#Where did the red splotch floor go?

[jhsharman]

Dance Crazy

[sweetiesicheng]

mingi - after school

word count : 653

-

"y/n!" someone calls your name. you turn around, but before you can say anything, your classmate shouts, "mingi's in a fight!"

"what?" you speak in astonishment.

"come on, let's see if he's okay," your friend says to you.

all of you follow your classmate across the school and find students in a crowd.

you manage to push your way to the front and find mingi leaning against the lockers. he has blood running down his forehead and some splotches of blood on his uniform. he's breathing heavy, and you also notice how red his fists are.

there's another student standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly ready to throw more punches at your boyfriend. some more people push through, and you see some of the seniors coming through.

"hey, quit it already," one of them says to the person fighting mingi. "mingi, you're letting the kid win?" he asks.

"nah, just letting him stay awake," mingi replies and wipes the blood on his face.

"you wanna keep going? i'll make sure you land straight to the floor," the guy fighting mingi speaks.

"hey, back it off. the teachers are threatening to cancel a bunch of stuff already. i'm not letting a first year ruin this," one of mingi's friends, san, speaks up. "hey, get you and your girl out of here. she shouldn't see this anymore," he says to mingi.

mingi looks around and sees you. he picks up his backpack from the ground and grabs your hand.

—

"we're supposed to be on a date right now. why did you get into another fight?" you scold mingi, who sits on a bench in front of you. you had walked to a local park to be away from your school. "i can't believe you got into a fight with him," you say to him as you treat his wounds. "like seriously, it's not worth it, mingi."

"you've said that like twenty times already, y/n. ow!" you had hit him on the back of the head. "what was that for? what if i had a concussion?!" he asks.

"stop being dramatic," you reply as you put ointment on a wound. "what do you want? batman or my little pony?" you ask as you’re about to get a bandaid from a small box you keep in your work bag.

"you don't have regular ones?"

"my little pony it is."

"wait! batman. batman!" he pleads. you huff and grab a batman bandaid from the first aid kit. you unwrap the bandaid and put it on his forehead, making mingi whine. "in the middle of my forehead?" he questions.

"i'm surprised that you only needed one bandaid. you're lucky that the idiot was a first year," you say to him, clearly angry at him.

"baby," mingi calls out to you. "can you stop being mad at me?" he asks. "i'll stop getting into fights, i swear."

you cross your arms at him. "that's what you said to me last time," you remind him.

"he's the one that provoked me!" he argues. "listen, i know i'm dumb, but this idiot was dumber for thinking he could win."

you stare at him before giving in. you start packing your first aid kit, putting it back in your bag that you bring to work. "i just don't like seeing you get into fights," you say to him. "like what if you get seriously hurt? i cry easily and i cry enough already, so stop fighting so my blood pressure doesn't skyrocket."

mingi leans in to kiss you. "can i buy you dinner to make it up to you?" he asks.

"you always buy dinner for me."

"okay but this is to make sure you forgive me. i'm just a gentleman naturally." you roll your eyes at him. "hey! i saw that."

you kiss his forehead, where the batman bandaid is. "buy me a plushie."

"i'll buy you ten."

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Sneek peak)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your track record with trying to survive is a checkered one. This is a red spot among the black and white.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, forced murder? Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.0k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 66: Go for the Throat

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner. 

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; this one is white with red splotch on the cheeks, not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. Like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is black and a generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. Hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things. Rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet, you take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away- before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill, it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill, emotionless and analytic. it being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it perfectly or cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Only now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweet worship. How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, you know how to use it. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps light as a butterfly’s wings. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

Coming Saturday February 3rd at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[celezztia]

Taking a stab at writing, I haven’t done it in a while, but I want to help contribute a Professor! Vampire Donna AU and maybe in the future a few spicy one shots, because we are all thirsty.

(I will format this better as I go on, but do enjoy)

Professor! Donna x Fem reader

(May contain fluff, smut, angst in the future, but first chapter is sfw)

After many trials and tribulations, I had managed to score a scholarship to a college in Romania; Miranda’s All Girls University: though you hadn’t hear much of the campus aside from what the schools website conveyed, who are you to pass up an affordable education?

Had you stayed in America, you would spend years paying off these debts, but now your saved money was going towards travels, airplane tickets, apartment down payment and such .

You were the one that applied, got accepted and the first day of college you were ready.

Though as ready as you thought you were, your new life was far more interesting than you had imagined.

You signed up for a Botany course, a few math and English, and an elective in theater. You figured your years in high school being a techie would come in handy.

The professors were fairly bearable, though the Art History professor was quite striking. Intimidating and cold, but as long as you listened, she never really called you out to answer.

Now as you walk towards your Botany class, you pushed the heavy doors open, grunting a bit as you pushed it open.

It was a vast room, build almost like a media center with levels of desks that led down to the board and desk where the professor sat. She was scanning a stack of papers , a pair of red reading glasses hanging off her nose.

You decide to sit in the front of the classroom; mainly because you did always enjoy the sciences, even if you were more right brained.

The room filled slowly, and a few students began talking quietly to one another, the sound of pencils tapping against the desks.

A group of girls came in together, laughing and chatting.

You clicked your phone open, looking at it for the time.

8:02.

The professor sat at her desk, unmoving from her papers as she spoke.

“Do try to enter here in a graceful manner, class had already begun.” She said curtly, her nose crinkling as she continued to read paperwork. The girls quieted down and dispersed among the classroom.

As they sat down, the older woman stood, pushing her glasses back onto her head.

She was quite tall, slender, dressed in all black; a turtleneck, slacks, and a cardigan that draped to her ankles.

Her hair was in a mostly tight bun, a few raven strands fallen to frame her pale face. A discolored scar splotched across her left eye.

She began to pace around, the sounds of her heels clacking against the wooden floor filling the classroom.

“Good morning. I am Professor Beneviento. Please make sure to keep the chit chat to a minimum, or at least to your breaks. I would like to think that I have enough patience for all of you. This class is about the science of plant life, not the unnecessary jargon. Is that understood?”

She waited for a response from the class.

It took a second, but after some nods, she continued.

You couldn't help but absorb her.

She commanded a room fairly well, yet seemingly suave in the process. Her voice was soft, but had a slight roughness that made her sound older than she actually was.

You kept your pen glued to your notebook, hanging off every word this woman spoke in case you needed to jot it down.

The class ended sooner than you realized, and as you grabbed your books and placed them into your bag, Professor Beneviento walked up behind you, leaning over your shoulder.

Your heart jumped to your throat and you dropped the papers in your hands, the pages scattering everywhere.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, as my notes and pages in my binder flew in different directions.

The professor chuckled softly, and began to help you pick up the papers.

I apologized quickly and thanked her as we finished picking them up.

"Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you."she spoke softly as she handed me the stack of papers I haphazardly threw everywhere.

Her voice was as much less commanding than usual. Up close, you realize her eyes were almost crimson. Maybe that was a gene in Europe, you weren’t going to have your first impression of you questioning her features.

Well… second influence at least.

I nodded nervously, realizing how much she towered over me.

She was a lot thinner than I thought, and a lot prettier.

Her dark hair framed her pale face, a few strands falling from her tight bun, her eyes were a striking red, her lips pouty and pursed.

“Y-You’re okay! I just get spooked easily.” I say, my face dusted with pink.

I could’ve sworn the older woman grinned at me for a split second after that comment.

“Your accent, you must be American, yes?”

You nodded.

Her eyes lit up a bit.

"That's good. We have a few other international students this semester. I know this university is pretty new, but I can assure you this is a great school. If you do ever need help with anything, I will do what I can to accommodate.

What is your name again, coda dolce?” She asked, a thick Italian influence in her tone.

You smiled and told her, her expression remaining fairly stoic, but her eyes had softened.

“My name is Y/N, ma’am.”

"What a lovely name. You'll have to pardon me, Y/N, I have to run to another lecture. But do come to me with any questions.”

You nod, and she gives you a smile and a nod before walking past me and exiting the lecture hall, the scent of honeysuckle following.

[writeawaythepain]

Oblivious

Tango Tek x (gn!reader)

Anybody else really miss watching Tango’s videos when he left? 

Word count: 2.4 k

Prompts:

“I would be nervous too in your shoes. But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.”

Doing each other's hair.

Summary:

You convince Tango to finally take a break from his new big redstone project by inviting him over for a sleepover. You start to wonder if it was even a good idea, as your normal teasing back-and-forth banter starts to hit a little too close to home when you realize your crush for the redstoner was just getting worse…

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

“I would be nervous too, in your shoes,” I try to reassure him with a smile. “ But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.” You look directly into his fiery red eyes.

“….Aaaa- you’re just making me more stressed!!” Tango yells out dipping the nail polish brush back into the bottle. “Why am I even so stressed?!” 

“Cause I made your nails fabulous, and if you mess mine up I’ll never forgive you.” You answer simply, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“You did do my nails fabulously, you did…but I think I’m actually going to go for a more abstract look-'' He flashes you a mischievous smile as he slowly lowers the brush closer to your finger, and nowhere near where your actual nail was. You instantly pull away, gasping in mock offense.

“Don’t you dare-“ You start.

“Wha -at, do you not trust me?!” He says snickering. You eye him suspiciously.

”Not when you say things like that!”

Your plan for making sure Tango took a break from his new big project was going well so far. Sure you felt a little childish when bringing up the idea of a sleepover, but Tango’s enthusiasm dashed most of your concerns instantly…Most, that is, except for your growing concern that you may love your friend in more ways than just platonic….

You usually always push those feelings to the back burner, not wanting to ruin the thing you two already had going, but seeing the way he stuck out his tongue in concentration while still managing to get polish all over your finger wasn’t helping. ”How are you so bad at this?“ You tease, smiling.

”I- you shush! I’m trying, ok! You keep squirming-“ He says trying to readjust his positioning by grabbing and tilting your hand slightly.

”I’m not squirming! I’m laughing. At you.” You say still giggling. He huffs, and eventually decides that his technique wasn’t working, and decides to try a new one. He gets up from his cross-legged position on the floor, pulling his knees up and toward himself to form a resting place for your wrist. His grip on your hand tightens a little as he yanks you closer.

”Just shut up and come here-” The rest of your body follows your hand, and you scooch closer to him, shutting up. Tango doesn’t even seem to notice your close proximity, too focused on trying to paint your nails neatly. After a few more beats of flustered (on your part) silence, he looks up beaming. “There, first hand done!” 

You blink, your brain still catching up, before you inspect his work. The first finger he did was quite bad- unevenly painted and there was some color accidentally splotched onto your skin. But each nail got progressively better, and all in all… “Well- I’ve had worse. And I like the color!” He’d picked a bright red for you, a shade that reminded you of his bright eyes. You picked your favorite color for his nails, and you now wonder if he did the same.

”Ok- ok! See- I’m learning!” He says before holding out his hand again, “other one?”

You give him your other hand, and are forced to look at his adorably concentrated face again as he paints your other nails. You start talking to distract yourself. “So I assume this is your first time ever doing this?”

”Zed’s painted my nails before- but it was with some kinda poison for one of his science-y experiment-o thingies.” If he had been talking about anyone else you might’ve questioned it, but it was Zedaph, so you weren’t really even surprised. “I’ve never painted someone else’s before- no.” He responds not looking up, still entirely focused.

”Really, I couldn’t tell?” You say sarcasm dripping from your voice as you smile. He looks up at you for a second just to roll his eyes.

“I thought I told you to shush-“ He says, almost scolding if it wasn’t for the smile on his face. He rolls his shoulders, and it seems like being hunched over in concentration was starting to make him sore, so he instead leans back a little, pulling you even closer, and holds your forearm between his knees. Ok- this was getting ridiculous, there was no way your face wasn’t getting a bit red now. 

“Do you want me to just detach my hand and give it to you?” You laugh trying to keep your composure.

”No- “ He laughs, seemingly oblivious to your suffering. “-I like you just as you are, all in one piece thanks.” You chuckle, looking anywhere but directly at him until he finally finishes, and releases your hand. ”Done! Now don’t you look absolutely fanta-bulous! The color really suits you-“ He cheers, sending you a wink that makes you wonder if he was doing this on purpose.

The second hand looks even better than the first, and if you were being honest, it really warmed your heart that he tried so hard. “It does look great, the red makes me feel like a model.” You pose in a silly vogue showing off your nails as if in a commercial, and it succeeds in making Tango laugh. He tries a pose of his own, showing off his nails in front of his face and pursing his lips. He looks at you, and winks. You burst out laughing, and he joins in as you both have goofy smiles on your face. When your laughing finally calms down, Tango looks up at you.

”So, what else do you usually do at sleepovers?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

”Well…me and my friends would sometimes play truth or dare, or do each other's hair-“ Tango’s eyes light up.

“Why not both! Though, I don’t think there’s much you can do with this mop on my head-“ He responds pointing at his spikey blonde hair, “I kinda just have to let it do what it wants.”

You squint at it, sizing up his hairdo like it was a challenge. “I think I can figure something out…”

”Go ahead! Be my guest.” He says sitting up and taking off the goggles he had on. 

You get up to grab some supplies from the bathroom, before returning and kneeling down behind him, trying to find a longer chunk of hair that you can work with. Satisfied with finding a section near his pointy ears, you start braiding. “Right, you go first. Truth or dare?”

”Well, I can’t really move- so truth? I did not think this through, huh?” He chuckles, and you pull on his hair slightly to keep him still.

”Stop moving!” You say, laughing as well. You think for a second, trying to come up with a good question. “Ok…When you first met me, what was your first impression of me?”

Tango smiles, and flushes slightly as he thinks back on the moment, remembering it fondly. You're too focused to notice. “Well- If I’m being a hundred percent honest. I just thought you looked really cool! But in kinda a like- a slightly intimidating way, you know?” You spare him an odd look.

”Really?” You ask, finishing up the first little braid before gently tilting his head the other way to do the same thing on the other side.

”Yea! Then, I got to know you and realized you're just a big ole softy!” He says chuckling. You roll your eyes and shake your head, but you don’t stop the small smile that spreads across your face.

”Yea, yea, whatever.” You chuckle, focusing back on his hair.

”Your turn now, truth or dare?” Tango asks.

“Truth, I’m still trying to finish this braid-“ He takes a moment to respond, giving you just enough time to finish the second braid, so you tie it to the end of the first one, forming a sort of halo around the back of his head.

”What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?” He asks. One instantly pops to mind, but you shake your head, dismissing it instantly.

”Actually, nevermind, I'm finished. I switch to my choice to dare.” Tango turns around to face you, almost pouting.

”Wha- You can’t do that!”

”Yes I can, and look!” You pull out a hand mirror you brought and show him what you’ve done to his hair, his frown instantly turns into an excited smile.

”Woah- it’s so cute!” He says, turning his head a little to inspect the braids, grinning. 

”You are! And your hair looks nice too.” You say shooting him wink, he laughs but you swear you saw his face get a little pink. He looks off to the side like he’s thinking, and then turns back to you with a toothy smirk.

”Alright, I thought of a dare. Give me your absolutely worst pick up line. Just- the most cheesy, corny, awful pick up line ever.” Your eyebrow raises a little at his request, and you take a moment to think.

”Worst pick up line huh…? That’s hard cause we both know how amazing I am at flirting.” You say sarcastically, just buying yourself some time to think of something clever.

Tango laughs, “Yep, uh huh. Totally. You're like, the flirting master.” He teases back.

Finally a really stupid one comes to mind, “Tango, are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I totally want s’more-“ You say, barely able to get it out without laughing.

Tango stares at you blankly for a moment, before his face reddens and he bursts out laughing. “That- that’s actually terrible.”

“Hey you asked! I’m starting to think you just like the idea of me flirting with you.” You joke, turning your back to him so he could do your hair. Instead, he decides to lean forward and whisper directly into your ear.

“Maybe I do~” He pulls back and starts laughing, but you're frozen. Your face feels flushed and you try to calm your racing heart. You keep reminding yourself that it was all just a joke, that you needed to calm down or you’d risk making it weird. “Aw, too much?” He asks.

“I- just-” You stutter.

“Well too bad, it’s my payback for you not letting me work on my redstone stuff.” He says gently running his hands through your hair and…you were just now realizing how bad of an idea this all was. You were supposed to be getting over your feelings for the hot tempered blaze, but instead you’ve found yourself falling for him even more.

“Yea well, that’s what I get for being a good friend I guess.” You chuckle, but it comes out a bit strained. 

“Friends? Is that all we are?” Tango asks slightly…disappointed?

“Alright Tango enough with the jokes, you keep doing that I might actually fall for you.” You try to keep up your chipper and teasing tone, but your voice wavered towards the end.

Tango stops playing with your hair, and moves in front of you again. He seems nervous, and looks down at his hands a lot. You don’t dare hope, you don’t let yourself think anything, too scared to lose the friendship that you two had, no matter how much you cared for him.

“Maybe…uhh…maybe I might’ve actually been the one, that has done the falling…for…you.” He ends it with a dry chuckle, wringing his hands and struggling to keep eye contact. When you don’t respond right away, he finally looks at you. You search his eyes, searching for any sign that this was all some sort of weird bit.

“Are- are you being for real…or…” You finally ask, still not sure.

“Uh…yea? I mean…I thought I was making it obvious and all but I guess...” For some reason you feel tears well up in your eyes. “...Ah! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” You interrupt him, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes.

“No! No it’s fine I’m just- I’m glad! I promise!” You reassure him, a huge smile spreading across your lips. His eyes are still wide with concern, and slight confusion.

“Wait so- I’m confused. Do you also…?” You bob your head up and down, laughing a bit as you try to regain your composure after the roller coaster of emotions that had been the past few minutes.

“Yes, Tango. Obviously, I’ve fallen for you too.” You finally respond, he grins and grabs both your hands in his.

“Well, obviously- neither of us are really good at reading the obvious-” He snickers, gently stroking your hand with his thumb. 

You giggle, “Wow, and now someone has spilled about their crush, we’ve checked, like, all the sleepover boxes but-”

“-but sleeping?” Tango asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“No? No one sleeps at sleepovers, come on dude-” You respond and he laughs, “the only thing we haven’t done is watch a movie!”

“Hey well I’m not complaining. As long as I get to do your hair first, since it was um- interrupted.” He smiles, blushing slightly.

“Why not both!” You say mirroring his tone from earlier.

~ ~ ~

This time when he runs his fingers through your hair, you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You're seated on the ground, while Tango sits on the couch. You're situated between both his legs, as he tries, undos, and retries to braid your hair. You realize you don’t really mind if he ever gets it right, you're just glad to finally relax with the knowledge that he loved being near you just as much as you loved being near him.

”Ok…I’m done…I think?” You hear Tango’s voice from behind you. You haven’t really been paying attention to the movie much, instead just enjoying the redstoner's company, so you lean over and grab the hand mirror.

”Aww, I love it.” You giggle a little,  “But…maybe don’t quit your day job, hot stuff.” You tilt your head up to see his reaction, and he just rolls his eyes and snickers before leaning down and closer to your face.

”Is it good enough to get a little somethin’ at least? For trying?” He smirks, leaning just a little closer. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you smile and sit up, turning slightly, before gently grabbing his collar, and meeting him in the middle. And you swear, when his lips hit yours, you feel fireworks.

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[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : bully!Yandere!Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : yandere ; very dark themes ; emotional abuse ; manipulation ; physical fighting ; verbal fighting ; HEAVILY TRIGGERING ; domestic abuse ; physical abuse ; Word Count : 3.6k

Your relationship with Hyunjin was tumultuous, there was no other way to describe it, and there was no way to explain why it’s the way it is either. There was nothing particularly wrong, but there was absolutely nothing right about it either. The two of you being together was the perfect storm, a natural disaster that left nothing but pain and destruction in its wake. 

Standing in the bathroom you stared at yourself in the mirror, bruises littered your shoulders and your arms where Hyunjins fingers had grabbed you just a little too tight. Scratches and deep cuts lined your skin from when he’d get so mad objects would be thrown around the house, glass shattering on the floor and ricocheting back up against your legs. Handprint shaped blotches of red would sting at your cheeks, serving as a stark reminder to what you went through just to be with him. 

Why were you still with him? It was a solid question, but one that you never actually thought to ask yourself, or at least, you didn’t want to think too hard about the answer. Right now though, you were with him because he loved you. Of course he loved you, there was no one else in the world that would ever love you as much as he did, there was no one else in the universe that would follow you around wherever you went and be willing to fight with you over such mundane things like bumping into a man by accident in the grocery store. He only fought with you because he absolutely cherished you, because he was trying to do anything to keep you with him. 

How could he possibly love you when he was laying his hands on you so often, with such frequency that it almost seemed like he was enjoying it at this point? There were men out there that would be willing to love you in ways much better than he did, in ways that you didn’t even know existed. Your body would be worshiped, your every word would be listened to, your every move and every breath, everything about you… You would be doted upon like a queen in her castle. But to receive that kind of love after this… When the love that Hyunjin gave you was the only kind of love that you knew… It would be like emotional whiplash, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

At some point you had grown accustomed to the love that Hyunjin would thrust upon you, and sometimes you’d await it, knowing that when he was finished with his assault you’d be loved in a way that had tears stinging in your eyes and your jaw slacked as he would take you to highs that were unreachable by any kind of drug. Hyunjin was an amazing lover, he just loved differently… There wasn’t anything wrong with that. 

“You had to sneak out again, didn’t you?” Your friend asked when she noticed your eyes drifting to the window more than once, a look of fear flashing across your face when you saw anyone that even remotely looked like Hyunjin. “Why won’t you just leave him? You look like you got your ass beat, Y/N… It’s not good…” The sleeves that you had rolled up due to the summer heat were now slid back down your arms to cover the fresh bruises that darkened your skin in various places. 

“I’m… I’m fine… I just bumped into the wall, that’s all.” Another excuse to defend him, it’s what you always did. Your friends knew better though, they could see the shape of every splotch that littered your body, they perfectly matched the shape of a hand and fingers that gripped onto you too tightly. “Really… I’m fine.” You tried to reassure her, but she looked so disappointed in you that you could only bow your head, unable to even look her in the eye anymore. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore…” You mumbled, and you knew that she wouldn’t push it. There was no point, not when you had made it quite clear from the getgo that you weren’t going to leave him. 

A lot of people would call it stockholm syndrome, the way you excused everything he did, the way you genuinely loved him no matter how much pain he caused you. You had so many opportunities to get away from him, to tell someone about what he did, but you never said anything, and you always went right back to him. You personally didn’t think of it that way… you weren’t making excuses for him, you were fine, you didn’t want to leave him. Your relationship with him was just… different, and people didn’t seem to understand that. 

“Baby…” His voice cooed from behind you, and you couldn’t help but jump, whipping around to face him with wide eyes and a sheepish smile, your body already trembling when you saw the look in his eyes. The bell above the door hadn’t rang out, or maybe you just hadn’t heard it… But your friend didn’t react to his sudden appearance either, not until he was right there behind you, his hands firmly gripping onto your shoulders as you sat in your seat. “You didn’t tell me that you were going out today…” He sang out the words, sounding as sweet as possible, and to everyone else in the little cafe, he probably was a sweet guy. They didn’t feel the pain of his fingers pressing deeper and deeper into the dip of your shoulders, his nails breaking the skin beneath your shirt. 

“I invited her out, I came and I picked her up.” Your friend spoke up quickly, her eyes narrowed at your boyfriend. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was about to jump across the table and attack him, and maybe she wanted to, well, not even maybe, you knew she wanted to… But she wouldn’t, not here. “I just wanted to talk to her about work and stuff and how hard it’s been for me, she’s my best friend.” Oh, ever your protector, your friend thinking she was taking the fall for you being out today, but her excuses wouldn’t make him waiver. He already knew what he was going to do, and he was dead set on doing it. 

“Hmm…” Hyunjin hummed from behind you, his chin falling against the top of your head as his thumbs began to knead roughly into your back, right against your shoulder blade. “Well, it looks like the coffee is all gone now… I’ll be taking her home with me.” His hands slipped down your shoulders until he got to your elbow, quickly yanking you up off the chair and pulling you toward the exit. 

“Y/N!” Your friend called to you, and while you knew it would only get you into more trouble, you couldn’t help it, stopping in the middle of the cafe and turning to look at her as Hyunjin continued to try to yank against your arm. “Call me… Okay? Please…” She said, just loud enough for you to hear her, but you knew it was loud enough for Hyunjin to hear too, and he gave one last yank, pulling you with such force that you crashed against his side. 

“Defiance isn’t a good quality to have, baby.” Hyunjin said to you as if you were a baby, but it wasn’t for you that he spoke like that, it was to protect his image in a way. Speaking so softly would somehow make everyone who walks by overlook you, make them completely ignore the way his hand was wrapped so tightly around your arm that his thumb was almost touching his other fingers. 

You were being dragged toward his car, well, not actually dragged, you were willingly walking next to him, but anyone that knew the way he was, they’d naturally assume you were being taken against your will. “I wasn’t being defiant, I was going out for coffee with a friend.” You stated the truth simply, but the fact that you talked back in general seemed to irritate him. 

He quickly opened the passenger door, practically shoving you into the vehicle before slamming the door behind you. You were in for it when you got home, that much you were aware of. The way he stormed around to the drivers side and climbed in, the entire car seemed to be permeated by the anger he was exuding. “Always making me seem like the bad guy…” He mumbled as he shoved his key into the ignition. “I saw the way she looked at you… At me… She’s worried about you…” He continued to talk to himself as he pulled out of the parking spot, the rambling only further proving that your pessimistic train of thought was heading in the right direction. “She wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t tell her so much. You shouldn’t be hanging out with her anyway, especially when I’m not around. You disobeyed me, you broke my rules… and I’m the villain.” He scoffed loudly, glancing over to you with the most sinister look in his eyes. “Ain’t that funny? You’re the one who makes me this way… but I’m the one who gets shit for it.” 

Your body was already tense, like a wrestler about to go into the ring, but you didn't have someone off to the side to give you a pep talk, you didn’t have anyone in your corner. It was you and Hyunjin, Hyunjin and you, no one else to stop what was coming. “Nobody would know what’s going on if you didn’t leave so many marks…” You mumbled, pulling your sleeves down even more to cover your hands as you curled up in the seat. 

Speaking back was always testy for you, he either loved it or hated it, it just depended on his mood. You probably should have known better considering you had snuck out of the house today and he was already pissed off, but you hated it when he tried to make himself the victim of what he did to you. “What was that?” He whispered, his knuckles a ghostly pale around the steering wheel. You didn’t say anything though, continuing to stare out the window, but you knew that when the car slowly came to a halt that he had his opening, even if only for the short amount of time that the light was red. 

The whipping of his head in your direction was enough to have a small gust of wind coming towards you. Defiance, disobeying him, talking back to him, these were all things that would land you in the washroom holding cold rags and ice packs over the bruises that he created while bandaging up the cuts and scrapes due to his ill controlled temper. Would he wait to get into the house to begin or would he start in the car, you weren’t sure. 

“Everything that I do for you, everything that I buy for you…” His head shook slowly, his breaths ragged although you weren’t sure whether it was because he was about to cry or because he was so pissed off. “It’s never enough for you, nothing is ever enough for you… But I love you enough to keep trying…” 

You rolled your eyes, the reflection of it perfectly mirrored back to him through the window. “Oh please, Hyunjin. We’re in the car, there’s no need for your narcissistic self pity act.” You muttered, already aware that you were in for it when you got home, so why not go big while you were still going strong? Before you could even turn your head to look at him, a firm grip was held in your hair, yanking your head back to forcefully turn you in his direction. 

“You’re pushing it.” He hissed, those three words alone holding a heavy threat, and while you never knew what he was fully capable of, you’d like to think that deep down in him somewhere there was some sort of love for you that would keep him from actually killing you, although he’s dropped the threat a few times before during bigger arguments. He forcefully pushed your head back against the window, not enough to actually hurt you, but the banging of your head against it had left you with a throbbing ache in the area. “Your friend is more trouble than she’s worth. Making you think you can talk back to me like this… Act like this. I don’t know who you think you are, but it’s gonna end real quick.” 

It felt like it took forever to get to the house, or maybe he had just somehow caught every single red light on the way home, but you were sort of thankful for the little bit of time that you had to prepare yourself before he pulled into the driveway. You knew that once you walked through that front door, you would be in a world of hell. 

Before he even put the car into park, you were undoing your seatbelt and rushing into the house, believing that maybe, just maybe if you got into the bedroom and locked the door behind you he wouldn’t come after you. It was wishful thinking, foolish thinking as well, but it didn’t stop you from doing it. It also gave you a little bit more time to mentally and emotionally prepare yourself for what was to come. Hyunjn was beyond pissed off now, and there was no turning back. You just needed to buy yourself a little more time before you faced it head on. 

The sound of the front door being slammed shut had you falling back onto the bed, curling up into yourself as heavy booted footsteps carried him closer to the bedroom. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off at the door, neither did you, but it was strange for him not to. Your heart was hammering in your ears, the heavy beating of it almost enough to completely block out the sound of his fist pounding against the bedroom door. 

“Open the damn door, Y/N!” He shouted, his voice sounding more like the villain in a horror movie than that of your boyfriend that, for some reason, you still loved and adored. “You’re making this harder on yourself… Why are you so. fucking.  stupid!” His words were accented with a pounding of his fist, punctuated by the loud banging of the door, the wood sounding like it was cracking now under his fists. 

“Just… Just go away, Hyunjin!” You called out, although your voice sounded far weaker in comparison to his. “I don’t want to fight with you… I just want to be alone right now.” He never listened, you weren’t sure why you thought that today of all days he’d listen to you now… But the silence that followed filled you with a bit of hope, that maybe he was as sick of the fighting as you were. Again, wishful thinking on your part, and a bit of forgetfulness. The sound of a key being turned in the doorknob, and you were far too slow in processing what exactly was going on, unable to get up and lock the door before it was being pushed open. 

“Why don’t you listen?” He asked, standing in the doorframe, the key still in the slot as he stared at you on the bed. “You do this shit on purpose so you can run to anyone who will listen and cry about what you cause.” He was narrating as he walked closer to you, and there was only so much bed for you to crawl back on to separate yourself from him. “You won’t even look at me when I’m talking to you…” He climbed on the bed in front of you, practically trapping you against the headboard. “Why are you so disrespectful?” Your refusal to answer only fueled his anger, nothing you did or said was good enough for him, it never would be, not when he was like this. 

A quick stinging slap had tears pricking your eyes, but your attention was fully on him again as his hands moved down to grip your wrists, the circulation being cut off had your fingertips going numb. “Why… Why don’t you love me?” You whimpered, sniffling softly as you stared up at him. “Why do you keep hurting me…?” The question had his head tilting, like a confused puppy that didn’t understand the words of its owner, but you knew that you didn’t own him… He owned you, that much was made obvious on a daily basis. 

Strangely enough though, his hands loosened their grip on you, the feeling of blood rushing back to your fingers sent a painful cold through the extremities. “Love you…? You think… I don’t… Love you?” He questioned, backing up off the bed, and you truly thought that your words had stopped him before things had gotten any worse. Maybe he’d leave you alone in the bedroom as he thought about what he was doing, about what he had done… Maybe he’d finally stop. 

“I just… I want to be with you… I want to stay with you… I love you so much, Hyunjin…” You whispered, your eyes following him as he walked around the room. Was he thinking about your words? Was he thinking at all? You wished that you knew what was going through his mind. Just as you were about to get up off the bed, wanting to go over to him, wrap your arms around him from behind and just hold him, soften him up, a picture of the two of you off the dresser was thrown across the room. The glass from the frame shattered and ricocheted off the wall, sprinkling the bed in tiny shards that reflected the sun shining in through the window. 

“Then why do you do this to me?!” He screamed, his hands twitching towards another photo. “Why do you go against me? Why do you go behind my back? Why do you sneak out of this house that I got for you, for us?!” His hand, with lightning speed, grabbed the photo and beamed it towards you. You were already curled up into yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees and your head ducked down to try to protect yourself as much as possible, but the edge of the frame stabbed into your legs, the force behind the throw causing it to almost imbed itself into your skin as the glass cracked on impact. 

You yelped in pain, sobbing against your knees. “I’m… Not… D-Doing anything!” You tried to shout, but you were so broken, like a porcelain doll left in an abandoned home, slowly rotting away, time itself destroying you… Except it wasn’t time that was breaking you down, it was Hyunjin and the time that you were with him. You were fragile, far too fragile to stay with someone like him, but you loved him, and in moments like this, you couldn’t understand why. “I… I love you… Hyunjin…” 

“Then fucking act like you do!” He walked back over to the bed, grabbing your arms that were still cocooning your legs against yourself, dragging you across the glass shard covered mattress until you were on the floor. “I love you, I respect you! All I ask is for the same thing in return!” It was crazy, the way he thought that this was love and respect… That hurting you was a form of showing love. You would never return the favor though, because you would never think of hurting him, you could never bring yourself to fight back. You truly loved him, far too much to even try to protect yourself. 

“Hyunjin…” You whispered his name, finally lifting your head from your arms and looking up at him and then glancing down at your arm, noticing the blood that was slowly making its way down to your hands. Your legs stung with the fragments of glass that had stabbed their way through your pants and into your legs when he had dragged you across the bed. “Can I… Get a bandaid… Or something… I’m bleeding kind of bad right now…” You said softly, and that’s when his eyes softened, it was the only time he seemed to lighten up, when he saw the physical damage that he caused first hand. 

“Baby…” He cooed, his touch light now as he lifted you up off the floor, quickly rolling up your sleeve and letting out an audible gasp when he saw the deep gash that the corner of the picture frame had left on your arm. “Look what you made me do… Are you happy?” He tsked his tongue, tears clinging to his eyelashes that he quickly blinked away as he sniffled softly. “I hate hurting you, baby… I really do… I just want you to stay with me forever… I don’t want you to hurt me…” 

You nodded your head slowly before letting yourself crash against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as you finally let yourself cry. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again… I love you, Hyunnie…” You whimpered against his shirt, feeling his lips press against the top of your head. He was so soft, so sweet… You could never leave him. He wasn’t awful, he wasn’t mean… He was just scared, scared that you’d leave him, that you’d hurt him… You would never though. You loved him too much, you were his entirely, you could only hope that one day he’d truly realize that. 

[neo-percs]

FUE MEJOR:: (kim Jungwoo)

WARNING:: Mentions of drinking & smoking, & teasing, oral, riding, handjob, sub!Woo, Dom! Reader, begging, hinted jealousy, needy!Jungwoo, nipple play.

SUMMARY:: after a long a night of drinking you get back to your apartment and you don't know if it's the alcohol or the list building at the sight of Jungwoo.

WORDCOUNT:: 4.8K

Even though the night had been long and you had drunken enough to give you a hangover you were still full of energy and the only thing you had been waiting on taking of the heels that were starting to roughly rub the back of your ankle, which you assumed would leave an irritated splotch on your skin.

As you and Jungwoo walked through the front door you sigh as you can finally relieve the annoying ache in the back of your ankle. Slipping your heels off your feet easily you look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend slipping off his jacket leaving him in his fitted silk button up shirt with just a few buttons at the top left unbuttoned as his short messy hair falling over his forehead, the shine of his earrings dangling and shimmering under the dim lights that had been distributed through your living room.

You could take in the sight of Jungwoo forever clenching your thighs as all you can think about in the moment is riding him until your thighs shook. "Woo?" You mumbled as you rub the back of your ankle where you could see a splotch of red irritation grow. "Hm?" He asks completely clueless to your sudden built up want for him in your bed.

"I wanna fuck you" you slightly slur even though you felt completely fine and not even a bit tipsy it seems like your skin is heating up but you blame it on the list and need for him. "Huh?" He says whipping his face up in your direction completely caught off guard with your bluntness as he's usually the one implicate he wants to have sex.

"I want to have sex with you, I wanna ride you, the devils tango, fucking. Ring a bell?" You ask he would now understand you. "Yeah- I just...you're being so bold right now it's kind of freaking me out" he says with hints of surprise still remnant in his voice. "I wanna be on top this time. Is that okay?" You ask tilting your head at him waiting for his answer to see just how far this could actually go.

"Okay" he says almost too excited to hear the words slip out of your mouth. You step away from the welcome mat at your front door trailing past your living room.

Watching as you disappear behind the wall he hears the creaking of your door being opened as he struggles with wide eyes to take off one his shoes as he doesn't bother to untie his laces. Hopping mindlessly as he mumbled cursed under his breath with struggle. One more harsh tug and he slipped, the wooden floor under him hadn't softened the blow at all... but at least his shoe came off.

Kicking the shoe away as he groaned a curse, he stood up and followed the same way you had retreated with the purple lights of your room guiding him, upon approaching your door frame he saw you stripped down to nothing but your panties and bra. god did you look so utterly good, every inch and curve straight from some porno magazine. You were something out of a sex daydream.

The overpowering scent of vanilla and lilac pulled him in closer with low eyes as he shut the door behind him locking it as if someone would walk in. You were looking at him with lust filled eyes that nobody could miss. The shimmer of your makeup under the purple lights that strung across your walls set even more of a mood. Holding your hand out to him he felt like you were an Angel ready to take him to the pearly gates.

"Come sit" you rasp, patting the empty spot next to him, holding out a hand for you to take as he falls more and more weak under whatever trance you had on him. Taking your hand he sits down beside you looking at you with soft eyes. Jungwoo had never found himself letting whoever he was getting into bed with women or men regardless he seemed to always have control.

But since it's you, he couldn't help but let all of his dominance slip through his fingers right into yours. He was becoming breathless the more you looked into his brown eyes with a faint smirk on your lips. You were so utterly intoxicating, nothing could make his brain as fuzzy as you were right now. Your eyes flickering from his gaze to his plump lips only making him wait in anticipation.

Picking at the chipped nail polish on his fingers Jungwoo could feel the distance between you two lessening, you were pulling closer to each other like magnets. Letting out a shaky breath watching you move close enough to the point your thighs are touching has y/n putting on a faux frown. "Why are you nervous? This is just practice, we can always stop" you said in a comforting tone which made Jungwoo's stiff shoulders drop in relief "I've never been on bottom, it's just new is all" he mumbled.

"I'll take care of you, I promise you can always tell me to stop" you whispered as you plant a soft kiss on his warm cheek, your hand landed on his rubbing comforting circles on his knuckles. Slowly turning his head, your forehead gently presses against his, the bridge of your nose grazing his you both lean in closing the small gap.

And the moment your lips meet, has been a long time coming, an eruption of your lust. His lips are warm and gentle as he kisses you softly, delicately, as if he isn't sure you're real and he's still checking.

He's stealing your breath, and inhaling all the sweet little sounds you make, swiping his pierced tongue to get a taste of your lip balm before it's completely kissed away. You're smiling against his mouth, you can't help it, giggling lightly at the feel of his breath fanning over your kiss-swollen lips. "We'll go real slow" you mumbled pressing chaste kisses to his lips that made him chase after them hoping for more.

Pulling away far enough, your hand angling his jaw to the side getting a good view of his blank skin just waiting to be marked with purple and red splotches. Your lips pressing into his skin earning a soft huff from him. Your tongue running against skin left him gripping against the edge of your mattress letting his nails dig into the material leaving behind crescent shapes.

Your teeth brush against a spot on his neck that had him choking on a moan "does that feel good right there?" You ask seductively looking down at the wet red splotch on his skin where a small mole had sat idly. Kissing the same spot gently you feel him nod. Humming as you kiss along the nape of his neck and littering hickeys until you reach the hem of his collar. "You wanna take this off for me?" You mumble tugging on his shirt.

"Yeah- I can take it off" he whispered almost as if he were nervous. Jungwoo has never been on the bottom. He always thought to take charge, but the way you were kissing his sweet spot and talking to him had him ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him as he pulled his loose shirt over his head messing with his long black blonde hair messily falling back against his forehead and just barely touching his shoulders.

To you he looked like he had been made from the heavens above, his skin pale and imperfect yet every scar, mole, freckles and scab that littered his body. The image of him under you moaning alone had your panties sodden with slick, and you could feel it begin to pool and settle. you were so unbearably wet, so touch-starved, you wanted to feel some sort of relief.

Your cold hands met the warm skin on his chest trailing down to his stomach and down to his v-line where you could see a faint happy trail that disappeared into the boxers that were practically suffocating him along with his jeans pressing into his half hard bulge. "Lay back" you whisper to him as you slightly put pressure on his stomach implying what you wanted, his head meeting the warm soft sheets on your bed.

Lifting your leg over his waist you straddle him as you press your ass down on him earning a small breathy whine. Your hands rubbing over him as a trail of goosebumps follow up his skin. "I wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel" you mumble as you lean down your hair falling over your shoulder you press a kiss to his plump lips that were starting to become red and swollen with each and every passing moment.

Trailing your lips down the column of his throat as he swallows the lump in his throat harshly. Moving down to his collarbones you nip at his skin with your teeth kissing the same spots continuing to give him his own slow and pleasure filled torture. He chokes out a moan as your warm tongue traces around his nipple and his hips jerk up into you almost shocked at the stimulation and pleasure he had gotten from your tongue on his skin.

"You like that?" You say almost teasingly as your tongue licks a stripe on his nipple that earns another needy moan to ripple through his throat and fill the room. "Feels so good" he says breathlessly "I know baby, I'll go real slow for you" you coo at him seeing how his eyes were fluttering shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his chest.

Kissing and sucking on his skin until you reached his jeans pushing yourself up from his lap your hands trail down to the loops of his jeans which makes his eyes open "can I take these off of you?" You ask softly looking down at a dazed and pleasure driven Jungwoo with red, glossy, doe eyes looking up at you who stood over him.

"Yeah, do whatever you want" he shook his head agreeing to be the victim of your lust and was ready to let you do whatever it is that you pleased with his body. "Good" you smile faintly. As you pluck open his button seeing as his black boxers peek from his jeans, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his boxers tugging them down along with his jeans over his thighs as he lifts his hips in order to help you tug them down to his ankles and letting him kick them away inept your carpeted floors.

The sight of his cock flushed, and his tip pink and glistening under the lights of your room. Your hands on his thighs as you get on your knees on the floor feeling them ache already and will most likely get rug burn. Rubbing his thigh you began to kiss up his thigh as he huffs out small shaky breaths awaiting the sheer pleasure you were going to inflict upon him, he was utterly eager to feel your warm mouth on his cock.

Kissing a small beauty mark on his hip that has him squirming as your lips trail and skin across his lower abdomen which earns moans and whines as you take your time leaving small marks on his skin. Your hand trailing where his cock rested against his lower stomach semi-hard as your index finger rubs against his tip seeing as a string of precum sticks to your finger still attached to him.

Biting your lip at the sight you gently wrap your hand around then pulling away earning a needy moan to fall past his lips, you wet the palm of your hands with your tongue before taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb.

Lifting his head from the mattress looking down at you, the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been thinking about all day. This was his selfish wish, to see you on your knees, your lip caught between your teeth, with a look of satisfaction as you got him off.

The feeling of your wet palm rubbing against him slowly has left his breathing unsteady and his mind completely blank. His hand covered yours, guiding gently as you fisted your own up and down the length of him. The only sounds were his heavy breathing, and you letting off a small giggle at how big his hand looked over yours as he tightened his grip.

He squeezed you, applying a little more pressure and you did, twisting your wrist a little as you got to his head, thumb stroking over him. His hips lifted into your hand and you couldn't help but clench your thighs tight.

"Your hand feels so good" he groans, His words had you breathless, your hand fisting over him with more confidence now, palm slick from how excited he was and you gasp ripped through you as he pulls away letting his hand run through his hair, eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Pressing a kiss to his tip softly earns you a small hiss at the feeling, dragging your tongue against the underside vein of his cock had his jaw slacked and back to his tip before letting a Pearl of spit fall past your lips watching as it slowly runs down shaft fisting him in your hand a few more times before taking him in your mouth.

He's big. thick. and the stretch that comes along with taking him in your mouth is a plaguing reminder. but you don't mind it too much, you like the thought of him when he's all deep in your throat, and you can feel the tip of him hot and heavy in the back of your throat. it makes you gag, and choke, and sometimes your eyes get cloudy with tears to the point they spill over, but it's worth it. it's worth it without fail.

You swallow down the already-there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him ; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you're gagging around him and he's cursing and digging his nails into the mattress once again.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the sheets in. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, "oh, ohmygod" tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate right now. So flushed and pretty.

The feeling of his tip repeatedly meeting the back of your throat has you gagging and tightening around him. His head was spinning as he tried not to reach for your hair and face fuck you it was becoming harder. Giving up he teaches for the back of your neck pulling you into him as he becomes more and more addicted to the warm and wet feeling in the back of your throat.

His hips thrust into your mouth as he feels himself becoming closer to his much needed orgasm. He really never could help himself when it came to you, firm hand on the back of your neck as he thrusted his cock in and out of your pretty mouth while saliva dripping down your chin with every snap of his hips. You looked so damn gorgeous covered in pre-cum and spit for him, he couldn't deny that.

He moaned out your name,"Your fucking mouth,"He moaned out to you, caressed the side of your face with his protruding in your cheeks your throat constricted around the thick length but god, you didn't care how sore your jaw was, it was so worth it.

"Please? Can I cum all over your pretty face?" He whined as his brows scrunch as he was getting closer to what he wanted. Barely nodding Jungwoo took his chance to keep fucking your mouth finding heaven. a string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with unparalleled ferocity. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his balls.

he can feel you start to get antsy, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last drop has been emptied into your mouth.

He felt utterly shy as he watched you pull away as strings of cum and spit attached the both of you still, watching as you run a finger against the corner of your lip; cum on your finger you press it against your tongue enjoying every flash of lust in his eyes as you try and catch your breath you laughed.

Standing up from the floor you immediately feel the burn in your knees from being pressed into the harsh carpet. Looking down at him you find yourself crawling over him your nose brushing over his you let your eyes flutter shut pressing a wet and sloppy kiss against his lips, your tongue rubbing over his as the taste of shots and his cum on your tongue had him feeling like he was on a whole other planet.

Jungwoo felt utterly drunk on the feeling of him coming down from his high, realizing you were still dressed in your pretty skirt and shirt that matched. "Please fuck me" he whispered, he was desperate to have himself buried inside of you. "You want it that bad?" You whispered looking down at him with a slight shock.

"Yeah, I just wanna feel you so bad" he mumbled as he could feel a blush creeping up on him and his body feeling like it was on fire just from the way you look at him. "Okay, but I want you to strip me" you say with an agonizing smirk on your lips watching as his eyes grow wide. He was desperate and he didn't have time to play strip tease as he immediately found himself pulling at the edge of your shirt from being tucked into your skirt, the sight of your bare skin had him feeling needy.

Helping him lift your arms he pulls it over your hair slightly tussling your hair. He tosses it to the floor where his discarded clothes are. Pressing his lips to your chest and neck as you grind on his still hard cock, the feeling of your wet panties hand him panting against your skin. "You're so pretty" he mumbled as he sucked and bit at your skin making you bite your lip in hopes that he wouldn't see the smile on your face at the slight compliment.

Burying his face into your chest leaving behind bite marks and red splotches, his hands find themselves trailing up your spine slowly to unhook your bra, your straps falling over your shoulders you pull it off yourself dropping it to the floor. Without a single chance to turn your attention back to your needy roommate his tongue licked a stripe against your nipple making you gasp at the warmth of his saliva.

Humming his mouth attaches to your nipple sucking gently, your mouth falls open as you moan "fuck" you whisper as your fingers entangle into his onyx hair pushing him into your chest, the feeling of his teeth brushing against you makes you unconsciously rut your hips against him dragging the fabric of your panties against his sensitive cock as you both moan.

Kissing up the valley of your breasts your head falls back while his lips move up the column of your throat you let out a hoarse moan. Eyes shut tightly your hand grips onto his hair tighter as press your hips down onto him harder hoping that the friction goes straight to your clit. Huffing heavily you pull his hair hard enough to pull him back, the both of your gazes clashing.

You press your lips to his roughly, teeth clashing as your tongues trace over each other's grinding against each other, his hands trail down to your ass pressing you harder against him, the feeling of your panties had him utterly dazed he placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly. "I don't wanna wait anymore. Please?" He murmured against your lips, whining , making you nod.

Forgetting all about telling him to strip you of your clothes you pull your panties to the side eager to drag your bare pussy against him and drag out at least one more orgasm from him before you absolutely lose your mind. Pulling your panties to the side, shivering as the warm air reaches your drenched pussy.

Lower your hips down until you can feel his red and precum soaked tip, moaning at the small bit of friction. His cock rubbing against your clit makes your head spin and you couldn't help but moan and grind harder against him.

"You feel so good" you whimper hearing the sticky sounds of your slick thighs rubbing together, it was messy yet the both of you were too eager chasing some form of an orgasm to care what kind of mess you make.

you look down at Jungwoo whose head was thrown back while he lets out the deepest groans of pleasure. His hands guiding your hips against his at a faster pace makes you choke out louder moans.

"Oh fuck" he moaned harshly as you finally as you look down at a dazed Jungwoo who was on cloud 9. opening his eyes and looking up at you, "you looked too good" you whisper placing one of your hands down on his lower abdomen as you feel Jungwoo buck his hips into you faster.

The feeling of his cock running against your pussy, sticky but it felt too good to care. "Feels so good" he whimpered as the pressure began to build. The both of you chasing your orgasms rubbing your bare pussy against his cock at a fast pace that makes you whine.

You gasp feeling yourself being sent over the edge, Jungwoo began to slow down but you only shake your head as you anticipate him reaching his peak. "We're not done until you cum all over my pussy" you moan as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind a trail of red marks.

Your needy words make his eyes roll back as he pushes your hips down, he ruts into you as he moans shamelessly. Jungwoo had no idea if it was just your tone or if your pussy was just so addicting but your sweet moans and the sloppy sounds send him into a spiral of pleasure.

His cum soaked your pussy as his hips twitch in a bit of overstimulation he didn't care, his hips slow down and then stop completely as he feels himself slowly coming back down to earth.

He lets out a large huff as a shy smile finds its way on his face, he can't believe he just came all over yours and his thighs after literally letting you grind against him like a needy puppy. His hands grip at the flesh of your ass he lets out a small chuckle with a smirk on his lips.

"I'm done teasing" you say slowly coming back down from your high. You and Jungwoo would typically go at it for at least a round and then call it quits but maybe the shots you had taken with Yuta had absolutely changed your stamina for the better. Catching your bottom lip between your teeth you lift your hips almost whining at the loss of warmth from Jungwoo's cum covered thighs but didn't have much time to think about it as you wrap your hand around his still hard cock.

Rubbing his tip against your clit hearing the slick sounds made you hum as you press him against your entrance slowly pushing him inside your warm and soaked walls you both moan in sensitivity as you sink down on him the feeling of his cum inside you had you clenching around him, feeling filled to the hilt "I just wanna cum" he whined under his breath as he guides your hips weakly to move.

"You're gonna cum soon I promise" you whisper as you pepper kisses on his face as you lift your hips to slowly begin bouncing against his lap, a moan dying in your throat as the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls leaves you in an early state of ecstasy. You pull out slowly, just enough to keep his head inside before pushing back in. A groan escaped his throat at how good it felt.

His nails digging into your hips as nothing but pleasure is all he could think about. You hear him breathily moan your name as his tip rubs against a spot inside you that had your eyes squeezing shut, you could feel his hips chasing yours lazily thrusting into you making the both of you groan.

You felt like you were stuffed, Jungwoo sat up until your chests touched. He slowly began guiding your hips to bounce repeatedly at a set pace. The way you sink into him was addictive. Your hands move back to grip at his hair, you tug and pull with each bounce.

"You feel so good" you whisper into his ear, Jungwoo could feel his eyes roll to the back of his head from just hearing you talk dirty. He began to thrust into you, setting a faster pace. You moan at the feeling of his thick shaft rubbing against your silky walls and his tip practically kissing your cervix.

His nails began to dig into the fat off your ass as he continued to let you bounce in his lap, the sound of your moans and the creaking of the bed was all Jungwoo's ears could pick up on with his foggy and fucked out mind.

He was drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around his cock like this and it felt amazing. He whispered heavy 'please' for you to go harder as you rut yourself against his base.

A small ring of cum from your previous orgasm began to drip from his base as his thighs hit yours as you continued to fuck yourself harder on his cock. You feel hazy as you moan your nails drag against the back of his shoulder.

You clenching down on him kept his mind set on doing one thing, and that was getting you both to your hopeful orgasm. Your hair bounced with every hard thrust he gave you hoping that you both would cum soon. Your hand found its way to his hair grabbing at his black tresses making his eyes water at the pleasure and pain

"Fuck, you look so damn good when you cry" you choked out along with a whimper as his tip practically abused your insides. The twist in your stomach made you realize that you were close. "I'm gonna cum" You moaned, feeling your walls gripping around him tightly. Jungwoo began to thrust into you faster as he felt that same feeling bubbling up inside of him moaning and whining for release.

He couldn't help but let out a string of curses and moans "fuck, fuck" he groaned feeling how you squeezed down on him letting your orgasm wash over you.

The sweet moan you let out pushed him over the edge as he let his cum paint you white on the inside. He could feel you throbbing and his cum spilling past your walls. He couldn't help but thrust deeper into you fucking his cum deeper inside you.

Your hips are shaking with overstimulation. He couldn't even put together a coherent sentence. He just lets you fuck him dumb. His whimpers fall on deaf ears as he lays his head against your chest in exhaustion giving small kisses to your skin.

[illusionarylibrary]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

CW: Mentions of death, spoilers

| Series | <<back next>>

✶⊶⊷⊶°.•☆•.° ✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶ °.•☆•.° ⊶⊶⊷✶

- The skies were quiet. The snowfall was gentle.

- It had been days since you last visited that island. Since you had last found that human child wandering the snowy planes.

- You were currently perched atop a tall tree, gazing upon your domain. No ships. No pirates. No marines. Those flamboyant pirates were also gone, just some mysterious red splotches slowly being covered by the blizzards last you found them.

- Ah…it was boring. You couldn’t lie, but that was the reason you liked to toy with those white clad humans. They were your entertainment in exchange for wreaking havoc near your skies. Your kind were gone so you didn’t have much to do. It was likely…

- You were the last of your kind.

- But no matter. You weren’t weak, and you had ample time to spare. You were a dragon, a Light Fury.

- A Light Fury, who was all alone. Left to fly the skies solo.

- Those sky humans you visited were fine, but they didn’t exactly fly like you did. If anything, you were the only ones to actually fly above the clouds. You didn’t like including those sky pirates.

- They didn’t count. They cheated by using a flying boat.

- Anyways, you didn’t have much to do since the island was all peaceful. Sure, you liked to live a quiet and not worry about being hunted. But without your friends, ah, nope!

- No. You weren’t going to be weak.

- You could live without them. Without your company. Without your friends.

- Without…without your family.

- It was a quiet life, now. Due to having been captured as a hatchling, along with your family, you could barely remember where the Hidden World was.

- But there weren’t any dragons in the skies, so you doubted there were any dragons left.

- Ah, that- that was okay, though! You could last being alone. For the rest of your long, long life.

- You weren’t weak.

- Oh? Huh, you caught a familiar scent drifting around the snowy floors beneath your perch. The tree rustled slightly as you leaned down to search for that smell.

- There he was! You found him!

- He was walking through the forest, shivering slightly since he only had the cloak. It had been a few days, a few long days since Cora was taken away. He was alone now.

- But he had his devil fruit to survive, if he could just figure out how to use it properly.

- He wandered through the trees, coughing to himself as his illness had stopped destroying his body. It was still there, but he, uh, still didn’t know exactly how to utilize his new powers.

- At most, the boy could only make a tiny sphere, barely anything in comparison to Cora’s large spacial room when he demonstrated the silencing devil fruit.

- He had to take a break. He was just barely caught digging around the trashcan of a restaurant in search of something to eat.

- Luckily the chefs weren’t too keen on trudging through heavy snow to find the little rat as they screamed at him. He was no rat, however. Just a boy trying to live in the light Cora had given him.

- It was so hard. Some moments, like when he was nearly nabbed by a drunken pirate, the boy wanted it all the go away. He missed his family.

- He missed his mother. His father. His little sister. His home. The friends of his old class. There were so many names floating around his head…Cora. He missed Cora. He wanted it all to just- what was that?!

- Another attack?! Did they really try to come find him in this thick snow?? He had struggled trying to walk through the packed snow- he was trapped! If they were right behind him, how could he run?!

- Ah. The child was panicking again. But the moment you made yourself known, peeking from around a trunk, the human child had calmed down. His chest still heaved, though not frantically as before.

- How strange. He was all alone again.

- You knew humans to be quite the social creatures, kind of like most dragons were back in the days. They stuck together in packs, always seeking a group to stay with.

- But how strange. The child was alone in the vast white fields.

- You crept closer, keeping your guard up in case there was an ambush or the child suddenly attacked. Although…judging from his scent, you didn’t catch the scene today any metal on him. No weapon.

- The child was alone. No way to defend himself. He was weak, his body seeming even more frail than before…or maybe that’s just how you perceived him since dragons were more durable than humans.

- Uh…goodness, for such a small human child, his stomach was as loud as a Thunderdrum.

- Hmm. You were also feeling quite hungry. With nubby ears no longer being irritated by the shrieks of the youn- child, you could tolerate his presence more.

- You could hear a stream nearby. Knowing this part of the island well, you were sure to find some fresh fish to eat! Ehm, but about the human child, who still stared at you with wide sized eyes.

- Well, you guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least give him something so he’d last.

- You couldn’t help but feel like you were looking at your younger self, shivering against those horrid green colored bars as the humans dragged your siblings out and- ah. Never mind. Focus on the present. There was nothing you could do now.

- The boy was startled to see the dragon, what did the villagers call it again? Light Fury? The Light Fury walk away, leaving a large path in the snow behind it.

- What was it doing?

- He should’ve known better than to mindlessly follow the trail. But he was still a lost boy trying to restart his life in honor of his family, in honor of Cora.

- He was confused as to why the Light Fury spent so much energy waltzing through the snow instead of just flying away. It was stranger to find that it lead him to a river…WOAH.

- The human child couldn’t survive in such cold waters, so it seemed you’d have to fish for both of you.

- You threw the first two fish from the river, one of them hitting his face as he scrambled back baffled. Or maybe that was disgust. You couldn’t tell. You studied their behavior, not their faces.

- But once you got two fishes for the boy, you sent on catching your own meal. Catching the jackpot, you didn’t hesitate to gobble up as many fish as you’d wanted, filling your empty belly with ease.

- Nubby ears perked up with interest when you turned back to the youngling.

- He was rubbing sticks together? Then he was hitting rocks together…what in the great Red Line was he doing??? Oh! There was a small spark! Fire? Did the child need fire?

- …oooh, right. Humans like to place their food on fires and then eat them.

- Well, it seemed the youngling needed a bit of assistance, watching the tiny flame go out when a harsh breeze blew by. You padded over, water dripping off of your glimmering white scales, before blowing a steady stream of fire onto the pile of sticks he gathered.

- Fire! The Light Fury had made fire! Ah- but what gain did it have in making a fire? The boy didn’t know. Eh, he wasn’t complaining; just curious.

- Sticking the two fish that were thrown at him, he could cook his meal! In no time, with how hot the fire was, the fish were fried and the smell made his stomach growl again.

- By Odin, you’d think there was a Screaming Death around with how loud the youngling’s tummy growled. But you were the only dragon present. So that ruled out any chance of your idea.

- But you just watched the boy scarfing the fish down like a Terrible Terror. He was…kinda funny, in a strange human way.

- No no no. Don’t. You didn’t have time for this. You had other places to be. Other skies to fly. Other things to do like…uh, other marines to mess with.

- If this youngling couldn’t make his own fire, how would he survive? He wouldn’t. So that made him weak.

- Ah…uhm, you weren’t weak. You survived. You had to survive.

- For your family.

- And so, you flew away.

✶⊶⊷⊶°.•☆•.° ✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶ °.•☆•.° ⊶⊶⊷✶

Ghost notes: Apologies if any of the writing is inconsistent or confusing. The ghost is trying to get back into writing.

[daisychainsandbowties]

6 and avatrice for the angst prompt please and thank you

davy jones au. cw: blood, gore, extreme gay pining

///

The hilt of the sword tangles briefly on Beatrice’s knuckles as it drops from her fingers. They are slippery, hanging limp with wetness leaking down over metacarpals, dampening her palms and sliding through her fingers until they reach the tips.

drip, drip, drip

In a chorus around her, everywhere. From the torn mast overhead to the ropes swinging limply, casting horrible twisting shadows on the deck of the ship, backlit by the breaking storm.

The clatter of blade onto wood is a damper sound than it ought to be; the whole world is salt-drenched and rank with the hanging, mist-thick scent of iron.

Blood. She should say it, will have to say it eventually if only to acknowledge the shape slumped in the middle of the deck. A beautiful tangle of limbs, splayed open with the shirtsleeve on her right arm torn away to reveal a blotch of black ink running all over her skin.

But it’s not ink.

Even from clear across the deck Beatrice can see how the marks on Ava’s arm shine, like they are real things freshly dredged up from the ocean floor and not pictures stabbed into her skin. They tangle from her wrist up past her forearm and they resemble tentacles – splotched with suckers, twisting and writhing and almost bumpy beneath the surface of Ava’s skin.

Her chest rises shallowly, stutters on the exhale. The ship lists, and in the corner of her eye Beatrice can spot a familiar shape on the horizon; the others, coming at last to find them, Shannon no doubt standing behind the wheel with her hair plastered against her scalp with saltwater, rainwater.

They’re too late.

Beatrice takes a half-step forward, almost slipping on the – she has to say it, has to – blood that has spread in a weird, wind-wicked halo around Ava. She, too, is red-daubed, strands of hair stuck to her face by clots, chunks, unmentionable things, but Beatrice knows the words for them.

She’s not Camila, but anatomy is a thing held in books as well as in the surgeon’s quarters and so Beatrice knows all the bones of the body and how the word heartstring comes from Latin meaning tendinous chords, but she always misreads it as tenuous chords. Maybe both translations are true.

This, for example, feels tenuous and has to do with her heart.

Limping across the deck, Beatrice moves toward the shape of a girl who is much more than she appears. It is easy to picture her as she was before everything… happened. How she stood on the deck with one hand raised, suddenly fierce as fire when the captain pressed the tip of his blade teasingly into Beatrice’s throat. They wanted her to summon up a lightning storm to set the Cat’s Cradle alight on the horizon where it pursued them.

The men laughed as Ava squirmed free of their hands, tripped over her own boots on the deck and then winning back to her feet, snarling at them to “Let her go!”

“Or what?” the captain had laughed, pressing forward lightly but hard enough to slip the very tip of his blade into Beatrice’s throat. Not deep at all, but enough to send a ribbon of blood sprinting toward her collarbones.

She remembers Ava holding up her hand, then. Menacing. Her face could never be expressionless – there was too much to her for that, but a certain blankness stole her eyes and made them black as the deepest water. Storm clouds split overhead, leaking light down through the sailcloth and the ropes and the bodies swarming overhead in the rigging.

“Let her go,” Ava repeated. Slow, like she had any leverage.

Beatrice did not fear for her life – not these days, with the bite of her tattoos gnawing deeper at the bones in her wrists and her arms with every passing year. Magic has a cost, every weaving sending the ink deeper into her, parting tendon and ligament. Stealing into her calcium, her marrow. Soon, she’d hardly be able to step onto dry land without her debt tearing her to pieces.

But it had been her choice to be leashed to the ocean, but that didn’t mean Beatrice wanted to let go of soft, dry sand. Of solid ground and grass and the feeling of a horse underneath her. The breathlessness of standing atop a cliff with the waves crashing far below.

Most mages died before the price came to that, and were grateful for it. Beatrice was not unlike them. She was ready to pay when the debt came due.

And yet it scared her, this once – the idea of leaving Ava alone with the men who had been sent after her, who had captured her in a net like an animal and hauled them both through the portside streets. Beatrice could see bruises on Ava’s face, her neck. She knew that there would be more underneath her clothes, patched over her stomach and her back where they’d beaten her almost unconscious while their mage trapped Beatrice in a cage of light.

A knife at Ava’s throat had stopped the glow in her mage tattoos and she’d let them strike her to the ground, staring blearily at Ava who lolled against a stranger’s chest with a blade at her throat shaving off the fine hairs that grew over the line of cartilage Beatrice had traced with her eyes again and again and again. She’d always wondered what those fine hairs would feel like against her tongue, her lips.

Maybe it was a flaw they shared. Beatrice trapped between her own power and the knife at Ava’s throat and Ava, driven to some unseen edge by the tip of a blade pressed against Beatrice’s neck.

She’d wanted to cry out, to tell Ava that she wasn’t worth dying over. That she was already half-dead and had been since the day she said her vows and felt whispers of unearthly light flow from the harbour waters and into the fresh-inked skin on her arms.

But then Ava had taken on that deadened aspect, had reached up and ripped away the sleeve over her right arm.

Beatrice had assumed scars, when Ava did everything in her power to keep her arms covered up even when Camila snapped at her about hygiene and set her to cleaning knives instead of helping with wounds.

She was only a little wrong. Instead of scars, she’d watched Ava unearth an arm fully sheathed in strange, grey-black tattoos. They gleamed, and the captain tore his blade from Beatrice’s throat and shouted something.

Too late. Ava stood, grimacing at her bared skin. Beatrice’s hand had risen to the cut on her throat, half-intending to dart forward and try to steal the captain’s blade, but before she could move there was a ripping sound.

Unmistakable. Beatrice had listened to skin tear a thousand times and she knew the song of it, the burst of blood and sinew as bone came to protrude out of pulpy flesh.

This time, however, the sound came from Ava and it was not the sound of something cutting into her. She stood alone on the deck, men arrayed uneasily around her. Wetness rippled along her arm as the not-ink inside her skin undulated and then, with a disturbing lack of fanfare, something long and wet and real burst out of Ava’s skin.

She’d screamed, knees buckling onto the deck, as something massive erupted from her outstretched arm, swallowing it in a mess of reaching tentacles. They crashed across the deck almost too fast for the eye to follow, but Beatrice let a twinge of magic into her body and sharpened her sight. Did it on instinct and regretted it as she watched the tentacle shapes spear through men.

They twisted into bellies and plunged into open mouths, ripping wherever they went. Bulging out as men screamed and trembled and tried to run. Blood showered over the deck and the tentacles writhed up into the rigging, tearing through sailcloth. Ropes snapped and men fell like missiles onto the deck. They broke.

In the middle of it, Ava was almost invisible but Beatrice spotted her as she felt the tentacles move gracefully past her. Cold where they brushed her arms as they plucked men high and ruptured them and sent bits thumping back onto the deck.

Beatrice tried to shut her eyes but she couldn’t. Foolishly, she even took a half-step towards Ava as another scream reached her. She would know Ava’s voice anywhere even in the worst sound it could make.

Her feet didn’t manage to carry her far.

She fell onto the deck as something hit her across the shoulders – something wet – and found her hand slapping down inches from a sword-hilt. She grabbed it, dry-heaved as iron flooded into her mouth. The stench of blood so thick it felt like she was submerged in a soup of it.

When she won back to her feet, blinking sweat and saltwater out of her eyes, scrubbing at them with her forearm, Beatrice found the deck empty. Quiet. Still.

Dead.

There was only Ava, slumped on the deck with her arm miraculously intact.

All of this flickers through her mind roughshod as she walks unsteadily toward Ava. Drawn across the deck, ignoring everything but ava, ava, ava. Her knees give out just as she reaches Ava’s side, depositing her down.

With a shaking hand, Beatrice pushes the hair away from Ava’s face and finds muscle shifting under her fingers as Ava grimaces.

Wakes.

“Are you alright?” Beatrice rasps, surprised that she can speak at all with Ava staring at her like that. Like she’s a miracle, or a nightmare.

“Bea?” Her voice breaks around the edges. The rain is already turning the blood fainter and fainter on her skin, from dark red to light, to pinkish. Her eyes roam over Beatrice’s face and – gods, she must look a wreck.

But she doesn’t take her hand away, touches the corner of Ava’s jaw very gently. “Yes, it’s me.”

Coming back to herself, eyes widening, Ava pulls away and Beatrice feels scalded by the absence of her. She draws her tattooed arm against her chest as though there is any point in trying to hide it.

“Don’t touch me!” Her voice is high, faltering, terrified. “It might come back, it might…” She breaks off, crabbing back across the deck. Fruitlessly – her heels slip on the deck, carrying her nowhere but a scant few inches away.

Ava.

She looks pretty even now, with the wet writhing shape of her arm clasped to her chest. Blood in the hollow of her chin, coated thick on her neck. Rainwater sending trickle-trails down over her brow.

There are tears in her eyes as she shakes her head, looking around at the devastation. “Fuck, fuck. I didn’t mean to- it wasn’t my choice. I don’t know what this- how it works or why or, or…”

She trails off, just staring.

Beatrice stares back. She feels beside herself, like she’s riding an adjacent path to shock, to horror. All she can feel is relief. Strange, strained, but so palpable it makes her chest ache.

She doesn’t reach for Ava because she’s seen her flinch from the most casual contact, not knowing how to take it. Beatrice picked her up off the street back when Ava couldn’t read, or write, or add up past twenty or do multiplication or fight with a sword.

All of these things Beatrice has taught her. Snappishly, waspishly, patiently over months of sailing and fighting and trying not to die.

“It’s okay,” she says instead of touching – which she wants, desperately, to do. Sitting back, cross-legged on the blood-soaked deck, Beatrice tries make her face behave. Judging by Ava’s expression, she fails.

“Why are you not freaking out?” She asks, low. The only sound is dripping and the waves rolling under the ship. They’ve tacked oddly into the wind with the sails torn away.

The Cat’s Cradle must be getting close. Did they see what happened?

Beatrice looks at ava, shrugs. “You know me, I’m-”

“Unflappable.” Ava almost smiles – she’d given Beatrice that description of herself offhandedly when Beatrice had failed to react after stepping into the surgery just as Camila started sawing through a man’s leg.

“I didn’t really mean it as a compliment,” Ava adds, rubbing self-consciously at her face and only succeeding in smearing a palmprint of blood across it.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Beatrice deadpans, then makes her expression serious. “I won’t tell the others what happened. They… wouldn’t understand.”

Nor do you, fool.

Ava looks uncertain, “What about you? Do you know what this is?”

“No, but later you’ll tell me everything you know about it. We can figure things out from there.” She makes her voice more certain than she really feels. Power like that is mythical, the sort of thing they keep in books Beatrice doesn’t bother to collect, scowls at self-importantly when she sees them in portside bookshops.

Ava’s lower lip wobbles. She looks very small, hunched on the deck, hair plastered against her scalp. Her shirtsleeve hangs in tatters around her mid-bicep and the tattoo crawls all the way up there. Beatrice finds herself wondering how far it goes, if it crawls across Ava’s chest.

But the others are getting close. She can make out the shape of Shannon’s ship clearly now, racing across the waves toward them. Beatrice stands, careful not to slip, and casts around for an intact piece of fabric only to find her stomach turning again at the devastation around them.

Ava stands, too, but keeps her gaze studiously on her boots.

She looks up at the sound of tearing fabric, “Uh, what are you doing?”

Beatrice rips the hem of her shirt away, leaving a silly-looking bare patch of navel. It is mostly clean, still – shielded by her jacket. She wraps it around her hand, leaving a long piece to dangle, “We should cover up your arm before the others arrive. I’ll tell them that this-”

She looks around at the gore scattered everywhere, “I’ll tell them I did this.”

“Bea…”

“It’s alright,” she says. Not snapping, but firm, stepping forward with her hand extended, “Now, give me your arm. Quickly.”

Ava does, and Beatrice finds herself astonished by how ordinary her skin feels. Not slimy where the tentacle-shapes rest, just warm. She wraps the hem of her shirt around and around, tugging Ava closer so that she can twist it around her elbow and up along her bicep.

“Here,” Beatrice says once she’s finished, shrugging her jacket off her shoulders. When she looks up – no, surely Ava wasn’t staring at the slant of her navel revealed by her torn shirt. Why would she?

Ava looks startled, “No, Bea. I can’t take your jacket. It’s… part of your outfit.”

That almost makes her laugh, “My what?”

“You have, like, an ensemble thing going on. Dark with silver accents.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent. I’ve seen you picking through your shirts. No one does that kind of colour co-ordination by mistake.”

It’s good – strange, but good – to be arguing once again about stupid things.

“Anyway,” Ava continues, looking everywhere but at Beatrice. “I can’t take it from you.”

Beatrice forces the jacket into Ava’s hands. “I insist.”

Dark eyes examine her – aghast, almost. Beatrice turns to look at the horizon, pretending to ignore the sight of Ava slipping into her jacket. It is much too big for her, but Ava sighs as she touches the buttons on the front, no longer shivering.

The rain is cold. Beatrice hadn’t noticed.

[elvenbeard]

Before it Gets Better

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Kerry returns home with an unexpected visitor, but what he finds he did not expect. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 12/?, 6748 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V was ripped from a dreamless sleep, coughing and choking, sputtering a red cloud across his pillow. He scrambled to sit up, his throat tight and scratchy. Fingers clawing into the mattress he tried to take slow, deep breaths to suppress the coughing, but his chest hurt like he‘d been stabbed, his heart was racing. An icepick through his optics would‘ve been more comfortable than the headache leaving his vision blurry and riddled with glitches. Trying to regain his breath, orient himself in the room, all he could make out through the blinding pain were the dark red stains on the bedsheet and pillow, blood trickling down the back of this throat as he continued to gasp for air. Even though he was sitting he could barely keep himself upright, growing increasingly lightheaded.

“Kerry?” he croaked, but no response. Slowly he crawled across Kerry‘s empty side of the bed. Every inch of movement was a challenge. He squinted against the bright golden light of the setting sun reflected in the shiny surfaces of their furniture and walls, his call for Kerry still lingering unanswered, mixed with a hint of iron. Shakily V put his bare feet on the ground, pushed himself upright. Dizzy from pain he stumbled towards the gallery railing for support, fingers almost losing grip on the polished steel right then and there.

“Kerry?” he called again, hot blood streaming across his lips and chin, dripping on his chest and onto the floor.

“Fuck…”

Vik’s injectors… Not that they would help much anymore if he died of a hemorrhage within the next minute.

Just… breathe…

The plastic bag was still on the kitchen counter downstairs, and V cursed himself for not taking it with him earlier. He clung to the rail, peered down into the living room. Nibbles was sleeping on the sofa, but Kerry was nowhere to be seen.

Kerry, fuck… I need you…

Not by choice, but solely because he couldn’t physically move faster without passing out, he dragged himself forward along the cold metal railing, barely able to stand without the support. The whole house spun around V as he shakily walked down the stairs, moving automatically rather than consciously. Step by step, slipping and sliding further. He wasn‘t sure how long it took him, how he even made it all the way… but when he arrived at the foot of the stairs, in his condition, the bag with the injectors might as well have been on the moon. He shivered, heart hammering against his sternum. Once more he hoped that Kerry would appear around the corner any moment, to catch him, guide him the rest of the way… But it seemed that V would have to make it alone somehow if he wanted to make it.

Shakily he let go of the rail, his head pounding, edges of his vision darkening further. He didn’t remember how, but somehow, he crossed the distance, chest harshly slumping against the counter. Briefly he was jolted wide awake enough to slip a finger through the bag‘s loops, but then his legs gave in. He slid to the ground, harshly slamming his knee and elbow on the hardwood flooring. Burning pain shot through his broken wrist, he winced, but instead of groaning or screaming he only coughed and spat out more blood. Dark splotches blurred his vision further, his head grew heavy. Half-blinded he fumbled for the bag by his side, where it had clattered to the ground with him. Fingers locked around a fresh injector. His head fell back onto the hard, cool floor. With his breath rattling, V slammed the piece of plastic, metal, and needles against his bare chest, pressing hard and hoping that, if this did not save him anymore, it would at least ease the pain and just let him drift off into darkness peacefully.

His hand fell to the side, numbing warmth washing over him, rushing to his toes and fingertips, and he heard the faint rumble of the elevator being set in motion just as his vision faded.

“…you fuckin’ do this to me again! V, please, can you hear me?”

Kerry’s voice seemed to come from miles away, but the pain in his words was like a punch in the chest. Or it was the lingering sensation of the injector needle, or both.

“Don’t just fuckin’ stand there like a gonk, make yourself useful! Get me a blanket and, fuck, dunno… do somethin‘!”

V’s eyelids might as well have been glued shut, they were so heavy. He managed to catch only the tiniest glimpse of a figure rushing by behind Kerry. Kerry himself was kneeling right by his side, had one hand under V’s head for support, the other on his chest. V wanted to move or say something, but his body was paralyzed. The meds hadn’t fully kicked in yet, his head was pounding still. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long. That at least was a tiny silver lining.

“Here,” the other person Kerry was ordering around said as he returned, and V recognized his voice as Lee’s now. Kerry took the blanket they kept on the sofa from Lee, not letting go of V’s head though. He carefully, loosely put it over him, tucked it under him as best as he managed, and V noticed his fingers shaking as he brushed against his bare skin.

“Should I… call Trauma Team?” Lee asked quietly.

“This isn’t somethin’ they can help with…” Kerry said hoarsely.

“Oh, okay… Um, should I, dunno…”

“Can you just get the fuck off my back for a sec?” Kerry barked and V heard Lee shuffle away towards the other side of the kitchen. Then a soft touch to his left cheek, a thumb calloused by guitar strings for decades brushing across his cheekbone.

“V?” his voice was so quiet, so brittle compared to just seconds ago.

“Can ya hear me? Can ya… move, gimme a sign?”

It took all his willpower, the little remaining strength still in his body, but V managed only just to crack open his eyes again, and this time Kerry saw it.

“Oh thank fuck… okay, okay…” he sighed with immense relieve, voice shaky. He sunk down until his forehead came to a rest on V’s chest, one hand still at his face, the other searching V’s right hand. Like this he stayed, breathing deeply, holding on to V as if he was the only thing that would keep him afloat, safe from drowning. V wasn’t sure for how long, maybe five, ten minutes, maybe longer, or maybe not all that long. Slowly, surely his senses grew clearer again, and his headache became bearable.

“’n I’m the workaholic, huh?” was the first best thing he managed to utter hoarsely in an attempt to ease the tension. He opened his eyes and instantly met Kerry’s, in the same moment looking up at him. Kerry sat up slowly, his brow was deeply furrowed. Once more he stroked V’s cheek.

“Can you get up? Wanna get you to the sofa, off the floor…” he said, quietly and clearly unsure what to make of V’s remark. V was too weak to explain and also didn‘t want to risk another argument.

“Might need some help…”

“Okay, hold on to me.”

V tried to reach up to put his arm around Kerry’s shoulders, but even that he didn’t manage on his own. How pathetic of an image he must’ve presented. But there was no hint of pity in Kerry’s face, only worry. V grabbed onto Kerry’s jacket as tightly as he could, and despite his muddled state, under his palm he noticed a thin, rough layer of dust clinging to the leather.

Kerry pulled him to his feet, slowly, their movements matching each other as if they’d choreographed this… and in a way they had. V had long lost count of how many times Kerry had pulled him back to his feet again in the last few months. Literally as well as metaphorically.

Yes, Kerry was scared to lose him, he’d made that pretty clear… and at the same time V knew he wouldn’t be here anymore without Kerry, without someone waiting for him at home, putting so much more trust and support into him than he deserved. V was just as scared of going under, losing his rock, his bastion of calm in this storm… but more so because he was slowly but surely eroding him away with a constant stream of worry, stress, and pain.

“Alright, I gotcha,” Kerry whispered with some strain, then carefully but as quickly and directly as he managed guided him over to the couch. V’s steps were still unsure, and he groaned as he sunk onto the seat, clinging to the blanket still loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His muscles were aching and only now he realized that he was shaking, freezing actually.

“I’ll get ya some clothes, just sit tight here for a sec, alright?” Kerry said, pressing a quick kiss on V’s forehead, another stab to his heart, “Need anything else? Painkillers, water?”

“Water sounds good,” V said, words rough and feeling strange in his own mouth.

“Okay,” Kerry briefly squeezed his healthy hand, then straightened up and walked back towards the kitchen.

“Drinking glasses behind you,” he instructed Lee as he passed him by, quickly and vaguely pointing at the cupboards, “Water’s in the fridge.”

Then he jogged upstairs. V slowly, carefully turned his head, trying to process still what had just happened. Then his gaze briefly met with Lee’s, who seemed just as confused. He was standing in the kitchen, staring like a deer in headlights, then quickly turned on the spot and rummaged through their cupboards. A slight thud right next to V drew his attention away from the kitchen for a moment and to Nibbles, who had just jumped on the sofa. She brushed against him, purring loudly, and looked up at him with her huge green eyes.

“Hey girl… what’s goin’ on, huh?” V said weakly, but he was shaking too hard now to reach out and pet her. Even his teeth were chattering… He hadn’t been this miserable earlier at Vik’s. But it was a fierce drug cocktail he’d injected, likely not without its occasional side effects.

The fridge door opened then closed again, and V turned back to Lee as Nibbles got comfortable on the sofa beside him. Even from a distance and even half-blinded by pain still he could see that Lee was shaking too, as he filled the glass almost to the brim. Only reluctantly he walked over to V, keeping the coffee table between them. He sat the glass down and took half a step back again.

“Thanks,” V said quietly, but kept the blanket wrapped around him. Lee avoided to look at him. V could taste the blood on his lips still, feel it pull at the skin around his nose where it dried. He probably looked like absolute shit.

“C’mon, in my state I’m not gonna be able to do anything to you. Even if I wanted to,” he then said, trying to get Lee to relax… not entirely without ulterior motives, because their penthouse was the last place Kerry would bring his manager to without a very good reason. Why was he here? Where had Kerry let‘s-just-spend-the-rest-of-the-day-on-the-sofa Eurodyne disappeared to while V had been asleep?

Lee cleared his throat and shifted slightly where he stood.

“Sit down, you’re makin’ me nervous,” V ordered, and after a moment of hesitation, weighing the pros and cons in his head for sure, Lee sat down on an armchair nearby. They were at eye level now, but Lee still avoided his gaze. But that gave V the chance to get a closer look at him in return. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and what V had mistaken as an unusual hint of stubble at first was dirt along Lee’s jawline and neck. His white leather boots were tinted orange, as were the seams of his sleeves and his knees and shins. Overall, he appeared shaken, more so than usually… And all that, plus the dust on Kerry’s jacket, painted wild scenarios in V’s head that he couldn’t quite place into a bigger context yet.

“Can’t you, like…” Lee mumbled, “With your hacking and such… basically kill people just with your thoughts?”

He then looked up at V wide-eyed, like prey that knew it was going to die but also had no means to get out of its dire situation anymore.

“It’s not quite as simple, but technically… yeah.”

Lee immediately looked back down to his lap, where he had his fingers tightly intertwined, resting on his thighs.

“Do you need to, like…” he then continued to stammer, barely audible, “Look the person in the eyes, or just, roughly know where they are in a room? How does it work?”

V sighed.

“Lee, if I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be sitting here anymore.”

Lee laughed nervously, gulped, and briefly looked up at V, then away again.

Right as V began to wonder where Kerry had disappeared to, he heard him coming back down the stairs. He carried some clothes flung over his left arm, in his right hand he held a clean wet towel. He walked straight past Lee and paid him no mind whatsoever, instead returned his full attention to V. Putting the clothes down on the sofa first, then giving Nibbles a short pat, he eventually knelt down in front of V.

“I thought, maybe clean up a bit first before gettin’ dressed…” he said and held out the towel in an offering manner. V’s eyes had been following Kerry’s movements, only now they found his face again – and he froze when he noticed his eyeliner slightly smudged, his eyelids reddish and a little swollen. Just slightly, and right now he was gently smiling, as if nothing was wrong. But V could tell that he was hurting so much and tried not to let it show, and that in return hurt V to no end. He wondered if it was because Lee was here, or if Kerry felt like he had to be strong for both of them right now.

“Kerry…” V mouthed, his throat too tight to produce sounds. Kerry flashed a short smile, shook his head only just enough so V would see it. Then he carefully dabbed the warm, soaked towel against V’s face to get rid of the blood.

“Gotta get you checked out…” he said overplaying his sadness, the white towel progressively turning redder as he slowly worked away, “By Vik, or better, at the MedCenter. That wasn’t just a lil’ nosebleed.”

V held still, focusing on the warmth of the towel, the movement of Kerry’s eyes, his other hand gently stabilizing V’s head, fingertips caressing his face. And the slight resignation in his voice…

“MedCenter sounds like a plan,” V then said, automatically again almost, causing Kerry to freeze for a moment, stare at him with mild surprise. But then he smiled, more genuinely than before, and continued to gently dab the dried blood.

“Okay, good,” he said, “Want me to give Dr. Fuentes a call before, or…”

“I’ll do it myself,” V promised. Kerry finished by wiping the towel across V’s mouth, then his chest, then leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Not quite good as new, but it’ll do,” he announced, and V laughed weakly. The tension in the air was still tangible though, as Kerry followed V’s gaze back to Lee, who still sat on the chair, hands folded and staring at his feet.

“What’s he doin’ here by the way?” V then asked, no longer able to ignore the elephant in the room, “And where were you?”

Now Kerry avoided to look at him, bit his bottom lip and sighed, but his hands resting on V’s lap now also briefly clenched, curled into fists. He shrugged, and gestured at Lee, who stared at them both with wide eyes first and then over to the elevator. How subtle.

“Dunno, Lee, you wanna explain what happened?” Kerry asked, barely able to mask his annoyance and anger again now.

“Uh…” was all that Lee managed to utter, still petrified.

Kerry cocked his head, and when Lee didn’t manage to rediscover his voice, he turned to look back at V.

“Turns out, this little motherfucker is the one who swapped your pills.”

Lee audibly gasped and jumped up from his chair, hands raised in defense, before V had even fully registered the meaning of Kerry’s words.

“He what…” he said, his pulse gaining speed, then he turned to Lee, “You did what?”

“They… threatened me!” Lee stammered, and if V hadn’t been shaking too much to hold a glass of water, he would’ve long grabbed and punched the shit out of him. But then a shiver ran down his spine, and he turned back to Kerry.

“He tells you he works for Blue-Eyes and your first impulse is to bring him here? Into our home?”

Now Kerry flinched, visibly guilty.

“Hey, listen,” he defended himself, “My first impulse was to leave him to die in the desert – and I’m still tempted to take him back there, if I’m honest with ya.”

“No, please!” Lee whined and both Kerry and V instantly turned to look at him and in unison told him to “Shut up!”

There was a brief pause, their eyes met for a moment, V couldn’t help but grin and noticed Kerry’s cheeky smile as well. But then he turned serious again.

“Fuck it’s… a fuckin’ mess,” Kerry sighed. He got up to sit on the sofa next to V, Nibbles between them, to explain the whole story.

V listened intensely, from Kerry’s discovery on the security footage to paying Lee a visit (admitting his plan wasn’t as well thought-out as he’d liked it to be), down to their conversation in the desert and the return to Charter Hill.

“Dunno I… had a real bad gut feelin’ about just leaving him there,” Kerry said, “He downright admitted to everything, I think if Mr. Bastard figures out he told us…”

V nodded pensively, keeping a close eye on Lee who had sunken back into his chair again, appearing small and lost like a guilty child called to the principal’s office for the first time.

“How did these people get in contact with you for the first time?” he then asked, “And when?”

“It was the same night after I’d signed the contract with Kerry,” Lee said quietly, but without hesitation, and V nodded. That had also been the same day V had been contacted by Mr. B about the Crystal Palace heist.

“Got an unknown number call me, voice distorted, and they had… all this information on me, no idea how they got their hands on it,” Lee explained, “They told me I should get something from an apartment in a Megabuilding, everything would be ready to go as soon as I get there. Or they’d ruin me, if I didn’t do it.”

He looked up at V with watery eyes.

“I didn’t even know it was your place, didn’t even know who you were at the time. Only that you wouldn’t be home, and that I had to find a specific pill bottle. Take one pill, deliver it to a drop point with a specific code. And I thought that would be it.”

“But they came back, I take it, with more demands?” V asked, and Lee just nodded.

“I got to know you a few days later…” he stammered, “And they said, they wouldn’t only ruin my career, they’d put all the blame on me somehow and you’d kill me the second you figure it out.”

V leaned against the sofa’s backrest and closed his eyes for a couple of moments, still tightly wrapped in his blanket. He didn’t know Lee that well yet, but he’d dealt with enough professional liars in his life, and Lee simply didn’t strike him as one. Also, he had nothing to gain from making this up, or at least he also risked his life big time. For what, money? He earned ridiculously well as Kerry’s manager, his life already was more prestigious than those of 90% of NC’s citizens. Also, the details matched up, his fear was real. No matter how much he searched, V couldn’t think of a reason to distrust him, not believe him.

V could feel both Kerry’s and Lee’s eyes linger on him, waiting for him to deliver an answer, a solution that would magically make all their problems disappear. Admittedly, knowing with relative certainty now that neither Vik nor his trusted chemist, nor any other third party out of their reach was responsible for swapping V’s pills, that it had “only” been Lee, was a small relief. One thing to cross off of the to do list that was longer than the lifetime V had left.

But what good was it really to know the truth when in the grand scheme of things V was still dying, Lee had a bright glowing target on his back the moment he walked out the front door, and Mr. B’s true intentions were still unclear… and V and Kerry were continuously delivering him reasons now to silence them as well. He had put a certain amount of trust in them by inviting them to the lab, showing them his tech, and they’d declined to work with him – or rather, V had declined, Kerry had at least tried to convince him to reconsider.

Either way though, they were in the process of figuring out more and more of Mr. B’s secrets, and V was certain this man had his means and ways to stay in the loop on what they were up to. Whatever had been in these pills, V wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. B would notice if he no longer took them, at the very latest when Lee – or someone new – was tasked to swap them out the next time.

The hamster is running in his wheel again. Has he ever left it, I wonder…

“I need fresh air,” V just said and shakily good up from the sofa, Kerry jumping to his side instantly.

“Woah, careful,” he said, hand on V’s back.

“I’m good, really,” he replied, and quickly squeezed Kerry’s hand. He slid the blanket off his shoulders, let it drop to the floor, then grabbed the comfortable jogging pants and t-shirt Kerry had brought him earlier. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lee staring, then getting flustered and averting his gaze. V could almost feel the daggers shooting from Kerry’s eyes behind him, even if he said nothing, and V grinned.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head, then turned around. Since he had to pass Lee on the way to the balcony anyway, he made a point of walking up to him slowly, then he stopped right by his side. Lee froze, then sheepishly looked up at him. V waited, looked him in the eyes… and then grabbed his jaw as hard as he could, leaving Lee wincing and gasping.

“Don’t ever try to fuck with me or Kerry again, or I swear, you’re gonna wish he’d shot you in the desert,” V threatened, his voice calm but cutting as sharp and deep as the finest katana rolling from an Arasaka assembly line.

Lee stared at him wide-eyed, and when V let go of his face again, he just nodded firmly. Then V slowly continued his walk to the glass sliding door connecting the kitchen to the outside world.

With each step onto the balcony he took another deep breath as Night City was slowly engulfed by darkness… But simultaneously somehow it came back to life in a rainbow of a million neon lights. V stopped at the railing, still somewhat lightheaded, and just listened to the pulsating heart of the city for a few moments, taking in the smells and sights, as if he’d awoken from a too long sleep as well.

He rested his arms on the metal bar and let his head fall forward. He could still sense the strain of his headache, his arm and knee hurt from his fall.

Next one might kill ya for good, just sayin’. You gotta get your ass up and do somethin’.

The echo of Johnny’s voice lingered in his ears again, and V wasn’t surprised. It was almost as bad again as it had been that day Johnny took control and dragged him to the Pistis Sofia. V had been so angry, so scared, and even in hindsight still felt betrayed, no matter that Johnny had acted in his – their – own best interest. Sometimes he wondered, even though he was gone, somewhere behind the Blackwall now, if a piece of his mind didn’t maybe remain in V’s brain after all somehow. He still had many of Johnny’s more vivid memories, because they were V’s now as much as they’d been his first. Why not part of his personality as well, seeped from the Relic into the fibre of his being where not even Soulkiller could reach it? The thought terrified him, that the reason he was dying wasn’t even just his body not accepting his own personality anymore, but rather part of Johnny still being here and actively – even if unwillingly – fighting back against V too.

V, you gotta do somethin’. Promise, this isn’t one of those things that’s gotta get worse before it gets better.

“Fuck…”

V opened his eyes. He was sick to his stomach and needed another couple of minutes of just breathing in the cool evening air slowly and steadily for the nausea to fade to bearable levels. Only then he pulled up Dr. Fuentes number on the holo. In the corner of the interface the time read 6.56 pm, so not awfully late for a spontaneous call, he hoped. He took another deep breath, then it started ringing.

“Fuentes?” was the firm response on the other end of the line just a few seconds later. But V hesitated.

“Hello?” Fuentes asked after a short pause.

Only the memory of Kerry’s teary eyes managed to remove the knot from his tongue.

“This is V,” he said briefly, not really sure how to even start, “I… wanted to apologize for turning your offer down so harshly the other day.”

Now Fuentes remained silent. Her holocall avatar was a plain logo of the Little China MedCenter with her name beneath it, “Dr. Isabella Fuentes” in sleek letters.

“No need to apologize,” she then said, voice calm and professional, “I take it, you’ve reconsidered?”

“Why else would I be calling, right?” V grinned, trying to play it cool after his initial hesitation.

“I’ve thought things through,” he continued, “Examined a few other options and… I think it’s best to at least explore all possible paths before making a final decision.”

She didn’t need to know about Blue-Eyes, at least not yet and not over the holo. Despite the secure connection, having Lee sitting just a few yards away behind him, made it hard for V to speak openly. Also, he still waited on Nyx’ background check of the doctor. Apart from that, she also didn’t need to know that he was growing desperate. Despair quickly attracted all sorts of favours and demands that weren’t part of original bargains in this city.

“A wise decision,” she said then, and once again, a shiver ran down V’s spine as if he’d just walked right into a trap, “Let me check my calendar… You’re scheduled for the cast removal on Friday. Would that be alright, or do you want to come in sooner?”

V paused once more. Viktor’s injectors would last him until Thursday at most, at this rate probably not as long. Hopefully AJ would have the next pill batch ready before that happened. Right now, he might still have remnants of Mr. B’s fake pills in his body that Fuentes could have a look at, too.

“Would tomorrow work?” he asked, and Fuentes hummed.

“Let me see… I can definitely move some appointments around. Why don’t you come in at… 10 am? And I’ll see what I can do for you, get things moving at the very least.”

“Alright,” V nodded, and his stomach slightly turned again.

“Alright,” Fuentes repeated, “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“Good night.”

He hung up and returned to trying to breathe deeply, rubbing his forehead with his healthy hand. He stood in silence, in the fresh breeze for a little while longer, until eventually the door slid open behind him. Familiar hands found his sore shoulders, rubbed his back.

“Ain’t ya gettin’ cold?” Kerry asked quietly, pressing his lips against V’s left shoulder blade as his arms wrapped around his waist. V shook his head.

“Got an appointment with Fuentes tomorrow mornin’,” he announced, “Can you drive me? Otherwise, I’ll just call Del.”

“No, of course I’ll drive ya. Hell, I’ll come with ya,” Kerry said.

“It’s fine, don’t have to,” V shook his head, “Been driving me around all day today, and yesterday… I bet the studio’s been breathin’ down your neck the whole time.”

Kerry’s silence and slightly tightening grip was answer enough.

“But you hate doctors and hospitals,” he then mumbled against his shoulder, and V chuckled, putting his hand on Kerry’s.

“But,” he countered, “I’m also a big boy already. I’ll manage on my own this once.”

Kerry squeezed him once more, then slowly let go to lean on the rail beside him. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up, his own way of “catching some fresh air” V mused. They stood in silence side by side for a few moments, admiring the glowing cityscape.

“Y’know,” V then said, “I’m really damn proud of you.”

Kerry laughed briefly and flicked some cigarette ash into the air.

“Yeah?”

V nodded.

“How you figured out that it was Lee… couldn’t have done that better myself.”

“Got yourself a man of many talents,” Kerry smiled, taking another drag.

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but really, Kerry, you give yourself too little credit,” V insisted, “Couldn’t do any of this without ya.”

V turned to look at Kerry, but Kerry didn’t reciprocate his gaze, instead stared off into the distance. He seemed to want to respond in a cheeky way, something like “yeah, of course you couldn’t”, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to it. In the end, he just smiled, flicked away what was left of his cigarette, then looked up at V finally with his big blue eyes.

“I know you’re carrying big enough burdens and responsibilities without me already,” V said quietly.

“V, you’re not – …”

“I’m not a burden, I know,” V interrupted him, “I’m just sayin’… Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. Neither of us has to carry all the weight all the time. We can take turns, share the load.”

Once again, Kerry seemed to want to say something, although this time V had a harder time guessing what it may have been. Instead, after a couple of moments, he changed the topic.

“I was hopin’… you’d have an idea about what to do with Lee.”

V looked over his shoulder. Inside, Lee was still sitting on the armchair in the living room, head hung low.

“You really think he’s in immediate danger?” V asked, but Kerry almost instantly shrugged.

“It’s less knowin’, more a feelin’,” he said, “Based on livin’ in this city for longer than most people, mostly.”

V nodded. Kerry’s life experience wasn’t to be underestimated. Even if he’d never been a true part of Night City’s underworld, he’s lived alongside it long enough, dealt with enough shady crooks, crazy fans, and dubious corpos to have a deeper insight into human nature and this city’s inner workings than most.

“Also… dunno, it could be nothin’. Just my own paranoia,” he then added, and V perked up, “There was this black van just outside the studio, right when we left to come back ‘ere.”

“A black van?”

“Yeah… pretty non-descript, just… black.”

“Did you see the model, or brand?” V’s thoughts were racing, drifting back to the high-speed chase of the black Ragnar on behalf of the Peralezes. His first contact with Mr. Blue-Eyes’ organization, even when he wasn’t aware of it yet at the time. A black, non-descript car, not quite a van, but…

“I think it was a Columbus,” Kerry said, and V frowned, “Like… 80% sure. Not brand-new, but also not one of the older models that still pop up now and then. Fuck, Nance once organized one of those for a tour, lemme tell ya, was tired of the thing the moment I got in. Flimsy doors, too narrow really to get anything in and out that was bigger than a person… And fuck, it stank.”

V hummed.

“Odd for that corner of Charter Hill, too,” he said after a couple of moments, “In broad daylight and all.”

Kerry nodded. V knew Charter Hill well, he knew the street the studio was on, and really, black, non-descript vans stood out. It wasn’t exactly an area with a lot of big families that might get use of a car like that, neither an overly commercial area with a lot of delivery vehicles… And those were branded or parked in the back of the fancy stores they delivered to. Maybe it was a vehicle of Mr. B, or maybe that of a bad private investigator who hadn’t done their research on the area and just brought the usual inconspicuous car… Or a dozen other possibilities. If it was enough to worry Kerry though, he would treat it seriously.

“Alright,” V said and pulled up his holo again, “Better safe than sorry. Imma call Emmerick, arrange some security for Lee – and for you, on that matter – ‘til we know more.”

“Ah, c’mon, V, I’m safe here, and at the studio… and everywhere else I’ll be with ya anyway.”

“I’ll sleep better if I know there’s a couple more eyes on you than just mine,” V said and called up Emmerick to set everything in motion – and to remove Lee from their house as quickly as possible.

Less than half an hour later the doorbell rang, and Lee was picked up by two trustful mercs who specialized in personal protection. He was visibly reluctant about leaving with them, but in the end, V would’ve left him no choice but either go on his own or at least accompanied by well-paid professionals.

“You’re gonna pay us back for this,” Kerry said as Lee already had one foot in the elevator, “Not just the huscle, everythin’. Big time.”

His jaw slightly red still from where V had grabbed him, Lee just nodded in resignation before the elevator doors closed between them.

A huge weight was lifted off of V’s chest, and he leaned against Kerry, who put his arms back around him.

“What a day, huh?” he said quietly, gently rubbing V’s back in small circles.

“Hopin’ tomorrow will be better,” V nodded with his eyes closed, forehead resting on Kerry’s shoulder.

They remind like that for a couple of moments, then V stood up straight again to look at Kerry. Meanwhile it was almost eight.

“Whaddaya say… pizza, popcorn, and movie night?” he suggested. Kerry squinted slightly, in disbelief almost. But then he also began to smile and nodded. V reached up to brush his fingers through Kerry’s ridiculously soft hair, then scratched his beard, and Kerry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Like a cat, V thought, and chuckled. Simultaneously, he placed an order at their favourite pizza place over his holo.

“You’re all dusty still,” he mused quietly, “And I bet I look like a mess, too.”

Kerry didn’t even open his eyes.

“You’re particularly handsome when you look like a mess...”

V snorted and kissed him softly.

“I’m still kinda cold though, too. I’ll hop in the shower real quick. Wanna join while we wait for the food?”

Kerry grinned.

“Be there in a sec, I’ll just finally put my jacket and… stuff away.”

V had noticed Kerry still had his gun in his pocket the whole time Lee was there. He had been wondering if he’d kept it on him on purpose.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” V teased, giving Kerry’s jaw a quick squeeze the same way he’d done it to Lee, and Kerry bit his lip.

“I would never,” he purred, then they slowly moved away from each other. V began to head upstairs, clinging to the railing, the exertion really making him feel his earlier attacks now. Halfway up the stairs he actually had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. Then his gaze fell to his feet, and between them on the steps the dark red dried bloodstains he’d left here earlier still marked the floor.

He cursed between his teeth, froze for a moment, as his eyes wandered further up the steps where the blood trail continued. Then he looked down behind him, could see the stains still where he’d laid on the floor in the kitchen.

Slowly he made it the rest of the way up the stairs, behind him on the ground floor the door to the armory opened and closed a second time. Kerry caught up to him at the top of the stairs where once more V couldn’t continue moving. He could feel Kerry follow his gaze to their bed, where the pillows and blanket looked like a dark red can of spray paint had exploded. Even the wall had tiny stains.

V turned to look at Kerry, whose cheeky grin had disappeared, replaced by distress he didn’t manage or want to hide this time. Neither of them said a word until eventually Kerry just dragged V to the bathroom with him.

“I’ll call someone to clean up tomorrow when we’re outta the house,” he said, “Can sleep downstairs tonight.”

V just nodded and wordlessly followed Kerry. Any spark of romance was gone, not even the hot shower water raining down on them helped. But actually, just holding each other and existing in this peaceful moment together was what they both needed more now than a quickie, V realized. He clung to Kerry, and Kerry clung to him, and neither said a word. They just understood that all that mattered right now was that they still had each other after a day full of arguments and unpleasant surprises, with only little glimmers of hope between.

“I thought you were dead,” Kerry eventually broke the silence, voice barely louder than the rushing water, finally addressing what both of them had had on their mind the whole evening. He had his face buried against the side of V’s neck, and V stroked the back of Kerry’s head, scratching and caressing the short grey hair there. He couldn’t say anything in response, could barely imagine the horror Kerry must’ve felt, walking into the kitchen and seeing his legs and a trail of blood behind the counter first thing. V had stumbled into murder and violent crime scenes that had been less bloody than the state of their bedroom right now.

“I’m here though,” he then said quietly, “I’m so… fucking sorry, to put you through this, but I’m here. And I hope I can make up for it somehow, in... in the future.”

He almost said, “in the end”, but no. He didn’t want to think of things ending anymore, but of continuing, of something, some kind of future to look forward to.

“V…” was all that Kerry managed before he almost collapsed against him and just began to cry against V’s shoulder. It started as just one, two big sobs, but then he couldn’t hold back anymore. V clung to Kerry, soothing, whispering into his ear that they’d find a way, somehow.

“And if I have to burn the whole damn city down, I’ll fight like hell to get better. Be with you. Never leave you again.”

Like this they stood, holding on, until all the tears they were still capable of crying had been washed away and down the drain with the dirt and blood and dust.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

The mood of this chapter was: Lie down. Try not to cry. Cry a lot.

I always struggle a bit with transitional chapters, but this here finally ties off the "who switched the pills" plotline and V moves away from focusing on Mr. B as much (at least for now). I've been struggling a bit with putting it all together, but I'm ready now to move forward XD Next time Dr. Fuentes will make a return and I'm scared and excited to introduce you to her plans for V 👀 To recap the timeline a little bit, the day before all this happened, V was introduced to Mr. B's "cure" of his problems, and just a couple of days earlier he returned from the Crystal Palace and had his car accident. Busy af weekend really xD

Also yes, this is not the last you'll have heard of Lee, promise! He will have to pay for what he did, even if he was somewhat forced 👀

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[lucifers-owl]

Cypher fell first but Sova fell harder

Cypher fell first but Sova fell harder. Sova doesn't quite grasp the moment when he fell in love. He had just realized at some point that his gaze lingered a little longer on Cypher's features. He realized that he wanted to know what he was like under the disguise and all his layers of covered clothing. He realized that he tended to go on the same missions with him, chalking it up to the fact that they both got along well and just seemed to work well together as a team. Sova knew that Cypher wasn't reciprocating his feelings, after all, he had a family, and now he was one of the Agents, who hid his true identity as much as possible. Yet Sova couldn't help but keep thinking about him. He would often fall asleep imagining the two of them sitting on the roof together, looking up at the stars, their fingers intertwined, both of them finally gloveless and touching one another. He would often wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares, wishing that Cypher was there, that he could calm him down and support him when everything around him seemed terrifying and unwelcoming. But Cypher was gone, and Sova, again and again, went to Fade to have his nightmares taken away.

Sova doesn't understand why he fell in love. Their work is hard, exhausting and terribly dangerous, they could be killed today or tomorrow, but Sova still finds the strength to stay awake at night and think about how hopelessly in love he is. Sova occasionally gets lost in conversation with Cypher, and then hates himself for being embarrassed and probably caught in the act.

Cypher understands exactly why he fell in love with Sova. Sova is kind, even though he seems stern and cold. Sova is careful, even though he seems rough and bulky. Also, Sova was being himself with Cypher. He didn't change his attitude towards him like other people did, he didn't fear him, he didn't try to hide anything like other Agents did. Sova was just being himself. And Sova was also so damn handsome and very much to Cypher's taste. Cypher isn't a fool, he sees how embarrassed the guy is, sees his hands shake nervously when they talk, how he fumbles with the clasps on his gloves or rubs his earrings in his ear. Cypher sees it all perfectly. And he's just a little tired of waiting for Sova to get his thoughts straight.

“Sova!” Cypher calls out to him before he can shut the door to his bedroom. He peeks out and tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “I've heard you in Russia love tea… I would bet that my tea tastes better. Would you like to try some?” ”I… Um… Yeah, go ahead, yeah…" Sova feels the tips of his ears turn red and he hastily covers them with his hair. He leaves the room, heading after Cypher.

They sat down right next to each other on the floor, where Cypher had already laid something and set up a low table. Two cups of tea are on it as if the man was already sure of the other's consent to the tea party. Sova's mind was in chaos, his heart was beating somewhere under his throat, so loudly that it seemed that Cypher was just about to hear everything.

”Cypher, are you… Not going to drink?” Sova said, taking the glass cup in his hands and taking a small sip. Cypher had been watching the whole time, his piercing eyes following Sova's every move. "I will, but…" Cypher sighed and slowly pulled off his gloves. His swarthy skin is rough, dry in places, and pale spots are going up under his sleeves. Sova blushes harder. “Call me Aamir, I beg you." Cypher takes the mask off his face in slow motion. Sova doesn't care about the scars, or the skin splotches, nothing. Apart from the fact that Cypher is sitting in front of him without his mask and gloves. “I trust you, Sova” “Your trust means the world to me. And… Just Sasha, I beg you”

Sova thought falling in love any deeper was impossible, but he was obviously wrong.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 23: "It's gonna get me by the end of the night" + Shadows

Continuation of Day 22

Read it on Ao3

- Legend & Sky

- Summary: Held captive and helpless in the Shadow's grip, Legend and Sky try to find a way to escape

CW for blood and injury; broken bones; electrocution; torture; brief mentions of vomit, possession, and death; and captivity

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

“Vet. Vet! Wake up!”

Legend blinks his eyes open with a groan. His body protests its journey back into consciousness rather loudly and he can’t help but swat at the hand gently shaking his shoulder.

“‘M up, ‘m up,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. By Hylia, why does he feel like he jumped into a lightning storm? 

He blinks a few more times, trying to bring his blurry surroundings into focus. But his pounding head makes that rather difficult and it takes a couple of good, hard tries.

It’s dark in the room where he sits, slumped against Sky’s shoulder. Lanterns lend some light along the far wall, casting shadows everywhere else. They illuminate a deadly sheen of crimson splotched sporadically along the stone floors. A heavy door blocks the exit. No windows are anywhere Legend can see.

They’re all but locked in. A cell that was never truly meant to be.

“Where…” He swallows, grimacing at the harsh bite of it. “Where are we?”

Faint memories are stirring now as consciousness slowly regains a full grip on him. But they are still hazy at best. It’s hard to focus on anything with the phantom pain of electricity in his veins. And of course the telltale ache of using too much magic. Whatever happened, he had practically bled himself dry trying to stop it.

“You don’t remember?” Sky asks. Something in the way he says it makes Legend turn to look at him. The Skyloftian is unnaturally pale, even in the near darkness. Blood darkens his tunic in multiple spots and dribbles down from his nose and mouth. A gash runs along his forehead, dipping down to hide along his left eyebrow. And on his cheek there is a cluster of angry, red lines branching upward and out almost like…

Legend draws in a breath. It all comes rushing back now, bringing the incessant ache of his body and mind to a nauseating fever pitch. He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat.

“No…no I remember,” he grits out. “Not-you lured me here and shot balls of electricity at my face.”

Sky chuckles, hoarse and breathless. “Yeah. That’s the…that’s the gist of it.”

Legend shifts and immediately regrets it. The room tilts and his stomach lurches as pain spikes up like shards of glass through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting not to vomit.

“Are you alright, vet?”

He nods. “Yup. Great.”

Focus on breathing. In and out, in and out.

After a moment, he dares open his eyes again. This time, the room stays level and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Okay, so maybe no sudden movements for a bit.

“I’m guessing the Shadow isn’t here yet,” he says. “Otherwise this experience would probably be a whole lot worse.”

Sky is quiet for a moment. When he speaks his voice is even more hushed and broken than before.

“No, he hasn’t arrived yet, as far as I can tell. But that monster…it said it was going to bring the others here too.” Legend looks up at him, but Sky doesn’t meet his gaze. He is staring at the door as though through will alone he can move it. “If we don’t get out of here soon they’ll have to fight it same as we did.”

“And just like us they’ll likely lose,” Legend finishes, bitterly. “Yeah, okay, so we’ve got to figure out how to escape this place before the Shadow arrives, probably kill the monster that took us both out, plus whatever else has revived in the meantime…while wounded and weaponless. Should be a cinch.”

Sky opens his mouth to reply but before he can voices filter through the walls, harsh and echoing. Both heroes tense.

“Two. You caught two heroes out of the nine that I tasked you with bringing me. Tell me, what makes you think that that is a worthy haul to summon me to see?”

Legend swallows down his rising fear. The Shadow. The Shadow is right outside and they don’t even have some half-baked plan started yet. 

“But Master, they aren’t just any two heroes.” It’s the blind now, sounding almost groveling in comparison to the Shadow’s sneering growl. “These ones wield the Master Sword. As you said, they are capable of…”

“Don’t!” The shout is sharp and commanding, like a slap across the face. Beside him, Sky flinches slightly. “Don’t speak the words. They will not defeat me, no matter the weapons they wield. I will make certain of that.”

The voice grows louder, closer. Legend tenses further, steeling himself for what is to come. 

“You will remain here. I have work to do and have no wish for you to interfere.”

“What of the other heroes? Do you not want…”

“Leave them for now. These two will suffice.” Legend doesn’t need to see the Shadow’s face to know he is grinning. “Perhaps, once they see their mutilated corpses, the others will simply give themselves up.”

“You know magic, right?” 

Legend startles slightly, glancing at Sky. The knight’s soft voice is so different from the domineering, sinister tones just outside.

“Yeah,” he says, slowly, muddled thoughts struggling to catch up with everything, “but I used it all up while trying to fight that stupid monster.”

Sky’s eyes narrow and he gnaws his lip. “Can you get it back?”

“I mean…it replenishes itself eventually.”

“How long does it take?”

Legend thinks for a moment. “Without the help of a potion? Ten minutes at the least.”

The darkness in the room begins to bend and twist, heralding the approach of their captor. Legend’s heart climbs into his throat.

“Okay,” Sky murmurs. When Legend spares him another glance he can see the fire burning in his eyes, determination in his stance. “I’ll buy you all the time you need.”

Legend’s mouth falls open, an indignant squawk escaping. “What? Sky…no!” 

They both know what the Shadow wants, they both know what his entrance means. And ten minutes is more than enough time for him to accomplish his purpose here, even with his preferred method of a slow, agonizing demise. 

But crimson eyes are gleaming in the shadows now and his chance to argue is gone. A wide mouth stretches into a grin, soft footsteps bring the monster closer. He is in his Hylian form this time and even with his charcoal flesh and demonic gaze, Legend is struck by how similar he looks to Time.

It’s strange staring into a twisted, mirrored image of his brother. Sickening.

“The Chosen Hero” – His eyes find Sky and hold there for a moment, then flit to Legend, pinning him like a bug on a stick – “and the Hero of Legend. How wonderful to have you both here.”

“Your accommodations are definitely not wonderful,” Legend snaps, ignoring the uncharacteristically sharp look Sky sends his way.

The Shadow merely chuckles. “Well, prisoners cannot afford to be picky, unfortunately. Not to worry, though. You won’t be here for too long.” His grin widens, teeth glinting stark white against a backdrop of gray and black. “I would say your prayers to that precious little goddess of yours. Otherwise, your future accommodations may not be too inviting either.”

“So, that’s what you’re here to do,” Sky says before Legend manages to spew another dry comment. “Kill us.”

The Shadow quirks an eyebrow. “You sound displeased with that. Would you rather that I did something else? Possessed you perhaps? Used your body as an unwilling puppet to torment your brothers with? Or perhaps merely toyed with you, causing immense pain but never enough to allow for sweet release? Would that please you more?”

Sky clenches his jaw, eyes flashing. But Legend doesn’t miss the way his face pales further.

“Do whatever you want,” he retorts, tone as sharp as the weapon he wields. “It won’t work. Light always triumphs, no matter how long it takes. Hylia ordained it so.”

“Hylia is dead.” The Shadow spits the word. Sky flinches, noticeably, garnering another harsh chuckle from the monster. “Whatever I inflict upon you, keep that knowledge in your mind. Your beloved goddess is gone. She is nothing more than a girl now, helpless and useless and utterly incapable of coming to your aid.”

Sky’s eyes suddenly blaze with a dangerous light. Legend has never seen that look on his face before. Honestly, it makes him a bit uneasy.

“How dare you!” He growls, leaning forward, heedless of his proximity to the monster. “You don’t know Zelda and you have no right to speak of her in such a way, you pathetic–”

Legend has a feeling the Skyloftian was about to rattle off enough insults to make even him impressed. But he never gets the chance. His words break off into an agonized scream instead, so sharp and terrible that the veteran jumps back from him, vision going spotty from the quick movement. 

It only lasts a moment, but it’s long enough to ring in his ears and leave Sky breathless. The Skyflotian sags forward, blood dripping from his lips. 

“What was it that you were saying, Chosen One?” the Shadow purrs. “That I shouldn’t insult your little Zelda so? That I was pathetic?”

Sky drags in a trembling breath and lifts his head. That fire is still there, turning the sky blue of his irises dark.

“That’s right,” he grits out, “you’re pathetic. If Zelda were here you would already be long gone.”

The Shadow’s eyes glint. “Is that so?”

He doesn’t move a muscle, not even a twitch of a fingertip. Yet, Sky reels back as though hit, back arching, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. He screams again and blindingly white lines begin to snake up his neck, crawling toward his face. Legend can see them beneath his tunic too, their unnatural light crackling and bending along his body. Heat emanates from him.

Legend’s eyes widen and his stomach drops. It’s…it’s almost like the Shadow is pouring lightning into his body.

Another moment and it’s over again. Sky slumps, coughing up more blood. His bent form trembles and twitches.

“If you recall, you sustained quite a few injuries while fighting for the girl you now so bravely defend.” The Shadow walks forward. With one, delicate finger he lifts Sky’s chin. “Do they still ache – these wounds Demise bestowed upon you? I am certain that they do now.”

Sky drags his gaze up to the Shadow’s. “You…you plan to kill me by reopening ol-old wounds? Get more creative.”

The Shadow smirks. “I underestimated you, Chosen One. No wonder you were the one who faced the Demon God himself. Your heart is strong.”

For a split second the very air reverberates with tension. Then, Sky’s eyes blow wide as his skin lights up again. His scream is more hoarse this time, cracking and broken. His body trembles and jerks of its own accord as though trying to escape the agony inside of it.

And it’s too much, too much.

Damn buying time. Damn his slowly rejuvenating magic. Legend can’t take this any more.

(He hates himself for enduring it this long. For allowing fear and pain to constrict his throat and paralyze his body while his brother suffers.)

“Stop!”

He scrambles between Sky and the Shadow as though that will do anything at all. Behind him Sky continues to cry out.

“Stop hurting him you sick bastard!”

“Do you wish to die first?” The Shadow asks, a bit of sadistic humor in his tone. “Because that can be arranged.”

“N-no!” Sky heaves a breath. He is shaking more than ever now from the effort it takes not to scream. “D-don’t you dare t-touch him!”

The Shadow looks between them both, a smirk playing upon his lips. 

“I will do whatever I please. But since this is such a wonderful show, I will grant your wish just this once, Chosen One. You will have the privilege of dying first.”

Legend gasps. Tears are welling in his eyes now despite his efforts to hold them back. His hands fall, trembling onto his lap. Useless. 

No.

He lunges, a cry on his lips, fist outstretched to collide with the Shadow’s face. Agony explodes in every part of him, taking his very breath away. But when his blow hits, he no longer cares. It’s worth it to see the Shadow’s head snap back, blood spurting from his nose.

Then, a smile stretches his lips. He catches Legend’s wrist as he tries for another punch and twists. A loud crack echoes through the room. Legend chokes on a cry.

“Though, I suppose that is a mercy, really,” he purrs, deadly and sweet. “You will be gone long before I begin torturing your little friend. The Hero of Legend, however, has no choice but to watch me tear you apart.”

His grin grows as blood dribbles down to his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he has a good seat.”

A blast of energy slams into Legend’s chest, sending him hurtling sideways. He hits the ground with a shout, pain exploding up his arm. Seconds later the floor itself lifts, wrapping around him and pinning him there. He thrashes, desperately, but the cold stone merely constricts further, snapping his bones like twigs. Blood fills his mouth and he gags on it.

Sky’s screams echo through the space once more, bouncing around in his aching skull. Laughter mingles with it. The air stinks of bile and blood and desperation. Dark magic blankets everything. The flickering lights of phantom lightning illuminate the room. 

He is suffocating in it all. And still, his magic crawls upward, lazily filling his veins. He curses it for its slowness. 

Horror and bitter regret creep into his chest as his ears ring with the sounds of his brother’s agony and blinding light blurs before his eyes.

Sky had never talked much about his adventure. They knew he hadn’t fought Ganondorf like the rest of them and they knew he had plummeted to the Surface to save Zelda. They knew he had known the spirit within the sword. But that was the extent of it. 

Battling a Demon God with the power of lightning, gaining painful scars from it…Legend could never have guessed. 

They all have their secrets – that is an accepted thing amongst them all. Some will never be told. But Legend had always thought Sky had held the least of all of them. Besides, Wind, that is. And now that that assumption is shattered, now that he is forced to watch the repercussions of the horrors his brother hadn’t seen fit to share…he feels an odd sort of remorse. 

He should have done more. He should have at least asked.

To hold knowledge like that is torture in and of itself. He knows that more than anyone.

Well, it’s too late to change that now, he chastises himself, harshly. So, stop moping and figure out how to get the both of you out of here before it’s too late.

It’s nearly impossible to focus with the pain coursing through him and Sky’s yells still splitting his skull (though they are growing weaker now…dangerously so; in fact, he would say they’re more akin to whimpered sobs). Legend squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe past it all. He needs to think, he needs to clear his mind enough to do something, anything to make this all stop.

Sky’s cries may be dwindling, but they are still sounds. They are still evidence that the knight is fighting and alive. 

Legend intends to keep it that way. 

That cursed blind took his pouch and his sword and shield with it. Hylia only knows where they are now. He has other items at his disposal, however.  

The medallions he obtained so long ago are stowed away in his pouch. But the spells that power them are safe in his mind. Using any of them is a gamble with his magic as low as it still is and at least four floors of stone above him…one he’s willing to take. 

He has no other choice.

Legend takes a deep breath and begins to whisper the incantation. 

Magic gathers at his fingertips, tearing at his body as it drags him to past the limit. Blood bubbles in his throat and his ears fill with an excruciating ring. Consciousness threatens to slip away but he grasps ahold of it, wrestles it down.

He can’t let go now. He refuses to.

The last words leave his lips on the tail end of a pained whine. There’s a second in which he is lost within the drifting waves of agony and exhaustion, unable to hear or feel or see anything. And then, the world explodes.

Crackling, white streaks of electricity zip across the room, bringing with them the sound of thunder and pouring rain. They charge toward their target and in an eruption of light and darkness, collide head-on. The Shadow lets out an agonized screech.

Legend’s own scream joins his as the spell drags the rest of the magic from his aching body, lighting his very veins on fire. His vision blacks out and the back of his neck prickles dangerously, body threatening to give up and drop into the oblivion it craves. But then he’s back, gasping like a fish on land as the spell sputters and dies out.

He can only lie there for a few moments after the room goes quiet, shuddering and trying to breathe through the pain. It takes all of his strength and then some to push himself upright. The room dips and dives beneath him as he crawls to where Sky lies. Every breath is gravelly and hoarse, every movement agony.

But he makes it. Somehow, miraculously, he makes it.

…and with a pitiful groan, collapses right beside the Skyloftian.

Sky’s hand finds his, still trembling and twitching slightly, but comforting and warm. Legend gives it a weak squeeze.

“Some…some escape plan, huh?” he slurs, blinking up at the ceiling. “We’re both…both over here half-dead.”

Sky huffs a shaky chuckle. 

“He’s gone though,” he whispers, every word drenched in pain. “It…it worked well e-enough.”

Legend hums. He’s right. The Shadow is gone, likely fled to some far corner of the earth to escape injury, and the blind with him. So, though neither of them have the strength to drag themselves out of this place at least, for now, they are safe.

And…now that he listens a bit more carefully, Legend swears he can hear a wolf howl.

A small smile lifts his lips. Maybe, they’re even safer than he thought.

“Hey, Sky,” he manages, even as he begins to drift away to the sound of salvation.

Sky makes a small, tired sound. His breath hitches slightly and Legend tightens his hold on his hand.

“S-sacrifice yourself like that again and I-I’ll take out your kneecaps.”

Sky only laughs.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 3, Day 6, Day 13, & Day 22

“Well, well, well…” | Hiding | Ambushed | Flinch | “Wait!” | Poison | Bedridden

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: royalty whump, lady whump, death, murder, blood, fantasy drug/potion

WC: 765

What savagery is this?

The night the royal family fell to ruin

“Well, well, well.” Soldiers surged inside. “I knew there was another prince that needed killing, hiding somewhere, but it looks like my work is done for me.” The invader scoffed as he approached, leaving crimson footsteps on the floor. “What did you do, princess? Poison him so he wouldn’t have to taste defeat at my hands, too?”

She flung herself in front of her brother’s prone form, keenly aware of how the hulking warriors, approaching with their blades drawn, dwarfed her puny frame.

She watched the swords, not the faces. The invader believed her brother was dead already; perhaps that would be what saved him. Sinking their weapons into his flesh while he lay senseless and vulnerable would be a pointless endeavour. What honour was there in slaying a corpse already going cold?

Their folly, however, would do little to save her.

“Leave me to grieve my brother,” she said. “Then . . .”

Then, what?

“Then do as you will,” she choked.

She raised her gaze, unable to disguise her quivering lip and quaking limbs, just in time to see the invader’s mouth curl upwards.

Had he not been drenched in the blood of her family, courtiers, servants, and soldiers, she might have found him striking: sandy hair, sleek with sweat, pushed back from his glistening forehead. Eyes like silvery slits—eyes of moonlight—watched her, glimmering with bloodlust, alight with the spiteful pleasure he took in seeing her tremble.

“As I will, hmm?” He seemed to ponder these words, letting silence creep over them both save for the drip, drip, drip of blood splattering to the floor from the soldiers’ blades. She flinched with each soft sound. Suddenly, the handsomeness of his face vanished, leaving behind only the red splotches on his armour, the flecks of gore across what little exposed skin she could see.

“My lord,” said one soldier, pointing to her brother’s chest. It rose and fell evenly as he lay, undisturbed, in his unnatural slumber. “He lives.”

The invader’s smile widened. “The little princess is a little liar.” Without pausing for a breath, he ordered his soldiers, “Kill him.”

“No!” As the nearest soldier raised his sword, she hurled her body atop her brother’s. “No! Wait! Please. Please. You can’t. He’s sick. He’s ill. You can’t.”

“Of course I can,” said the invader calmly. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Where’s your honour?” she cried, grappling fruitlessly to cling to her brother’s motionless limbs as a soldier clamped onto her arms and wrenched her away. “Butchering an unconscious man? What kind of savagery is this?”

Scathing laughter swelled around them, hot breath and blood mingling in the air, tightening around her like cords and chains.

“Pretty words for a pretty thing,” said the invader. “No perfervid pleas will save you, however. Still, I’ll afford you once last choice. Shall I slit your throat first so you don’t have to watch, or would you like to attend the former crown prince’s last breaths with blood still flowing through your veins?”

When she didn’t answer, he shrugged and gestured to his soldiers with a single wave of his hand: Do it now.

The princess screamed.

“Wait!”

Looking more entertained than irritated, perhaps knowing that her shrieks would only delay the inevitable and that his victory was at hand, the invader held up his hand again. Halt.

“Look at the bottle,” she gasped. “Just—just look!”

“It’s a trick,” said the soldier who held her, wrenching her head back and gliding a blade over the skin of her throat. She felt it split, felt the heat of blood oozing toward her collarbone like scarlet honey. “Hold your tongue, girl.”

But the invader merely watched, impassive, as she whimpered and struggled to escape the bite of his soldier’s blade, to no avail. Neither fear nor suspicion marred the blood-flecked features of his face; he seemed, of all things, curious—and, of course, still cruelly amused.

“Tell me what’s in the bottle,” he said lightly. “You may speak.”

He, a brute and a usurper, giving her, a princess, a woman of royal blood, leave to speak. She jerked involuntarily against the soldier’s hold, and the man yanked her head back again.

“Say it, then,” the soldier hissed. “Do as your prince commands.”

Not my prince.

But she choked out, “It’s a sleeping potion. Dreamless sleep. He needs it. Do you know why?”

What a traitor she was. Her brother would never forgive her.

The invader prince lifted his eyebrows. “Speak quickly, princess, before my curiosity depletes. Your time is running out.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[howlingday]

STINGER

Previously

"I can't believe I got to meet her~!" Ilia giggled to herself as she shut her locker door. Mere hours ago, she was saved by her personal hero, the red-petaled superhero of Vale... "The Red Streak herself~!"

She began to daydream that moment. Her shining silver eyes, her beautiful smile, and the way she spoke with a mixture of kindness and authority. She sighed contently at the thought of being in her arms again... until she suddenly shook her head and clapped her hands over her cheeks.

"Get ahold of yourself, Amitola! You heard the hero!" With a determined look on her face, she glared to the ceiling. "You're the eyes and ears of the Red Hero~!"

"Is that what you're calling yourself now?"

Ilia flinched and kept her head down. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and looked to Magnolia Daze, local bully and round-the-clock jerk. The only saving grace Ilia had with her was that she didn't know Ilia was a Faunus.

"Hello, Magnolia."

"Oh, don't be like that, Illy~!" The tormentor said with the sweetness of a serpent. "You better be ready at fencing practice today, or else Weiss is going to wipe the floor with you." A wide grin then plastered over her face. "And who knows, maybe that dumb hero crush of yours might actually ask you out~!" She laughed until Ilia slammed her against the lockers.

"SHE'S NOT DUMB! SHE'S A HERO! CALL HER A DUMB AGAIN AND I SWEAR I WILL-"

"Remnant to Amitola~!" Ilia blinked, suddenly reminded of where she was. Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, she swiftly turned away and ran to her next class. If she could duck into the bathroom, she could catch a breather in time before class started. Until then, all she had to do was smile.

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

"Arret!" Professor Port called. He then began to clap, leading the girls in a room-filled applause. "Well done, Miss Amitola! You've clearly been practicing your steps; despite how little you step out of uniform."

"Oh, um, thank you, Professor Port." Ilia replied sheepishly.

"Ah, ah~!" He wagged a meaty finger. "Mare see boat coo!"

"M-Merci beaucoup." Ilia said.

"It's not often that I am bested." Weiss Schnee, team captain and richest girl in school, crossed the mat to reach her opponent. "Congratulations."

"Oh, um, thank you so much, Miss Schnee."

"Hm?" Weiss pursed her lips. "What did you say? I can't hear you through that mask."

"O-Oh, right... Sorry." Ilia took off her mask, earning a resounding reply of murmurs and gasps.

"Her face!"

"Is she a Faunus?"

"That explains so much!"

"Wha-" Ilia looked to her mask, catching spattered glimpses of her worst fears. Her face, though normal, was marred by splotches of pink and red, then her whole face turning bone white with pink blots. Before she could explain herself, she ran out of the room, hurrying down the halls before ducking into the closest bathroom. Inside, she took deep breaths to calm herself down, looking to the mirror to force a smile on her face.

"I think she went this way!"

Ilia's heart raced and jumped into the closest stall in her panic. Her panting grew so loud that she had to cover her mouth to silence herself. As her arms crunched from folding in, she then realized she was still in her fencing uniform.

"Is she in here?"

"Maybe... What do you think, Mags?"

"I'll check in here." Magnolia answered. "The rest of you look around outside and upstairs. When you find her, call me." Her voice then spoke with hellish intent. "I want to be there when we teach her a lesson for lying to her team."

The floor squeaked as the rest of the girls left. Ilia had her legs tucked up to the toilet seat, but it was clear she was found when she heard the knocking on her stall door. A giggle came from the other side, and the voice that followed turned her blood to ice.

"I'll let you go this time, you little creep." Tiles squeaked as she turned away. "But the next time I see you, you're dead."

The steps grew softer and softer until there Ilia couldn't hear anything. She carefully snuck out of the stall, noting how loud her shoes were on the tile floor when she was moving so slow. She hugged the wall looking left and right before walking outside the bathroom.

SPLOOSH!

A huge wave of water splashed over Ilia as she was suddenly made blind and soaked head to toe, making the uniform stick to her skin. As her vision cleared, she heard a whistle blow right her ear and the roar of laughter all around her. Every girl from the team was there, mocking her, laughing at her. Hands reached for her, but Ilia swatted and pushed them away before she ran upstairs.

"GET HER!"

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

"Stupid robbers." Ruby grumbled. "Hey, I got a great idea, let's rob this convenience store so close to the school! Nobody will notice and there's no way the police will get involved~!" Shutting her locker door while mocking the dumb goons who got her put into remedial classes, Ruby gave a sigh and hefted her backpack onto her shoulder a little more. It wasn't slipping, she just felt like doing it.

Dad and Yang were furious at her slipping grades, and getting caught outside while said grades were slipping didn't make her look any better in their eyes. Ruby's sudden tardiness and poor test scores didn't make sense when she spent every night studying in her room, though, in her defense, it wasn't really her, but a dummy she set up so she could keep being the greatest superhero of all time!

The Red Streak!

Or that's what people were calling her nowadays. It seemed like every news company had their own name for Vale's latest vigilante hero, and whoever was selling the best story used what they thought was the best name. Lisa Lavender of "Valiant Today" and her recent effort in her campaign to slander Ruby's good deeds resulted in more than half of Vale referring to their beloved hero as something that you should see a doctor after finding while sitting on the toilet.

Just as she was about to leave, though, she heard something weird down the hall. Following the sound, she heard squeaking and panting followed a young girl climbing up the stairs. Instead of stopping, the soaked young lady continued up the next flight of stairs. Quickly grabbing a spare towel from her backpack, Ruby swabbed up the floor before flicking it down the hallway.

"Where is she?!" Called one of the girls from the fencing team.

"She went that way!" Ruby called, pointing down towards where she flicked her now stuffed away towel. "Ah, p-please don't hurt me!"

The girls ran past her as Ruby ran downstairs. Once past the angry mob, Ruby hopped out the nearest window before flying up to the roof. Once there, she opened her backpack... and groaned.

"Ugh, great. Wet costume." Rain began to patter down from above, causing her to sigh. "Well, at least it can't get wetter."

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

Ilia made it to the roof, unaware of Ruby's actions to aid in her escape, still certain that the mob of angry club members would be not far behind. Looking for a place to hide, she spots a gated fence much taller than herself and climbed over. In her hurry, she failed to notice the "UNDER REPAIRS" sign she knocked over as she climbed.

Ilia began taking deep breaths, panting as she realized she'd just caged herself inside of the school generator. Part of her was grateful that the generator was down for repairs, but the rest of her was still terrified of the idea that it was only a matter of time before someone found her, even more so that it was Magnolia or one of her cronies. She reached for the gate when she heard voices.

"Is she up here?"

"The door was unlocked, so it must've been her."

"Looking for someone~?" An angelic voice said. Ilia peered through the thin openings of the covered fence, finding her hero standing in the rain as gray clouds continued to gather above. "You do realize the roof is off limits to students, right?"

"We're just looking for someone." Magnolia said as innocently as she could.

"Uh huh, and would that happen to be the same young lady running upstairs, crying?"

"Oh, did you see her?" Magnolia gave a smile. "We were just looking for her so we could help her!"

"I think you've done enough help, Magnolia." The Red Streak sneered. How did she know her name?! "And before you ask, I know enough about you, like how you like to bully underclassmen. Especially if they're not human."

Meanwhile, away from the group, the school custodian comes up from the other side of the roof. He's gotten so used to telling teens to get off the roof that he decided tonight he'd just leave them be. Especially since he didn't want to get involved in whatever superhero nonsense was going on over on the other side. The only thing he cared about right now was testing the generator, so long as the "UNDER REPAIRS" sign wasn't there. Which it wasn't, so as he popped on his headphones, the custodian went on about his work.

Finally gaining her nerve, Ilia climbs the fence and calls out. "RED STREAK! HELP ME!"

"Ilia?!" Magnolia looks over, surprised by the sudden outburst.

Thunder crashed and Ilia felt back onto the generator in fear. She watched her hero jump inside to help her, looking her over before tugging. Ilia whimpered and shouted as her uniform and arm were caught in an open compartment of the generator. The two then stopped and Ilia looked into her hero's silver eyes.

"I'll be back! I promise!"

"Wait! Wait, no, don't leave me!" But she did leave her. Ilia was then abandoned by her beloved hero, who dashed into the air.

On the fence behind Ilia, The Red Streak found the custodian and shouted at him, to no avail. She then jumped over and shouted as she grabbed the older man. He took off his headphones and was told everything that was happening. All the while, Ilia struggled to free herself from her trapping.

"Somebody get the gate open!"

"Go get Professor Port!"

"Hold on, Ilia!"

Cries and clamors came from outside Ilia's deadly cage, but they did little to reassure the scared girl that her best interests were ever considered. If Ilia was saved, then what? Her secret was out and the whole school probably would learn by now. Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to remember the words of her parents. The same words that would calm her fears when her father and mother were alive.

"Show them how you smile." Ilia, through her sobs, spread her lips to grin the biggest grin she could. She had to show the world that she wasn't scared. That she wasn't hurt. That no matter what the world took from her, she would always have her smile.

"I knew Weiss Schnee was right about her." Magnolia said through the clamor. Ilia's smile ached.

"What is going on up here?!" Professor Port called. The girls clamored to tell him, but he waved his arms to hush them. "Enough! You can tell me everything downstairs, where it's safe! Go!"

"But Ilia-"

"Will be found next! Now move!" He then called over. "And you! What are you doing over there?!"

"It's okay!" The Red Streak called back. "Crisis averted! Hey, could you help me get Ilia out of the generator?"

"SHE'S WHERE?!" Professor Port burly moustache nearly flew off as he heard this. "GET THIS GATE OPEN NOW!"

The rain began to pick up and the cloud had gone from gray to black. The Red Streak hopped on the fence, looking down with a grin at Ilia. "Good to see you're in such a good mood. Don't worry. We'll get you out of there soon. You'll be okay." The Red Streak hopped down. "I prom-"

There was a bright flash. There was a searing pain. And then there was nothing but a long quiet.

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

There was a long screech. Ruby stood there, stricken dumb by the tragedy that had just happened before her eyes. For the first time ever, she'd failed to protect somebody who was in trouble. Her face suddenly felt hot and she ran for her backpack on top of the roof entrance. Grabbing it, she jumped down and flew home as hot tears fell from her face.

Halfway home, she stopped on another rooftop and fell to her knees. Digging her fingers into the gravel beneath her, she shuddered and let her tears fall into the ground. She felt sick, like she was about to throw up. It wasn't until she heard a buzz on her scroll that she would be distracted by these thoughts.

Hey. It's raining cats and dogs out there.

A picture of Yang came through where she was holding their corgi, Zwei, in the air. It made Ruby smile a little.

Or at least just dogs. You on your way home?

Ruby sniffled and began to text. She couldn't tell them everything, but she could at least tell them something.

There was an accident at the school. Can you meet me halfway?

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

"Tragic news tonight, ladies and gentlemen." Lisa Lavender said over the radio. "A student had passed away due to an accident at Vale High School. Out of respect for the deceased, we will refrain from giving too much information, but from what information we have gathered, the vigilante known as The Red Streak was on the site and was likely involved in the death of this innocent life, and though she may not have been involved, she likely did nothing to sto-"

"Hey! I was listening to that."

"I don't want to hear it anymore." Ruby said, walking away from the radio she turned off. Yang stood up to grab her sister, but was stopped by their father, who shook his head. Sitting back down, Yang groaned as Ruby continued shuffling to her room.

"Sweetie, are you sure you're okay?" Dad asked. The door slammed in response. There was a muffled scream from inside Ruby's door, followed by the sound of pounding on the floor inside. He sighed. "She must have been someone close to her. Did you know her, Yang?"

"Not really." Yang said. "I heard she was living with her aunt because her parents died in a mining accident."

"That's so sad." He sighed. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you girls. Either of you."

"I know what I'd do."

"Yang..."

"I'd party it up in here every night~!" Yang then saw her father give her his signature 'knock it off' look. She then chuckled and sat down. "Uh, after grieving, of course."

"Well, I hope you can scrub as fast as your mouth because you're on dishes duty tonight."

"What?! No fair! Ruby's supposed to do the dishes!"

"Well, she's obviously not feeling up to it, so you better hop to it, Miss Party Girl!"

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

Vale City has a problem. A very dirty problem. Underneath the shining utopia it appears to be, there was a lot of fundamental issues wrong with the way things were run. One such issue was how much lien flowed to what services.

For example, lien used to hire bodyguards for celebrities, politicians, and reputable businessmen came in aplenty. Lien used to provide funding for police officers, emergency services, and cases that may require funerary movement were sparse at best. Important figures in Vale like representatives of Jacques Schnee and Roman Torchwick had plenty of lien to spare while hardworking members of the community like Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch of Beacon University and Headmaster Taiyang Xiao Long of Vale High School continued to struggle to earn reasonable funding for their respective schools.

Everyone knew this, including the dead.

Especially the dead.

Ilia tries to scream, but her lungs felt like they were on fire. Thrashing against her binds in the dark, struggling against the sheet covering her face, she falls to the floor, gasping for air. Reaching out, blind in the dark room, she breaks free of her cocoon and emerges, the cold air biting against her skin. Her nerve endings completely uncovered and partially fried, every sensation she felt was pure agony.

Blind and stumbling in the dark, she crawls until she touches the cold wall ahead of her. Fumbling about, she touches an electrical socket and FEELS the entire electric grid around her, reaching for miles. In the distance, she can hear footsteps, and a memory of a life before this one of agony is recalled and she begins to panic. Taking hold of the electrical socket, she feels her very being stretch and move beyond where she was. She feels like she's everywhere, and yet in one place. Gathering herself, a voice speaks to her.

"I knew Weiss Schnee was right about her..."

Schnee... She had to find Schnee...

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

"I'm gonna ask this one more time." Ruby asked. "What happened to Ilia Amitola?"

"And I'm going to say this once more," Weiss replied with folded arms, "I'm not speaking to anyone without a lawyer present."

"A girl is dead, Weiss." Ruby said, working hard to hold back the tears. "She was being bullied and she's dead because of it!"

"And I refuse to comment without a lawyer present." Ruby shook with anger. "Get angry all I want. I'm not the one breaking the law, vigilante."

Ruby turned away, growling as she tried to calm herself. Rubbing her face down, she took a deep breath and tried again. The light flickered above, but Ruby ignored it to focus on what's more important, the truth.

"Ilia Amitola was in here yesterday during practice, wasn't she?"

"I'm not saying anything without-"

"She wasn't." A voice came from the entrance. Magnolia Daze walked in, carrying her helmet. "We were all dueling during practice. That's what we do."

"Magnolia!" Weiss chided. Ruby didn't let this opportunity slip away.

"And who was Ilia dueling?"

"Our team captain, Weiss Schnee." She looked past The Red Streak to the girl herself. "And she won against her~."

"Will you be quiet?!" Weiss fumed. "You're talking to a vigilante! A criminal!"

"Beat her pretty bad, too~." Magnolia stepped closer. "Our team captain got really mad~."

"I didn't see her on the roof with the rest of you." The Red Streak said, looking to Weiss with a judging eye.

"Because she told us to go after her." Magnolia clarified.

"That is not what I said!" Weiss' cheeks started to turn pink. The light above started flickering more and more.

"You said, and I quote," Magnolia stepped closer, getting into Weiss' face, all while the lightbulb above flickered sporadically, "I need to have a word with Amitola. Bring her to me, no matter what."

"YOU VILE LITTLE-"

Ruby jumped, pushing herself off the ground as hard as she could, grabbing the two girls and moving them out of the way of the sudden lightning bolt. She looked over and saw a figure slowly stand from their crouched position. As they turned to look, across their blackened and charred skin was a long, flickering light along the crack across their face. Almost like a smile, straight out of hell.

"I'm sorry, but this locker room is for girls only," Ruby said, "I'm pretty sure they're still working on the electric monster locker room."

"You... don't... remember... me?"

"Uh, no?" Ruby asked. "Have we met?"

"You don't... remember... me..."

"Can I phone a frie-" Ruby ducked as a lightning bolt split through the air, piercing into a locker between Magnolia and Weiss. "GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!"

The two girls ran out as fast as they could. The creature then moved their arm, and the lightning bolt began to follow the girls, bending and tearing through the lockers. Ruby jumped for the creature but missed entirely as it jumped and disappeared into thin air. No, not thin air. It came from the lightbulb. It went back into the lightbulb.

Realization dawned on Ruby, turning and running out of the locker room. Weiss and Magnolia were talking to Professor Port and the police who'd just arrived. Scanning around the two, Ruby saw a flickering light above Weiss. Pushing herself as hard and as fast as she could, she jumped into Weiss and tackled her to the ground. As she yelped, the lightning creature landed where she once was.

"You need to leave." Ruby said, standing up. "Maybe find a rubber room with no light."

"Excuse me?!" Weiss balked.

"It's coming after you, so you need to believe me when I tell you to hear me out!"

"Fine." Weiss said, swallowing her pride. "I hear you."

"I... hear..." The creature stepped forward, black skin falling away to reveal pale white and deep red skin beneath. "I... Hear..." Ruby gulped, readying herself for round two. As lightning lashed from it's arm, it growled out three words at her with such hatred and malice that it made Ruby's heart freeze. "EYES... AND... EARS..."

"...Ilia?"

[leafs-lover]

Can you write a really brief something about Freddie looking after a teething Oliver for the day whilst Mama goes out to get some things done 🥹🥹 maybe Oliver is just insisting on cuddles and his paci ALL day and it's the sweetest. Fred's peppering his baby boy in kisses.

A/N: It's not exactly brief but idk I really enjoyed writing this. This is technically a part of my BTPGD series but can be read as a stand alone piece.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff and more fluff

Word Count: ~800

Fred loves hockey. He has since the very first time his feet hit the ice, it was his first love, and truth be told, for a while he thought it would be his only love. Then came Oliver. Fred was absolutely terrified to be a dad, worried he was going to make a million mistakes, would do everything wrong, that his child would hate him. He had no idea what he was going to do, then this incredibly small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket was shoved into his arms; that was the moment Fred knew he had a new love.

Sure, some days are better than others, that's to be expected with kids, but every day with Oliver is better than the last. Or that's what he tells himself as, yet another ear-piercing shriek comes from his toddler.

Teething.

Fred thought you guys had made it past this point, he enjoyed the last month without the tears, irritability, drool on every piece of clothing he owns, unfortunately there is still another molar after this one. His mom gave him some tricks she used on him and his siblings, both of you googled then tired every home remedy you could find, some helped, others did nothing. Today is just one of those days.

“Hey, Ollie.” Fred holds out a damp washcloth for him, hoping he will at least try putting it in his mouth.

“Noooooo!” Oliver wails. He grabs the cloth and throws it on the floor. “Momma!”

Fred sighs. While the two of you worked through your issues and he can finally call you his girlfriend, he is no stranger to wanting you and not being able to have you. “She’ll be home in a bit.”

“Momma!” Oliver cries again, opening and closing his hand as if he’s trying to beckon you home.

“You want a popsicle?” Fred offers, hoping something cold might alleviate some of his pain.

“Yeah.” His voice is small, and he offers a slight nod.

Fred pushes off the couch to his feet. When he takes the first step, he feels two little arms wrap around his leg. “Dadda!” Fred lets out a soft chuckle, he should have known better than to try and leave him for a second.

He bends down and picks him up, Oliver immediately buries his forehead against Fred’s shoulder. He carries his son to the kitchen and opens the freezer. After rummaging around for the popsicles, he tosses the wrapper in the garbage and moves back to the living room. He cradles Oliver in his arm as they settle into the couch where Oliver accepts the popsicle, at lets himself fall against Fred’s chest.

“Is that good?” Fred gently brushes the curls away and welcomes in the cuddles.

“Yeah.” His voice is still small and tears cling to his eyes.

“You want to watch a movie?”

Fred feels the faintest nod as Oliver continues to suck on the cherry popsicle.

“Penguins?”

Another nod.

The sound of Netflix fills the apartment and once the movie has started Fred looks to Oliver. Red splotches are on both of their shirts, and he can feel the stickiness that coats his fingers.

“Done.” Oliver shoves the popsicle to Fred and smears his face against Fred’s chest, spreading more of the mess to his shirt.

“Of course, you are,” Fred laughs. He takes the dripping popsicle and sets it on the plate with his half-finished breakfast.

Fred licks his fingers and starts wiping some of the mess from Oliver’s cheek but is instantly met with a whine and he shakes his head to make him stop. Fred of course tries again. If Fred had his way, the half-eaten toast and popsicle would be in the garbage, plate in the dishwasher, and he would have used that dishcloth to clean his face. Even with a toddler he still tries to keep everything clean and contained. But like always, Fred caves once that lower lip starts to tremble.

“Blankie Dadda.” Oliver curls in closer to Fred to capture as much warmth as possible while a large yawn spills from his lips.

“The popsicle make you cold?” Fred reaches up and grabs the plush blanket you insisted stay out all summer even though he said it was June and wouldn’t be necessary, and drapes it over both of them, ensuring to cover all his toes. Oliver nods and yawns again, then shimmies to get closer, using Fred’s bicep as a pillow.

There are a million things that need to be done, and Fred doesn’t want you to come home to toys strewn about, Oliver’s shirt in the bathroom, his socks wedged under the cushions, all the dirty dishes from the morning scattered around the apartment, but he knows he needs to give Oliver cuddles, so that’s exactly what he is going to do.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series, either through likes/reblogs or by asking. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@mandypants95 @c-tangerinene @puccbunni @hockeyinaussie @hockeypuckspost @0kikina0 @sixmapleleafs @hockeyunitsyunits @localcalumhoe @starswin  @je-ne-regrette-rien @mollybirk @callsign-denmark @daniellepulice72

[collabpartners]

Hazbin Hotel: The Contract of Blood Ep. 12

*Hey guys, we're back with another chapter/episode! This is published on April 9, 2024. If you guys like this episode/chapter, don't forget to leave a heart, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated. Warning: Violence, blood, gore, and vulgar language. Enjoy!*

“Husk...Husk...HENRY!!!”

Husk snaps his eyes open with a gasp, finding himself standing in front of the small white house by the edge of the cliff. The waves crashing are the only sounds he can hear at the moment. He holds his head with a small groan and realizes that he can feel his own skin and hair. He glances down to find his own dark skin covered by white splotches coming up to his arms. He finds himself with his beer belly under his bright red and white checkered shirt. His brown belt tightens a hold on his black slacks, which surprises him that he’s wearing bright colors. He looks up and sees the small white house.

Somehow, he remembers this house from a long time ago. He makes his way up to the house out of curiosity. He hears wind chimes ringing on the porch, dancing in the gentle breeze. He opens the door and finds the calm colors of green paint along the walls, clothed with porcelain decorations of blue flowers covering them. Next to him, there’s a wooden hanger with three hooks to hang the jackets, sweaters, and beanies.

Husk realizes he’s wearing the polished brown slip-ons and takes his shoes off. He blinks in surprise to find his feet covered by black socks. As he walks across the wooden floor, he hears someone humming softly. He enters through the small kitchen with clean black and white checkered floors and emerald countertops. He enters the dining room, finding an opened puzzle box on the polished wooden table. His eyes move to find scattered pieces of puzzles piled up by a dark-skinned wrinkle hand of a woman in a purple dress and purple hat that has a feather sticking up.

“Well, hello, stranger,” the woman responds with a smile.

“Mom?” Husk utters in recognition. “W-Where am I--?”

“You’re home now, Henry,” she replies while taking the edges out of the stack of puzzles. “Won’t you sit down and help me with this?”

Husk sits down with a brow raised in his human form. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I know. First time in a long while, has it?” she responds with a warm smile. “It’s nice to do this again.”

“A-Again?” Husk questions. Sudden flashes of his mother leaving the house while his drunk father throws a glass of whiskey enters his mind. He grabs his head with clenched teeth.

His mother watched him get beat up and yelled by his father. He can’t remembered why he’s yelling at Husk as a child, but the screams are worse than he realize. But his mother did nothing to stop and defend him. It was then, he watched his mother left him with his abusive father. She hadn’t returned to him since.

Husk slams his hands on the table, standing straight up with his eyes narrow at her. “Bullshit! You’ve abandoned me with that asshole! We’ve never done anything like putting the damn puzzles together! You were gone! You’ve been out of my life! Why the fuck are you in my head?!”

He watches her go silent. She hasn’t flinched from her seat when he slammed his hands on the table or yelled at her. She watches him with a blank stare. He can’t tell if she is filled with guilt and regret or confusion.

She frowns and looks down at the puzzle pieces, continuing to take out the edge pieces. “You were left in pieces, haven’t you?”

Husk blinks in surprise at her question.

“It’s no wonder you became a cat--bird--thing in Hell. Heh, I know cats used to be your favorite animals before I left. You want one, but your father would’ve killed the poor thing without knowing it. You used to be the newspaper boy, riding on your little bicycle and throwing newspaper at the neighbors’ doors. You start working in casinos, which helps grow your love of magic and gambling. You’ve looked at the bottom of the bottle every day, wondering why you’re still alive. You’ve died of a heart attack once you reach seventy-five, never seeing the Light. You became an overlord at one point, but someone has your soul on a leash. Now, you’re in a loving relationship with your boyfriend.”

He tilts his head in confusion.

“I remembered every detail of you.”

He starts to tear up and wipes his tears away. “This is not real.”

“Maybe not. But the visions you’ve been having are,” she says while pulling out edge pieces.

In one of the edge pieces, Husk can see Stolas standing in front of his daughter, Octavia, with a protective arm in front of her to protect her from the shadow with a bloody knife. There are tears running down his face while Octavia appears horrified at what’s ahead of them.

In the other edge piece, Husk can see Charlie watching something in horror, black tentacles with green outlines surrounding and stopping her so that she wouldn’t dare spring into action.

Shining on the other edge piece, there’s Morrigan attempting to rip Fizz’s robotic limbs off one by one by the gang members. Fizz’s face contorts of anguish and pain.

Husk blinks to find another edge piece, noticing Moxxie and Blitz fighting against Striker and Crimson, bloodied and bruised.

Alastor and Vox are fighting each other in another edge piece of the puzzle.

Val holds Angel hostage, the pink and purple chains are firmer and tighter around Angel’s neck. They are sitting at the other side of the poker table with Val smirking and Angel appearing to be scared.

“Your visions are like puzzles,” his mother interrupts his thoughts, gaining his attention. “You’ll see fragments of what will or will not happen. It all depends on what path you and your friends will choose.”

Husk sees another edge piece of Rosie, except it appears to be Rosie barely taking off her mask, purple silk dress and blonde hair flowing to the side. A gasp escapes his lips, almost in terror.

“If you keep seeing the same thing, then it will happen whether you choose a path to avoid it or not,” she replies, finally done finding all the edge pieces. She puts them together, almost like he’s still seeing fragments of memories.

“How do we stop them?”

“Stop who?”

“The Vees! Morrigan and Orais! They’re going to destroy the realms and kill us all! They’re going to darken the Light and it’s only a matter of time before any of us can stop it. How do we stop it?”

She frowns and leans back against her seat. “You can’t if the pieces don’t fit together.”

“The pieces? Forget the damn pieces! Why can’t these visions tell me directly what’s going on instead of making up these puzzle-pieces bullshit?!”

“If things were given to you straight-forward, then you’re not really forging your own path to redemption, are you?”

Husk blinks in surprise. “What are you saying?”

“If things are given to you for the next steps, you wouldn’t be making choices. Your visions aren’t supposed to your guides. Your visions are supposed to show you the futures that you and your friends might have. Your visions are supposed to warn the others of danger. But you can’t stop futures, son. You can only watch them approach you,” she responds softly.

Husk sighs, looking at the edge pieces forming a circle. He tilts his head in confusion.

She hears the wind picking up the speed from outside, the light flickering above them.

“It’s time to go, Husk,” she responds with a sigh.

He glances at her. “What’s happening?”

“The future.”

He watches the house ripped apart, breaking all the porcelain dishes and tearing up the new paint. He turns to find the black hole in the red skies, sucking everything. He feels himself being pulled as he grabs onto the wooden pole planted on the ground. He looks up to find his mother having her skin and flesh torn off of her bones in a quick matter and flying up to the black hole. He closes his eyes, holding on a while longer.

“Husk...Husk...baby, can you hear me? HUSK!”

He starts to scream while his vision of the vortex seems to suck everything off of the earth. But it’s not the only thing that’s seen.

Tornadoes tearing through the forests, lifting up the dirt and trees up in the air.

Tsunamis crashing through the cities and flooding them, knocking down skyscrapers.

Earthquakes that creates large cracks that leads that lets the victims of it to fall into the lava.

Sinkholes sucking the earth into an eternal hole.

Volcanoes sending fireballs and lava oozing out from the top, coming down to the island cities.

“Husk! Husk! Wake up, it’s just a dream! Wake up!”

~.~

Husk snaps his eyes open with a scream, sweating around his furry face. He blinks to find Angel by his side.

“You okay, Husky?” Angel asks, watching his boyfriend breathing in and out heavily.

Husk looks around to find the others gather around him to make sure he’s okay. He looks down to find himself being furry again with only red swim trunks on.

He leans his head against Angel’s arms, placing his paw on his chest. However, Angel’s hand rubs his hand over Husk’s hand over his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s just a dream,” Angel reassures Husk.

Husk shakes his head. “No. No. No. This isn’t a dream. This--this is all real. We’re fucked!”

“Uh...is he okay?” Blitz questions with a brow arched.

Stolas hears the rustling of the leaves outside and senses something is off, walking away to look outside.

Husk shakes his head. “Our worlds are getting torn apart. Hell! Earth! Heaven! They’re all getting torn apart. There is this black hole that sucks everything up in some fucking sky. Many people are going to die! There’s going to be no one left alive! We have to do something!”

“He’s right,” Charlie determines. “We need to head back down to Hell and take down Morrigan and Orais along with the Vees.”

“Oh, the Vees will be easy to deal with,” Alastor responds with a wave of a hand. “I know just how to kill off Vox’s signal.”

“No, Alastor, you don’t want to fight Vox,” Husk begs.

“Oh dear Husk, you shouldn’t be worried---”

“You’re going to fucking die if you try to fight off Vox right now!”

Alastor growls, his antlers growing to the sides of his head. “Are you saying that I’m weak?”

“No! I’m trying to say that he’s going to kill you! They’re all going to kill you!” Husk screams in panic, his arms trembling.

“Husky--”

“We can’t stay here! We-We have to do something!”

“Baby. Baby, come here.” Angel picks Husk up like a cat and hugs him from behind. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Husk replies, shrugs off his boyfriend’s hold. “Nothing is going to be okay!”

“Husk, you’re freaking us out,” Fizz responds in fear.

Stolas looks out of the window and widens his eyes at the foreign sight. He blinks his red eyes, his white pupils shrinking in fear. “W-What is that?”

The others look to see the tornado tearing through the woods, moving towards their campsite.

Blitz notices it coming closer. “Oh, fuck! It’s coming towards us!”

Alastor slams his staff down from within the cabin, using the black liquid shield to cover the entire campsite and protect them from the incoming tornado.

Husk starts to breathe heavily. “It’s happening...It’s happening!”

“W-What’s happening?” Bella whispers to Charlie and Vaggie.

Both of the women don’t have an answer for her daughter.

Unbeknownst to them all, there are only five more tornadoes roaming around the forest they are in, tearing through the trees and setting the forest on fire, sucking up the fire.

~.~

The dark swirling clouds reign over in Hell, creating a vortex to send the black birds down to their as the music begins creepily with the choir singing in the background.

“Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Give in to the dark, Give in to the dark.

Morrigan steps out towards the city with her staff and sings lowly while the choir sings in the background.

“Since I have the powers of the seven rings,

All throughout Heaven, Hell, and Earth.”

Morrigan sings with the choir in unison as she sends out the bugs towards the Pentagram City, letting them spread throughout the Pride Ring.

“I send the plagues and the pests!

Into your rooms!”

The citizens are getting torn apart by the wild raptors limb by limb and eating them alive.

“Into your beds!”

The couple sleeping together in the Lust Ring feels the bugs crawling on their naked bodies, which is now common in the Lust Ring.

“Into your clubs!”

The clubs are now on fire, with people having boiling skins running out and screaming in pain as if they’re on eternal fire.

“Into your streets!”

The streets of the Greed Ring are filled with rats, biting and eating the demons and sinners alike alive.

“Into your food!”

On Earth, the food the people are eating in Los Angeles on Earth has grown rotten and filled with mold, letting bugs crawl out of it.

“Into your drinks!”

On Earth, the rats flood into the coffee shops and restaurants, getting into the humans’ drinks and trying to eat their flesh as the humans run out of the streets.

“Upon your skin!”

On Earth, the girls’ skin starts to boil and rot under the heat of the sun, causing them to scream in pure pain and agony.

“Upon your organs!”

Back to Hell, one of the buff demon’s chest burst out, his beating heart obtained by the rat crawling inside of him and taking his organs.

“Upon your hair until you grow bald!”

In a different and smaller city on Earth, every human has their hair falling out with bugs nesting on their scalps.

“In your dreams, in your waking hours!”

On Earth, the blonde little girl wakes up from her sleep with cockroaches all over her, screaming out for her parents to rescue her from her bedroom filled with cockroaches.

“Until you break, until you die!”

The music grows more the chaos unfolds both Hell and Earth. Morrigan and the choir sings boldly as everything is catching fire in both Hell and Earth, being observed by the Vees.

“I send chaos! I send disunity!

All to snuff out the Light!”

The music pauses as the gang back at the camp look at the city in the distance on fire.

Moxxie and Millie hold hands while Sir Pentious stands in front of Cherri, Nifty, and Emily to protect them.

Rosie gasps in shock at the sight in front of her while exchanging gazes with Alastor, who is still putting up the shield.

Eleanor and Sebastian hugs Nora close to them like Vaggie and Charlie are holding Bella close.

Stolas and Blitz stands in front of Loona and Octavia in a protective stance, as if they are ready to fight with whoever is causing this chaos.

Fizz breathes heavily in fear, trembling at the sight.

Angel looks at the skies turning red above them.

Everything is frozen around Husk as he starts to sing.

“Once I thought I am doing the right thing.

Once I thought the chance of

Breaking free from our chains

Can be so simple.”

He looks to see the vortex starting to form in the red skies, breathing heavily as he hears Morrigan and the choir singing in the background.

“I send the tornadoes from the skies!”

Husk’s vision is interrupted by a tornado lifting up the earth.

“I send an earthquake to shake your cities!”

Husk groans when he sees another vision of an earthquake happening at a different city, throwing his arms down and singing with pain in his voice.

“Now, more than ever, I want to be free from the curses!

Foreseeing the destruction of all living beings

Is the last power I wanted!”

Morrigan and the choir sings in the background from Hell as the hail rains into Pentagram City.

“I send the hails from the clouds!”

The hurricanes sweep through all over the world of Europe, Asia, North America, and South America while Morrigan and the choir sings in the background.

“I send the hurricanes sweeping through your nations!”

Charlie starts to cry from the camp as she sings with a heartbroken tone.

“If this happens to my home,

All this suffering and agony,

Oh, how it twists like a knife to my chest!

Now innocents and sinners suffered

Under their darkness and control!”

Morrigan overlooks the chaos going on throughout all of Hell with a sly grin. She raises her staff to summon the locusts and sings with the choir.

“I send the locusts in the wind.

Such as the realms have ever seen!”

On Earth, the locusts are tearing through crops of farmlands, leaving no food for the farmers to harvest. The blood rain starts to pour throughout all earth and Hell, boiling the people’s skins and covering them with blood.

Morrigan and the choir croons in unison.

“I send the blood rain of millions of lives,

Until there’s nothing left behind!

I send disorder, I send the scorch!

All to snuff out the Light!”

From Heaven’s Gates, Sera goes to St. Peter to check on him until she notices the creeping darkness going towards Heaven. She looks down to find Earth and Hell being in absolute chaos, tearing at the seams. She gasps in shock, realizing that the dark is coming to Heaven sooner than the Pure Angels thought.

Sera sings in her most worried tone.

“Oh, you who causes destruction,

Why must you do this?”

She watches the typhoons destroying the land of the Philipians and the bombs dropping at the Middle East, hearing Morrigan and the choir singing in the background.

“I send the typhoons! I send the bombs!”

Sera shakes her head and looks to St. Peter to sing to him.

“We must protect the Light now!”

Morrigan and the choir sings from Hell as she points her staff towards the light.

“All to snuff out the Light above!”

The angels stand in front of Heaven’s Gate with Sera, their weapons ready to fight the darkness. Lute stands by Sera’s side with more exterminator angels ready to fight the darkness.

Sera sings beautifully.

“We must protect the Light!”

The music pauses as Orais is overlooking every country, city, and continent in the Earth to see the destruction unfolding from his cauldron. He also overlooks all seven rings of Hell being overunned by chaos, tearing through and boiling the demons and sinners alike alive. Then he sings with passion and mockery of Lucifer, who’s sitting next to Ozzie and Bee.

“Now that we have the advantage!

Now that we have the upper hand!

How can you stop us, your Majesty?”

Morrigan and the choir sings in the background as the oceans on Earth boils and the thunders roar in the skies above the lands.

“I send the boiling water, I send the thunders!”

Orais corners a maniacal smile and towers over Lucifer, singing angrily.

“Let my heart be filled with glee!

For an hour of joy is amongst us!

It’s only the beginning!

I won’t stop until I destroy everything you love!”

Morrigan and the choir sings as every child and adult dies from the chaos left and right from all over the world.

“I send death, I send the powers of the sins!

All to snuff out the Light!”

Morrigan, Orais, and the choir sings together.

“We will--”

Sera sings, getting her weapons out to fight the darkness.

“We will--”

Charlie’s eyes turns red with white pupils, narrowing her brows in determination.

“I will--”

Husk looks up and starts to croon.

“I will--”

Morrigan, Orais, and the choir sings together again to finish their sentence.

“--snuff out the Light!”

Sera sings, harmonizing with Orais and Morrigan.

“--protect the Light!”

Charlie joins in with Sera, Morrigan, and Orais to sing her own intentions in unison.

“--fight for my home!”

Husk jumps in with Charlie, Sera, Morrigan, and Orais to sing in unison with them all for the final note.

“--break free from these chains!”

The song ends with a beat drop, leaving only Sera and the angels charging towards the darkness to fight against it. However, the darkness starts to creep up among the exterminator angels, including Lute, almost tearing her apart.

The dark overtakes the rest of the angels easily, storming through Heaven’s gates to get to the Light in the middle of Heaven. The angels are captured by the darkness, including Sera, being dragged away from Heaven’s Gates as they were kicking and screaming down towards Hell.

~.~

Blitz watches the lake boiling in front of them along with the forest fire. “Well, Husk is right. We’re pretty fucked.”

Vaggie notices everyone in the camp starting to whisper in panic and clears her throat. “Alright, listen, everyone! We’re not going to solve anything if we sit here and panic! So, we need a solid plan to get back into Hell and deal with those bitches once and for all.”

“Hell yeah!” Cherri cheers for Vaggie’s speech.

“Uh, question, do we have to go back now?” Stolas asks with uncertainty in his tone.

“We have to!” Fizz, the clown jester imp, answers. “Oz is down there and-and-and I can’t imagine what’s going to happen to him. He-He--I don’t want to--He means--” Fizz appears to be ready to break down crying.

Loona sees this and places her paw on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Mom might be down there too! We need to find her and rescue her too!” Octavia responds boldly. “Even if she’s a B-I-T-C-H.”

Stolas laughs nervously at Octavia’s spelling.

“Yeah, Bee is stuck down there too,” Loona responds.

“Wait a second, why are we planning on saving the realms?” Alastor questions the group.

“Because we’re the idiots that live in the realms, dumbass!” Blitz shouts at the radio demon.

“We’re going to need an army,” Rosie replies with her hands on her hips. “A big one! I know where to get ‘em.”

“I know where we can take shelter in Hell,” Vaggie adds, holding Charlie’s hands. “She might help us with the weapons.”

“It’d be good if we split into groups,” Stolas responds. “Charlie, Vaggie, Bella, Nora, Eleanor, and Sebastian can go find us the shelter we need when we arrive. Alastor, Nifty, Rosie, Husk, Angel, Sir Pentious, Cherri, and Emily can go get an army for us to use. Then the rest of us can go and find my Grimoire and maybe find Stella.”

Octavia smiles brightly, earning a frown from Loona.

Stolas opens the portal back to Hell. “Then I believe we got ourselves a plan.”

With that said, they all enter back to Hell. 

To Be Continued...