpse that he has no control over whatsoever. Well, that's just the result of his belief in the prototype.

I hear a loud squeak and a ring, a female voice that says: "Playcare"

2 notes · View notes

karastroph1c · 2 years ago

Text

⊶An introduction to: Yaretzi D'macro⊷

◈Name meaning Yaretzi: The name is of Aztec origin, with the meaning being "You will always be loved" With Raea giving this name to her daughter so she'll know that no matter what happens. Her mother will love her, and will watch every step she takes. D'macro: This one is actually a pun, as a "macro" is a programming pattern that specifies how a certain input should be mapped to a replacement output. This is in reference to Raea birthing Yaretzi so she can 'pass the torch' when she dies ◈ Kanji(?) ヤレツィ ◈Age 18 ◈ Height 5'8 ◈Ethnicity Greek/Puerican ◈Birthday February 31st ◈Gender Female ◈Zodiac Pisces: The water element and the ruling planet of Neptune, Pisces are in tuned with their emotions, and are able to judge whether someone is good or bad. With a strong moral compass and a sensitive heart, Yaretzi BARELY fits with her stupid little sign. ◈Birthstone Amethystos: A remedy against drunkenness, as the Greeks thought it could prevent intoxication. It's associated with Bacchus due to its wine like color. Raea would wrap a necklace made from it before sending Yaretzi off to school after forcing her to drink a cup of Alcopop because she 'needed' it. At first, she loved her little necklace even though it always felt snug and tight. Because she thought it was gifted out of love, but now she can't stand to look at the purple dog collar, let alone the gem itself. Crushing it under her foot when she arrived at Japan was cathartic. ◈Occupation ⚬ 3rd year student at Ryoutei Academy ⚬Waitress: Because when your greedy as hell $700 a month isn't enough (and 5-dollar coffee money stacks up sadly). Yaretzi was strolling down the streets of Tokyo until she sees this big, pink cafe and just stares in awe. One of the waitresses beckons her to come in and she realizes it's one of those themed bars and all the staff were dressed as magical girls. This woman goes BERSERK and spends over $50 on desserts and soda and the extra $30 went in her server's pocket as a tip. Needless to say, she's very much welcomed there and was even more welcomed to apply as a waitress. Now she calls herself 'MAGICAL GIRL OF PURITY YARETZI!!!!' and poses like a dumbass at work. She only hopes nobody she knows sees her. ◈ Languages ⚬ English: Her native tongue, she's been speaking it all her life so there's not really much to say. ⚬Greek: Another language she's fluent in. Her mother taught her in the 5th grade because she wanted her daughter to learn more about her heritage. After years of studying the words flow out of her tongue as easily as English. ⚬Japanese: Yaretzi would rather shit out glass than relearn kanji. Hiragana was fine, Katakana was tricky, but she jumped over that hurdle. But KANJI? No, never again.

BACKSTORY SNIPLET

By the time I finish writing this my sister and I will be long gone from this place, and because of that I can finally call this 'place' a hellhole. But do not be mistaken, I'm in no rush to finish this note just as Yaretzi and I are in no rush to leave. The sounds of screaming will make our ears bleed no more and the smell of blood will curl our stomachs will cease to be. I'd like to believe our very mother is ceased to exist as well. After all, consuming such a race is bound to have side effects to the human body. I don't know who will find this note first, our mother or someone else. But please know we were, despite everything, good children. Yaretzi, IS a good child. She resists freedom and will always resist freedom for the sake of our mother. She will reject stable impulse for the sake of Raea. She will deny stable values for Raea. I'm getting a bit too emotional, so I'll cut this short. I pray the day Yaretzi finds her place in the world our mother won't be present when she looks in the mirror and instead the sweet little girl deserving of love.

#diabolik lovers oc #dl oc #Yaretzi D'macro #California was so bad last month I had to keep delaying this #Not to mention drawing for Valentines day also #So the askbox thing is always open if you wanna ask about her #I really wanted to make this longer but power outages said lmao no #diabolik lovers #Spotify

3 notes · View notes

ikkaku-of-heart · 5 months ago

Text

Pleased with her shot, Ikkaku grinned and gave a little shrug. "I can't make any promises about not bringing trouble, but I can at least say it won't be intentional. I especially won't just stand around and let Law and Mihawk duke it out if they do start fighting. I don't want either of them ending up hurt over something stupid." Especially her. Ikkaku wasn't sure how she ended up being a magnet for grumpy swordsmen, but she wasn't going to be the reason for a bloodbath if she could help it.

Taking aim again, she fired another shot at the Buggy statue, managing to take out the other eye. The wax it was made out of was impressive. Sure, it was created from a Devil Fruit, but it was still a lot stronger than she'd ever expected. Perhaps she could take a sample back to the ship for study. Several of the Hearts dabbled in the sciences, so she imagined they'd have a field day running tests on it.

"I'll also have you know that I don't use the word 'love' lightly," she stated, giving Mr. 3 an annoyed side-eye as she gave him back the gun. "Law's the reason I'm out in the world, happy and fulfilled and living my best life. Without him, I'd be stuck on some hellhole, dead, or both. He was the first person besides my grandfather who actually saw my worth. Who treated me as a person and offered me a chance to reach my full potential. So yeah, love really is the best word when it comes to Law."

Still, she supposed she could understand why her reluctant companion found the word laughable. Law wasn't a lovable man on the surface, but she'd known him for eight years. Been by his side through thick and thin. He was her boss, her friend, and her family. She couldn't ask for better.

"If I had to work for any of you Cross Guild weirdos, Mihawk would be my first choice for sure," she agreed. "And not just because of our friendship. He seems sensible and the least likely to stab me in the back. He'd at least have the grace to stab me in the front. Can't imagine Crocodile or Buggy would be that nice."

@ikkaku-of-heart

“ ….Oh! Fu ha ha ha! What are the odds of such coincidences ! ” Hand covered the lips momentarily to hide a chuckle. These similarities were laughable. Was it a requirement to become a swordsman? All he knew about Trafalgar was usual intel many had, his bounty and the way how that pirate earned that title. Truly horrifying in his opinion.

“ Yaaa ! I hope to never see Sir Mihawk fighting again from up close! Please be careful to not bring trouble heere, please ga ne. ” Trembling voice squeaking in a begging tone. Marineford was enough of action he ever wished to see in his life. Mihawk’s power didn’t impress, it horrified him and just to imagine a situation where would bring the swordsman to fight again…. Cause a chill to his bones...but the artist kept his police stance, arms to behind his body as he observed the woman instinctually adopt the subtle advice he displayed before.

“ Heh. I try, at least. ” A subtle curl of lips as those points were taken as a compliment. The only thing he didn’t know was who would be the fastest to run away when things imploded, him or Buggy.

Bullseye. Mr 3 immediately clapped afterwards with an impressed smile and arched eyebrows. Seems like the advice helped—but upon hearing the explanation of her captain. His shoulders dropped in surprise, taking a step behind. “ Can’t imagine standing around someone like that but still say you like him that much. Love, ga ne? You pirates do loooooove to throw that words around SOO nonchalantly! HYY—A! ” The last shot caught him by surprise, covering his face upon predicting where that bullet launched. Crooked smile, letting out a little of his distress upon seeing that figure being shot on the head. The artist can’t complain—he started that game after all but his claps sounded less cheerful his time.

“ M—marvelous…. Hm? That too. I also admire his outstanding elegance in comparison to the other two. Hm—hm! He knows how to treat people like people, ga ne. ” Last sentence was accompanied by a dreamily satisfied sigh as Mr 3 held his hands as in a praying.

#waxgentleman #The Engine is the Heart of the Ship (canon)#Three-Wick Candle (Mr. 3)#target practice #Assembly Line (queue)

13 notes · View notes

sluttyenha · 2 years ago

Note

Can I request a bully!Heeseung non con with these prompts for your 200 event

“You look so good with my hands around your neck.”

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Thank you in advance :)

Pairing: bully! Heeseung x reader

Warning: non-con , bullying, cursing.

Note! Here's my first entry for the prompt game! Hope you like it💜

Another day in the hellhole. Yep you got it right , talking about school. Yn hates her school life because of one person- her bully. The infamous Lee Heeseung. He always seems to make her life harder. The thing she hates is that she's not strong enough to stand up for herself. She did try once but it led to Heeseung becoming more angrier and forcefully kissing her. She's been traumatized ever since then but couldn't do anything since Heeseung was the principal's son. No one would listen to her anyways. She tried to stay away from him as much as possible which was a big mistake because now a very angry and hungry looking Heeseung is looking for her everywhere. The hunger is not of food , the hunger is of touching her. He wants to see her , touch her and feel her against him but she seems to be avoiding him. Oh how She's gonna regret that. When Heeseung saw her in the hallway he ran towards her and put his one hand around her mouth and other around her waist , then proceeds to take her to his personal room given to him by his dad. No one seemed to be in the hallway or see him taking the poor girl. She was squirming in his grasp , trying to scream and get away but couldn't. He brought her and pinned her on the couch looking at her with rage and hungrily. “what are you doing huh? Trying to stay away from me? Didn't I make it clear that you can't run away from me? Why do you always seem to be disobeying me huh? But can't deny you look so fucking pretty beneath me - I'm gonna fucking ruin you” saying that he started kissing her roughly and his hands went around her jaw. She seemed to be trying to get away with tears in her eyes but Heeseung held her steady and tied her hands together with his school belt. His hands went towards yn's clothes , undressing her . He let out a little 'fuck' under his breath after undressing her , she looked prettier then he had dreamed of. It was like heaven for him. He couldn't wait any longer after looking at yn's bare body and pussy so he lined up his cock and pushed his whole length inside slowly . Yn was whimpering but Heeseung put his arms around her neck . “You look so good with my hands around your neck. They look like they belong there. Well I hope you get the message baby , you're mine and you belong to me so I can do whatever I want to you , got it? And don't you dare try to escape fro me or else the consequences won't be good” he moaned at the feeling of her clenching around his cock. “fuck” he cried out. His thrusts were getting rougher and at a fast pace. It was plain pain for yn , his length was too much for her to take in so suddenly and all of this abuse was making her overwhelmed . But she couldn't understand what was this slight pleasure she felt when Heeseung was thrusting his cock inside her tight little cunt. “fuck I'm gonna cum” said Heeseung. Yn felt this tight knot forming in her stomach and not long after she was moaning and cumming . Heeseung came just right after her. Heeseung was panting heavily and so was yn . He kissed her gently this time “i hope you learnt your lesson yeah? Let's get you cleaned up , you're coming with me”

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #kpop smut #enhypen yandere #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung scenarios #enhypen non con #Heeseung non con #bully Heeseung

946 notes · View notes

girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years ago

Text

Nightcrawlers

Pairings: Edward Dalton x F!Human Reader

Summary: The famine of 2019 is a thing from the past and humanity had grown again. But still, there's no chance to have a happy life. Edward finds Reader after a vicious attack and helps her.

Words: 2087

Warnings: Mention of injuries.

The vans that transported the day people had tough prohibitions, they could not leave specific areas or take alternate routes to the established ones, and the time for them to circulate was limited. Humanity was on the rise again, and the cost had been relatively cheap: just their absolute freedom.

But they were better off, thought those in one of the vans, drumming their fingers nervously on their legs or baggage, they were privileged compared to others. They were alive, and with some fortune, their children would live too, always in the sunlight and afraid of the dark, as their ancestors had done for thousands of years.

"Delaware Cross!" the driver announced, and the sliding door of the van opened. Two people descended from the vehicle and saw the red in the sky that heralded sunset. From that stretch they were to continue standing, and they measured their time as best they could because neither wanted to remain outdoors when night came.

"Were you able to finish your notes, (Y/N)?" asked Jim, adjusting his glasses. His partner sighed.

"The clerk couldn't locate a file, so I'll have to follow up on it tomorrow" she explained "My gloves have already turned yellow, I hate that pharmacies are only open in the afternoon."

"Human supplements, some consider them luxuries."

"Yeah, I love spending half my paycheck on crap to get more money" (Y/N) spat. The pair passed by the side of an alley, where a red light announced that it had been fitted out for what was known as a service point; outside, two or three scantily clad women scented with poppy oil were waiting for customers, although the truth was that the service points were mixed. Jim looked away from a female worker, she must still be young, but her body was scarred from the blood draw, and her skin had begun to split in a process of premature aging.

"How bad must you be to fall into a place like this?" the boy muttered. (Y/N) noticed the woman's fierce look and ducked her head.

"For every time of prosperity, there's a time of lack. It happens to every people in the world, you know that."

"Five years ago rights for humans were enacted" Jim snorted "As if we were cows."

"We think and feel, just like they do."

"No, (Y/N), we're not cattle, we're people, I won't let myself be led by the good to a... farm" the boy shuddered "And you wouldn't either, would you?"

"And if the gathering army came and told you that you or, I don't know, your neighbor's newborn baby must, what would you do?"

"That kind of thinking is what's got us in this hellhole."

They walked two more blocks together, in silence. Jim said goodbye, his friend should still walk a little further, and the Sun was disappearing faster than it should through the storm clouds; (Y/N) unfolded her umbrella and, out of sheer precaution, reached into her purse with her free hand. It was always good to carry something to defend herself, it had been that way since the first predator and the first prey had met, and it would be that way until the end.

A car was gliding through the streets, for him, night was the time to really live, and like a large part of the world's population, night was also the eternal memory of all that changed. They called it evolution but to him, though he had been unwittingly benefited, it seemed like yet another gap, an unfair break between him and those who were as he once was.

The car's hypersensitive sensors announced the movement of foreign bodies a few meters ahead. As he looked to his side, he saw a tumult of screaming and shouting beings, chasing another, and if his heart hadn't already been stopped for over thirty years, he would have felt a small heart attack, because he knew what they were, and he knew what they were doing.

Not thinking twice, he abruptly turned the steering wheel and the headlights illuminated the small space between a mini supermarket and an office building. Three men raised their heads, startled by the light, and he could see the rabid yellow eyes and grayish, haggard skins. They were called Scavengers, not because they consumed corpses, but because they deliberately hunted free humans, often for amusement rather than to satiate their hunger, and although some politicians fought to implement regulations against them, it was difficult to stop their advance.

But he couldn't care less about a bunch of lunatic supremacists, and he sounded his horn. The men milled around, curious, squinting to see who was heckling them, and it was then that he made up his mind to get out of the car.

"What the hell do you want?" a Scavenger shrieked, threatening him with his fangs.

"You have ten seconds to get out of here" replied the man of the car. As he expected, there was laughter from the group.

"You think you're the big deal with your fancy suit and your fancy car, you're not a real predator, you're a coward" shouted another, receiving cheers from his companions.

"Now it's only five seconds."

"You'd better beat it!" the first to speak to him went to meet him, ready to shove him, but a hand closed around his clothes and, as if he weighed no more than a cat, the man of the car sent him flying, the collision of the falling body unheard. The Scavenger's companions grew cowed, looking at each other.

"What are you waiting for?" jumped the man "Go get your friend."

Without ceasing to give him hateful glances, the rest of them left at last. He could tell there was no blood on their faces, though one looked like he had been wounded with something, and only then did he approach the alley.

Again, the startled sensation that was not physically possible appeared like an echo of lost humanity: lying between two dumpsters, a figure huddled, shivering and whimpering almost voicelessly, he could not measure the damage she had sustained but clearly, she was injured, and possibly dying from the way her body convulsed.

The smell of blood reached his nose, but he ignored it, as he had done for a very, very long time. He reached out his hand and rested it on the girl's shoulder, her clothes had been torn in several places and blood was gushing out in trickles, so he deduced that it had not been these that had her in this state. Her eyes were wide open and she gasped, struggling for breath, a future bruise was forming on the right side of her face, and more blood trickled down her lips.

He felt her carefully, searching for broken bones, when a word burst from her mouth, so softly that he barely perceived it:

"Please..."

The eyes were flooded with tears and looked up at him, with fear, with anguish.

"Don't be afraid" he whispered "My name is Edward, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't want to die..." stammered the young girl. Edward nodded.

"It's okay, I'm going to help you, okay? You'll be fine, I promise."

He searched with his eyes and came upon a purse that he assumed was hers. He put it on his shoulder and then gently took her in his arms, he noticed the shiver that ran through her but even more, he noticed the warmth still coming off her body. How strange it felt, an unusual temperature from a time he could no longer remember.

"What's your name?" he asked her. The girl's eyes narrowed, unfocusing "No, no, stay with me, don't fall asleep...what's your name?"

He advanced back to his car, shaking her slightly each time her eyelids twitched, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. It wasn't good to let a human being lose consciousness, they might not wake up again, they said, and Edward kept trying hard to avoid that as he placed the young woman in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt.

"You're going to be okay, do you hear me?" he continued, the human struggling to keep her head up "Come on, tell me something, what's your name, do you remember? Do you remember how you got here?"

Her chest heaved up and down with difficulty, he watched her lick her lips and wince at the taste of her own blood.

"(Y/N)..." she murmured at last "My name is... (Y/N)..."

"(Y/N), all right, all right! Don't go to sleep, (Y/N), stay with me" Edward had put the vehicle in gear "What do you do for a living, are you a student?"

"I'm... I'm a..." (Y/N)'s head cocked again, her lips moved but she made no sound.

"No, no, (Y/N), don't go to sleep, stay awake! Stay-!"

It was no use, the eyelids closed and (Y/N) hung, limp, by the seatbelt. Edward pushed on the accelerator, later, perhaps, he would call work to excuse himself with anything for missing. He couldn't take her to a hospital, it would have been a death sentence in her condition, but maybe he could save her, he was a doctor after all, he had been a doctor, he had studied to save lives....

The car skidded in front of the garage, and Edward rushed out with (Y/N) in his arms, still unconscious. He had not only medical instruments suitable for humans, but also some bags of blood, all he needed was to suture the wounds, treat the trauma and, if necessary, give her a transfusion. By law, free humans were required to carry the specific type of blood they had on their ID, he would just have to take a look in his bag.

He laid (Y/N) down on a couch, taking care to keep her head up; he could hear her heartbeat, slowed but still present, and he knew well that if he concentrated hard enough, he could even hear the blood rushing through her torrent. It was evolution, the survivors of the 2019 famine said, first and second generation vampires saw their senses sharpened and their strength doubled as some time passed, and it was beginning to be theorized that, as time passed, vampires grew stronger as in a case of rejuvenation that humans, poor little tender humans, would never experience.

Man is man's wolf, Edward thought, going through (Y/N)'s body to disinfect and close her wounds. In a way vampirism had brought with it enormous advances in technology that would not have been dreamed of under other conditions, but in return, humans were almost driven to extinction; now, they were granted the opportunity to live, to grow, to go about their business, limited to the hours of the sun and in confined spaces, so that they would not escape from sight; but their main function was still to feed the dominant species, and for that reason there were patented farms, and squads that collected (kidnapped, Edward said) humans during certain seasons to study them and, if they were considered fit, they were delivered to the milking centers.

Milking, the vampire thought as he painfully watched the bruise turn from red to purple on the girl's face. What a nice way of saying that they were hooked up to monstrous machines where, permanently sedated, they were drained of their blood at intervals until their bodies could no longer reestablish themselves, until they became a horrible parody of dried fruit.

An impulse led him to reach out and, with the obverse of his forefinger, caressed the girl's healthy cheek. It burned as if she had a fever, but Edward knew it was not, it was the warmth of true life, of a heart that beat, of skin that flushed under the touch of the sun or, perhaps, of a loved one, of an ephemeral body and that, ephemeral as it was, was much more haunting, much more beautiful than the body that prevails.

He let himself be absorbed by that warmth for a few more seconds and finally got busy with the healing. The clock read ten o'clock at night, it was still early, he could let her rest there and go to work with a slight delay that no one would claim, but instead, he stayed there long after he was done with his. How he longed for the brown eyes to open again.

#draybreakers #daybreakers 2009 #daybreakers movie #edward dalton #edward dalton x reader #ethan hawke #fanfiction #ethan hawke x reader

94 notes · View notes

fugitive-96 · 2 years ago

Text

Adult content (A TG/TF Possession story)

"I can't believe you dragged me to this thing."

"Well I don't drive Arthur, you do." Josh replied.

"Then get a license, I doubt you care about carbon emissions or any of that seeing as you never clean."

Arthur didn't particularly like his roommate Josh, he was a slob and left it to Arthur to maintain their flat. The most he saw of him was either when he was using the kitchen or giving him his half of the rent. He'd offered to pay Arthur if he drove him to a convention that was a few hours away from their flat, Arthur figured he could use the money and maybe he'd actually have a good time, he didn't care for Josh but he liked conventions, albeit when he saw what this one was he wasn't all too pleased.

"C'mon what's the look for?"

"I figured this would be some kind of nerdy convention that I could actually enjoy, but this is a porn convention."

"Hey, I prefer adult entertainment convention, besides are you seriously telling me you don't like the sights?" Josh said gesturing around to the various stalls with attractive adult stars.

"Sure but there's a thing called the internet, I'd rather not see this shit in public." Arthur said looking around at the crowds.

"Maybe you should just go back to the car then." Josh replied. "It's so late that everywhere else here is shut, I'd just be waiting around with nothing to do, plus did you forget that you'd offered to pay me more if I came in with you?"

"Oh right, yeah."

"Besides you said you were only here to see one person so I figured we wouldn't be here long."

"You're telling me you want to rush out, after spending hours driving here?"

"I like driving, a lot more than being in this sweat filled hellhole, now c'mon let's get to whoever you're here to see."

"Oh yeah, Angela White." Josh said with a grin.

"She's this Aussie star who's kinda thick, trust me wait till you see her." Josh said, his description causing Arthur to frown in disgust.

"TMI mate."

"Well, here we are." Josh said as they reached her stall, although it appeared to be empty save for a poster of her.

"Seriously, she's not even here! There's no one around this area either, she must have come and gone by now." Arthur said angrily.

"Don't worry, she'll be here soon." Josh said pulling a scroll out of his bag.

"Okay man, what the fuck is that." Arthur said through a chuckle at how ridiculous his overweight roommate looked with the crinkled roll of paper.

"This is an ancient scroll of great power, I researched it online."

"You can not be serious?" Arthur said through another chuckle.

"How would you even get something like that, that'd be some priceless artefact in a museum or something, would you even be able to unroll it, let alone read it?"

"This is just a copy of the original scroll text, I got it on eBay." Josh responded.

"Ah, you got it on eBay. Of course, of course you did, where else would you get it?" Arthur said exaggeratingly slapping his forehead in disbelief. He couldn't believe he'd driven for hours just to end up standing in the middle of a porn convention with his roommate holding an ancient scroll. This whole scenario was ridiculous.

"Look, you've clearly got some.. stuff going on. I think I've changed my mind, I'll just leave you and your scroll be and wait in the car." Arthur said turning to leave

"Stay and I'll pay you more, this won't take long." Josh quickly stammered out causing Arthur to reluctantly turn back.

"It's said to summon a demon spoken of in ancient books, hieroglyphics, cave paintings even depicted them. They're said to be the embodiment of lust and dark desire, able to shape the mind and form into anything it wishes. Legends spoke of great orgies held to honor this demon, with it corrupting temples and places of worship, whole civilizations falling to its power, with its impression on humanity living on to this day."

"Huh, why don't I remember that from history class?" Arthur said sarcastically, he couldn't believe Josh was taking this all so seriously.

"So this great evil, demon or whatever did all this and its power is still felt today, how exactly? Just because people still fuck?"

"That, S&M, who knows, all I know is with this scroll I can summon her." Josh replied.

"Her, of course its a her, why didn't that occur to me? Sure, go ahead man, if she's done what you say then summoning her sounds like a great idea. *Christ this guy needs to get out more, he's trying to summon a girlfriend.*" Arthur was still stunned that Josh took this so seriously, to the point that he couldn't pick up on the clear sarcasm in Arthur's voice.

"Oh great one, I summon you forth, use this vessel I have provided for you and shape it into the form that surrounds us." Josh said gesturing to Arthur before then gesturing to the poster of Angela White.

"I can't believe I live with this guy." Arthur said muffled by him double facepalming himself.

"Come forth demon! Come forth and reclaim your place within the mortal realm!" Josh yelled looking up with his arms out.

Nothing happened for several seconds, then a single light in the ceiling briefly flickered, followed by nothing else.

"Pretty sure that thing needs new batteries." Arthur said looking up at it during the period of silence, before seeing Josh panicking as he mumbled to himself looking at the scroll.

"Seriously, you're surprised nothing happened? Even if demon summoning was real that was a pretty shit séance or whatever you call it, maybe you were missing the candles or some crap like that." Arthur said throwing in some sarcastic constructive criticism with his last comment. He sighed to himself no longer finding Josh's behavior funny or even embarrassing, he was just tired of it and even pitied the guy a bit.

"Alright, how about we head out of here now." Arthur was about to turn to leave but stopped dead in his tracks after hearing his voice which had Josh looking up with a joyful grin. He'd spoken with an Australian accent.

"What the hell is this? What did you do to my voice?!" He said in an angry yet panicked tone with his new voice as he approached Josh.

He only made it a few feet before he felt his body jolt causing him to nearly trip. As he straightened himself up he suddenly felt a lot more weight on his body, both front and back. He then looked down to see a pair of breasts hanging off his chest, then turning around and feeling his expanded ass behind him, in fact his whole body frame was now feminine.

"W.. what the fuck! What's happening to me?!" Arthur said with mumbled panic as his voice raised into a more feminine tone as he looked down horrified, before taking in that his hands were becoming daintier whilst his nails lengthened and gained red polish.

"Ah god!" He exclaimed still with an Australian accent as he stumbled around on the spot, his thighs jiggling as they gained mass along with his hips expanding, thickening his already feminine form.

"Stop this! Please!" He wailed at Josh before looking down to see his shoes were gone, replaced with shiny pink heels. His jeans then suddenly tore away from the reshaping of his legs revealing thigh high pink boots.

"God.. uuah! uuUAAAH!" He moaned from the sensations of his shifting form as his breasts and ass began to expand further, gradually pumping themselves out in a rhythmic thrust whilst his penis and genitals receded further into his body, gently pleasuring the newly forming vagina. The rest of his body also thickened slightly with each movement. As his body expanded his dirty blonde hair also began gradually lengthening out with each thrust of his chest and ass, as the tips darkened into a black colour that gradually spread up to his scalp. The same went for his head and face which with each thrust crunched and shifted, his jaw thinning whilst his cheekbones emerged, along with his lips puffing out whilst his eyes and eyebrows expanded.

His breasts were expanding to such a large size that his shirt ripped open, only for it to reveal a necklace as well as a tight pink latex dress hugging his thick curves that squeaked with his body's movements, before a set of matching pink belts slithered out from behind him and around his waist. His jacket also slid partway off his shoulders as it rolled over itself, shifting and contorting into a pink fur jacket that left his shoulders bare.

With his original clothes completely gone and his form no longer resembling his former self Arthur continued his feminine moans through the last few crunches, squelches and rubbery squeaks of his body. A final few crunches were heard as his head shape finished adjusting whilst his breasts ceased their expansion, the formerly visible bulge in the skirt of his dress now having been completely enveloped along with his hair now having fully lengthened into a ponytail that wrapped his hair tightly against the top of his head, showing off its new shape. With a blink his lips became a glossy pink whilst makeup materialized around his eyes.

With that where Arthur once stood was now the form of Angela White encased head to toe in pink, panting from the ordeal of the transformation.

"You're so fucking hot." Josh said practically drooling at the sight in from of him.

"You.. freak! Change.. me back!" Arthur stammered out as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oh crap, I must have only formed the vessel, she still needs to enter it." Josh blurted out looking quickly back at the scroll.

"Give me that scroll before.. I kill you!" Arthur blurted out standing on shaky legs as he attempted to charge at Josh, only for his unfamiliarity with his new form to best him as he tripped over, his fall cushioned by his chest.

"Ah, here it is." Josh said pointing his hand at Arthur who was getting back up with rage filled eyes.

"Feel her." Josh said, the words echoing around Arthur's head causing him to stumble backwards.

"Wh- what are you.. doing..?" Arthur stammered as his mind became foggy.

"Feel her!" Josh said only slightly louder, but the words echoed loudly in Arthur's head.

"Oh god.. I feel her!" Arthur said, his voice being a mix of fear and awe as he looked up around him.

"My head she's- oh! OH!" Arthur's voice grew excited with pleasure as he began running his hands over his head then down the rest of his body, Josh standing back bewildered as to what would happen next.

"She's so.. tight! God! So good! Ah! I! CUMMING!" Arthur screamed and moaned out the last of his words before he took a quick breath as his posture relaxed.

"Mmm... I am.. Angela. I am here to serve..." She said through a moan, her voice oozing with lust.

"Oh yeah! You'll be my loyal servant for all eternity." Josh said proudly through heavy breaths still in the rush of the situation.

"Of course, Mast.." Angela suddenly stopped mid sentence.

"Mast... *giggle!*" She tried again before covering her mouth as to not laugh, Josh frowning at why she was acting this way.

"Hahahaha! You seriously thought that would work?! You're probably one of the seven people in this day and age who even knows what I am, and you thought I'd just be your glorified slave! Hahahah! *wheeze!* Oh this is too good!" She said through hysterical laughter turning Josh red with embarrassment.

"S.. stop. I command you! I gave you this vessel, you owe me!" He yelled desperately.

"Oh. My. God! I'll never get over that! You really thought I'd just be a slave to you? And what's with the 'I owe you'? I'm not a genie you simpleton." Angela's tone varied from hysterical to incredibly aggressive and menacing.

"And for your information, the being with whom I share this vessel with is now in a mutual relationship with me, he's loving how all this.. feels right now." She said running her hands over herself again.

"He's awake, he's aware, I just made a couple tweaks to him so he'll be comfortable. He's the one who made the sacrifice here, I owe him, not you, especially as he was unwilling." Angela snapped at Josh who was silent with fear.

"Back in the day you were all savages but you at least had willing vessels for me, you tricked this guy into it. Sure I've done a lot in my time that was destructive and ruined lives, but when it comes to summoning me that's a rule that can't be disobeyed. Who knows, maybe a bit of him has rubbed off on me with my anger toward you. Either way, you're mine now."

With a point of her finger Josh's phone flew out of his pocket and into her hands.

"My my… There's a lot to go off here. Oh she's a nice one, she's got some massive ones! I think I'd like to see more of her." Angela said whilst looking at photos of various women Josh had been gawking at on social media.

Josh tried to run but without even needing to look at him Angela made another wave with her hand freezing him in place, arms and legs spread as he was levitated into the air in front of her.

"You see one such as myself cannot survive for so many centuries without varying my ways every now and then. I like to have fun, prey on those I encounter in whichever way is fitting. Some would call me an angel for saving them from miserable fates, others would call me a demon for condemning them to what they saw as undesirable forms of existence. Either way I don't see what's wrong with suddenly giving someone a nice pair of tits." Angela said eagerly

With a snap of her fingers her wardrobe suddenly changed to an all-red version of her previous outfit but with a now matching jacket.

"Mmm.. red was always more my colour." She said inspecting herself.

Josh knew he was trapped and started yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Screaming for help? Oh please no one can see us, I've put us in our own little corner of reality, no one can see or hear us, and anyone that comes by will simply go straight through us, not seeing or feeling anything. Now, you wanted me to be your slave, you've all but chosen your fate then."

With that Angela snapped her fingers again and all of Josh's clothes vanished as a set of straps materialized around his wrists, thighs, waist and neck, along with his body being covered from the neck down by a shiny black bodysuit.

"You... can't.." he barely squeezed the words out through his restraints.

"..Do this? I've heard that so many times before but always wondered what exactly they're referring to, did you mean this?" With a twist of her wrist Josh's body fat vanished causing him to convulse from the sudden shift in his body mass which the bodysuit accommodated for.

"Or did you mean this?" She twisted her hand again and Josh's body hair vanished, along with him gaining a slight tan to his now unblemished skin.

"You know what, I think this was what you were referring to." Angela said and with that began making new hand motions whilst still looking at Josh's phone.

The straps violently tugged on Josh, compressing his waist into an incredibly thin form whilst expanding out slightly at the thighs, whilst his wrist and neck restraints tightened with his hands suddenly shrinking into daintier forms whilst his neck thinned causing his Adams apple to vanish raising his voice.

With more hand motions a loud squelching and churning could be heard as Josh's flesh and bone rearranged, his shoulders caving inwards whilst his limbs thinned into a more athletic feminine build. Smaller cracks and pops could be heard from his head as his skull and facial features rearranged into a more delicate form, a moan escaping from his lips as they puffed out.

Any thoughts of fear, in fact any thoughts at all had been eradicated from Josh's mind, he couldn't even remember his name anymore, all he could feel was pleasure as he heard a rumbling from his chest before a pair of breasts erupted outwards.

"Oooh fuck..." Josh moaned to himself in a feminine tone feeling the sensitivity of his new body, along with his ass easing its way outwards whilst his erect penis gradually retracted into him.

"Mmh.. harder.." He quietly cooed to himself as the final part of his penis remained, before his new pair of breasts suddenly tripled in size causing the remains of his manhood to be abruptly sucked up inside him, the new mass on his chest barely being contained by the bodysuit as the zip was forced open. As this occurred longer hair abruptly erupted from his scalp, wrapping itself into a ponytail.

"Mmmmh.." The final changes occurred as his newly feminized face gained makeup along with his nails gaining a red polish, any trace of Josh being gone with now a new woman remaining.

For a moment Angela played around with her new toy, running her fingers through the air sending ripples of pleasure through the new woman's body, before lowering her to the ground where she sat with her hands on her knees.

"There we are, a good submissive and attractive servant, just what you wanted Josh." Angela chuckled to herself before snapping her fingers again, teleporting the two of them to an expensive looking apartment.

"This is the home of a wealthy dominatrix, you'll serve her well." Angela said but the former Josh just sat there staring vacantly, she was now an empty shell waiting to serve her new mistress.

"Now, you sit there quietly like a good girl and I'll be off. Places to go, people to 'adjust'." Angela said beginning to walk out of the room before taking a look back at the silent woman sat with a slight pleasured look on her face.

"God you turned out beautiful, I think a few more people would suit that form of yours." and with that she snapped her fingers a final time and vanished.

To be continued...

#tg transformation #tg #tgtf #mind alteration #identity death #leather dress #tgtftransformation #new gender #gendertransformation

55 notes · View notes

shadowscommand · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write something about Makarov x Yuri after setting off that nuke, thank you.

of course 😌 just 763 words a lil drabble. ao3 link

Yuri hasn’t slept in two days. Every night since that fucking bomb went off, he’s just laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s counted the cracks on the walls, all of the chipped paint, the specks of dirt on the windows instead. Tonight, he spent it all fixing the hinges on the door to their little safehouse, some drab fucking thing in the middle of this hellhole country. It was squeaky. When he thinks back to that day, he thinks of the door echoing their entry to the house. It sounds louder than the bomb itself.

Glowing bright, flashing, climbing the sky. Yuri sighs. He closes his lighter again, stuffs it into his pants pocket. He takes a long drag off his cigarette and holds it loose, close to his face. It’s his fifth one of the night. It’s not even that late yet, barely breaking past midnight. 0100. Maybe 0130, if he’s lucky. Eager to get past the night again, to another day, where maybe he can stop seeing that cloud.

“You could at least be watching over comms,” comes a nagging voice. Yuri looks back to Makarov, gives him a weak smirk and a shrug before looking back at the horizon of the city.

He doesn’t sleep either, though not from nerves like Yuri does. The concoction he stays on to keep his mind busy locks him into short sleeps and naps. Even as a young man, though, Makarov had a constantly buzzing energy, a way about him that kept Yuri up all night beside him. It’s losing its charm.

“Sorry,” Yuri replies once Makarov comes to stand beside him.

“Oh, it’s fine. We’ll count this as your break.”

“Can’t count it as me being asleep?”

“You sleep so weird, Yuri,” Makarov looks over at him for a moment. Yuri keeps watching him, looking down to his eyes, studying. His mood seems light.

“Zakhaev said we could leave for home tomorrow, nothing else is going to happen here.”

“Mhm.”

“We made sure of that,” Makarov’s lips tug at a smirk. For once, something he’d done had satiated his hunger for more, a more decisive victory, a statement loud enough for everyone to hear. Even if they didn’t know it was Makarov, if they thought it was Al-Asad or Zakhaev, everyone had seen his nuke, his big beautiful mushroom cloud blotting out the sun. “Didn’t we, Yuri.”

“I was more just… along for the ride.”

“Was it not exciting,” Makarov pushes. He looks up at him now, brows a little pinched in exaggerated confusion. “Aren’t you happy?”

Yuri takes another long drag. He squirrels away from his old friend’s gaze, studying him like a stranger. “I don’t think I was ready.”

“Well,” Makarov starts, nodding his head to Yuri close enough to nearly bat his shoulder with it. “Next time I’m going to win a war in one go, I’ll ruin the surprise for you.”

“That would be nice,” Yuri chuckles.

“Though I don’t see why it would bother you. We can leave this shithole.”

“Yeah.”

“And it was the best thing we’ve done here yet.”

“Sure.”

Makarov huffs. He looks away from Yuri, back to the outline of the city at night. He wants a compliment.

“It was exciting,” Yuri settles on. He smokes when Makarov looks back at him to mask his mouth, wary of his half-truth being caught. He keeps his eyes looking at Makarov, big like he likes.

"Wasn't it?" He smiles, in his way. He leans back against Yuri, tilts his head back instead of turning to the side. Yuri obliges him, leans down to give him a peck to his forehead. Reassurance, more than anything, to him that Yuri is with him. A safety net for Yuri, to know Makarov won't hurt him for questioning his actions.

Makarov looks back to the city, quiet in the dead of night. He stays against Yuri for a moment, long enough for Yuri to finish his cigarette. As Yuri snubs out the butt, tosses it over the side of the railing, Makarov sits himself up and begins leaving.

"Hey, wait," Yuri calls to him. He pats his pockets, scoffs a little, "I forgot to bring out my pack. Can you bring it to me?"

A little test. A success when Makarov reaches into his pocket, pulls out his own pack. He only smokes the best, the most expensive, and he only shares with Yuri, and only in a good mood. He passes a thin, slender cigarette to Yuri now, nods his goodbye and goes back inside. Safe.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #vladimir makarov #yuri #mwog #mine #fanfic

20 notes · View notes

unpaidoscorpintern · 3 years ago

Text

I'll tell you my sins (you can sharpen your knife)

pairing: Harry Osborn (Kindred)/Mary Jane Watson; a hint of Harry Osborn (Kindred)/Peter Parker (Spider-man)

rating: 18+

words: 2400

content warning: exhibitionism, voyeurism, creepy crawlies acting like tentacles for a hot minute, teratophilia since Kindred is a demonic entity

summary: Kindred serves Spider-man his just desserts; or, a p0rn parody of The Amazing Spider-Man #55

disclaimer: The following story was written before the publication of The Amazing Spider-Man #73

Memories are for photo albums. They're impressions on the back of our retinas, polaroids developed in the darkest corners of our minds. Turn on the light and they're forever tainted, a splash of color and a smudge of sentiment. You can't trust memories. Scars, on the other hand? Scars never lie.

I've collected more than a few in my time. That’s why my knees never really looked the same after my first bike ride. Dad was there until he wasn't. You see, he thought that letting go of the bike, letting go of his own son, would break me at first, then thicken my skin. But skin never heals back quite the same way, does it, Pete?

"Did you meet any famous dead people in that hellhole you crawled out of, Har? You know, like Dr. Freud?"

"Easy, Tiger." I can hear Mary Jane hissing beside me, towards you, across the table, through cobweb and candlelight. "Play nice."

"I'm done playing, MJ," you spit, through bloody teeth and dried tears. "There's pieces of my brain still splattered on that far wall over there from our earlier game. I'm done playing his fucking games."

Games? There's no playing at the dinner table, kids. Now, where was I?

"You were just about to let her go." You speak up again, desperation drowning out your ire. "Let them all go. It's me you have unfinished business with, or whatever the dead want outta the living."

Jealous, Pete? I must say, it’s a good look for you. But don't you worry, ol' buddy. I'm not done with you yet. Though Mary Jane and I do have something - what did you call it again? Ah, yes. Unfinished business. I'll get back to you as soon as I-

Is that...is that laughter I hear? Hallow and heaving, it still bounces off these old mausoleum walls, echoing in my ears and scrapping at an old scab. An old scar. What's so funny, huh? You mind sharing with the rest of the table?

"You, ol' buddy. I mean, I shouldn't be surprised since you're one of the only people who made me laugh when I wanted nothing more than to slit my own throat, but, still. Is this about what happened back at ESU? Is this about MJ breaking up with you?"

It's about you, Pete. About the choices you made. Every single one - from coming between Mary Jane and me to hiding my father's issues from his son - were all the wrong ones. If you had chosen otherwise, if you had been any less selfish, Gwen - I can see a blond head bobbing, but I'm talking about my Gwen - well, she wouldn’t be-

"Fuck you, Harry!"

Ah, there it is! Anger looks even better on you, Pete!

"You think I haven't spent every day blaming myself for what happened that night? You think I don't go over my own choices over and over again, questioning every decision I ever made to figure out which domino fell first?"

Yet again, there's nothing that doesn't look good on you, Pete. Why don't you try some responsibility for a change?

"Responsibility? You want to talk about responsibility? You're the one who's dangling the life of the woman I love right in front of me-"

Mary Jane opens her mouth, her sweet breath a summer breeze through the still air. "Peter-"

You're boiling, spilling over. Tears and spit, blood and grime, and you still look good. I bet you could even make maggots look good.

"And you want to act like you're better than me? Look at yourself! You are your father's son! Daddy's little fucking monster-"

If I'm a monster, then it's because that's what you made me.

"Harry," Mary Jane jumps out of her seat, following your lead.

You had help, of course. My help. Every other itsy bitsy gets a hand, too. Well, a centipede. They all get to swing in the air one last time before they-

"Harry!"

Dinner's over, Pete. It's time for your just desserts.

"It's m-me you want, Har-"

When you're right, you're right. I want you to confess your sins.

"So let them-AH! Let them go."

Maybe a little knock on the head will jog your memory. How about another? Now? Confess. Confess your sin. The deadliest. Confess.

"Har-"

"He doesn't remember." Mary Jane, I can see your knees barely keeping themselves from bucking. Yet, here you are, standing between the ol' Pumpkin Eater and me. "Whatever it is that he did, whatever sin he has yet to confess to, he doesn't remember."

Oh, don't you worry your pretty little bottom lip! He will remember, if it's the last thing he'll do! I've got tens of legs to crawl all over him and an eternity to spare. Come the end of time, he will repent.

"How many times have you tried torturing a confession out of him? You should know that hurting him won't work."

What're you suggesting? I can hear the tamed tremor in your voice, the slight shudder running down your spine, the booming beating of your heart. Yet, here you are, approaching me, one steady step in front of the other.

"Hurting me, however-"

"MJ-"

Are you hearing this, Pete, or is the blood already leaking out of your ears?

"Hurting me, the woman he loves, that should do it, right?"

"MJ!"

I’ll take that as a yes. You heard everything, but do you understand what it means? Do you, Mary Jane, understand what this all means? Look at them! It’s hard, I know, but look at them! Look at what I’m doing to them! I’m squeezing the life out of them for now, but centipedes can sting, too. Did you know that? They’re venomous. I could fill them with poison, watch them trash about as it clogs their veins! Is this what you want for them? Is this what you want for yourself? I can see it in your eyes - your beautiful eyes - that you can’t stand the sight of them in pain. So, tell me, Mary Jane, what makes you think that I can stand the sight of you in pain?

“Then you haven’t forgotten-”

That night, on the bridge? Mary Jane, how could I forget?

“I was scared out of my mind, but you said something which calmed me down. Those same words gave me the strength to come here. You remember, don’t you, Harry? Harry, you said that you-”

I loved you, Mary Jane. I said that I loved you, that I’d never hurt you. How could you ask this of me? How could you ask me to take you in his place?

“Because you loved him, too. You loved Peter, and I’m willing to bet my life that you still do.”

It’s true, Pete. I loved you, but I got better. I saw you for who you were after closing my eyes for the last time. And I loved MJ, up until a breath ago. Up until she let out that little surprised gasp she let out. Relax, it’s just an earwig. Oh, but what’s that? Is that an earpiece? And was that Dad on the other line?

“Harry, listen-”

You listen, my dearest friend! I said nothing about you being allowed to bring a plus-one, and, even if I had, Norman Osborn is not welcome here! I won’t allow any party crashers and, just to make sure he won’t be sneaking past the guards, I’ll seal us all in!

“Oh, my God!”

There is no god here! With the only entrance having collapsed in on itself, there is no coming in. But there is no getting out either. Good news, Pete! I’ve decided to lay off you for a while! Take a breather, pal, while I take my time with-

“If you touch her, I swear to God-”

Didn’t you hear me the first time? Here, I’ll loosen up my grip on you, so blood can start rushing back to your ears! There we go! And, since you two insist on bringing up God, Mary Jane offered herself as a sacrificial lamb and I intend to take her up on that offer. Oh, where’s all that fire gone, MJ? Was that all just some bluff, an elaborate scheme, one of Dad’s convoluted plans? Come on, you said you couldn’t wait to play the martyr and we both know how good of an actress you are. Even with your knees knocking against each other, even with your fingers, fidgeting as they reach out to me, you’re still a star.

“You said that you loved me. That you’d never hurt me. So, please, Harry, don’t hurt Peter. It hurts me to see him like this.”

I do love you, and I won’t hurt you. But I don’t love him and made no such promises to him. You did make a promise to me as well, remember? If you recall my love, then you recall me hurting myself with it. And you said it yourself, Mary Jane: he loves you. So you’re going to keep your promise, and you’re going to hurt him. You chose him last time. So, this time, you’re going to choose-

“You.”

“If you fucking touch her-”

She’s the one touching me, ol’ buddy. Yes, her hands are hesitant as they clasp my coat, but she’s all over me. Oh, Mary Jane, is that the perfume I bought for you while we were dating? Did you get a whiff of it, Pete? You probably did! You probably smelt it on one of the shirts you borrowed from me. I shared everything with you, but you just had to have her, too, didn’t you?

“MJ, what are you doing? MJ?”

What are you doing, MJ? You’re driving him mad! Jealousy looks just as good on him as my Armani shirts! He’s thrashing as if poisoned by the pain of seeing us together. I think I’ll loosen up my hold so that he can lift his head and see what you’re doing to me. You’re struggling with the buttons, every last inch of you shivering, but there’s nothing waiting for you beneath. I’m nothing like I used to be. You, on the other hand, are just as beautiful as I remember. I’d rather see what you’re hiding underneath.

“What are you waiting for?” Are you seeing this? Pete, are you seeing this? She’s kissing me! It’s my maggot-infested, bandage-covered jaw - and she’s kissing it! Look at her, Pete! “Undress me.”

“No, no, no-”

If you feel a pair of legs, or ten, crawling up your own, it’s only because I’m holding you close. If you feel a chill run down your spine, it’s only because I’m squeezing you tight. And if you feel a chill running down your spine -well, that’s a multi-legged friend tearing down your dress.

“NO!”

Did you see that, Pete? That almost looked like a pleasant shiver running through her. She almost looked like she enjoyed the cold-blooded embrace. Do you like it, Mary Jane? Do you like it when I touch you like this? Well, I guess you always had a thing for creepy crawlers. I am sorry about the dress. Black looks good on you, but it looks better on this white mausoleum floor. Do you like it when I touch you like this, scraping at that sensitive spot at the back of your head with my crooked claws, wrapping myself around your thighs with tens and tens of little legs, around your middle, squeezing down on your hips?

“Yes.”

Did you hear that-

“MJ, why? Why? Why?”

Did you hear that, MJ?

“W-what?” The heat of your breath hit my senses, what was once my nose, and you smell like freshly brewed coffee. Oh, you taste like life, Mary Jane, and it is sweet. The sweat beading at your forehead - do you mind if I have a taste? And the ones that spilled over, on the side of your face? “Harry.” My tongue is cold, I know. My embrace, the crawlers caressing you across your chest, they’re just as cold. Holding you is like catching a sunbeam: warm and bright. “Harry, aren’t you going to k-kiss me?” I hope you are hearing all of this, Pete, because I see your eyes burning through me, and I feel your body tensing up. Her body is just as tense, nerves knotted tightly from all this teasing. Is there any wonder why she needs my tongue in her mouth right now? She needs something inside her.

“Stop!”

It’s working, Mary Jane! He’s gone half-insane! As for the other half - what do you say? I don’t taste all that bad, do I? If I do, then you are the best actress of your generation! Pete, get over here! Stop struggling against the centipedes or they will have no choice but to stick something inside you, too! And, trust me, this is not the pleasant kind of penetration! Now stand up! Open your eyes and look into hers. Do you see that? Do you see those blown-up pupils? She wants this, and, judging by what’s jutting out of your onesie down there, I say you’re enjoying this, too.

“STOP!”

Well, Mary Jane, it turns out that shame is the shade that suits our Peter the best! He can barely contain his blush - or his erection, but that’s a skintight suit right there - watching snip away your lingerie with my long, sharp claws so wantonly. Seeing you savor every stroke of my tongue across your gooseflesh, past your perked up nipples and the valley of your breasts, and your newfound fetish for feeling creepy crawlers’ caress. He’d rather keep his eyes closed than witnessing any of this. So, what do you think? Is he ready to confess yet?

“Confess? Confess to what? Being sick to my stomach? Feeling disgusted with myself?”

"Tiger," Mary Jane moaned while pawing at my patchy coat, pushing her chest forward into my face. "I never knew...I never knew you liked watching.”

“Goddamn it, MJ!”

The scar from back when you stabbed in the back is a scab I can't help but claw at. The look on your face though? The way your cheeks burn with shame and your eyes are blown in excitement? Well, that's the ointment I needed, Pete.

"Goddamn it, Harry!"

God isn't here, Pete. It's just me. Confess to me. Confess. Confess.

"Playtime's over, kids!"

Did you hear that? Did any of you hear that? Is that-

"Norman?"

"Osborn?"

"That’s right! Daddy's home!"

#harry osborn #kindred #spider-man #peter parker #mary jane watson #harry osborn x mary jane watson #but pete is still too pissed to join in #so I might end up writing another one of these just to get him to kiss harry #yes that is a hozier lyric

7 notes · View notes

sophi-s · 4 years ago

Text

Silent Vigil

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 7,102

Characters: Abaddon, Astarte,

Warnings: Blood and gore, Graphic descriptions of violence, poisoning

Summary:

Life of a soldier in war is often dangerous. Every day may be the last. Even for the most skilled warriors. When a simple mission goes awry, Astarte realises how vulnerable her young and foolish heart truly made her.

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

Another day of the never-ending war was slowly coming to an end in a cold, distant world, far away from Heaven's borders. In a snowstorm that came alongside dusk one could barely make out the well hidden shapes of tents in a makeshift camp the wandering squadron of angels had set up quite some time ago. The thick silence was only disturbed by wailing of the wind that brought to mind a sorrowful cry of a lone wolf. Heavy patches of snow were resting on top of the tents, hiding the amber glass underneath a thick white blanket.

Out of one of the smaller ones, a hooded figure emerges, wrapped up in a heavy winter coat with fur sewn into the edges. Their wings were folded back and tucked underneath the warm fabric to shield them from the ceaseless barrage of cold snowflakes and the ungodly cold. Wading knee-deep in snow, they swiftly cross the entirety of the camp like a spectre and step into the largest tent in the middle of it. Once inside, the hood is pulled back to reveal a head of dense platinum blonde hair falling around a smooth face of a female with brilliant white eyes flashing with determination of a warrior she is. Even when hidden from the elements and chilling winds, her breath was turning into white puffs slowly dissipating once they emerged from her parted lips.

Astarte brushes off the snow that still somehow managed to accumulate on her shoulders during her short walk and looks at another angel standing hunched above a map on a tabletop. But even bent over and not wearing his battle armor, he was of quite imposing height and stature. She smiles to herself sadly when he doesn't even notice her arrival and keeps grumbling something under his breath, still focused on the map. Unsurprisingly, he was still busying himself with strategizing. Astarte didn't know how long he'd been here without rest but she could bet her right hand he hadn't left ever since he dismissed her and the rest of his soldiers a couple of hours before. Part of her was actually glad that he is the one in charge and not she. Being a leader is a difficult and often tiresome task. Still, it doesn't mean she shouldn't support her general in his efforts. She's his lieutenant after all. That's her duty. And even if it wasn't, she would do so nonetheless as even her heart demanded her to be with him when he needs her. And in this moment he looked like he could use assistance.

"My Lord."

She greeted him, earning a glance of his piercing eyes, as cold as steel and as blue as the clear winter sky - hidden above their heads by thick, grey clouds - from underneath a crisp white fringe falling over his face. But the moment he realised it was her, the chill in his gaze faded and made place for warmth as a weary smile pulled at his mouth.

"No one is here, Astarte. There's no need for formality."

He replied and let his eyes linger on her for a couple more seconds before lowering them to the map between his hands resting on the table. Coming around it, Astarte stood beside him and looked at the plans under his careful scrutiny. They hadn't changed much from when she'd seen them last as he asked her to show what she'd learned and explain them to others. And this in itself was mildly concerning.

"Is there some kind of a problem, Abaddon?"

The archangel in question sighed and scratched the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off the map. After about a century under his command, Astarte knew Abaddon well enough to recognise apprehension in his mannerisms. He doesn't do that very often but when he does, usually a good reason exists. Leaning against the table as well, Astarte scans the entirety of the map to try and find the thing that made her commander and possibly future partner so uneasy. Unsuccessfully. There didn't seem to be a thing that should cause him distress. It was common knowledge in the White City that Abaddon was rather… paranoid to put it lightly. And in moments like this, it shows. Astarte didn't mind that but maybe now he's nervous just for the heck of it again.

"Not at all. And that's what doesn't seem right."

Astarte raised her eyebrow and looked up at him in confusion as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before pointing at the map marked with small scribbled out notes in certain places with his whole hand.

"Look at it. There's nothing wrong with it! We've been after this artifact for months now and finally we - by a pure coincidence - find out about a group of demons which stumbled upon its location and is about to attempt retrieval? It's going way too smoothly for my taste. It can't be this easy.."

With a hum of affirmation, Astarte glanced down at the plan of the ruins, where the powerful demonic blade was supposedly hidden, again. The structure sat below the level of the terrain, two entrances and no other way out. A perfect place to ambush someone going in or out. About five days ago, a scouting party managed to capture a demon which tried to save its skin by revealing the location of the enchanted sword and the plan of its brethren who wished to get to it before Heaven does. The demon still perished but the information stayed. And at first it couldn't make Abaddon happier. Taking her and a group of thirty angels, the General of Heaven set out to intercept the demons and take over the artifact to make sure they don't use it against the White City. Now however, he seemed rather… frustrated, judging by the way he was drumming his fingers against the table. By now, they liquidated about half a dozen scouts and each provided at least some scraps of information they could put together to make a more or less clear image of their future task. For once, Astarte began to understand his concerns. There must be a catch. The question is "where?".

"You suspect some kind of a trick but if the artifact is really there, it's unacceptable to just leave it…"

"Exactly!"

Abaddon answered with a note of annoyance in his voice, still staring at the plan as though it had slighted him somehow. In a warrior's life nothing is ever easy. Astarte understood his doubts. Sometimes no words were needed to be spoken between them to reach this understanding. And that's why they were such a good team. All this really was going way too easily and it wasn't a surprise that he was so tense that the air around him seemed to turn heavy. She frowned, unhappy that this was one of those rare moments when she really wanted to help Abaddon but didn't know how. She despised this feeling. Unsure what else she could do, Astarte laid her hand on top of his, to at least try and offer him some semblance of peace of mind he needed.

"Standing here and glaring at the map won't make any difference. Try to rest."

With his eyebrows still furrowed in a worried frown, Abaddon shifted his hand under hers and curled his fingers around it.

"I am not sure if I can."

He murmured with resignation, failing to meet her eye. Now Astarte had no doubts as to how tired he really was. Abaddon rarely ever sounds like that. But true enough, if this unease stays with him, he might not be able to rest properly. That was just him. Utterly devoted to Heaven's cause, almost always putting duty on the first place. But right behind it, and often shifting places with it, was her. All it takes is the right word or the right touch. Letting go of his hand, Astarte rested her palm on his right cheek and leaned in to lightly brush her lips against his temple. His scowl immediately softened, his bushy eyebrows wandered slightly up his tattooed forehead and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a smile. Works almost every time..

Snapping his attention away from the blasted map, the archangel turned to Astarte with a sigh. He does that way too often when he feels uncertain. Still, this heaviness seemed to leave the atmosphere, a sign that she managed to fulfill the purpose she came here with, when she reached out to him and ghosted her fingertips against his cheek, simultaneously making him lean into her palm fondly. Moments later, Abaddon took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to her knuckles red from the cold surrounding them. Looking at her with half-lidded, cerulean eyes, he met her gaze with that lively twinkle to them she knew so well from every time they had a moment together. She recognised that look. In spite of herself, Astarte smiled. Usually, she didn't really mind the open signs of affection when they were alone but they were in the middle of a frozen desert and on a very important mission.

"Abaddon, this really isn't the right time."

Astarte murmured as she put a hand on his mouth to stop him from proceeding when he began to inch closer to her, earning a slightly annoyed scowl from her Commander. She is his second-in-command and so her duty is to make sure he doesn't forget himself. But the thing is, Abaddon is one of the most stubborn creatures she'd known in all of Creation. The lengths he would go to get what he wants…

"May I remind you that you started it?"

He teased with a smirk clearly audible in the tone of his voice, making Astarte roll her eyes. She did, true, but they should stay focused on their task. There will be time for this once they accomplish what they came to this frozen hellhole for in the first place. Though, on the other hand… Ah, what's the point anyway? Astarte decided she will let him have this one if it helps him find peace tonight. I will have to relearn to stand up to him again… She thought as she lowered her hand right into his waiting palm.

The following kiss didn't surprise Astarte but still made her delightfully lightheaded. As it always does. Every next contact wasn't as exciting as the first one but still was sending the world around her spinning. Their romance was a badly kept secret, almost everyone in the White City knows by now, but it didn't feel any less thrilling than if they were actually secretly doing something forbidden. It wasn't uncommon for a general to be in relationship with his or her lieutenant.

"You too need your rest, Astarte. I'll need you to stay sharp tomorrow."

He breathed once he gave her her lips back far too soon and sadly Astarte knew he was right. Even if no deceit awaits them in those ruins, they all have to be on high alert. There's no joking around with demons. One of the first lessons Abaddon had taught her, back when she was still an overconfident and daring private who thought she could best anyone, him included.

"Very well. Goodnight to you, Abaddon."

"And to you, my love."

He offered as she pulled her hood up and walked out into the snowstorm to find a way back to her own tent, even though the cold made a small and quiet thought that "it would be much warmer if they stayed together and he surely wouldn't mind it" crawl its way into her head. There's no time for distractions. A difficult task awaits them tomorrow and they have to stay vigilant no matter what. The time will come after they succeed. Failure is out of question.

The Hellguard marched out of the camp before the first morning light. Time is of the essence and so they decided to waste none of it. Using the cover of the winter forest and the falling snowflakes, the angels quickly moved on foot not to draw the attention of demons which may be hiding somewhere around. Besides, flying was nigh impossible with the harsh, arctic wind tugging at them from every direction. Abaddon ordered to split the group to three, leaving one under the lead of Astarte, while he took the other two along.

It took an hour or so to arrive at the designated place. Indeed, the old ruins of a demonic outpost were half-concealed by nearby hills, the wilderness and by any plant life that has long crept inside. Built in a low spot, the structure was dark and ominous, radiating with sinister aura that could give creeps to even the bravest warriors. A dark presence lingered in the air, making this place seem even more grim and threatening. Astarte sneered slightly, a little at the freezing air seeping through her clothes and armor into her very bones, and a little at the discouraging atmosphere of this wretched place. The sooner they get this done with, the better.

Angels spread out and took their places to simultaneously have a good view of the ruins and good hiding spots from which one group could see the other two. With a silent sigh, Astarte frowned down at the ruins below her, constantly on alert for any movement. One minute passed. Two.. Five. Twenty. Nothing. Not a single soul. If the demons are truly inside then they are taking their sweet time. Just grand... She thought, already losing feeling in her toes and fingers. Wind kept wailing, the only sound that could be heard in this God-forsaken place.

Glancing about, Astarte furrowed her eyebrows. Something didn't feel right. There were no tracks of demonic clawed feet in over three mile radius, though it could be easily explained by demons using the Fallen which are capable of flight. But it didn't make her feel easier. No sounds, no signs of life. No wonder, what sane creature aside from a frost dragon would willingly make its home in this frozen landscape? The lack of any activity whatsoever also wasn't that strange when she thought about it. The wretched cowards can be hiding inside and waiting for the moody weather to calm down.

Still, a strange, unpleasant feeling was starting to rise in Astarte's gut. As though someone was… watching her. Just to double check, she scanned her surroundings in search of the source of this sensation. Nothing. Maybe paranoia is contagious? She chuckled inwardly. Her eyes fell onto Abaddon on the other side of the outpost, barely visible over the snow alongside his group. He wasn't looking at her, fully focused on his task. Of course. Why would he look at her now? This was something she shouldn't do either. Not when she should be on the lookout for their quarry.

However, just when Astarte was about to look back down, something in the distance caught her eye. For a brief second, she was absolutely certain she'd seen something that looked a lot like a tail swinging from a tree a couple of feet behind the other squad. A century or so ago, she would've ignored it, dismissed as her imagination. But it seems that paranoia really is contagious. And Abaddon taught her better than that. Astarte squinted at the object of her interest to try and make out more details. And her heart dropped to her heels.

Attached to what turned out to have been an actual tail, was a body of a slender demon coated in white fur, also dressed in white. To blend into the surroundings. Her experience told her. To her concern, once she noticed the first one, she suddenly started to spot more of them. All around. Stalking towards the unsuspecting angels focused on watching the ruins and something was telling her that the same was happening behind her own back. And that's when she felt a spike of dread jolt down her throat. The demon she initially spotted in the tree was holding something that looked a bit like a crossbow. And aiming at Abaddon's head from behind.

A realisation hit her that instead of the attackers, the Hellguard quickly turned into the attacked. Abaddon was right. This was trap! No clue how, but he knew. He has no idea, he won't notice the demon in time! She had to warn him somehow! To Hell with cover. Without a second thought, Astarte sprung up to her feet from where she was lying on her stomach half buried under the snow, sending a cloud of whiteness flying as she flared her rune-inscribed wings and yelled as loudly as her throat allowed her to before her vocal cords gave up.

"AMBUSH!!! "

In this very moment something heavy impacted with her back with a vicious roar, almost sending her toppling over the ledge. Were it not for her strength and the fact that she successfully avoided being surprised, Astarte stood her ground supporting herself with her spear to spare herself a painful fall just as her companions jumped out of their hiding spots to answer the demons with a counterattack. One of the younger angels under her command struck and killed the demon that pounced at her, one of the camouflaged white fiends she saw as she turned around, as bolts began to whizz through the air and screams of shocked angels intertwined with frustrated screeches of the Hellspawn.

Thanks to her quick reaction, the Hellguard swiftly entered defensive formations to face the ambushers. With a battle cry upon her lips, Astarte impaled one demon while her comrades were taking down others, trying to dodge or deflect the bolts. Why are they using crossbows? She wondered in spite of herself. Unfortunately, it wasn't the best time to ponder over their questionable choice of weapons. The dying demon on the end of her spear in its last act pulled itself further down the blade and almost onto the hilt, and desperately swung with its talons, tearing through her left arm before she could push it off.

With a pained sneer, Astarte tossed the now dead demon back at its brethren as she ordered her group to shift to offensive. The blood began to stain the spotless white snow in deep scarlet as more demons and, unfortunately, angels fell. But… something was unusual here. A second passed, two, three… and Abaddon was nowhere to be seen. Astarte doesn't get wounded often but when she does, it takes barely a beat for her commander to pretty much materialize out of thin air somewhere nearby to protect her, even if it is but a minor injury like this one. This time something was different. He most likely has problems of his own. She figured and led the charge against the fiendish warriors.

Oddly enough, the moment their ambush didn't work out, demons started to retreat as there was nothing more for them to achieve aside from losing more of their stealthy, lightly armored soldiers. And so, they fled just as quietly as they appeared, vanishing between the trees and in the snow.

Once the battle had ended, Astarte looked over the remaining angels. Previously she had ten. Now only five of them were unharmed while two more carried more or less serious wounds from blades and claws, often having crossbow bolts stuck in their armor. The other three… Astarte turned her gaze down and removed her helmet as her uninjured brethren did the same to pay respect to the fallen. She was well used to death but still. They were her brothers at arms. Angels she trusted and respected. After a moment, Astarte placed her headpiece back where it belonged and gripping her bleeding arm, she gave orders to her squad.

"Regroup. We need to evaluate the losses."

Taking a short flight, Astarte and the soldiers under her temporary command rejoined others. The Hellguard were still startled and disoriented, looking about in search of more attackers. Fortunately, to no avail. Astarte too was looking for something. Or rather someone when she couldn't see him anywhere at first. But barely seconds later she saw him. Sitting on the ground against a rock with two unnerved soldiers beside him, breathing heavily and unevenly, ashen face… He was keeping his hand over his chest. And sticking out from between his thumb and forefinger was.. Her eyes widened with fear…

A crossbow bolt.

Everything around Astarte halted as claws of horror, even colder than the snow and ice around her, got a hold of her heart which started to quiver in her chest. The demon still did manage to get Abaddon. Her warning came too late. And the bolt seemed to have been constructed in a way that made it very durable. The sharp projectile punched through Abaddon's breastplate without greater problems and now was stuck in his body.

"Abaddon!"

When she could move, she immediately rushed over to him, still unable to believe what had happened, and oblivious to her own injury fell to her knees beside him. Despite the pain that was apparently visible in his grimace, Abaddon turned his blue eyes at her with a frantic gleam in them.

"It… was a trap. I- I knew it! Astarte…"

He was interrupted by a harsh cough which caused blood to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Talking clearly wasn't coming easily to him. Why would it, when he had a sharp bolt buried into his chest? Any incoming words were halted by Astarte putting her hand over his bloodied lips.

"Save your breath, my Lord."

She said, trying to keep her head cool despite the mounting panic in her throat, and took her eyes off his face to examine the wound. With his armor still on it was hard to determine the full extent of the damage but with how the bolt was positioned, Astarte could only imagine it may have punctured his left lung or damaged some vital blood vessels and she couldn't even extract it without risking causing further damage. Even as small as the wound was, it was dangerously near his heart that was surely pounding in his chest like crazy. The fact that there was barely any blood aside from that spilling steadily past his lips was hardly comforting. It could mean there's a much more severe internal bleeding. Hopefully not. Whether he likes it or not - which he most likely doesn't with how stubborn he is - Abaddon needed the help of a healer and needed it immediately.

"We have to move. There might be more of them nearby."

The Hellguard listened to Astarte without a moment of hesitation. She was the second in line to the position of a leader and Abaddon didn't seem like he was going to give orders any time soon. Astarte carefully pulled him up to his feet and hauled his arm over her own shoulders while other angels were gathering up those severely wounded and deceased in preparation to leave. As she was expecting, Abaddon grumbled in protest.

"I… can walk…"

"It doesn't mean you should."

With that, Astarte cut him off and it looked like he was not in the mood to argue with her. Neither did he have strength for it. The Hellguard moved out and left the cursed ruins behind. There was no doubt in Astarte's mind that there was no artifact here. This was just a bluff. A successful one unfortunately..

Even though there was hardly an hour of steady march between the ruins and their camp, for Astarte it felt like an eternity. With each laboured breath next to her ear and the weight of the injured archangel leaning against her shoulder slowly increasing, her agitation grew. But true enough, Abaddon did mostly walk on his own. At first. Not even fifteen minutes later, he was starting to get more sluggish and a faint tint of unhealthy green shaded his otherwise colorless face that should be tanned in warm tones. Still, he kept going. Until about half an hour later he stumbled, even though he was still supported by Astarte.

"I don't… I can't feel… my wings…"

He mumbled more to himself than anyone else, successfully getting his lieutenant's attention. True to his word, his wings were limply dragging behind him, motionless. And once she noticed that the light in his eyes had already faded and he's moments from slipping into unconsciousness, the panic returned. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage in despair. He was dying. She cannot lose him. Not him. Everyone but him.

"No… no, Abaddon! Don't fall asleep!"

She called desperately, making all of the angels to look back at them both with non hidden fright. Two Storm Heralds even rushed over to help as she held her commander who was very quickly losing his grip on life. With how heavy he was, Astarte had no other choice than to lower him to the ground. And she could feel how unnaturally warm under her hands his skin was. The camp is so close… He can't give up now! He can't… Just a little longer..

Don't close your eyes…

But despite her silent plea, her efforts to keep his head up and pull him back up… he did. His eyelids slipped closed, he ferociously fought to keep them opened but in vain. Even though Astarte was beginning to feel the shaking of her hands, she called to others.

"Help me get him up! We need to act quickly!"

The rest of the path to the campsite was a haze. Astarte remembered it like through a mist that clouded her senses and she wasn't even sure how and when she found herself in her own tent with Maral, an angel who was like a little sister to her, tending to the claw marks on her shoulder. Luckily, Maral herself wasn't injured in any way and she was the one to inform Astarte of the whole situation. Eight dead and ten injured in total. No artifact in sight. Not a very cheering perspective.. However, Astarte was only half paying attention to what Maral was saying. Her thoughts were elsewhere. In Abaddon's personal tent where he was brought to be taken care of about an hour ago. She was tapping her foot impatiently as Maral was getting her arm disinfected and wrapped up in bandages since there were only three healers in camp and two of them were injured too while the third one tended to the General.

"There. It should be mostly-... Hey! Where are you going?"

Astarte didn't really hear the call. After Maral was done with her wounds, she immediately stood up and walked out, heading to her General's tent, not caring about the cold anymore. Only one thought accompanied her on the way to her destination. Please, be alive... And please, stay that way... In the entrance she bumped into the aforementioned healer.

"Suriel. How is he?"

Judging by the grim expression Suriel bore, Astarte could tell she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. Of all angels, Astarte is rarely frightened. But this was one of those rare moments and she was glad she had her armor removed, because without a doubt it would clatter loudly, considering how much she was shaking. Don't tell me it's what I think it is.. She begged. Not a single part of her being was prepared to accept the fact that her beloved could be…

"He lives."

Not even the mightiest creature in the Universe could've stopped the loud exhale of relief that left Astarte the moment the news was revealed to her. However, it turned out she was too quick to rejoice.

"But he isn't well. The bolt.. although it did get to his lung that's not the main concern."

True enough, breathing isn't vital for angels to survive, though such an injury is rather inconvenient and if not healed properly can cause trouble in the future. But hearing that the punctured lung isn't the main concern immediately sent Astarte's heart back into frenzy before it could fully calm its pace.

"It was poisoned."

"Poisoned..?"

She echoed, already feeling increasingly dizzy from all this. Blessed Creator, please, let this chaos finally end... Of course the demons would poison their weapons! The fact why they were using crossbows became much clearer now. They lured the Hellguard out to try and take down its leaders. Bastards. Honestly, Astarte could consider herself lucky that she wasn't hit with one of the poisoned projectiles because without a shadow of a doubt she was one of the main targets as well.

"One of the killed demons had a vial of antidote in a knapsack but… the venom spread around his system very quickly. It will help. But that's all I could do. Lord Abaddon will have to battle the poison on his own until someone more experienced arrives."

It wasn't surprising that someone has already gone to the White City to call for help and deliver a report from the unsuccessful operation. Astarte could only hope either Abaddon will pull through or someone will get here to help him on time.

"Can I… see him?"

Suriel nodded. Astarte waited no longer and hesitantly peered inside of the tent. The sight that greeted her made her feel like her heart fell to pieces. No one had to say it out loud for her to realise that she wasn't ready for what awaited her. On a cot under coverlets in the far end of the tent, was him. Abaddon. Her beloved.. And he looked like a corpse. Still, unmoving, pallid skin… his eyelids and lips were in a blueish-purple hue. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his chest and a wet piece of folded cloth rested on his forehead. Droplets of sweat were rolling down his face, shining in the gloom like crystals, as he heaved in shallow breaths.

Biting down on her lower lip, Astarte walked up to the cot and sat down on a stool beside it. Beside her love and light. The light that was now struggling to keep burning, fighting the deadly poison coursing through his veins. Up this close, she could plainly see how unwell he really was.

Abaddon was always the strongest of the heavenly warriors. Unbreakable. Someone Astarte looked up to ever since he quite literally took her under his wing when Malahidael couldn't deal with her overconfidence and lack of respect. Those were ones of her most cherished memories.. And now? It seemed all it would take was so much as sneezing in his direction to send his soul plummeting into the Well. Seeing him like this.. weak, broken and vulnerable… it made Astarte feel small and insignificant.

A choked huff that slipped past Abaddon's chapped lips as his whole body shivered violently, did very little to calm Astarte down. Her heart sank, corners of her mouth sagged sadly, when his eyelids twitched and his upper lip peeled back to reveal his teeth. Hesitantly, she reached out to him and ran her fingers through his white hair as he kept thrashing about in his feverish sleep and muttering.

"To- to me, Hellguard... As- Astarte… where are you..?"

"I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere…"

She whispered and leaned down to place a kiss to his trembling lips. Not going anywhere. Gently brushing her fingers against his cheek, hot like fire, she kept talking to him softly until his shivers eased and he fell into a much deeper and calmer sleep. She wasn't going to leave him. Not now. Not when he needs her the most. Not when she needs him..

For the next three days or so there was no change whatsoever. Abaddon kept drifting in and out of consciousness, delirious with scorching fever - sometimes weakly calling Astarte's name - and barely aware of anything happening around him. And he wasn't getting better. Astarte stayed at his side, silent and hopeful. His lieutenant hadn't moved from her place even if either Maral or someone else came over and proposed to change her in her shift so that Astarte may rest, to which the answer was "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway.". She was helping with changing bandages and making sure the cloth on his forehead remains cool. The latter part was rather frustrating as the water in the basin next to the cot kept freezing over and with her nerves already in shreds Astarte barely held back from angrily lobbing it across the tent.

All the time she spent at Abaddon's side she was begging him to wake up, open his eyes and look at her. And every time he was shifting from uneasy delirium to numb unconsciousness she died a little bit inside out of fear that this time his heart may have given up.

"This has to be a nightmare…"

She once muttered to herself clutching Abaddon's motionless hand which felt like heated in a fire, hoping in vain that his grip will tighten any second now.

"And this is my fault.."

No words were able to put her mind at ease. The blame was rightfully on her, even though no one told her outright "It's because of you. You've failed him." She just convinced herself that it's the truth. Her duty was to protect Abaddon when he wasn't able to do so on his own. And despite Suriel, Maral and many others saying that it's a good thing she reacted so quickly, because were it not for her warning it could've ended much worse, the overwhelming feeling of guilt still remained.

And after those three days of emotional torment none other than the archangel Raphael arrived at the camp, carrying a message from the Council of Angels, ordering those injured who can be safely moved to return to the City. Without any exceptions. And that meant Astarte as well. But her Commander was to stay at the camp until he's cleansed of the vile venom threatening his life since there was a risk he would not survive this journey.

Astarte knew that she's leaving Abaddon in good hands. If anyone could help him, it would be the head healer of the White City. Still, she felt guilty for being forced to abandon him. Alongside a group of wounded angels, she left for her home with a heavy heart. All she could do was wait, harboring a feeling she found absolutely horrible. Helplessness. Wanting to act, feeling the need to, but being incapable of doing so. She should be with him, not hiding behind the White Gates! This was her duty. She swore to stand beside him no matter what. And now, the Council of Angels made her break this vow.

The next few days Astarte spent living in a lucid dream. A nightmare to be more accurate. Praying for Abaddon to pull through. She found herself often staring into the void, thinking. She missed his voice, his reassuring presence. His touch… Where is he? Is he alright? He has to be… Doesn't he? Of course he does! He's been through much worse more than once already. One bolt, even coated in noxious substance can't be enough to put him down. Unless… This was the thought that kept torturing Astarte. This "unless". After all, she'd seen how bad it was. How even with the antitoxin her Commander seemed to continue to slip away. Whatever the demons used, it must've been a truly horrendous poison..

When a week of solitude has gone by, reality started to sink in. It was taking too long already. Abaddon should've been healed by now. His absence could only mean… No! Raphael wouldn't fail. It's impossible! He can't be dead. Can he…? And even if so, the word about the demise of Abaddon of all people should have already been spread around the White City. But instead.. nothing. No news. Silence. Eventually, in this uncertainty and lack of any signs from anyone who remained at the camp, Astarte slowly started to believe, even though her heart screamed in denial. Sitting on the side of her bed in her home, she stared at her own boots, seconds ticked by, each lasting way longer than it should. What if he is gone? What is she going to do?

The Council will name her the next leader of the Hellguard without a doubt. All of Abaddon's responsibilities will be passed down to her. Maybe she will be able to forget if she keeps herself busy? She should've known that falling in love was a bad idea. Both she and Abaddon are warriors. Even with their unmatched skill, it was only a matter of time before one of them fell. But what could she do about it? He taught her so much, gave her all his knowledge and even offered his own heart that remained cold and stern for anyone but her. This last gift she could not reject as her own soul yearned to be close to him after everything he'd done for her. She couldn't win with it. Even though she tried her best once. Before she knew what he felt. Before… everything. She missed those times when Abaddon was no one else to her than her Commander perfectly capable of kicking her butt in any sparring to make sure she stays in line...

A quiet sound of opening doors caught her attention and made her head snap up. It was so sudden and unexpected that she felt a jolt of fear in her stomach. But with this fear came a shy ray of hope. Only one angel in the entire City walked into her house without knocking and only because she said he doesn't have to because he'd always be welcome. A rustle of feathers as a pair of wings beat once, a barely audible thud right behind the door to her bedroom. The doorknob moved. Slowly turned around and soon in the crack of the door, a pair of familiar blue lights appeared. Her heart hastened and her eyes grew wide like saucers. Could it… be true? Her hopes faded soon enough when she realised that it was probably just Azrael coming again to try and console her and her imagination is merely playing tricks on her. But the voice she heard seconds later made her heart skip a beat.

"Astarte?"

Still rather pale and swaying lightly on his legs, his eyes dull and devoid of their shine, Abaddon stepped into her room with relief painted across his face once he saw her before him. Words couldn't describe what was happening in her head at this moment. On the one hand she was absolutely ecstatic. He's alive. He hasn't left her despite the gravity of his recent condition. But on the other hand, she felt angry. Where was he all this time? Why was he keeping her in the dark? Not even a word when she was here already mourning and thinking how she should tackle becoming a leader all of the sudden. Jumping up to her feet, Astarte rushed over to him, closing the distance in one beat of her wings, just as he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Only to retract in shock once her palm loudly met his face, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. However, Abaddon didn't have time to react in any way aside from looking at Astarte with disbelief before she threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down into a kiss.

"You are giving mixed signals."

He chuckled, oblivious to the red handprint forming on his cheek once Astarte pulled away to glare daggers at him.

"I thought I lost you! Again! Don't ever do that to me!"

She yelled at him, respect towards superiors be damned. In all of her life she'd never been so scared. She remembered one time when Abaddon did get severely wounded but he quickly got out of this. Now it was three times as bad. Back then she could've at least stayed with him. Astarte didn't feel sorry for that slap to the face, the bastard had it coming for a long time now. And it seemed that he was well aware he deserved that one.

"Forgive me. I'll do my best never to let something like that happen again. Is there a way to make up for it?"

Angels don't cry. It's not like they aren't fully equipped to do so, they just… don't. Especially warriors. It doesn't suit a warrior to cry. If they do however, for good reasons. And Astarte felt she was on the verge of snapping, her vision turned misty as tears were forcing its way into her eyes. But no. She refused to fall apart, especially in front of her Commander. Looking up at him and fighting the tremble in her voice, she answered so quietly it might seem she didn't really meant to say that out loud. But he did hear it.

"Stay with me… And don't let go.."

His hands came up to her cheeks and he looked her deep in the eye with a soft smile on his face. The first tear had fallen once he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed contentedly before fully closing the distance and laying his lips on hers.

"Here, tonight.. your wish is my command."

He replied and encased her in a comforting embrace, holding her head against his chest as though to show her he's still here. And the steady heartbeat below her ear made her cry out in relief. If she's dreaming, then she doesn't want to ever wake up again. No.. this heartbeat felt far too real.

Perhaps it would've been seen as improper, but she had to make sure. Astarte reached out with her shaking hand to him and Abaddon didn't stop her as she peeled back the collar of his tunic to expose the bandage still concealing the wound he suffered from recently. Her hand carefully rested over it. He felt real. It was no dream. The nightmare has come to an end. He's here. Safe.. For this short moment, they both are.

For once in the ceaseless conflict between Heaven and Hell, Astarte could feel at peace and so could he. Just to seek reassurance, she placed the pads of her fingers on his throat to feel his pulse. To feel that he's truly with her, alive, holding her close, folding his wings around her.. and that this night he isn't going anywhere.

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

Idk, I just wanted to draw something and this happened in turn 😆

Also, I can't draw Astarte's face to save my life 😂

It's weird, I know, but I wanted to do something for Valentines. Back into the cringe abyss I go.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #fan art #darksiders abaddon #darksiders astarte #abaddon #astarte #demons #my art #fan fiction #my fic #my writing #I wrote it three times 😂#yikes #cringe

12 notes · View notes

littlestarofthewest · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Heat of the Moment | Word Count: 2743 | Rating: Explicit (18+!!!)

Pairing: John Marston (aka Handsome) x female reader

Tags: public sex, modern au | PART 1 of 2

Title pic by @the-neigh-sayer 💙

You sigh as you reach the bus stop. Just like the last couple of days, there's already a bunch of people waiting. Together with today's weather, even your flimsy summer dress won't do you any good. Packed with people, the bus will turn into a hellhole of bad smells and hot, unbreathable air.

When the bus arrives, you squeeze in with the rest of the waiting people. The few left seats are quickly taken, and you stay by the door, at least glad that you stand next to a pole to hold on to. The last thing you want is to lose your balance and be helplessly pressed against other people's hot bodies.

[[MORE]]

More travelers trickle in over the next two stops, and when the bus holds for the third time, there's some commotion behind you as a whole group of people is heading for the door. With the number of people shoved into the bus already, there's no space to let them pass, so you do the sensible thing and get off to let them out.

The woman in front gives you a thankful nod, but the following people don't care very much. They spill onto the street in front of you while others already push forward to get on the bus. Trying to make room, you back away too much and have a hard time getting in range of the doors.

"Excuse me, I need to get back on," you grunt, a little panic creeping into your voice. You can't afford to be late for work, and the next bus is 30 minutes out.

Pushing forward more forcefully than you usually would, you make it back to the door when it begins to close. "No, wait!" you shout, although you already see yourself walking through the blistering heat and getting yelled at by your boss for the millionth time.

Only seconds before the doors shut, a hand reaches into the space left, and the safety mechanism reacts, opening the doors again. The same hand reaches for you then.

"Come on, get on," a raspy voice says with some urgency, and you grab the stranger's hand.

He pulls you into the bus, and you can't help but fall against him before the doors close behind you. Somehow he manages to take a step back to give you some room, and you hold on to the pole near the door.

"Thank you. I thought I'd be late for work again," you sigh before finally looking up at the stranger.

You're glad that you already thanked him since you wouldn't be able to say another word. The guy in front of you is extremely hot, not only due to the temperature. You're caught in his steel-gray eyes, and although one side of his face holds some scars, you can't get over how attractive he is.

"No problem," he says, "would be a shame for you to wait when you're the only person with a brain on here."

An older guy looks over with furrowed brows, but when the stranger fixes a mean stare at him, he turns around without saying anything. You wish you knew something else to say, but the stranger stays quiet as well. For the next few stops, you do a little dance where both of you move past each other to let other people on and off the bus until the stranger carefully tips your shoulder.

"That's my stop," he says, and you make yourself as small as possible so he can squeeze around you.

"Have a nice day," you say quickly when he's outside.

The doors close, but he looks back at you and reaches up to his head, doing a little wave as if he's tipping his hat. You think about him for the remainder of your ride, and when you constantly have to move out of the way, you realize how much the stranger shielded you from the people around you. It's a shame that you won't see him again.

-------

The next day is just as hot and the bus just as full. This time, you position yourself more carefully, though. You stay away from the entrance and find yourself a nice corner so you at least can't be surrounded. A little breeze comes through the open window, and your thoughts drift as the bus rolls on. You focus on nothing in particular, but then you spot the stranger at the other end of the bus, close by the door.

You do your best not to stare, but his mere presence makes you nervous. If he's on the bus two days in a row, there's a chance he'll be here every day. You couldn't stop thinking about him the day before, but you didn't have much to go on. Now you can watch him without him even noticing.

He's wearing a button-down shirt with so many buttons open that he might as well go without it. There's some dark hair peeking out on his chest, and his collarbones are so pronounced that you have the urge to nibble on them.

Although he's tall and narrow in the hips, he's got broad shoulders, and you remember how huge his hand was compared to yours when he pulled you onto the bus. His shorts hug him nicely, and you find yourself fantasizing about a way to lift the shirt and get a better look at him below the waist.

You're so occupied with ogling him that you forget to look away, and suddenly he turns his head, meeting your gaze. You see recognition hitting his face, and he smiles before giving you a small nod. You smile as well, trying to act casual, but your insides catch fire. You don't understand how the guy can be so goddamn attractive, even despite the scars.

For the lack of a name, you began to think of him as Handsome the day before, and the way he smiles cements that name. As a decent human being, he looks away again, forcing you to do the same. Still, you can't help but sneak peeks at him, and once in a while, he does the same.

You begin to think that it's no accident on his part. He has to turn a little to even meet your gaze, and then he holds your eyes for a moment before looking away again. If you weren't so dense when it comes to social interactions, you might think he's flirting with you. When his stop comes around, he looks at you and does the same goodbye with his hand as the day before, only leaving the bus after giving you another smile.

Of course, you think about Handsome the rest of the day, and whenever work doesn't hold your attention completely, you come up with scenarios that might have you speak to him again.

The next day, you don't even care how many people get on the bus. You position yourself like the day before, watching the door. This time you see Handsome right as he gets on, and he might feel you staring because he finds you just as fast, smiling again.

Today, he's wearing a somewhat torn band shirt that clings to his body, and since it's shorter than the shirt from the day before, you have a chance to check out his lower half a lot better. You thank an older lady who squeezes past him, forcing him to turn around to sidestep her. You unashamedly stare at his ass, and he's lucky you're not in range for a pinch.

You sigh so profoundly at the thought that the woman next to you gives you a weird look, but you can't really care. Handsome turns back around and looks over, and like the day before, you play this game of looking back and forth until he gets off the bus. In fact, you play this game for the rest of the week.

You're beyond happy to find that Handsome does take the bus each day, and your days become a series of staring at him to remember every detail on his face and body, so you can think about him for the rest of the day. You're even tempted to take the bus on the weekend to see if he's there but manage to hold yourself back.

On Monday, you put a little more effort into your appearance than usual, and when you get on the bus, you go against your better judgment and stay by the door. As soon as it opens at Handsome's stop, your eyes are on him, and he smiles as he gets on.

While the other people squeeze farther in, he stays closeby and reaches for the same pole you're holding on to. "Hey," he says, barely audible in that scratchy voice of his, and a shiver tickles down your spine.

"Hey," you counter, not sure what else to say.

Handsome doesn't push for a conversation, though. He looks around the way he usually does while you're in a world of pain. You didn't think your plan all the way through. It's one thing to flirt with Handsome from a distance, but now he's right there.

He's wearing another half-open shirt, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. He comes even closer whenever he has to make room for someone, cloaking you in a cloud of a subtle deodorant and something else that seems to be just him. You're more and more tempted to bury your face in his chest and stay there for the rest of the ride.

Caught up in the sensations, you don't watch yourself enough, and when the bus comes to a sudden halt, you fall forward. Out of instinct, you hold up your hand and end up putting it flat on Handsome's chest. He doesn't waver for a second, and although his skin is soft, you feel like leaning against a rock.

"I'm sorry," you say, but it takes you a whole battle with yourself to take your hand away from him.

"Don't worry about it," Handsome says, and this time his smile has some more fire. "I don't mind at all."

It sounds like an invitation to touch him again, but although you're tempted as hell, you keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the ride. It's bad enough to be this close. Your body feels hotter from one minute to the next, and you wouldn't mind rubbing yourself against Handsome like a feral cat.

When his stop comes up, he leans in, his voice barely a whisper. "Always a pleasure."

His tone almost has you shiver, and you barely manage to answer. "Likewise."

He fake taps his non-existing hat, and this time he winks at you before getting out, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach. If you keep going like this, you might just die from a heat stroke or heart attack.

The next day, the bus gets so full that you have no chance to stay near the door. You get pushed to the other side of the bus, a foul mood taking hold of you. At Handsome's stop, you don't see him get on and wonder if he's not there today when he suddenly pushes past two other people, getting in your line of sight.

You're heart beats faster at his first smile, and you can't help but look away as heat rises to your cheeks. That night, you had a dream about Handsome. You had no problems with being near him, and after a while, you woke up so aroused that you couldn't fall asleep until you touched yourself to thoughts about the two of you doing the dirty with no restrictions whatsoever.

With the memories flooding your mind, you don't realize how the people around you move, and only when a woman with a stroller pushes in, you back away. A familiar scent enters your nose, and you find yourself right in front of Handsome. Somehow, this position is even worse than the day before. You imagine him putting his arms around you and pulling you close. He could whisper in your ear with that intriguing voice or kiss your neck.

You become so engulfed by the thought that it feels real, and a crazy notion inside of you makes you take another step back. With no more room between you, your ass presses right against Handsome's crotch. You hear a surprised gasp from behind you and feel that he's trying to step away, so you move with him, rolling your hips. You want him to know that it was no accident. Only then do you take a step forward again. After all, you don't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

The seconds tick by, and your heart begins to race. You're sure that you upset him, but then he moves right up to you. His chest presses against your back, and instead of his crotch, you feel his flat hand resting on the outer side of your thigh. You move your hip just a tiny bit, heightening the pressure of his hot hand against your skin.

Handsome takes the bait. He runs his hand over your ass, and you feel his touch through the thin fabric of your dress. You lean back against him, assuring him that you don't mind, and he loses all inhibitions he might have had.

His hand squeezes the flesh of your ass before he dares to hike up your dress enough to let his hand disappear under it. His fingertips caress the insides of your thighs, and you hold your breath until he runs his fingers over your folds with enough pressure that your underwear might as well not be there. This time it's you who gasps with surprise, and Handsome holds still, waiting for your move.

All you'd have to do is take a step away, but instead, you squeeze your thighs together for a moment before spreading your legs to give him more room. Handsome follows the invitation right away. He runs his fingers back and forth along your folds until you roll your hips ever so slightly. Then, he presses his fingertips to your clit. You can't help but push against him, and when he begins to rub you in small circles, you have to bite your lip to hold in a moan.

You hold on to the pole next to you, your knuckles white from the tight grip. In a panic, you take a look around, but nobody seems to notice what naughty things you and Handsome are up to. You're torn between breaking this off before you embarrass yourself and riding it out till the end.

Handsome's touch just feels way too good, and you feel his heartbeat against your back. You wonder if he's as horny as you are, but for now, he seems satisfied with pleasuring you. His breath is ghosting over your neck, bringing goosebumps all over your skin, and your nipples rise up, poking at the fabric of your dress. The slight rub doesn't help your situation at all, and with Handsome's constant teasing, your juices begin to flow, soaking your underwear.

It becomes harder and harder to stay quiet. Every touch heightens your arousal, and you can't help imagining what else Handsome could do to you. He sure knows how to make you crazy, and when you roll your hips with more desperation, his fingers speed up, relentlessly driving you over the edge.

You clench your teeth together, holding in your breath and your thighs press together around Handsome's hand as you come, your legs shaking. Taking deep breaths, you close your eyes for a moment, barely able to hold yourself up on the pole.

When you give Handsome's hand free, he caresses your thighs and ass, almost as if he's saying goodbye before taking his hand away completely. He still stays where he is, though, and you're thankful that you can lean against him until you find your way back to reality.

Handsome's stop is coming up, and when you take a step forward to give him free, he leans in, his lips gracing your ear. "Always a pleasure."

A shiver runs down your spine, and you don't find the nerve to say anything, but you still look after him. He gives you the usual goodbye wave and smile, and you have no idea how you're supposed to make it through the day after what just happened.

.... to be continued ....

#john marston x female reader #john marston #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #my writing #nsft #I'm posting this from my phone #so please forgive me

110 notes · View notes

imagines-to-quench-thirst · 5 years ago

Text

Leaving legacy

Warnings: Swearing, use of violence and guns, women pitted against each other (I guess)

Pairing: Joker x reader - I gave him the name Jerome since I like the way and to me, it fits ever since I watched Gotham it stuck on

Summary: the Joker is captured by Batman. Leaving Y/n, his girlfriend to hold up his legacy but what happens when a woman nudges herself between the criminal and the good girl turned mafia leader?

'Run, Y/n! Fucking run!!' The criminal in purple cried out to his lover seeing the woman confusedly run in the club finding comfort in the magnitude of people in there. Looking back she sees the blue-red lights shining through the glass door. The car engine rumbled driving away from the club. Looking at Frost near her, he shakes his head.

'As of today, the Joker has been imprisoned by the Batman and the police.' It was painful to see her boyfriend being subdued by gas bombs leaving him defenseless and unconscious. Especially the aftermath of it all the Batman taking him into his car handcuffed heading towards Arkham Prison. 'Frost, what do we do now?' The frightened woman asked the loyal companion by her side.

'We have a backup plan. Follow me.' First walks out of the small departed as Y/n tails behind him unsure of the action. At least Forst wouldn't hurt her. Right? Entering J's office Frost retirees a black suitcase flopping it on the desk opening the top lid. He turns it around to face Y/n her eyes catching a glimpse of white papers tacked even pushed in the suitcase falling all over the place but only a small letter sat neatly on it with the words scribbled on it 'Y/n'. Picking up the letter she opens it reading

Y/n, princess, dove,

If you are reading this then it means that I am not anymore capable of doing my "business" I was arrested and the outcome is unsure. So I have to Frost a briefcase holding each valuable document that is signed for you if I was taken away or killed. My club, cars and my other "ventures" are yours. You are the only who I can trust. And if I'm in a Prison. Wait for me, I won't be there long. 💋💋💋

Besides, I need my kisses to survive.

Your Jerome

Placing the letter down with shaky hands Y/n looks at the piles of documents as an explosion of stress and anxiety power over her. 'Frost, what if I won't be good? What if I won't be able to handle this? What if I-' 'If Mr.J thought that you couldn't handle it then he wouldn't hand his entire life to you.'

Frost steps close to her putting a much-needed arm on her shoulder 'I will be here as your advisor to help you. That is my oath.' With more doubtfulness nesting in her soul, she nods desiring that she will do it right.

The streets are empty, deserted and alone with the company of the cold sharp wind and the naked bare trees they all guided to the same destination, Arkham Asylum. The purple car howled as it came to a standstill delivering its new owner to the entrance door. Y/n steps outside seeing the hush silence looming on the place she looks up seeing the floors and floors of windows which presumably all held the dangerous criminals. Waving to the guard at the reception she hands him a document.

'Visit for the Joker? Huh, I guess miracles do happen.' The guard retorted teasingly seeing Y/n's forced smile as he hands her the visitors pass. Walking through the door she sits down waiting for her boyfriend to appear only a glass partition in between them. The door on the other side creaks open as two guards guide in the Joker his hands and upper body in a straight jacket. He sits down seeing the woman he loved holding in tears to come off as if she is tough enough to overcome this. One of the policemen grabs the phone handle placing it on the table prompting it upwards. Y/n repeated the motion as she places it to her ear.

'Hey J. How are you?' Y/n asks wanting to hear his voice. He mumbles as he shakes the jacket striving to free his arms. Y/n turns to the policeman 'His nose is itching. Can you... Please?' One policeman pauses but steps forwards scratching the Joker's nose. He steps back in line with his fellow partner. 'Thanks, Princess.' He finally speaks 'You should thank him.' She points to the policeman as Joker turns to him grumbling a broken 'thank you'.

His head shoots back to her asking softly 'Are you alright?' Y/n shrugged 'As much as I can be. But it's not the same without you.' J looks at her seeing the frown that probably nested itself for the last 6 days that he was in this hellhole. 'Come on, princess, I need to see your smile. Do you know how much frowns I see from others? P-l-e-n-t-t-y.' Y/n chuckles at his spelling mistake chatting him immediately 'There is no extra "t" in plenty.' 'Oh, are you sure? It thinks there is and its purpose it's special.' Y/n looks at him weirdly as he proceeds 'The "t" is there to make you smile.' He shows off his own smile laced with the metal teeth giving off more sinister intent but still, a smile solely earmarked for her.

'I hope that you are behaving.' J says to his lover seeing the visible smile wash away being replaced by a stern lip line '...Yeah... I am the new job is-' 'Okay, that is enough visits are over!' the guard screamed over her sentence. Joker looks once more over his shoulder grunting 'I believe that the lady didn't finish her sentence.' he turns back to her 'Continue.' Y/n takes a much needed deep breath saying slowly 'As I was saying, the new job is hard but I'm handling it well.'

Joker stood up as she finished her sentence an enormous grin on his pale face 'Great. I will head back now, Princess. I love you~~~' Joker slurred his words in a mocking manner as the guards behind him cringed at the PDA while Y/n elicited a smile from her again, one he will remember when his days here are hard. Y/n stands up waving J goodbye.

'Frost calls the Falcone Mafia to tell them that the drugs will be sent through a food truck. In about 3 days...' Y/n said firmly to her right-hand man handing him the last piece of document. Taking the precious documents with a bow he exits the room leaving her to her peace and quiet. Leaning back on the big leather chair Y/n closes her eyes feeling the sleep creep back into her mind and with no coffee in sight to shoo it away. Glazing her eyes in the home line phone she sees a number appearing. 'Shit... What now?' Picking up the phone and pressing it to her ear she hears a chirpy and creeps voice coming from the other side. The cheery creepily voice asked in a high pitched rhythm

-Hi, is this Y/n L/n number?

-Yes, this is she. Who is this?

-Oh, me? I'm Dr. Quinzel, the Arkham physiologist. I'm in charge of the Joker.

-Since when do they let normal, sane people around criminals?

-You are too funny Ms. L/n. I just wanted to call you and say that Mr. Joker's visiting hours will be sentenced down to one visit every 3 months.

-What?! Why?!

-Since Mr. Joker is here for the crimes he committed we want to restrict him of him usual surrounding to see what are his triggers. We will phone you when you can see him.

-Since when is that allowed? Who signed this off? Where is my signature agreeing to this-this shenanigans?

-Ha-ha...Excuse me. But there is a need for such approval of a third party since he himself signed the document.

-He did, did he? That man is in a straight jacket! He can barely piss with his hands tied behind his back and you are telling me that Joker singed WILLINGLY a document that said he could not see me?!

-Yes, exactly. Good day. Goodbye.

The woman, Quinzel, hangs up leaving Y/n to herself to calm down her storm that swirled inside. With no coffee still in sight.

Speeding into the Arkham Prison letting the engine roar loudly as possible radiating a silent alarm of the incoming rage of one woman. Stepping out of her car she hears the near guards whispers to each other 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Passing them with one step of her glorious heels she fumes into the building crammed with criminals halting at the reception putting on her face the fakest smile, yet. 'Hi, how are you?' 'Go-good.' 'Great. I'm here to visit Mr. Joker. I was the woman here... About 4 days ago. Remember?' 'Yeah, you wore the beautiful beige fluffy coat.' That's right and thank you it is fluffy. So can I meet him?' 'Yes, right-' 'Thanks, I know the way.'

Layering the fake sentences on to the fake conversation her heels clicked as hard as her rage was prominent on her face and hands. Walking along she heard the distant whistles and cat-calling to her form. That is some to her and some the purple Lamborghini that sat pretty waiting outside for her female owner. Making her way into a room Y/n looks at the two small chairs with an equally small table at the center of it. The room is small and wet with some tiles fallen down cracking on the floor leaving no feeling of a safe space, despite being in the most dangerous prison imaginable. Sitting in the chair she props her bag onto the table keeping it close. Patiently waiting for her boyfriend to say some sweet sweet words to her.

The door flung open with another pair of sharper heels entered the room. A tall, blonde beautiful woman with the signature white doctor's coat on her shoulders. That's her. Y/n thought, feeling her mind already sharpen her knives and aiming her guns that she conveniently abandoned at home since bringing guns here is forbidden. The woman offers her a hand to shake.

'Hi, nice to meet ya. I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I'm the main psychologist here.' Yes, that's her. The equally chirpy woman smiled at Y/n replicating the same tone of cheeriness face to face. Shaking her hand with a firm squeeze Y/n replies equally warm. 'Hi, Y/n L/n.' Harleen looked at the woman in front of her opening a file of the Joker. Letting the headshot be in Y/n's peripheral sight. As much as Y/n wanted to kill her she knew she should befriend her at least to make her an inside man.

'Why are you already here, Miss L/n?' Harleen asked quickly as her fingers interlaced with each other. 'I want to visit my boyfriend. And no document will stop me.' Nodding dutifully Harleen fires back 'Well since Mr. J signed the document you have no other way than to approve his request.' Looking at the psychologist she had to laugh 'If you really talked to him you would know that I'm a good person I'm the one who keeps him in check. Thanks to me he didn't kill anyone...innocent.' 'Oh, I know he also said that you are one of the reasons he stopped doing cocaine.' 'That's right.' 'And he is having withdrawals.' 'Bullshit. The last he had a withdrawal was 2 years ago. Maybe you gave him something worth going insane. I mean we are in a prison/mental institution. I also know that many institutions such as this one spike the patient's food with any drug be it cocaine, meth, opioid-' 'That's not OUR intention. I have been here for the last 3 years and I can assure you-' Y/n looks once more at the woman seeing her glasses dip down the arch of her nose stopping at the near end. 'Don't bullshit me. I can see just buy your clothes what kind of money do you make and how do you earn it.' Her blue eyes darted at the woman in front of her that threatened to talk about the appearance and she does appreciate a good duel. 'Your hair is too lose to be around patient while other competent nurses and doctors have their hair tied neatly and tightly into a bun since they are dealing with criminals and one for the raising problems would be of an attack on the staff using the loose hair as a means to pull them in and beat them. With your shaved legs you aren't here to work and neither are your intentions. Those shaven legs are here to show off to say in a subliminal "Hey, I'm here I have shaven my legs and I'm ready to bone." while other women wear nylon socks. To cover the long leg hairs since the working hours here are brutal. And-' 'I think that's enough.' Harleen stopped her with to victory insight.

'I'm good. I can go on. So as I was saying your feet...you wear the ever so cliché heels ever. Black Louboutin. Those cost a fortune. And even the pay of the highest personnel could barely cover half of the price. And don't tell me you saved up. Since those with the white sheen are rare mother fuckers. Once in a lifetime kinda rare. And on top of that, some hair that has fallen over your ear can tell me that you flirted with someone. You know the cliche swooping the hair behind the ear when people flirt.' Harleen halts at the last words her cover blown away 'So you did. I will say a patient. Very "prolific" patient. Someone who holds ample power outside these cell walls. Someone with the green hair. Now, Miss Quinzel that is very unethical. You should know better. Since he is taken.'

Harleen cowered in fear in front of the dangerous and sharp-tongued Y/n not preferring to give in to her tactics. Y/n all of the sudden stands up without letting Harleen speak or change her mind 'Take me to him. Show me that I am indeed a trigger. Or I will make sure you never come near my man. Ever again.' With an involuntary smile, Harleen stands up ushering her out of the area and towards J.

Walking behind Y/n looked at the influx of inmates all serving their time even seeing some familiar faces, discreetly waving. Passing the steel wall barricades they enter a new part of large prison the walls aren't made fo steel but of plexiglass with small holes drilled in to give the prisoners air. Stopping at the last one Harleen back away Y/n glancing at her J, her Jerome facing a corner in his straight jacket nearby a window seeing his/her purple car.

With her green bag in her hand and other placed on the glass Y/n whispers in relief 'J? Can you turn around, please?' He looks back at her seeing her deprived eyes and narrowly open mouth, her hair let loose to move freely, the bag he gifted her in her hand and her body, damn those curves and dips. Grumbling he turns back to face the wall hearing her sweet sweet voice 'J, this woman told me you signed a document saying I was some kind of a trigger. Is that true? Am I?'

Waiting for answers that he doesn't supply his cellmates next door answer instead of him 'Baby, with that body and confidence you can be my trigger.' said a thug that doesn't deserve a glance to be speared on. 'With that body, I would be completely grateful to God for once in my life.' said another trying to reel in her attention. The comments influx in as the ruckus evolved unbearably. Besides the comments, Y/n shouted through the glass 'I'll go back home then. I will see you every three months. I miss you.' Turning away from her lover she walks away leaving him in the same stance that he greeted her with. In front of a wall near the window. The same window that exhibited his girl entering the car and driving away to continue his legacy while he resides here. Surrounded by idiots and a whore.

For. Now.

Hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always appreciated💚

385 notes · View notes

deadbydelight · 6 years ago

Text

Legion (Frank Morrison) x Reader: soulmate AU.

Someone requested it on wattpad so am going to try to deliver :D warning for some blood, violence and manipulation.

I am using this theme for the soulmate stuff: at age 18, you get your soulmate's name on your chest, written in their handwriting. When the two of you meet, the writing warms up a lot. After the first meeting, it just grow warmer when the two of you are near each other but it won't be as warm as the first meeting.

________________

Ormond.

It was a nice evening in Mount Ormond, snowflakes falling silently and the sky as grey as ever. The Legion was what we could say chilling in their small "basement quarter"

Usually it was on one of those calm day that Frank would order everyone to run around and wreck havoc in the small town... But this time he decided that they needed the rest. He was casually smoking a cigarette (stolen, mind you) while Joey was reading some comics (stolen too) and Susie was discussing with Julie, the two of them giggling from time to time.

Puffing out some smoke, he mindlessly scratched his neck, thinking about what they could do on their next "mission".

"Oh Frank, who is that?"

He stopped his thoughts instantly, his attention turning to the soft spoken voice of Susie. She wasn't really one to speak her mind so it was acutally surprising to hear her initiate a dialogue.

"Who?" He questionned back, raising an eyebrow at her question, Julie and Joey now curiously watching them.

"The name on your chest."

His eyes widened a bit at this but his whole face stayed put, doing his best to hide any feelings that his face might betray. He hadn't noticed his jacket had loosen up and that it was showing the first letter that were written on his chest. Of course Susie would be the one interested in those soulmates stories. She always was the naive one. He carelessly pulled the the left side of his jacket, showing off what was written on his left pec.

They all stared, Susie with longing and envy, Joey with disbelief and Julie with amusement. Seems like their opinions on the whole soulmate stuff differed greatly from one another.

"Have you met them ?" The pink haired girl asked, a smile forming on her face, showing her braces.

"No."

His voice was cutting. Not cold but clear as to show that he didn't really care about this whole story. Not anymore that is.

"Really ? Not even a tiny bit of warm?"

Now Frank was starting to be annoyed by Susie's insistance. He could understand that someone like her would be into soulmate stories but why was she satiating her curiosity with his own mark? Joey seemed to notice his change of mood and went in for a save.

"You know that soulmates rarely even meet each other right ?"

"Yeah Susie, let the men go they're not ready for a hopeless romantic like you!"

Julie snickered at her own comment as Susie's cheeks grew red. She quietly went back to where she had been, next to her best friend.

Frank took a much needed smoke of his almost finished cigarette, feeling strangely agitated. After one year of desperately looking for his soulmate, he just stopped caring all together. Yet his heart betrayed him, still hurt of the void that had took place in his chest. He stomped on his cigarette adding one more thing as he grabbed his mask:

"We're going out tonight."

__________________

Entity's realm.

You were running. From what? Hell, you didn't even know. It felt like seconds ago you arrived in this... place? You had met another person that you remembered as Bill who sighed dramatically when he saw you, saying he had to deal with a "new one". You didn't know what that mean. He just told you that you were stuck in a sort of game in which you could get hurt at any moment. You had the time to have a very brief explication about generators needed to open the exit of this hellhole and then he yelled that you needed to run away as fast as possible because the two of you were being chased. Bill basically told you he was going to be a bait for you to get away.

Part of you was very moved by his act, the other half wish he didn't left you alone.

Now you were still running, your lungs hurt so much and your muscles were screaming in pain and you were simply running out of energy. What exactly was even chasing you? Was it some kind of monster ? A wild animal that went feral? You cried out as you felt a sudden burn in your chest, as if you were being marked with a red hot iron. As you ran it got warmer and warmer making you almost fall from the pain, but you kept running, scared of what was pursuing you, scared and-

"Agh!"

You had collided with someone so harshly that you fell on your bum, your pants getting wet as you landed on the snow that imediatly melted at the contact. You grunted, the pain and exhaustion hitting you all at once. Luckyly the burn in your chest had subsided, leaving a pleasant warmness that you couldn't exactly identify at the moment. When you came back to your senses you actually took note of the person you bumped into. He looked as lost as you, blinking at you and out of breath. He had a black jacket, his face actually quite attractive unexpectedly. His brown eyes were staring right back at you, taking in all the details of your own face. His hair was a light brown, looking even blond where the light was shining on it, short and well kept, the last detail you noticed was the tatoo on his neck.

"Well... hello?"

You jumped from your dreamy state, your cheeks warming up at the thought that yes, you were totally checking this guy out while you were supposedly being hunted.

"Sorry for bumping into you like that, I was... well running away, just like you."

He helped you getting up and you thanked him shily, your heart beating rapidly and this warmth in your chest, buzzing pleasantly, you couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

"You're new ?" He asked, "I've never seen you before."

You explained him your situation, he listened intently at everything you had to say. You felt so warm... and those eyes...

"Well it seems like you're indeed the newest addition... I'll make it simple for you. All the people stuck here, you included, have been chosen by the entity. I can't really explain you what it is... it basically created this whole world and it's aware of everything. Basically like a god... from time to time, four survivors like you and I are reunited in a sick game of cat and mouse. We're being hunted by a killer."

You gaped, completely horrified at the situation.

"So to get away we need to fix those generators right ?"

"Exactly! How did you know?"

"An old military guy named Bill told me about it. I think he literally saved my ass back there by distracting the killer..."

Now you felt bad that you actually left the guy alone against a killer... but you had no clue of what was going on...

"Hey, he'll be fine, I'm sure. Here let me show how to fix those."

You felt a pleasant tingle at the warmth of his hand holding yours. He did show you how to fix a generator even though you made it explode several times. He was so patient and sweet with you... and still this warmth in your chest... finally you started putting two and two together. What if he was..?

"Uh tell me..." you finally said, catching his attention off of the generator, "I don't think I have caught your name?"

"Oh right ! Sorry about that, I'm Frank M-"

"Morrison." You finished for him.

He stared at you, looking half surprised.

"So I wasn't the only one feeling it..."

You stared at one another once again, completely oblivious to the killer that might be looking for you at the moment.

"So we meet... and in a place like this, how peculiar!" You laughed, your eyes lighting up at the thought that you just met your soulmate.

He laughed with you, a small smile on his lips. It looked like he was admiring you so much right now. The noise of a generator being repaired rang and you suddenly remembered what you were doing.

"Let's finish this first and get away then alright?"

He nodded and you both got back to work. In no time the engine roared back to life and you beamed at Frank.

"We did it ! I think the exit is this way, let's go."

You began walking rapidly toward the source of light, Frank following closely. Or so you thought. You heard your name being called by his voice. You would have been happy to hear it if it wasn't for the... off tone he had. You curiously turn around to see him standing still near the generator. He had a mask on, all white with some disturbing features drawn on it. Was that blood smeared where his mouth should be? You froze as you saw the hunting knife in his right hand.

"Now let's see how fast you run, dear soulmate" he said in a sing song tone, apparently amused by your shocked expression.

And then it dawned on you. The killer was none other than him. You had been fooled and so devilisly so. Your heart throbbed painfully at the thought that... your soulmate was a crazy killer. You made a sudden u turn, dashing for the general direction of the exit. You heard him running right behind you, his breathing heavy with what seemed an insane excitement. He laughed at your poor attempt to run from him and pounced on you, making you both fall in the snow, his weight crushing you and preventing you from getting away. He got up and as soon as he did so, he grabbed you by the arm to forcefully roll you on your back.

You were terrified, tears rolling down your face and heart beating furiously in fear of dying right here right now. Your eyes were locked on his hunter knife and his bloody mask. You closed your eyes when he raised his weapon, expecting a brutal death... but it did not come. Instead he had started cutting the shirt under your jacket. You cried and whined, horrified at what he might do to you.

"Stop moving. I just want to see it."

You stood still, eyes wide as he literally cut a whole part of your shirt. There his name was. Written in his handwriting. He seemed hypnotized by it. His hand went to touch it, his fingertips feeling so cold on your sweaty skin. The writing reacted, heating up at his contact and making you tremble, this time you weren't sure if it was from fear only. After what felt like an eternity of him sort of molesting your chest, he abruptly stood up, watching you intently, his knife twirling expertly in his hand.

"Get up."

You did as you were told, too scared to consider disobeying him. He advanced toward you, his mask nearly inches from your own face, you could feel his breathing fanning over your own skin. He caressed your cheeks surprisingly soflty, drying some of your tears.

"You will run straight to the exit. We will meet again. You will NOT forget me. Understood?"

You nodded, terror preventing you from forming actual words. He seemed contempted about that for now as he chuckled. He lifted his mask, his oh so enchanting brown eyes staring right back at you.

"Don't forget that from now on, you're mine. "

You ran. Tears still rolling and heart hammering in your chest. You looked back one time, wondering if he was chasing you, but he was still there, not moving from his pot. He was waving, his knife still in hand. You knew for a fact that, as you ran to the exit, somehow you felt empty, the pleasant warm from being so close to your soulmate now fading as you ran as far away from him.

You knew for a fact that this wouldn't be your last encounter.

________________

Aaaaaa finally, I finished it! I just hope it's readable and not too ooc lol

#my writing #dbd x reader #legion dbd #dbd imagines #dead by daylight x reader #dead by delight #dead by daylight #frank morrison x reader #frank morrison #legion x reader #soulmate #soulmate AU #now I sleep cuz am dead

60 notes · View notes