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charcoalgrayswriting · 2 months ago

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A Tigers Marks

Part of Falling asleep peacefully in the hands of a god

Read on AO3 HERE!

Words: 4219

Summary: Konig is obsessed with Horangi, who wants nothing to do with another god.

Or Horangi's unintentional seduction of Eldritch!Konig

Warning: Kinda non-con

Running from a god was not an easy task. Horangi would know, he had been running since before he joined the service.

It had started out small, gambling to gain enough money to help pay for his Oe-halmeoni’s medical bills. Then, when she succumbed to the cancer despite the chemo, gambling became a refuge.

It was there he first met the minor trickster diety, who had been going by the name Dae.

“I know someone who can help you get some higher wins,” one of his friends had told him, a smirk playing on her face. Maybe she had been in on it, maybe not. He would likely never know.

“Oh? And where might I find this friend of yours?” He had drunk too much that night, and didn’t ask any intelligent questions. He only had the thought of winning big in his mind.

And when she introduced him to Dae, they made a deal. This was his first introduction to the gods and deities that walked the planet with him, and he did not appreciate it.

“I can help you win big! I just need a down payment, nothing too substantial, and then you can borrow whatever money you need from me to just keep playing!”

Even as drunk as he was, he knew that this was too good to be true, and squinted distrustfully at the god in front of him.

“Ah, judging by your face, you don’t believe me. Well, as long as you pay me back whatever you took, you can continue to take. Deal?” the god extended his hand, and he shook it, thinking it was a trick of the light when the gods eyes flashed toxic green for a second.

What followed after the deal was a series of big money wins, and then big money losses, that just kept coming. Occasionally he would win something small, but not nearly enough to heave himself out of the hole he was digging.

“Please, Dae, just give me one more month and I’ll have your money.”

“Ha! You said that last month, and the month before that! Why should I believe you this time.” the god smiled down cruelly at him.

“This time I’m gonna win big! Then I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“I don’t believe you.” and with a wave of the gods hand, he felt himself fall unconscious, too quickly to even be confused.

When he woke up, he was naked chained to a table on his stomach in the middle of a cold damp room. Trying to get out of his shackles proved to be useless, and only succeeded in rubbing his wrists and ankles raw.

“You poor pathetic little worm.” taunted Dae, appearing behind him with a quiet poof. “You still haven’t figured out what’s going on, have you?”

The god dragged a finger down his spine, “Let me go!” he shouted, trying to shake Dae off of him, goosebumps forming on his skin at the gods unnaturally cold finger.

“No, little worm, I don’t think I will. You see, you’ve pissed off some important people who want their money back.” the god fisted a hand in his hair and yanked his face up to look at him.

The gods face was melting away, revealing part of his true form. Toxic green eyes covered every surface of the monster before him, overlapping and blinking in random intervals.

He screamed and tried to jerk away, the gods fist in his hair holding him still.

When it laughed, its mouth appeared and split right between the eyeballs oozing black sludge, revealing a row of sharp black teeth. That laugh was not human, and it set off the animalistic part of his brain that screamed at him to run.

“So, luckily for you, I bargained on your behalf. For every million won you of your debt, I will take one strip of your flesh.” It returned its hand to his back, and he could feel the slimy moistness of the eyeballs on his skin.

Gagging, he begged, “Wait, but that’s so much! I won’t survive, what are you? You freak!”

It just laughed again, slamming his head down onto the hard wooden table. “That would be thirty-five strips of skin, and one extra for change.” it leaned in close enough that he could feel its cold breath against his ear.

“I will greatly enjoy this. You, not so much.”

Then, the pain began, and he did not stop screaming until his voice gave out, and then he screamed some more.

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

Horangi couldn’t remember everything that the god did to him. All that he knew was that night, the god took more from him than thirty-six strips of his skin.

After he woke up in his shitty one room apartment, he saw the long scars down his shoulders and back. Stripes, like a tiger that wrapped around to his front.

The gods last scar had been given to his mouth, two long lines running down his cheeks, following the curve of his cheekbones. They had been so deep and so wide he nearly tore through them when he opened his mouth to scream.

He had sobbed on his mattress that night, staring at what he could see of his scars, knowing his life was over.

The next day, he bought a large pack of black medical masks and enlisted in the South Korean military, desperate to escape from his life. In between the cruel torture, Dae had explained what it was, and how anyone else like it would be able to tell when they saw his scars, that he belonged to it.

It was then he acquired his new name, Horangi. Tiger. Dae was probably laughing at him from somewhere when his comrades gave him his callsign.

He made it through the military, and proved himself to be good enough to be accepted into KorTac as a contractor. It was there that he met his second god.

This time however, he was smart enough to run. Straight back into the hallway he had just come from, much to the amusement and confusion of his friends, who had laughed at him. No matter how much they pushed and proded, Horangi never revealed the god to them. Not out of loyalty, but fear.

Every time he saw Konig, Horangi turned around and went the other direction. His friends got a kick out of it, seeing how close they could get Horangi to Konig before he noticed and ran away.

So far, the closest was half a meter, when Konig snuck up behind Horagni to inform him they had a mission together. That was when he scrambled up the closest person to him and hid in the unfinished ceiling for two hours.

How was someone with Konig’s bulk so quiet?

“Horangi,” the quiet accented voice of Konig greeted from behind him.

Before he could make a break for it, his friend, the traitor, grabbed onto his arm and spun him around to face Konig. He held out a manila folder.

“We have a mission together, debrief in four hours.” Horangi took the folder, miraculously not letting his hand shake. He nodded to the large form of the god, then grabbed his friend, scrambling up his body.

Unable to do anything but stand there stunned, his friend was his unwilling accomplice into the ceiling, which was untiled and the perfect hiding spot.

For some reason, Horangi got the sense that Konig was laughing at him. It was no mater, he would force himself through the mission and then everything would go back to the way it was.

The mission was not going well. They had gotten the intel they needed, the flash-drive secured in one of Konig’s pockets. But now they were pinned and taking heavy enemy fire with no exfil on the way.

Back to back with Konig, Horangi felt more anxiety about the god at his back than the bullets ricocheting off their temporary hiding spot behind a big green dumpster.

“Go,” Konig whispered, “I’ll cover you.” Horangi nodded, spotting another building to hide in that would give them more cover, though he didn’t quite belive Konig would keep him alive, he had no other choice. With Konig laying down covering fire, he got up and sprinted, hearing his blood pumping in his ears.

As he dove behind the door to the building, a bullet got him, straight over the top of his body armor, right under his clavicle.

With a shout, he falls to the ground, grunting as he twists so his back hits the dusty ground first. For a second he just lays there, panting. Then, remembering his mission partner, he struggled up, panting with exertion.

He got into position to shoot through the shattered window, and began firing back, letting Konig sprint towards him. Luckily, the god was not shot. At least one of them would make it out of this. Blood trickled from Horangi’s wound, warming its way down his front where the bullet exited.

Exhausted, Horangi flopped back on the ground as Konig rounded the doorway, wheezing as his lung filled with his blood.

“Horangi,” Konig panted, puling his head into the gods lap as he crouched away from the window. “Where are you hit?”

Horangi coughed, feeling a trickle of blood forced up into his mouth as he gestured with an arm to the stinging wound where the bullet exited.

“Okay, okay, just hang in there. Just, uh, pressure, yes wounds need pressure.” He placed Horangi’s hand against his own wound, pressing down on it, causing Horangi to cry out.

“I know, I’m sorry.” he whispered, spraying bullets out the window to keep the terrorists off of them while he figured out how to help the injured man in his lap.

With fluttering eyes, Horangi looked up at the god, face obscured by a mask, similar to him. In the dim light, dust kicked up from the bullets, he looked like the god Horangi knew him to be.

Then Horangi coughed, a wet hacking sound that would have sprayed blood all over the both of them, were it not for his mask in the way. The blood seeped into the camouflage fabric, and Konig winced, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I need to remove your mask.” he reached his large hand towards it, and Horangi tried to jerk away, which caused more blood to seep from his wound. But he was held in place by the firm but gentle hand Konig kept over the hole in his chest.

“No no, it, will stop you from breathing if I don’t remove it.” he hooked a large finger through the ear hole and peeled it off Horangi’s face, apologizing again at the low distressed whine Horangi made upon its complete removal. It was made worse by the pain he could taste, usually a delight, but from Horangi it was like eating a sour lemon.

He didn’t look down as he pulled out a handgun and fired off some more shots, hitting two of their pursuers.

When he glanced down at Horangi to check on him, Konig felt the very fabric of the universe shake at his rage as his eyes caught along the horrible branding on Horangi’s gorgeous face. He flinched, and Konig drew his rage back in, no need to scare Horangi. Those scars along his cheeks, deep and gruesome were the reason he ran from Konig.

He would smite whatever miserable worm did this to Horangi. They had hurt him, but, he realized, had also driven Horangi into the military. Without the moronic god that hurt him, Konig would not have known him.

In a low voice he whispered to Horangi, “I would curse whatever pathetic little creature did this to you, if I were not so thankful that they led you to me.”

Horangi laughed, low and cruel as he watched Konig wrap a hand in his shadows, batting Horangi’s now weak hand out of his way to heal the wound. Then he fainted, as Konig pressed his shadow wrapped hand to the wound, his beautiful dark eyes rolling back into his head.

Then Konig revealed a part of his true form to those that hunted them and left them as no more than bloody smears on the floor.

When they made it to the extraction point, he dropped Horangi in the care of another god he knew, who would look after his tiger until he was back. Konig had to keep him safe, after all.

It was not hard to find the minor trickster who hurt Horangi. Trapping it in a cage of shadows was somehow even easier, and when Konig appeared to it, the useless thing tried to beg for its life.

“Please, My Lor–” whatever it was about to say was cut off as Konig smote it from existence with barely a fraction of his power. Using that same small fraction of himself, he fixed the gap in the universe that needed the trickster god. This one, however, would not hurt Konig’s lovely tiger.

He had thought Horangi got his name from how he moved, silent and purposeful. Now though, he wondered if there was another reason behind the name.

When he returned to the base, he found Horangi would still not go near him, but allowed him the pleasure of them being in the same room together. He truly was like a cat, slowly approaching while doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t truly interested.

His adorable kitten.

Konig was ashamed to admit that after six months of allowing Horangi to slide closer and closer to him, he was feeling impatient. Of course he would continue to wait, but the longer his adorable tiger made him wait, the more time he had to plan.

Finally, his kliner tiger gathered his courage.

“Konig,” Horangi’s voice was quiet and unsure as he approached the god on nearly silent feet. They were alone in the compound kitchen, for though he did not need to eat, Konig found joy in consuming human food.

“Ah, Horangi, Hallo,” he greeted, turning around to the man, who wore a simple long sleeve olive green shirt and black sweatpants with his iconic mask, sans glasses.

“I, uh, you saved me, a while back.” he tilted his head to the side, staring up at the god, unsure.

“That I did.” he agreed amicably, leaning against the cool counter.

“What, what do you want in, re-return?” he forced the words out, scrunching his face as he asked, like the words tasted bad.

His little ones fear had never tasted so good! A noise of excitement left him, shaking the air around him and though Horangi was unable to hear it, he obviously sensed it, for he took a nervous step away from the god.

Seeing this, Konig took a deep breath, reigning in his excitement with much difficulty. “Come with me, we will discuss in my room.”

Deciding to press his luck, he allowed Horangi to step in front of him, placing a hand along his lower back to guide his lovely towards his room. Konig felt Horangi stiffen, and, admittedly used some of his magic to soothe some of the scars he could sense there. Unconsciously, Horangi melted into his touch as the ache in his body was soothed.

Once the door to his room was closed and the two were inside, he grabbed Horangi’s hand and took them to one of his pocket dimensions. A land he had created for the entire purpose of wooing Horangi.

Of course, the second they landed on the ‘floor’ covered in a plush green carpet, Horangi flinched away. Konig let him go, it was understandable that his tiger was so nervous, considering the last god he had met.

Cooing, he had to resist the urge to snuggle Horangi up to him. He had to be patient.

“Would you like to sit?” Konig gestured towards the large plush bed he had never used, he was a god – he did not need sleep, carefully herding Horangi towards it.

Horangi did not respond verbally, just a shallow nod of his head, as he allowed Konig to sit him on the bed, and then join him on it. Despite what he may wish, Konig kept a respectable distance away.

“What would you like in response to my… life… debt?” Horangi asked hesitantly, understanding the loaded question for what it was. Konig could tell Horangi he wanted the moon, and Horangi would be bound to get it.

But luckily for his cute little tiger, Konig did not want the moon.

“I want you to give yourself to me, completely.” At Horangi’s adorably confused look, Konig clarified.

“Mind,” a tentacle made its way out from under his hood, sliding across the small space that Horangi left exposed on his face. “and Body,” the tentacle dipped lower, sliding along his neck underneath Horangi’s shirt.

He watched Horangi lean into the gentle touch, knowing that if he declined, Konig would allow it. What the god was really banking on Horangi’s fear of his disapproval to get him to say yes. Konig was not a kind god, he was selfish and fiercely possessive of what he thought was his.

But maybe he could learn to be kind to Horangi. Just his Horangi.

“Oh,” Horangi’s little breathless exclamation left him as the tentacle trailed over the wound Konig had healed, sending sparks of pleasure through it.

“If you let me, I would soothe your scars,” Konig slid forwards winding the tentacle down Horangi’s arm, “Feed you,” he was close enough to brush his fingers across Horangi’s clothed stomach, “Pleasure you,” his hand seductively traced lower, though not venturing further than the tie of Horangi’s sweats.

As Horangi leaned into the touch Konig shifted backwards, retracting his touch so quickly that Horangi had to use a hand to catch himself to keep from falling on his face.

“Do you agree?” Konig crooned, tasting Horangi’s apprehension and resignation, and he knew he had won.

“I agree,” he choked out, much like he was headed towards the gallows.

The god waisted no time in pouncing on Horangi, quicker than he could comprehend, Konig had flattened him against the bed. As he looked up at the god straddling his hips, still in human form, Horangi felt himself begin to shake, muscles tensing.

“Oh little tiger,” the god stripped off his gloves, trailing his hands down Horangi’s clothed arms slowly and lightly. “Nothing you do not wish to happen will happen.” Konigs large hands encircled Horangi’s wrists as tentacles unfurled from under his hood.

“I– uh,” Horangi was cut off with a gasp as Konig ground down against his cock, reveling in the way his little tiger threw his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck. The large hands stayed firm around his wrists, keeping his arms trapped at his sides.

“Do you want this?” the black tentacles began sliding under Horangi’s shirt, teasing up his sides, feeling the raised skin of his scars and soothing it as they ascended.

“Ye– yes.” Horangi gasped as another one of Konig’s tentacles removed his mask, baring his beautiful face to the god. Attempting to hide his scarred face, Horangi turned his head to the side, but one of Konig’s tentacles held him in place, keeping him still.

“Why do you try to hide from me?” the god murmured in a faux hurt voice, using his tentacles to slowly rip through Horangi’s shirt, exposing more of his gorgeous body to him.

Tossing the shirt over the side of the bed, Konig kept a firm grip on Horangi’s hands as he explored his chest, teasing Horangi’s nipples with his tentacles.

Gasping, Horangi let out a moan, trying to smother it as Konig played with his body. He looked up to see the god staring down at him, gauging all of his reactions, and he shuddered. But not from fear, from arousal. Perfect.

Konig’s world shook with his excitement, and Horangi tensed again, before he was distracted.

His cock, which had laid neglected since Konig stopped grinding against him, began to stir, which the god evidently felt pressing against his ass from where he sat on Horangi.

“Getting excited little tiger?” the god began rocking against him, and Horangi was unable to conceal his loud moan. It had been ages since he had sex, had to sustain on jacking off in his bunk or in the shower.

“Please,” he whispered, and faster than he could blink, Horangi’s sweats and underwear vanished, leaving him bare underneath his god. Somehow, even more tentacles curled around his thighs, spreading them for Konig.

The god dismounted Horangi’s hips, and he watched as Konig slowly lowered his hooded head towards Horangi’s cock.

Within a blink, the hood had disappeared, and Horangi was treated to Konig’s human face. It was a nice face, proportional to the rest of him, with tentacles sprouting from the back of his head.

For some fucked up reason, it made Horangi’s cock even harder.

Konig, of course, noticed this, and smiled. Privately, Horangi thought it was a nice smile. Then the god lowered his head to Horangi’s cock and opened his mouth to reveal an abnormally long tongue.

Before Horangi could react, Konig dragged the muscle up the underside of Horangi’s cock. Moaning again, Horangi arched his back off the bed as the wet muscle teased the slit of his cock, his hands fisted in the expensive sheets.

When Konig enveloped his cock in the wet suction of his mouth, Horangi forgot how to breathe. It took an embarrassingly short time for the god to make him cum, only bobbing his head twice.

In the end, he didn’t come with a shout, it was with a whimper, as his cock gave a pulse and spilled his cum down the gods throat. Swallowing, Konig pulled off his cock with a self-satisfied smile, shuffling up on the bed.

“How long has it been, little one?” one of the gods smaller tentacles was massaging the opening to Horangi’s ass, and he knew what was coming next.

“Since,” he gasped as Konig’s tentacle breached his asshole, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “Since my scars.”

“My poor little kitten,” Konig began slowly, torturously slowly, fucking his ass with the tentacle, slowly stretching him out.

“Yes,” he gasped as Konig found his prostate, Horangi’s eyes scrunching closed as his back bowed off the bed, sparks exploding behind his eyelids.

The god pushed a second, thicker tentacle inside of Horangi, and he let out a pathetic little mewl at the intrusion. They began stretching him in tandem, and all he could do was lay there and take it.

Soon, he was coming again as they abused his prostate.

“I think you’re ready now,” Konig told him, pulling both of his tentacles out and blinking his clothes away, revealing his huge leaking cock that Horangi scarcely believed would fit inside of him.

“Do not worry, I will make it good for you.” Konig muttered as he pushed in, and Horangi’s vision whited out as he writhed in the gods strong grip. If the two tentacles had been any smaller, Konig would probably have torn him open.

Konig kept pushing in, filling Horangi until it felt like he was being split open. Then, the gods hips met his ass, completely flush together. He paused, allowing Horangi the opportunity to adjust to his inhuman size.

Slowly, he shifted back, before slamming his hips forward. With a choked gasp, Horangi ground down in tandem with the god. The wet slapping of skin on skin was obscene as he came for the third time, triggered Konig’s orgasm.

Horangi’s cock squirted a pittance of cum, too worn out from before. But Konig buried his cock deep and came in a long thick stream. Panting, Horangi smiled up at the god.

“Mm, enjoyed that did you?” Konig looked down at his sleepy tiger, admiring the way his eyes fluttered closed, scrunching as he slowly pulled out. Because he never had been good at denying himself, Konig gazed at Horangi’s sloppy entrance, watching as some of his cum spilled out onto the luxurious sheets, memorizing it for later.

“Yeah, yeah that was good.” the human spoke, his voice hoarse as he snuggled into the fabric, specifically chosen to please him. With a thought, Konig had cleaned the mess of Horangi’s cup off of their chests, but left his, which still dribbled out.

“Just good? I’ll have to do better next time.” Smirking, Konig let go of Horangi’s wrists and climbed up to lay beside him.

“Next time?” Horangi looked up at Konig as he manipulated his tigers body on top of his, pressed stomach to stomach.

“Of course, I have to take care of you, after all.” Running his hands over Horangi’s back, Konig cataloged the scars, massaging them with his hands and his tentacles, easing their pain.

When his little human made a pleased noise as he felt the pain of his wounds disappear, Konig smiled again.

“Sleep Horangi, we can talk later.” and the god, selfishly, latched himself onto Horangi’s mind, pulling it away from his body and soothing it to pull his tiger into a peaceful sleep until Konig was certain he had been rested enough.

Banner by @cafekitsune

#korangi #konig cod #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare

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inkblot22 · 2 years ago

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All This Over A Notebook II

You might notice that the warning font is bigger this time. I don't want anyone who doesn't want to read this to read it. I tried to do a gn reader, I hope I did okay.

TW because this is DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Noncon, choking, violence, vomit, captivity, cursing, biting, nudity, reader has hair, disassociation, cursing, violent language if you squint, Floyd and Jade because they freak me out and I'm sure I'm not the only one. All characters have been aged up 18+

Part One Here!

You were going to die tonight. That’s all you could think. Floyd hadn’t done anything but touch your shoulder, but in your mind's eye you imagined him gnawing on your bones.

He straightened his back and ruffled your hair, “Don’t act so scared.”

Being stuck in a room with Floyd was like being locked in a tiger’s cage. Sure, he might not eat you, but your life was still in danger. It would make sense that your split-second response was to rip away from Floyd’s touch so you could start pounding at the door again, screaming at Jade for locking you in here.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jade!” You wailed, “This isn’t funny!”

“Shrimpy.” Floyd’s voice sent a horrible chill down your spine. It was perfectly calm, completely level compared to your loud screeching.

You couldn’t bear turning around. Not when you hadn’t heard him move, not when you could almost, just maybe hear Jade on the other side of the door. You tried the doorknob again in pure desperation, your breathing labored.

“Shrimpy, I already told you. You can leave when we’re done here.” Floyd said.

You turned around, anger overtaking your fear, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He smiled, which broke into a wide grin as he giggled. That wasn’t reassuring, not in the least. You let go of the door, turning around and slumping against it. You sent a final desperate message to Jade, one last shot to try and get him to come back.

“i swear to god if you dont unlock this door i'm gonna kill you”

He read the message immediately but didn’t respond. Your heart crawled into your throat and you made this weird choking squeal noise. Floyd looked entirely unimpressed.

“I’m bored, waiting for you to stop freaking out.” He whined, squatting down in front of you.

It felt like the world was in slow motion. As soon as Floyd’s eyes were level with yours, you lashed out like a scared animal.

If you had asked yourself last week what your greatest regret was, it would be not taking that deal that Sam had offered you on tuna. If you’d asked yourself what your greatest regret was two weeks ago, it would be not badgering Crowley about finding your way home. If you asked yourself what your greatest regret was today, it would be hitting Floyd.

As soon as he registered what had happened, which didn’t take very long, he yanked you by your collar, sprawling you out on the floor. As you tried to recover, his hands were around your neck, barely applying pressure. It was more to scare you than anything else, you were sure.

He was grinning, straddling your chest and bearing down until you gasped for air, clawing at his arms and wrists. When he finally let go, you turned to your side as much as you could, coughing muttered curses of his family name under your breath.

“You know, Shrimpy…” Floyd began, fingers fidgeting with the collar of your shirt, “I get the feeling you don’t like me too much.”

You sucked in a breath and twisted your body so you could swing at him again. He caught your fist and slammed your wrist into the shiny tile. You cried out, hugging your other arm close before you desperately tried to pry his hand from your arm.

Your voice was high, way less calm and angry than you would have preferred, “Get your sweaty ass off of me, Floyd!”

“Sweaty?” Floyd giggled, wiggling backwards so he was straddling your hips, “I just got out of the shower.”

“This isn’t a joke! Get off me!”

You wished he had responded to that. You’d take anything over him pulling you by your arms so your head hit his shoulder, anything to keep him from pressing his lips against your ear and laughing louder when you flinched away.

“You’re funny.” He purred.

When you woke up this morning, you hadn’t thought once of being trapped in this room with Floyd. It never crossed your mind in the realm of possibilities, and if you had anything to say about it, you weren’t going to be in here much longer.

Floyd leaned back as you aimed to headbutt him. Your next best bet was just thrashing, lashing out with your knees and feet and elbows, and for a second, it worked. Floyd let go of your arms and moved off of you, watching calmly as you scrambled back and went back to the door, like someone suffering from insanity.

Somewhere deep down, you knew that you weren’t getting out of here anytime soon. Subconsciously, you knew your actions were futile, that for all the banging on the door, Jade, Azul, whoever, none of them were coming to save you. You had been thrown to the lions.

Floyd crowded you against the door, your bag plopping besides your foot. Floyd’s thumbs hooked in your waistband of both your pants and underwear. You shuddered out a scream and banged against the door faster, harder. Maybe, your fist would go through the door, and you’d be able to open the door from that side.

You screamed louder when something pressed against your entrance. Just as you began to turn to smack him away or kick him where he was the most tender, he grabbed your head and slammed it against the door.

“Don’t turn around.” He mumbled, “You’re not gonna like what you see.”

“Don’t- Floyd, stop it! Stop!” You swung your arms back, hoping to knock him off balance.

You did strike him, once. In the ribs, probably. Something bony, something broad. Unfortunately, this was Floyd you were dealing with, so he didn’t even flinch. No, instead he looped the hand already on your head through your hair and pushed his hips into your ass.

You realized, possibly a little belatedly, that the noise you were suddenly hearing was coming from you. It sounded like it was coming from some kind of creature from the depths of hell, something crawling up from the depths and begging for mercy. Your legs felt weak, and you could hear the door thumping against the frame as Floyd pistoned against you.

His breathing was low and heavy, every few breaths punctuated with breathy snickering, just soft enough that you could mistake them for something else. You felt his lips against your sweaty temple, trailing down to the side of your neck and your shoulder.

Your fingernails scraped uselessly against the door as he violated you. You were past begging for help, begging for him to stop, to get away from you. You just had to wait for this torture to end.

The pain was intense and hyperfocused around the ring of muscle that Floyd had battered past. Every time he moved it sparked up again, doubling over itself. Your screaming petered into hollow sobbing.

Your legs gave out from under you, but the last person you wanted to catch you grabbed you securely around the waist, his body still beating against yours. You were going to be sick. The obscene slapping, the slick squishing, the smell of it all, it made your head spin. You gagged around a sob.

“O-kay, Shrimpy,” Floyd mumbled. “Here it comes.”

Floyd kissed your ear again and dipped his head into your shoulder. You let out an even louder scream, which you hadn’t realized you were capable of, when his teeth latched into the skin of your shoulder.

Your legs kicked helplessly as he pressed closer, the slick skin sticking together between the two of you. You were sobbing, desperate for freedom.

You were granted your freedom, more or less. Floyd let you down onto the floor a lot more gently than you expected. You slumped to your knees, and for a moment, it was like you felt yourself separate from your body. You saw yourself, crying with your chest against the door and your pants around your ankles, and Floyd standing over you, staring down at you like you were a very interesting insect or something he had just dissected.

When your consciousness snapped back into your body, you sluggishly rolled over, tugging up your pants and hugging the wall to stand back up before you grabbed your bag. Floyd was still staring at you, toothy smirk widening. You looked away before you saw his eyes.

You cowered away from him as he approached the door, not even bothering to pull his pants up.

He rapped on the door once, “Jade, Shrimpy wants to go home now.”

The lock clicked and you threw open the door, storming past Jade and beginning the long walk home. Grim was asleep when you got in, his homework unfinished. You didn’t care about that, he was comfortable or whatever. Hoping that all of that was worth something, anything, you ripped open your backpack to see your notebook and a shiny bundle of thaumarks in front of your notebook.

You threw up.

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brightdarkness-2013 · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2: Breakaway

Summary:The team takes the situation into their own hands,

This wasn’t working. I couldn’t focus with them always interrupting me. Not only that, but it was becoming obvious that they were planning something. Something I was sure I wasn’t going to like. My time to finish this was coming to an end quickly. So I was off to find a place to finish. I was on my way out when an even voice stopped me.

“It’s Friday, Gunmax. We always go for a ride on your bike on Fridays.”

A sudden urge to ride a bike I didn’t have surfaced. Deckerd. He was a large threat to this.

“There is no Gunmax.” I spoke and forced myself to continue, but he stopped me again.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a quiet place to finish the connection.”

This startled everyone in the room and I felt a firm grip on my wrist.

“No. I can’t let you do that. We want Gunmax back.”

“There is no-”

“Gunmax Is There!”

My optics widened under my visor at his raising his voice.

“He’s still there and he’s still fighting. Just let him out, Ultra.”

I took a moment before I tried speaking. “If I let any of my pieces go then I will cease to exist. The connection must be completed in order for me to survive. I have no intention of dying today or any day.” I yanked my wrist away. “It’s just me now. Gunmax is Gone.”

“That’s not True!” Yuuta screamed. “If you won’t let him go then we’ll force you to!”

And just like that they advanced on me. Tedious allies turning into enemies at one statement. They were trying to prevent me from leaving. From surviving. I didn’t have time for this. I fled. I couldn’t risk whatever they were planning. I was going to survive.

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Hidden in the junkyard I sat. Lowering my head I focused inward. Forcing the connections one at a time. Each one giving me a spark of power and ease. It was time consuming. But it was relaxing in a way. Ever so slowly I was becoming complete. Everything else faded into the background. I breathed a soft sigh as the next one slid into place.

“Gunmax!”

My concentration broke as I was tackled. I didn’t even have a chance to fight back as J-Decker and Duke Fire pinned my arms, Super Build Tiger at my legs. Shadowmaru landed on my abdomen. He held a strange metallic stick. I could feel the magnetism coming off of it in low pulses.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Disrupting the connection.” Came the simple answer.”

“Do it now!” Came the order.

He pressed it to my chest and for a moment I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do. Then I felt it. And I started struggling. I could feel myself weakening already. Plating rippled as it slowly undid the fusion. I screamed and struggled to keep myself together. It was screwing it all up! All of my efforts! Done away by this Thing! My voice was slowly breaking into three. I was losing myself.

No. No! No! No! All of you stay! You can’t! You can’t separate! This is right! This is how it’s supposed to be! You’re supposed to be Ultra! Me!

But it was no use. I was breaking apart. I had to get away. I gave one last thrash. Fighting to toss them off. I slipped free just enough. Just enough to escape their grasps. I panted as I looked at them. I retreated back another step as I help my chest.

“Gunmax!” Yuuta called desperately.

“We were so close.” Duke Fire spoke.

“Again!” Drillboy pressed.

They were ready to charge me, but then I stumbled back and held my head.

“Gunmax!” Deckerd called and I struggled to push it down.

“Break free, Gunmax!” Duke practically ordered and I felt my plating ripple underneath as it tried to break apart.

No. I didn’t want to die.

“You can do it! Come on!” Drillboy joined them.

I was losing my grip. I screamed. It hurt! It hurt! My voice split back into three.

“Gunmax!” Yuuta...

I broke out of the fusion. I hit the ground hard, a deceivingly soft sound leaving my lips. I Ached. I felt like I hadn’t had rest in days. There were multiple warnings popping up on my HUD that I was far too exhausted to read and make sense of. Someone propped me up and I blearily looked up, too tired to sound my discomfort. Deckerd. I hardly got a chance to read the warning that popped up as my frame shut me down.

First

Masterpost

patreon.com/BrightDarkness2013

#brightdarkness #fanfic #brave police gunmax #brave police j decker #brave police deckerd #gunmax #deckerd #duke #shadowmaru #Gunmax centric

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luvwich · 1 year ago

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word search tag game 📖

tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo 💜 these are always fun!

looking for privacy, claim, suspicion, flush, chords in Arpeggio & Jaded...

privacy

She scowled at her surroundings. Tufted booths curved womblike to shelter each node of straight-backed suits from one another. Nattering imbeciles, all their droning voices signifying jack shit, but everyone was convinced that whatever they had to say required privacy. Their world had told them their words mattered, and enough of them believed the lie that it became the truth.

-- Arpeggio, ch. 25

claim

He pushed her further, and then the tiniest bit further than that… and then he stopped. V felt like she'd been dangled from a thirty-second-floor balcony and then yanked back. Her shoulders tensed as she wriggled within the restraint, aching to regain control. But she ached even more to yield further, to feel him claim every part of her with every part of him.

-- Arpeggio, ch. 23

suspicion

Visited by a phantom of familiarity, River wondered where he might have seen this guy before. An actor? He cleared his throat. “Skiing, eh? Never been, myself. Tahoe hasn't had a full snowfall for as long as anyone can remember around here." He let the small talk settle like a cloud of banal dust and pressed onward. "So what worries have been troubling you.. I'm sorry, it was Charlie, right?”

River lifted the whiskey to his lips. An unnamed suspicion crept up the back of his shirt to prickle at his neck as he met the man's eyes.

-- Arpeggio, ch. 16

flush

It’d been a long-ass day. Weird dreams last night. The tiger reappearing on his arm, animated, telling him things. He hadn’t been sleeping enough, but he was flush with eddies and that’s got a way of perking you up even when you should wind down. That’s how Mike ended up with five gin-and-tonics in him before eleven p.m., his head heavy and propped on his hand as he held court at his usual spot.

And when he saw her this time, when he heard her light laughter at the other end of the Afterlife, he didn’t run and hide in the boy’s room.

-- Jaded, ch. 5

chords

After that interminable date in corpo hell earlier, though, the dive's cheery bustle put her spirit at ease. The booths were ratty but comfortable, the lighting low enough to be flattering and warm enough to see the color of your companion's eyes. Patrons enjoyed hearty bites of food as a man with wisps of silver hair plucked ethereal chords from a guzheng, the sounds of ancient mountains and rivers weaving around the laughter of Watson's raucous sons and daughters.

She spotted him in a corner booth, surrounded by half-empty small plates and a huge stein of beer that was as pale as the hair on his head. His lips split into that crooked grin when he saw her.

“Whoa, glad you could make it, hotshot. Didn’t think you’d show.”

-- Jaded, ch. 6

keepin it going sans pressure if yall want:

🔎 spice, question, fury, paint, gentle 🔍

@another-corpo-rat @cinnamon-mey @dani-the-goblin @fly-amanitaa @ghostoffuturespast @gracewithsomesacrifice @merge-conflict @theviridianbunny

#tag games #my writing #lw

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cryopathiic-a · 10 months ago

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[ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ] ( from Akaza owo)

horror actions prompt || accepting

The original invitation-bait to lure him over to his domain had flown over Upper Three's head, but when Dōma had proposed a spar without use of their blood art, Akaza must have known that he would be an idiot to turn down the offer. Not solely for the opportunity to land a few good blows on the iceblooded; but because Dōma's persistence had left little room for denial. Push comes to shove, he was Akaza's superior. All he had to do was tell Nakime to strum her biwa and he would be getting his way, inevitably.

And the sparring session was turning out in Upper Three's favor. The fan's cut sharp, but they were delicate weapons. And Akaza's martial prowess was not something a priest could tackle. It only took that many fervorous exchanges for his rival to grab onto a slender wrist and suddenly Dōma had found himself immobilized on the floor. His weapons of choice are snapped in half and crumbled in the third moon's grip; and all he does is watch without expression as their tassels float down to the polished tatami.

❝ — oompft! Ah.... ❞ He hisses, as a vicious grip twists into his own thick tresses and instinctively his hands shoot up, but his fingers only hover around Akaza's wrist — like he is not quite ready to pry the scalding yank away. And he's not.

Something oddly candid gleams in Upper Two's eye in that moment.

His mind travels back to glimpses of a previous life; a life that he had lived buried in a lake. And every time that sensation, that sharp sting of pain, came along ( when suffering through the cold shocks that were meant to ignite his clairvoyance, when hurting himself to avoid having to sit through another counseling session, when his lungs had filled with water that one night he accidentally fell into the pond ) ; it was like his eyes opened for a split second and he took a breath, one to hold onto when he sinks back down. He had lived life behind a glass; and those explosions of pain were taps on it. Reminding him that he was still in the glass case and the world he so longed to be a part of was still out of his reach. The more excruciating the pain, the louder the tap — and some even made cracks in the metaphorical glass that was his insides.

And Akaza's 'taps' were very, very painful.

Gripped with the same fervor candymakers stretch the dough, Dōma is just as pliable and sweet. Where a glimpse upon the third moon's enraged visage would stir a human's bowels into submission — Dōma looks up at him with aimless admiration. His gaze is sharp when it studies the wrinkles between Akaza's brows. A frothing mouth, with fangs sharp as a tiger's. A bright gaze, filled with wrath — so much wrath.

And Dōma knows that it is hardly personal. He knows that Akaza is not really angry with him, but because those colorful eyes are a constant reminder of his defeat. Defeat at the hands of someone he looks down on, no less. Really, he is angry with himself. All the gnarling and snarling Dōma has been subjected to is naught but a desperate cry for help. And greedy claws grasp onto that. Dōma leeches off of his companion's turmoil.

How could Upper Three be feeling right now? Are his insides boiling? Or is his blood charged like a thunderbolt in the making? Does it turn cold a second before he might attempt to decapitate him like a well-wired weapon's? Almost reflexively, his pale hand reaches out until slender fingers finally wrap tenderly around the other's forearm. And there his cool touch snakes up as he merely feels up the veins bulging under marked skin.

Dōma twists his head into the other's grip. Lips part with an impalpable moan. A thick drop of dark crimson runs down from his bloodcrest, painting a path between his eyes and down his cheek, where his tongue is quick to lap up whatever drops are in his reach; in the same way that he's reaching for any droplets of anguish he can witness on the other. He longs to live vicariously through Akaza's rage.

❝ Hn... your heart is beating so fast. ❞ His touch traces the other's skin, picking up on nuances only a demon would perceive; the smell of Akaza's blood is riveting yet overpowered by his own. When callused fingers dig into the prodigal one's crown, the blood runs thick and pungent between his tresses. It smells of flowers and youth; it is the blood of someone who lives well. Who eats well.

❝ You have me right where you want me, though, right? Isn't this all you wanted? To win? Hm. You won... ❞ Dōma's voice falls gently as a caress between them, his gaze now meeting the other's with a whimsical smile. ❝ —and yet your heart is still racing... Lord Akaza... you're so fascinating to me. ❞

#(( writes u a whole fanfiction back ))#(( i just think he should rub his face on the floor or smt ))#♛ ¦ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇꜱ༺ answered #incinxrate

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hdawg1995 · 1 year ago

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Today my D&D game was SUPPOSED to go as follows: 1. party enters dungeon. at least one gets face hugged by monster. 2. After finding vile of antitoxin, cure face hugged party member. 2a. discover treachery that happened at the hands of prior adventures. 3. fight skeletal tiger and face hugger monsters. at least one more gets face hugged. 4. After not finding a second antitoxin, party splits to take injured party member to help while necromancer finds Sepulcher of Wee Jas. 5. necromancer goes on 24 hour theater of the mind adventure while rest of party gets help and also enters new town.

what ACTUALLY happened in today's D&D game: 1. necromancer gets confused about what spell does *after* yanking his out eye out. retconned because "WTF do you MEAN you YANKED your eye out???" 2. seeing eye teifling. 3. face huggers die in one hit. party is a little too relaxed about this. 4. discover treachery between adventures. 4a. no one takes the vile of antitoxin because they don't understand why they need it. 5. duskblade rushes skeletal tiger before teleporting behind it and getting a back stab shocking grasp flanking attack off on it. has second action and kills it. 6. necromancer finds sepulcher of wee jas and enters it. 6a. ...the druid follows after because she is a cat and the sepulcher is a box. 6b. the teifling follows after because she wanted to show the duskblade how the other two dissapeared. 7. next session the party will have a 24 hour adventure while the duskblade (who stayed behind to watch the druid's animal companion) gets to play uno with the mummy and crypt warden he found earlier.

#ramble #dungeons and dragons #d&d #this was hilarious #i only complain because it felt like the fight was too easy #and now they won't be going into combat any time soon #and now i need to make a WHOLE NEW MAP

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lokrow · 2 years ago

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Better Days

For Cynthia as a LNY 2023 Raffle prize. Musical pairing with Better Days by ALI ft Dos Monos and GOMESS

Character Tags: Paula Turnip, Paula Mason

Doc link (better formatting).

Excerpt from The Phlegethon Press, circa Season 13 post-election day:

Homeward Bound by Michaela Onthefield

In the quiet misty morning that succeeds the Season 13 elections, Hades welcomes the prodigal returns of Paula Turnip, Aldon Cashmoney and Nicholas Mora. After a little over 2 decades spent in Seattle and Philadelphia respectively, both Turnip and Mora will be stepping up to bat for the Tigers in the next Season for the first time in the Expansion Era. With such a bolstered lineup, we long for them to be homeward bound on the field as well.

Paula stood alone outside Worldwide Field. It would be anytime now that Hiroto would call for the team to gather ahead of the game. The first game of the season. Paula had been through many. Yet the first game of a season still carried a unique set of expectations upon its proverbial shoulders. Not least of which this season. With two returning star players and an unproven Nicholas Mora at bat, The Tigers had many eyes upon their opening day performance. The returns had all been universally welcome but Paula knew better. Roster changes this drastic over short enough a span of time or overnight ran the risk of the team's internal cohesion suffering during an adjustment period. As if that wasn’t enough, they came off the heels of a poor performance in the season preceding which itself had followed hotly off their third championship win.

It was a perfect storm, one that had many fans trepidant as to whether the Tigers would bounce back, flop or simply paint the field with shades of mediocrity. Everything and nothing was expected of the team and that was felt in the team’s morale. Paula sighed, the weather forecast simply reported a chance of peanuts.

Whether the team would crack under the combined pressure of fan expectations and internal egos could entirely depend on a stray peanut rolling onto the field. Paula strode forward a few paces before crouching down. She passed a calloused hand over the cottonwood surface bearing the pock marks and dents of her axe throwing. Her hand came up to grasp the haft of the hatchet still embedded deep into the intertwined wood fibres. Had she thrown it harder, the worn target could have split. It would have made it easier to retrieve the hatchet, for as it was currently, she needed to pry it and give it a good yank to get it loose and free again.Leaving a much larger crack below the surface of the wood and compromising the integrity and durability of her target far more than she would have liked. “Never heard of a hitter training by throwing things.”. The voice came from behind her. Paula Mason had not heard Paula Turnip’s voice many times but she would never struggle to pick it out of a crowd. “Hiroto’s calling for the team- ” she started but Mason interrupted her. “I know.”. The woman rose to her full height, a good handful of inches above her younger peer. “Paula.” she nodded, coldly yet politely, placing her throwing hatchets back in the folds of her large coat. “Paula.” replied the other, placing two fingers on the brim of her cap to return the polite gesture. Turnip was no longer the new kid on the block and nowhere was this more visible than her cap, which had been almost shiny when she’d first joined the roster that fateful day. Now the cap bore the signs of wear and tear of the nearly two decades of everyday use it had seen. Paula Mason passed Paula Turnip, their shoulders almost brushing yet miles apart like they had once been, decades ago. “Keeps the arthritis at bay.” the older woman simply said, not bothering to look over her shoulder to see if Turnip heard.

Excerpt from the Hades Anachronicles, circa Season 14 day 28:

Riding the Tailwind by False Michelle

Coming out of the Earlsiesta Address from the Front Office, Fans of the ILB are now in possession of their team’s ratings. This new feature the League is offering as a means to track a team’s performance throughout the season may allow Hades Tigers fan to more accurately chart the path to what looks to be a run at the post-season. Much like their returning leadoff, Tigers are heating up and only lagging behind the Wings due only to an extra Win granted by Sun 2 on day 15 to the Mexico City team. Earlier concerns over egos clashing with the returnees seem to have been exaggerated at the exception of the ever cantankerous Nicholas Mora whose foul mood shows no sign of improving despite a really good showing at bat that makes all wonder why he was ever made to pitch in the first place.

“Mason? Can we talk?” Turnip stood in the way of Mason leaving the locker room of Sixth. It was rare for her to take the initiative on confronting the elder Paula. Turnip adjusted the cap that seemed affixed to her head. The older woman simply looked over her glasses, waiting for whatever Turnip had to bring up. “Paula.” she simply greeted.

“Are you avoiding me?” Mason’s eyebrows raised, which Turnip noticed. “I’m not. I’m keeping an eye on the team.” Turnip’s eyes narrowed, which Mason noticed. “I’m keeping an eye on you.” she clarified, understanding that diplomatic dodges were not going to take this interaction to any helpful resolution.

“Did Hiroto ask for that?” Turnip leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a short look out confirmed they were alone but her voice was still hushed. “It’s nothing like that.” Mason waved off any concerns, “I just worry about the team. On my own terms.”.

“Why would I be any risk to the team? I’ve played here before, I know how we do.” The question hung in the air as Mason readjusted her glasses after shooting the younger woman a look like they both knew the answer. “You don’t deal well with pressure.” Mason was shooting straight for bullseye, either in retribution or simply in fair return of Turnip’s own directness. “What do you mean by that?” Turnip stood up from leaning against the doorframe, frowning. “Nothing personal.” Mason attempted a step to Turnip’s side, feeling annoyed with this interaction already. She was beginning to wish they simply had kept simply orbiting each other at a safe distance. She didn’t want to have sour talks this early in the season. All it did was risk resentment being carried out onto the field.

“But?” Turnip was blocking Mason’s path once again. “Because there is a but, isn’t there?”, Mason sighed at the question. “Look. Do you really not realise what you’ve come back to?” It was Mason’s turn to cross her arms, towering over Turnip and looking sternly over the thin rectangular lens of her glasses. The skin on the older woman’s forearms bearing stripes seeming to hum with the faint and warm light they glowed. Turnip looked a mix of offended and taken aback and confused that spoke more words than she could have.

“You don’t, do you? Look, Paula. I know you’re friends with most of the team and the people in the stands included. I know this is home to you, so I understand wanting to be familiar. But I’m not your friend, I’m just your teammate. I worry about the team because out there, someone has to.” Mason pushed through to leave the locker room into the hallway that would lead to the field. Their shoulders brushed. “I don’t begrudge you for wanting to leave when shit got rough back then. I’ve been there, I know. You were a kid then and nothing that happened should have happened to you.” Turnip bristled at the older woman’s words. But they struck home in spite of her unspoken protests and she knew. ‘The Tigers are a different team than the one you left. No matter how much you’d like it to be as you remembered. Things have changed and you should learn to be ok with your place in it.” Mason threw the last sentence on her way to the field without looking over her shoulder.

Excerpt from Phlegethon Press, circa Season 14 day 79

Life is but a walking shadow by Michaela Onthefield

It was in the second inning of today’s game that longtime Tigers pitcher Dunlap Figueroa was struck by Feedback weather. Xe proceeded to pitch every inning of the game, engaged in what Fans are already calling “Figueroa’s Soliloquy”. For the remaining 7 innings, Figueroa was seen pitching for one team while in the bullpen of the opposing team all the way til the game concluded 18-7 in favour of the Away team in this first game of the series.

While the impact of losing Figueroa cannot fully be ascertained so soon, it needs to be said that sources paint a picture of the Tigers taking quite a hit to their morale. To them we can only remind that to weep is to make less the depth of grief.

The hatchet over-rotated, hit the wood as flat on the back of the head as it could possibly do, hung there against the dented wood surface for a beat before falling onto the damp dirt outside the Firehouse. Her frustration was palpable. She’d just finished showing Dunlap to her old room in the firehouse, an added coincidence or the Universe’s way of twisting the knife. They’d shared only polite See You Agains. After all, they would see one another again over the next two days. And after that. Dunlap would be gone. And at risk. The fire inside Mason felt like it was gonna come up and out of her mouth. Or perhaps that was the Malört she was trying to drown it in.

The hatchet flew and struck the tree the target was leaning against. Didn’t even stick, it bounced off and landed in the wet grass next to the other one. A deep sigh. Mason was mad at herself. There’s only so much even a fire eater could do on the field for their team. But having to watch what had happened to Dunlap felt like a cruel reminder.

“You doing ok?” the voice surprised Mason. She and Turnip had been professional on the field since the interaction in the locker room but each had kept out of the other’s orbit. Whether out of mutual respect or resentment, it was unclear but Mason could deal with it. Until now.

Looking over her shoulder, Turnip was sitting on a parapet in the small empty space Mason had secured herself at the back of the Firehouse. She had her cap in her hands, the first time Mason had only seen her take it off. And her leaf-like hair had fallen to cover her face. “What?” Mason asked as though to make sure she was the one the question was directed at. “You doing ok?” Turnip’s eyes were fixed on Mason’s shades. “I’m f-… I don’t know.” Mason walked the few paces to gather the fallen axes, “Why do you ask?”. Turnip’s eyes softened upon the older woman’s back. Away from the field, from the games, Mason’s body seemed to shrink and allow herself to be the old woman she was. The large coat which gave her such an indomitable frame up close, now looked like it was holding her up more than anything. “You were catcher last game. Has no one else asked?” Turnip placed her cap back on but kept her hair down instead of passing it through the back as she normally would.

“Hiroto.” Mason sat down on the parapet a few paces away. “And what did you tell them?” Turnip turned to face Mason. “That I was fine.” Mason kept looking at the target. The pockmarked surface looked worse for wear still than it had at the beginning of the season. The two Paulas sat in silence.

"When did you start? Axe throwing, I mean." The question hung in the silence. "Why are you doing this, Turnip." Mason sighed, the last thing she needed at the moment was a platitude and small talk ridden conversation with Turnip. Turnip sighed, rotating the Hades Tigers cap to look at the logo. "Because you were right. Because I think something in me wished coming back would have been easy. And because we don't know each other. And unlike Mora, you're invested in holding the team together." Turnip and Mason smiled at that. The latin spouting 80 something brat that was Mora, taking any chance he could to make his foul mood everyone else's problem. Or perhaps, there was more to it but if there were, the old crank would never dare to admit it to anyone. "Season 3. That's when I picked it up.” Mason answered finally. “I thought it would have been after Lady P gave you the axe. Figured it would be what you started with” Turnip pointed to Mason’s labrys, leaning against the parapet next to her. Mason looked at the labrys, Mx Pointy as she’d dubbed it. She lightly shook her head with a smile. “Would never use such a gift like that. I got it after Season 9. Tigers needed defending.” Mason shoulders loosen. They sit in silence a while, Turnip looking at the labrys, the wooden haft darkened by the fire of incinerations avoided. Mason pushed her glasses back onto her nose, “When I started throwing, it was to stay focused in the midst of everything that was happening- had happened. A way to keep a grip on and not letting all of it get ahead of me.”

Turnip raised an eyebrow, “Is that how you feel about what happened out there?”. The question hung, Mason bristling at it and steeling herself. There was no point in it besides maybe preserving the image of the hardened elder statesman she cultivated. Both of them had been the closest to the events. Turnip at first base on the defense. Mason as catcher. Both had to keep looking to Dunlap as their friend was torn between realities. Eye contact that went from horrified, concerned, desperate, enduring untold pain, refusing to let go of one reality while staring the other in the face until finally. Resolution and resignation set in behind the black of each of their pupils. Both Paulas knew well what Dunlap had felt albeit not in as drawn out a spectacle. Season 8 may be far behind them but the memories would last for years still for either of them.

“Was that how you felt back then?” Mason answered. Turnip nodded quietly.

Excerpt from Cocytus Corkboard, circa Season 14 Day 99:

Such A Hot Temptation by Constantine S. Piracy

As the Expansion Era revs up, the Monitor read the names of the new class of MVPs for season 14. Led by local star hitter Aldon Cashmoney. In spite of Aldon decreased output this season, only entering the top 3 for Stolen Bases and Runs Scored and leading no hitting leaderboard, compared to vis topping of five leaderboards while batting for the Hellmouth Sunbeams last season; it seems the fans have latched themselves onto the Tigers leadoff and want to see vim covered in gold regardless.

Perhaps, much like vis hitting on the field, all that is needed is some warming back up to the Hades climate before ve hits the numbers we saw last season. Or perhaps the Fans’ adulation will grow vis ego til it collapses into a slump in performance under its own weight.

In any case, now 3 seasons into the Era, here’s hoping the Era gets going towards something thrilling.

The axe landed with a dull thud; the impact proving too much for the ageing wooden target as it split with the axe falling to the ground between two semi circular halves gently rocking back and forth on their respective rounded side. “Dangit, must’ve thrown it too hard.” Paula groaned as she walked the few paces on the red dirt of Sixth to where the axe lay to pick it up, “Cottonwood, right?” she asked without looking over her shoulder.

Mason was sitting a few paces behind on a small bench that would usually be in the dugout, she was observing behind her shades and sipping some malört from a flask with quite a few scuffs on it. “Don’t worry about it, that thing was on its way out two seasons ago, I should have replaced it a long time ago.” She reassured Turnip as the younger woman came to sit next to her. Turnip gestured for the flask and Mason passed it over, keeping her hand open as Turnip coughed and gave it back almost immediately. “You kids never believe me when I say you won’t enjoy it.” she smiled, Turnip laughed in between two coughs. “That’s not just Malört though, is it?” she points, her coughing finally stilling. “Mason special. Many decades were spent perfecting it.” Mason brandished the flask victoriously.

They were supposed to be practising. The wild card round meant the Tigers had a day off during the postseason. Behind the bench, their gear bags lay on the ground, alongside a tipped over pitching machine. “Just be glad I don’t add it to the punch bowls of the MVP parties.” Mason added before screwing the cap of her flask shut. Turnip laughed, thinking back to the day prior and the celebrations that were had. Aldon lifted up on teammates’ shoulders, UV commenting that ve got heavier as xe carried most of the weight. Both laughing it off. Smiles and cheering so rare outside of postseason victories. “It seems off. The MVP thing.” She leaned her elbows onto her own knees, “Maybe it’s cause I’ve seen too much shit in this game but. Whenever something nice happens, I just wonder when the other shoe is dropping.” Turnip readjusted her cap. “I can’t say I don’t understand.” Mason took her shades off, maybe the first time Turnip saw her without them, “And yet, maybe this too is the times changing.”.

Turnip didn’t look convinced, of the two, she was the one whose name had been on the idol board before. Not that Mason couldn’t understand but… “Do you think we’ll get MVP one day?”. Mason shrugged, “I’ve long passed the time in my life where external recognition mattered to whether I did the work.”, her tone was sharp, honed but not mean or aggressive. Simply bluntly matter-of-fact about what the idol board was. “Can’t say I would refuse not being swept by flooding though.”.

To this, they could both agree.

“Your turn at the target, granny P.” Turnip inhaled sharply before turning to her gearbag. Her hand searched for a few seconds inside the large duffle before pulling a cross section of a tree trunk. “The girls at the coop had to fell a poplar to clear out some space. Old fucker was all bent out of shape but it gave me this, it should do the job.” she explained before Mason could protest the gift. Mason sighed as she put her shades back on, “Alright, remind me to treat you for dinner.” she smiled as Turnip leant the new target against the stadium wall, using the two halves of the broken target to give it even more stability than the old one had. “Only if you hit bullseye.” Turnip bantered back as Mason took her place to throw. The axe flew, rotating twice before striking the target as cleanly as it could have, sticking into the unblemished wooden surface with a dull thud.

Bullseye.

#blaseball #fanfic #hades tigers #paula mason #paula turnip

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thetruearchmagos · 2 years ago

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Sea Spray [ Part I]

Some of you might remember that, a long while ago, I wrote a little something for a dear friend of mine, set in the Setting he makes. This is a spiritual successor to it! Well, part one of that, but the next part isn't far off. Your welcome, Trasyn!

Tagging @lividdreamz @dogmomwrites @orphicpoieses @muddshadow @sanguine-arena @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina

"Eins. Zwei. Drei. START!"

Jager Jung Krause felt himself shoved into his cockpit like he'd been punched in the gut. An instant later, his AL-88 was hanging in mid-air, flung out by the steam catapult of the Blitzschlag-class Carrier Airship HAS Unerbittlich.

Krause yanked his flight stick close, pulling up and away from the carrier as the rest of his flight took their turns to be launched into the sky. He circled around the airship while waiting, taking in his surroundings as he climbed to forty two thousand feet.

The star filled midnight sky was clear as glass, perfect visibility for miles around and hardly a cloud at all over the open ocean. Speckled here and there like swarming bees were the two dozen other airships that made up the flotilla. A picket line of eight Tiger-Class Destroyer Airships formed up just below the clouds, a few thousand feet below, while the rest of them were fellow carriers spewing a steady stream of their own Al-88s into the sky.

"Festung Flight, this is Control. Form up at thirty thousand feet and head out over the invasion fleet. You know the brief, but weather's as bad as it was. Viel Glück, Glückliche Jagd."

Even from this altitude, that much was obvious. To the north, south, and west, the sky was as clear as promised, but out to the east, a towering wall of pure black cloud rose far and above even his airplane's altitude. Thick and rolling clouds which belched rain onto the waves below, crackling and buzzing with violent energy.

All in all, not good flying weather. Jager Konrad Siegert, Junge's wingman, who'd just climbed up into formation with him and the other two in the flight, summed it up well enough.

"Es ist tolles Badewetter!"

It took a good minute for the radio to clear up after that, mostly since Junge was too busy laughing.

------

"Doesn't look like the storm's clearing, Frau-leutnant."

Even to someone as typically optimistic as Marine-Leutnant Adala Maier, that much was obvious. Even as the transports were a few days out from the beaches, thick storm clouds blacker than a ship's smoke cloud had been gathering overhead. They hung like vultures over the ships of the Abteilung Wellenabwehr, as if they knew that something great was underway, and were about to make their presence keenly felt.

And of course, they had to wait until we got in the Seestiers to do it.

When the sky split wide open, it was as if the very seas themselves had been folded over and left to hang, before slamming back down below in a thick, almost solid wall of water and wind. Adala's platoon was the first to hit the water in their Seestier, and the twenty Coast Breakers would find themselves the last as thirty foot waves washed through vision slits and hatches and swamped the vehicle. It took the skill of the driver and lines of rope thrown from their transport, the HAS Stoisch, to claw the floating metal brick back into the well dock.

They'd been ordered to save the landing and fighting for a later date, a tall order for a Kustenbrucher, when the weather cleared up.

If the amount of seawater on the floor meant anything, that hadn't happened.

"Doesn't matter, Klaus. Tell the troops to prep up, we're driving up the beach in ten."

Marine-Sergeant Klaus Voght nodded through his bulky respirator, before clambering down from the raised crew compartment into the open air transport deck. Adala could tell he wasn't happy with that, and in truth neither was she. Still, there was nothing for it. The Stepmorians had those beaches, the AWA wanted them, and rain or shine they were going to get them.

Reaching into her padded, waterproof floating vest, she pulled out a simple silver pocket watch, scratched and tarnished all over. Adala might have reflected that the beat up old thing had seen about as much action as half her unit, but she had more important things on her mind.

Through the goggles of her respirator, she watched the hands move over that moon white face.

7:27

7:28

7:29

As the minute hand slid into 7:30, the whole world seemed to suddenly tear itself apart behind her, as the guns of the great armada at her back let slip the hounds of war. Five, eight, fifteen inch hounds, a warship's own weight in roaring metal flying through the air.

Back to back with the shells, rockets like screeching harpies lit glaring flares of red and orange as they thundered towards the landing grounds. Hundreds of them collapsing into a single hollow howl like a thousand wolves, a song of fire with neither start nor end, carrying forth their own gifts of shrapnel and shot towards their Stepmorian friends.

Adala heard a hard thud, and looked to see the crew next to her. The driver who'd saved their collective asses a few days before was banging the hull with a whoop, and the vehicle commander and two gunners had their fists raised and swinging about in the air, adding their own howls to the symphony.

Looking behind, she could see her platoon was not to be outdone. The younger one's especially, standing on their seats to watch over the walls of their transport to ogle and cheer as the falling hail of hell came down on their destination, and even the old salts like her couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Klaus was among them, keeping an eye on the troops.

"Aye, you think that's a damn show do you, Kinder?"

As if on cue, a low hum echoed through the stormy skies, a racket which soon grew into a deep and low growl like a great beast, then a thousand, rising from the sea. Or, coming down from the sky.

"Wait and see, and let the Abteilung für Wolke-Abwehr show you how it's done!"

------

When the guns and rockets started flying, Junge was grateful he was staying at such a high altitude as he was, even with the turbulence. He half wondered what a terrible force it took to make booms he could hear from forty thousand feet through storm and lightning.

Finally, after a thunderous eternity, the avalanche of fire was over. Time for him to earn his pay.

"This is Festung-Führer, descend to just below cloud and watch out for the bombers."

His flight's birds were flying lean, bare of any baggage save for a pair of hundred gallon drop tanks each which they dropped as they dove. As such, they were able to make the most of their airframes sheer power, and cut down through the air like hot knives through butter.

The same could not be said for the bombers, sibling AL-88s lugging a quarter ton of ordnance each. Rockets, bombs, in addition to their cannons, all of which would no doubt be appreciated by the troops down below, even if it left their carriers as agile as a pregnant duck.

Hence why Junge was here.

"Kontakt, just to the left and far ahead!"

It wasn't the first time he'd found Jager Freidhelm Leitz's inhuman eyesight a gods-damned miracle, and Junge doubted it'd be the last. Sure enough, perhaps a dozen miles out a vast swarm of black specks swirled round and round as streams of yet more funneled in to join it, as if to form their own gathering storm.

"Idioten, you'd think they've learned their lesson by now!"

"Klappe halten, Konrad, I'm trying to make us all triple aces here!"

"Herr-Junge, try quadruple!"

Now that Jager Adelinde Weber had gotten her jeer in, the flight of four made their way in for the kill, banking to the left and slowly cutting altitude. Engines grumbling out their full seventeen hundred horsepower like beasts on short leashes, the made out at four hundred miles and hour at thirty five thousand feet, in minutes the sky was thick with AL-88s like theirs.

"Tauchen, Tauchen, Tauchen!"

They came in right on time. The bombers, flying below them at just over ten thousand, started their attack runs while the landers were a few minutes off shore. The moment they dove down, the swarm of Stepmorian Seafoams, hopelessly outdated biplanes, broke up into haphazard "flying wings" and dove in towards the coast, racing to stop the strike aircraft.

They wouldn't make it very far.

Festung-Flight picked out one such wing for themselves, a loosely formed wide 'v' of perhaps thirty of the birds. With their slow speed, airframe of wood and canvas, and antiquated guns, it was hardly a contest at all.

Junge went left with Konrad, Adelinde and Freidhelm taking the right edge. Thin wisps of cloud and haze faded from view as the barreled down on their enemy, and in the final seconds of the dive the whole formation shattered as every pilot dived for themselves.

It wouldn't save them. As cannons barked and machine guns spat fire from Junge and his comrades' steel birds of prey, they were about to find out why the aviators of the AWA called them Klappernde Fallen.

------

CRASH

"Heilige Ellara, it hit the Wasserwand!"

At least, that's what Adala thought she heard. She was too busy slamming herself tight against the deck, and the sound of erupting aircraft and rending steel rather drowned out Klaus's words.

She took a breath before daring to take a peek over the hull, and saw just what she'd heard. Less than thirty metres away, the hulking thirty feet tall form of a Wasserwand Amphibious Mech was reared up on shore, lit by a brilliant red and gold flame that flickered across its boxy torso. And, embedded atop its hull, lay the wire and canvas form of what did it in.

"Verdammt, seems like their airplanes are about as deadly as their coastal defences!"

That got a small laugh from the platoon, before the ear shattering detonation of the mech's hull mounted rockets cracked across the beach, throwing the crashed bird into the sky with a chunk of armour plate. Somehow, the damned thing still found the power to crawl itself up the sandy beach on its tracks, until it washed up against a small alcove and roared back up the beach with its remaining triple barreled machine gun and mortar.

It wasn't alone up there, either. Scattered across a mile and a half of waterlogged sand the first elements of the invasion had made landfall, and were now fighting like demons to secure the beachead. In the distance, Adala saw lines of her comrades charge up the beaches, mechs hot on their heels and pouring forth fire. She could have sworn she even saw the heavy set forms of a Garakuta detachment with their crustacean like walkers running into the fire, and the living machines of the Mechanczni with weapons hot.

Adala's own platoon was just about there as well, and looking through her binoculars she spotted the patch of coast she'd be hitting.

"Alright, First Platoon, you know your drills! Mortars, vorbereiten!"

Less than five hundred feet of seawater left, and on the hills above pillboxes, trenchlines, and bunkers let loose a hail of lead that seemed to bend in the air towards her transport. The two gunners roared back their challenge, giving as good as they got from their double mounts and pouring fire into the defenders. Five more bunkers were silenced in a plume of fire by a passing trio of AL-88s shedding their loads as they turned back overhead.

Two pairs of her troops stepped to the front of the transport deck, before one from each knelt to the ground and pulled out a metal tube from their rucksack. The other slammed down a circular metal plate on the deck, and soon the tubes were aimed into the sky.

"Mortars, Feuer!"

In an instant, two small dots shot into the sky with a shrill whistle, followed less than a breath later by another pair, and another still. The mortar salvoes hardly compared to the world shattering barrage of the Fleet, but they weren't supposed to.

A plume of thick smoke appeared in the sand, spreading despite the heavy torrent to blanket the beach in impenetrable mist that hid them from view.

The Seestier hit the beach a moment later, the crash of its tracks hitting the sand sending its occupants backwards and throwing off the mortar teams. Having done their jobs, it didn't matter.

The endless roar of shot and shell only seemed to grow in ferocity as they clambered onto land. The driver didn't stop for a moment, carrying the platoon of Coast Breakers as far into the beach as it could, and the gunners gave the impression that they prefered death to running out of ammunition to fire.

The Vehicle Commander turned to her, gesturing at the beaches, then at the ramp at the back of the transport.

Showtime.

She turned back to the troops, stripped from their wetsuits and respirators, clad in all the wares of the Kustenbruchers. The veterans had looks of steel on their faces, the green troopers clutched at their carbines with expressions of grim fear they'd overcome.

Above, the air was alive with metal birds and metal shells, and streaks of fire falling from the heavens. Shells and screams washed over the beaches like tidal wave after tidal wave, and the only light through which they saw came from burning hulks of war.

"Alright, A- and B- Squads goes with Sergeant Klaus, the rest of you swing to the flanks and support with the mortars. Let's sweep those Stepmorian saftsacks of this beach!"

She left it to the venerable old Sergeant to give the last call.

"Was Wierden Sie Fürchten?"

"Sie Werden Uns Fürchten!"

#my writing #writing #worldbuilding #writeblr #writeblr stuff #original writing

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iliaclwrites · 2 years ago

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omg hi!!! your eddie x cheerleader fic was so so good I’m actually obsessed!! can you maybe write one with cheerleader reader based off of the song favorite t-shirt by jake scott please?

jfgkjd this song is so cute omg !! as always my requests are open owo

"Your splits are looking really nice," Chrissy Cunningham said, squeezing your shoulder as you rifled through your gym bag, towel held up with one hand. "Just think! Only a couple more practices and the we'll be full-out."

You grinned at her, rolling your sore shoulders as you stepped into your denim shorts. "Let's hope the early morning practices pay off," you griped, rubbing at your eye with a closed fist before Chrissy swatted your hand away.

"Don't do that!" she complained, turning to sit on the changing bench. "You'll get wrinkles, you know!"

"Chris, the only thing giving me wrinkles is the fact I have to do weekend evening practice," you retorted, huffing as you sat down next to her. "I could barely open my eyes on the road I'm so pooped."

You had stumbled out of Eddie's bed, bleary and swearing and sore from yesterday's evening practice, tripping over his guitar and your pom poms as you tried to get ready. He knew how badly you did after naps, and had fallen unconscious at his place at twelve, full from lunch and exhausted. You were now running late for your eight pm practice on a Saturday evening, the only time the gym would be free for the girls to rehearse their stunts. He sat up slightly, watching you yank clothes from the floor and stuff them into your duffel, cursing like a sailor as you went.

He loved seeing you like this. At school, you were everyone's perfect cheerleader, with turn outs and tumbles and t-shirts from the GAP. At home, though? You slid around in mismatched tube socks and smoked cigarettes from the roof of his trailer, teaching him how to do smoke rings and eating dubiously expired foods from the back of his Uncle's fridge.

"Good luck, precious," Eddie had called from the bed, and pursed his lips for kisses as you bent to place a steaming cup of coffee down on the bedside table that he would, undoubtedly, chug cold in four hours time. "Um. Hello. Kisses, please?"

You had sighed, and he tugged you in by the pleats of your cheer skirt, making louder kissing noises in the dark. "You're so needy," you huffed, and he wrapped his hand around your thigh.

"I don't get to do this until, like, ten tonight when I pick you up," he grumbled, pressing a kiss to your knee. "Sue me."

You pressed one of his shoulders down, and kissed his mouth, still dry from sleep. He smacked his lips appreciatively when you pulled away, and threw a pillow over his head. "Don't fall! Go Tigers!"

"See ya, Eds," you said fondly, and slung your haphazardly-stuffed duffel around one shoulder. "Love you!"

"You too, sweet girl," he mumbled, and you shut the door.

Now, though?

You gaped down at your gym bag in a panic, the painted face of Eddie's Hellfire shirt staring up at you. Oh, fuck. In the hazy evening dark, you must have grabbed it, not noticing what it was. You glanced around the locker room. Chrissy was talking to some cheer leaders by the sink, and the girls' hockey team was just filing in, complaining about the rain. You chose your moment, shoving the shirt over your head and ducking out into the hallway and racing down the corridor into the open air of the carpark, where Eddie Munson was loitering.

"Ah! Princess!" he cheered, waving imaginary pom poms at you before freezing. "Hey, is that my--"

"Your shirt, yes," you hissed, storming past him and toward the van. The cool night air, fresh with rain, made your exposed legs prickle as you made you way toward the vehicle, pausing only when you realised Eddie hadn't moved. "...Eds?"

He was staring at you, cigarette halfway to his mouth, eyes sliding up and down your figure. Taking in the cheer shoes and white socks with frills on them, the bruises on your thighs that were a mix of his mouth and crash mat, the hint of denim hidden under his oversized Hellfire shirt. He dropped the cigarette and stalked over to you, crushing you against the side of the van.

"Fuck," he whispered, nosing at your ear.

"Eddie, what the hell?" you hissed, fingers automatically coming up to grip the collar of his battle vest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, sweet girl," he murmured, toying with the hem of your (his!) shirt. "I'm just lucky to have you, yano?"

You snorted, and reached to unlock the van. He caught your wrist in his fingers and slowly drew them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm. "Seriously," he insisted, ignoring your unimpressed look. "I am. You're funny. You're smart. You're fit. You're beautiful. Your taste in music could be worked on, but I'll take that, who doesn't love a project?" He smiled down at you, and you blinked up at him stupidly, lost for words in this sudden moment. "The top flyer of Hawkins High, here with me, in my t-shirt."

Your face melted, and you nudged a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "The top flyer of Hawkins High," you agreed, "never wants to wear anything else ever again."

"God," he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "You're it for me, precious. You know that?"

You giggled, and kissed his cheek. "Even if I want to listen to The Smiths all the way home?"

He tugged at the hem of your shirt. "Don't push your luck."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #request

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scriveyner · 2 years ago

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always summer #18

always summer #18: intercrural | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1100 words

“I see that your evasive maneuvers still lack quite a bit of finesse,” Akutagawa said, having caught Atsushi in a tangle of Rashomon just inside the tree line. Atsushi had hit the ground hard and managed to lose his water gun in the ground cover at the same time.

Continue on ao3 or:

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, chin in the dirt. “Using abilities is cheating.”

“I recall no such rule,” Akutagawa said, arms folded and water still dripping from his hair. Atsushi had gotten the drop on him—literally—and he was going to make a big deal out of it, so Atsushi kicked his legs and started to roll to his feet, only for Rashomon to whip around Akutagawa, producing the cooler that had been sitting by the grill, and proceeded to dump its entire contents over Atsushi’s head.

“COLD!” Atsushi shrieked as half-melted ice cubes went everywhere. He transformed his legs without even thinking about it, freeing himself from Rashomon and going straight up the very large, very old tree they were underneath. Akutagawa smugly collected Atsushi’s abandoned weapon and stood at the base of the tree, looking up.

“That,” Atsushi yelled, barely visible several branches deep, “was a massive overreaction!”

“On the contrary,” Akutagawa said as Rashomon closed the cooler and Akutagawa perched atop his new seat, still looking quite smug, “it is well within the rules of engagement to exploit any known weaknesses.”

Atsushi said, straddling the tree branch, “I know where you sleep.”

Rashomon shot up the tree and severed the branch from the trunk. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Atsushi said in the split second before gravity won the day and he crashed through the trees and back to the forest floor.

“Now then,” Akutagawa said primly, as a shower of broken twigs and leaves rained down upon them both, “what lesson have you learned today, weretiger?”

Lying flat on his back, and with all ten claws dug deep into the severed branch hugged to his chest, Atsushi said, “I hate you so much right now.”

“And here I thought cats landed on their feet.”

“I am going to make you eat that water gun!”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Akutagawa allowed Rashomon to dangle the plastic weapon above both their heads. “I would dearly like to see you try to retrieve it, first. Or,” he added, legs crossed at the knee and foot bouncing, “you can have it back for the toll of…hm. One kiss.”

He lifted the foot he had been bouncing illustratively, a smirk on his face, and Atsushi turned in one motion, springing straight into the air, tiger claws flashing toward Rashomon. He had intended to slash through the ability; but while Atsushi was fast, Rashomon was faster, and Akutagawa’s control kept the gun deftly from Atsushi’s hands.

“Two kisses,” Akutagawa said without moving, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Atsushi snarled and leaped for it again. Akutagawa rested his elbow on his knee and put his chin in his hand, watching Atsushi leapfrog through the trees after the ability, snaking around the trees and through the branches. “If you’re going to be so difficult about this, I will up the ante to an orgasm.”

That distracted Atsushi just enough that he clipped a tree trunk with his shoulder and hit the ground hard. After a moment of inventive cursing—again, passively absorbed from Chuuya—he stomped over to Akutagawa and glared down at him, chest heaving.

“Just one?” he said, and Akutagawa’s smirk grew.

“Are you offering me more?”

Akutagawa clearly intended for there to be some form of negotiation to this; but Atsushi was clearly in no mode to accommodate. He grabbed Akutagawa by the shoulder, and he put up no defense, roughly turned over, hands braced on the cooler automatically to keep him from slamming his chest into it.

“Oh, weretiger,” Akutagawa said mockingly as Atsushi yanked down his shorts—but didn’t get a chance to complete the thought as Atsushi slapped his hand over Akutagawa’s mouth, muffling him.

His other hand went right around Akutagawa’s dick, and Akutagawa made a muffled noise against Atsushi’s palm as he stroked Akutagawa to erect.

Atsushi had fitted himself against Akutagawa’s back, one knee between his legs and breath harsh on his neck. “You just like riling me up,” Atsushi grunted into his skin, and Akutagawa rumbled against his hand and then bit him. Atsushi yanked his hand back, swearing again, and Akutagawa hung his head, mouth open.

“Make it hurt, weretiger,” he panted, braced on his elbows against the cooler’s lid.

Atsushi released his dick and Akutagawa groaned in disappointment, Rashomon rippling from his shoulders until he felt Atsushi rest his own cock against his backside, and he exhaled again, this time eager for it. Atsushi wasn’t really interested in giving him that, though, as his cock slipped lower, tucking into that tight space between Akutagawa’s thighs, and the slick head nudging against the back of his balls. “What are you,” Akutagawa grunted as Atsushi began to thrust in the narrow space. “Ah, fuck, weretiger—that’s not enough…”

He rocked back against Atsushi though, kept his legs tight even without Atsushi’s hand on his hips, and Atsushi sank his teeth into the juncture of neck of neck and shoulder, exposed by the slide of his open shirt. Akutagawa shuddered, groaning appreciatively at the flash of pain; but then Atsushi let out a soft grunt, hips moving quick and uneven, before Akutagawa felt fluid coat the inside of his legs.

“Did you just come?” he snapped, stunned, Atsushi’s breath still being panted into the back of his neck. “Going off so quickly, just like a child—”

Atsushi’s hand slipped down his side as he pulled back, and Akutagawa waited for his fingers again, firm and familiar, to wrap around his aching cock…but that relief did not arrive.

“The toll was only one orgasm, you didn’t mention whose,” Atsushi breathed into his ear, a level of self-satisfied in his voice that Akutagawa was going to have to remove limbs to recompense. Rashomon immediately stabbed the air where Atsushi had been behind him, but punctured nothing, and by the time he whirled, pulling his shorts up one-handed, Atsushi had scooped up the forgotten water gun and bolted.

~*~

Chuuya was smoking on the balcony, having locked Dazai in the master bedroom for the quiet. Movement caught his eye in the distance, and he watched with detached interest as Atsushi bolted out of the trees like a rabbit startled by the shadow of a hawk; several seconds later an enormous wall of Rashomon tentacles followed.

He got a fair distance across the grass before Rashomon reached him, catching him by the ankle and wiping him out. Akutagawa stumbled out of the tree line in its wake, and there was faint yelling that he couldn’t make out from here—but then Rashomon yanked Atsushi off his feet, spun him once through the air, and flung him off roughly in the direction of the lake.

After several seconds, there was a distant splash.

“Huh,” Chuuya said, and blew smoke into the afternoon.

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober #sskk #shin soukoku #lemony fresh

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

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beautiful when the damage is done

part one | part two

characters: todoroki touya | dabi, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut laced with angst and a pinch of fluff

notes: part two of getting naughty with natsuo!! please please heed the warnings!! | title cred: sick thoughts by lewis blissett

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, sadism, punishment via overstimulation, pseudo-incest (stepcest), vaguely implied incest, emotional manipulation, a hint of degradation, toxic relationships, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, a LOT of crying (dacryphilia), slight size kink/size difference, rough sex

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.

It’s musty, air thick with the haze of sweat and sex, saturated the smell of tears and cum, so potent you swear you can almost see it in the atmosphere of Touya’s room. Uncontrollable quivers course through your entire body, never-ending chills erupting across bare, damp skin that shines every time it catches in the dim beams coming from Touya’s desk lamp.

Your scalp is still sore from where Touya yanked you off of Natsuo—back in the living room, how many hours ago? It feels as though it’s been forever since then, memory murky and swimming as you try to think—one strong hand wrapped in your hair jerking you up with such force you nearly stumbled. The pain is dull, a throbbing ache that radiates fading waves of hurt along your skull.

It’s constant, though, brewing a headache that is equal parts agony and dehydration, and you wish to rub at the spot, to place your palm over it in a futile attempt to soothe the discomfort at least a little, but you can’t.

Because it feels as if your blood has been replaced with sand, dense and heavy as it clogs your veins, weighing your arms down and keeping them firmly locked around Natsuo’s neck, steadying you in his lap.

But the ache in your scalp is nothing compared to the burn between your legs.

You can feel it, your third orgasm, churning in the depths of your stomach as it builds, a blistering warmth furling into a tight, concentrated ball of fire. It’s almost sickening, now, the heat roiling inside of you as heavy as lead, wracking destruction on your body as tender muscles, already quaking from exhaustion, begin to tense once more, to coil and wind up the way a lithe tiger does right before it strikes.

“Nat-Natsuo, I can’t,” the words wobble as they spill from between clattering teeth, you head shaking sluggishly as fresh tears sting your eyes.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs softly to you, gentler than he’s ever been before but refusing to slow his movements as he bounces you on his cock, concerned stone eyes searching your face while his fingers flex on your hips, readjusting their grip on the slippery skin.

“You better,” Touya spits from his place on his bed, peering down at the two of you with something akin to disgust, to derision, saturating his features. And it stings, blazing sapphire searing his glare into your skin much like how he had carved his name into you, years ago.

A wet sob hitches in time with Natsuo’s rough thrusts, has you choking on it, concentrated with thick saliva that sticks in your throat and forces your breaths to escape in wheezes, hands clasping tighter behind Natsuo’s neck.

Yet, despite the pain, there are still sparks of pleasure that accompany each catch of your puffy clit on Natsuo’s slick skin, flickers of lust interspersed with those excruciating spikes that shoot through your abdomen.

It hits suddenly, that third orgasm—you’re halfway through your punishment now, Touya reminds you—has your tightly shut eyelids springing open with a gasp, entire body freezing up in Natsuo’s strong grasp, a grunt falling from his chapped lips as he drives his hips to piston into your rigid body.

He follows only a few moments later with a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, body vibrating with the force of it as his thick cock throbs, filling your little cunt with spurt after spurt of cum that feels almost cool in comparison to your scalding insides.

Touya allows half hour breaks between each orgasm—a short refraction period for you and Natsuo to regain infinitesimal amounts of strength—and not a second more, he had spit after the second orgasm, cutting off your plea for just a few more moments of rest, because this is plenty of time, more than you need, really and you should be grateful he’s so generous.

By the time you’re due for your fourth orgasm, you can barely move, and Natsuo doesn’t have the arm strength to hold you up anymore, to force your hips to keep gyrating or to bounce you on his cock, his entire upper half spent.

“Lay her on the floor, then,” Touya instructs coldly, voice firm and void of any compassion, though it’s hard to miss the sadistic glint in his eyes, hard to ignore the way the corners of his lips quirk up in an ill-concealed smile.

The look Natsuo gives him is almost heartbreaking, a puppy looking up at its owner with its tail tucked between its legs, eyebrows knitted together so tightly they crease his forehead, a deep frown—no, pout—etched into his face as he gazes at his big brother, glazed stone eyes pleading.

“Nii-san, can’t we use—”

“No,” Touya cuts him off harshly, sapphire eyes flashing, and Natsuo flinches. “You’re fucking her on the Goddamn floor for all five—it’s part of your punishment,”

Natuso doesn’t argue, but his lips twitch, and his eyes blur, and his nose sniffles, and he gives his brother a curt little nod of understanding, head bowed in submission.

The hardwood is cold against your heated skin, and you exhale a hiss through gritted teeth as Natsuo positions you as gently as he can, one large palm cradling your head, the other positioned on your back, slight tremors running through his exhausted muscles as he reclines you.

A wrecked little whine pries its way past your lips as Natsuo pushes in again, face scrunching up as sharp, needle-like pinpricks shoot through your gut, your raw, sensitive cunt stinging as Natsuo’s cock reopens previous sutures, skin split further, wounds dug deeper.

The sound your skin makes as it scrapes against the hardwood from Natsuo’s clumsy bucks has all three of you cringing, a piercing squeal that only adds to the symphony of your sobs and Natsuo’s grunts, flesh inflamed and chaffed from being repeated rubbed against the surface.

It’s getting harder and harder for you to cum, even with the generous breaks Touya allows, sparks of pleasure faded to mere cinders now, each shallow drag of Natsuo’s cock causing both of your bodies to recoil, and it’s too much, too much.

“Please, nii-chan,” you beg in a tiny whimper, teary eyes flying to Touya’s face, partially shrouded in shadows as glowing sapphire gazes down at you in scrutiny. “S’enough now,”

“We’ve learned our lesson, p-promise,” Natsuo adds, nodding frenetically.

“P-Pinky promise, nii-chan, please, stop,”

Touya scoffs. “You wanted to cum, didn’t you?” he pauses, cobalt eyes darting between your faces, an eyebrow raising in question. “Well, now I’m allowing you to. Now you have my permission; the permission you knew you needed so bad, but refused to request,”

And it’s then that it dawns on each of you that he had heard the both of you, had heard the entire fucking conversation, while he was doing his work in the kitchen.

How could either of you thought that he wouldn’t? How could either of you been so fucking stupid? Nii-san knows everything—nii-san always knows everything.

“Please, please, we’re sorry, nii-san, we’re sorry,”

“We won’t ever do it again!”

The laugh that claws its way up Touya’s throat is soaked with ridicule, and he shakes his head, a gleeful little grin present on his lips, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, as if it’s so ludicrous it’s funny.

“Wait, wait, wait—let me get this straight…you two wanted it so bad, and now you have the balls to complain when nii-chan complies?”

His voice is painfully apathetic, almost nonchalant in a way, as if it makes no difference to him even though it so clearly does, or you and Natsuo wouldn’t be shivering messes of tangled limbs on the floor.

Excuses begin tumbling from two pairs of lips, words stuttered and choked on and sandwiched between pleads and apologies, jumbling together in a mess of garbled, wet, desperate sounds.

“Enough,” Touya growls, and both voices cut off in an instant. “I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore! Keep acting like ungrateful little brats and I’ll make this punishment longer, I swear to God,”

But you can’t halt the words bubbling up past your lips, regardless of Touya’s threat, regardless of the fact that you know he’s deadly serious. They’re compulsive, automatic, almost instinctual in nature as you seek out comfort, hunt for solace and fragments of relief in the hulking man blanketing you.

“I-I don’t wanna anymore, Natsuo,” you’re weeping into his chest, hot tears leaking from the corners of tightly shut eyes, streaming down the sides of your head and into your hair. “I don’t wanna,”

“I know, baby, I know,” Natsuo murmurs, though his bottom lip is beginning to tremble.

“Make him stop, Natsuo, make nii-chan stop,”

“I can’t,” his voice breaks on the word, facial features saturated in concern, in fear, wincing as if it physically pains him to deny you. “You know I would if I could,” he nearly whimpers, and his eyes search yours almost frantically, as if he’s begging you to understand. “But I can’t,”

But your head is shaking as you wail louder, fingers weakly curling against his skin, nails pressing into the flesh of his shoulders and clinging to him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Natsuo’s saying, the words cracking in his throat, voice hoarse. He pauses, clearing it twice, eyes closing briefly as he sighs out a slow, deep, stammering breath, gathering his strength. “One more after this, princess,” he begins as his hips start to speed up their rutting, procuring a yelp from you. “That’s it, jus’ one more after this one. C’mon, we can do it,”

“No, no, no,” you chant as pretty, gleaming tears roll down your face. And you can see it, the potent guilt swirling in his gunmetal eyes, from the way his pupils expand as they focus on the salt water sullying your cheeks, from the way his cock twitches despite it all. “I don’wanna, I don’wanna, stop, Natsuo, stop,”

His motions pause immediately, the moment the word falls from your lips, but he starts up just as quickly as Touya dictates from his spot on the mattress above.

“Stop, and I’ll add another two,” he promises, ruthless and unforgiving. Chills skitter along your glistening skin, erupting across your damp body at his tone. Both of you know he isn’t bluffing, that he’ll add as many orgasms as he wants to, and that he’ll continue to pull them from your fatigued and worn-out bodies one way or another, even if he has to do it completely by himself.

“Focus on me,” Natsuo instructs gently, though there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, a frenzied need to calm you down before Touya loses his patience completely. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Just focus on me, look at me,”

So you do, blinking the bleariness from your gaze as you direct all of your attention to him. And although there’s that ever-present guilt still swimming in his irises, in his unshed tears, there’s also love in his stare, so much love it’s nearly overflowing, overpowering the remorse and instilling a deep sense of comfort in your stammering chest.

Because at least you’re not alone in this; at least you have each other—each other to find comfort in, to cry and whine and beg with, to protect.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he’s whispering over your wails like a broken mantra, those tears that have been glazing his eyes, that have been collecting behind his lashline, finally beginning to fall.

His hips speed up, as fast as he possibly can as he gathers every last ounce of power and manages to wring another one out of you, another one out of himself, sore cunt clenching painfully around him, your fourth orgasm feeling as if it’s been punched out of you, despite the fact that Natsuo’s thrusts have been shallow.

And by the time your fifth orgasm rolls around, you’re nothing more than Jell-o in the shape of a human, though Natsuo’s not much better, barely able to move other than the uneven rutting of his hips, a crushing deadweight on top of you as his weary hips give pitiful little thrusts, pubic bone dragging across your hypersensitive clit, every tug against it ripping another ragged cry from your throat.

But you’re having trouble, both of you struggling to do anything other than feebly hump against each other, unable to secure enough strength to pump—to milk—that final orgasm out of yourselves, sniveling little protests punctuated by wrecked sobs leaking from your mouths.

Touya’s pissed—beyond pissed—sharp jaw clenching while seething insults burn his tongue and slice your skin, berating the both of you for being so fucking weak, so fucking pathetic, because he’s forced more orgasms out of the both of you before, so why is this so fucking difficult?

Touya’s too stubborn, and he refuses to end the punishment early irrespective of the fact that you’re both entirely drained, reminding you in a callous voice that you each must cum five times before it’s over while he aggressively roots through one of his desk drawers, snickering to himself when he finds what he’s looking for, hooking his index finger in it and pulling it out.

And the look on his face when he turns back to face you and Natsuo is positively petrifying, idly swinging the cockring around on his finger as his head tilts slightly, observing the both of you with that sharp smile you’ve come to know so well on his lips, eyes glittering with pure delight, features lit up with his own personal brand of sadistic excitement.

Natsuo starts to say something, voice forming around a word that sounds suspiciously similar to no, but he catches himself before it fully leaves his mouth, pressing quivering lips together tightly as he stares up at his brother with wet eyes.

Touya chuckles, raising an eyebrow with that trademark lopsided smirk, as if he’s challenging Natsuo to dispute him, to resist.

He doesn’t, of course, because he never would, but he does finally allow full shuddery sobs to escape his chest, Touya’s condescending shh’s and hush, now’s doing nothing to calm them as he slides the cockring on.

Natsuo nearly howls when Touya turns the tiny, pretty pink device on, his entire body jerking with that initial vibration.

“The faster you cum, the faster I’ll take it off,” Touya says calmly over the stifled little shrieks Natsuo’s continulously trying to swallow back down, nodding his understanding as he repositions himself between your thighs, holding his vibrating cock in one massive palm as he guides himself back into you.

And you want to tell him no!, don’t!, stop!, you want to shove him off, to kick and scream and beg and cry, but your heavy head sluggishly lolling from side to side seems to be all you can manage, words snagging in your throat, nothing more than incoherent babbling leaving your lips.

Because you can barely speak, barely think, barely breathe, vision fading in and out of focus as Natsuo rocks stuttering hips against yours, warm salt water rolling down the bridge of his nose, dripping onto your cheeks and mixing with yours. You’re both more each other, more one than two separate entities now, spit and cum and tears so interspersed you can’t tell which belongs to who anymore, limbs and fluids, thoughts and sounds, endlessly flowing into one another.

“Tell her to behave, Natsuo,” Touya barks, though there’s twisted amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes. “Tell her to finish the fucking punishment,”

And Natsuo, ever the perfectly trained pet, does as he says immediately.

“We can—We can do it,” Natsuo keens from above you, full body shudders wracking his hulking form, alabaster hair clinging to his forehead in uneven clumps, drenched in sweat as he forces words through his own bawling, hips grinding into yours. “We can do it, let’s be good for nii-san, yeah? L-Let’s make nii-san proud—c’mon, you wanna make him proud, don’t you?”

You do—of course you do. You never want anything else. But…But you’re not entirely sure you can, hiccupped sobs peppering your slurred words. Unconsciousness tugs at the edges of your hazy mind, whispers enticing promises of repose and relaxation as weighted eyelids begin to sag.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Natsuo cuts you off gently, shaky knuckles brushing against your cheek in a poor imitation of a caress. “I’ll do it, baby, I’ll do it,”

You don’t even remember cumming a fifth time, only a feeling of hot coals smoldering in the pit of your stomach, but you must have, because then Touya’s hooking his arms under Natsuo’s and dragging him off of you, propping him up against the side of the bed and kneeling as lithe fingers remove the toy from his cock.

And the sense of relief that seeps into your body and floods your veins is so intense it almost feels like a rush of adrenaline instead. You did it. You both did it. Finally, it is over.

Or so you and Natsuo thought.

—

Spikes of fear piece through his heart as Natsuo blearily watches Touya gather your limp body in his arms, hauling you up with a soft grunt.

And it’s astounding, the way you still curl into him, still seek that familiarity, that solace, in his chest, mumbled out honorific padded by hitched half-sobs as you cling to him. It’s astounding, because even after all he’s done to you, after everything he just put the two of you through, you will crawl back to him each and every time, over shards of glass on your hands and knees with his name on your lips—his name in devotion, in submission, in love—without a single question asked.

And Natsuo realizes that he would, too.

The thought inspires a bittersweet taste to settle on his tongue, like sticky toffee and black coffee, alien feelings swirling in his chest, clashes of consoling blooms of warmth and spiky shards of ice.

But Natsuo doesn’t have time to meditate on his newfound emotions, your faint pleas recapturing his attention.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Touya murmurs, large hands repositioning you.

And he really does sound sorry, even though Natsuo knows he isn’t.

“Wh-What are you…”

“It isn’t over yet,” Touya says simply, though the smile stretched taut across his face is severe, terrifying, azure eyes sparkling in merciless amusement at the horror that shows on Natsuo’s face when he realizes, eyes widening as they fill with thick tears again, bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout as panic surges through his veins.

His heart palpitates violently against his ribcage, tongue turned to cotton as worry signs itself in the creases of his forehead.

“Nii-san,” Natsuo begins cautiously, trying in vain to keep his voice steady. “I don’t think—I-I mean, is that really necessary?”

“Of course it is,” his big brother responds without looking at him, preoccupied with folding your lifeless limbs up, knees bent and pressed to your chest.

“Why?” the word slips out without Natsuo’s permission, grey eyes widening in shock as he swallows thickly, shaking his head a little as if to say I didn’t mean to!, though Touya doesn’t seem to mind.

“Because the overstimulation was her punishment,” Touya glances over at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes turned vicious as his smile stretches wider—so wide Natsuo’s surprised it doesn’t split his face clean in two—cruel and brutal. “This is yours,”

Natsuo isn’t quite sure he understands, brain doused in a thick fog and having difficulty grasping the concept, the knowledge of what his nii-san truly means turning to dense, ashy smoke any time he tries to grasp it, metaphorically slipping through his fingers.

But then you’re speaking again, and Natsuo’s head whips towards you, chest tightening at how completely wrecked you sound.

“No, please, no more,” the words gurgle in your throat, escaping as nothing more but jumbled, spit-soaked whines that have Touya chuckling as he shoves his cock into your aching little hole.

“You’re in no position to be making demands, princess,” he speaks through a patronizing pout, a mockery of your own expression, voice syrupy and supercilious. “If you weren’t such a needy little whore always desperate for a hard cock to grind on, this wouldn’t be happening,”

The words are spit in the same demeaning tone Touya had been using earlier, the same demeaning tone he always uses, and Natsuo’s powerless to stop the words flowing from his mouth.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he reassures you, though his voice cracks under the emotion, words wavering as his chin trembles.

“You’re right,” Touya muses, slight breathlessness the only indication that he’s railing the absolute life out of you. “It’s yours,”

And suddenly, Natsuo understands what nii-san had meant when he said this was his punishment.

Because he’s right.

It’s got to be the harshest punishment Touya’s ever bestowed on him.

Because it’s hard to watch the way your lax, abused body is forced to just take it, Touya’s thrusts so rough they jostle you up the mattress; even harder to hear as you bawl and beg and scream, and Natsuo’s nose twitches as the threat of new tears climbs up his throat, lodging in the column as he fights against them.

He feels sick, like some sort of depraved pervert, for the weak twitches his cock gives, for the faint embers that flicker in the pit of his stomach, igniting a dull blaze as he watches, almost entranced by the grotesque situation unfolding in front of him. He feels sicker, knowing that both of those would be stronger, much stronger, had Touya not forced him to fuck his entire soul into you.

And Touya—Well, Touya’s been hard from it all—high from it all—the whole time, and Natsuo can almost see the sheer power flowing through his veins, an aura that envelopes him, that radiates off of him in intoxicating waves, that licks at his skin like flames of blue fire. Natsuo bets—no, knows— it’s better than any drug Touya’s ever taken.

Protests marinate on his tongue, bitter and acidic, pleads of stop and enough scraping against the walls of his throat as he forcefully swallows them back down, emitting pathetic little whimpers in their place.

Because he knows if he starts, Touya will only make it worse for you, so he suffers in silence, readily agreeing with Touya every time he reminds Natsuo that this is all his fault and neither of you would be in pain if Natsuo could’ve just kept it in his fucking pants for a few minutes longer.

It hurts, because it’s true, nii-san’s words sending thick, piercing stakes spearing through Natsuo’s heart, through Natsuo’s very soul, straight to the core of his body. Acrid bile climbs up his throat as Touya’s moans mingle with your sobs, so exhausted that they’re barely more than little wheezes at this point. It’s abundantly clear that Touya doesn’t feel a shred of remorse, and that makes Natsuo feel even worse—if only he had said no, if only he had waited and asked, if only he had been stronger, you wouldn’t be suffering.

The tears collecting in the column of his throat sprout talons and claw their way up, past his steadily weaking resolve, prying their way through his lips in the form of jagged sobs.

It’s magnificent, really, the way Touya can render Natsuo a snotty, shivering mess with only a few choice words. And Natsuo—Natsuo only ever cries in front of his big brother, only ever cries for his big brother, full-on weeping that slashes through his sputtering chest, coughing around and choking on his own sobs of nii-san, I’m sorry!

But it ends eventually, finally, Touya tearing one last orgasm from you, gentle words contradicting his cruel, ruthless actions, murmurs of come on baby, just one more, one more for nii-chan. You can do this for nii-chan, can’t you? You can be a good little girl for me and cum one more time, right? lingering on his lips

And somehow, you find the strength to obey, to be his good baby, because you always do, entire body convulsing with a raspy shriek of the honorific, Touya praising you only moments later as his hips still and his cock pumps you full.

—

It’s cute, really, how fucked out the two of you are. Touya thinks you’re both so beautiful when you’re like this, with glassy eyes and tearstained cheeks, lashes clumped together with residual water and swollen faces stained with streaks of salt, all dazed and fucked and stupid for him, from him.

Natsuo’s doing better than you are, of course—Natsuo wasn’t subjected to being fucked again. But Natsuo still needs to rest, Touya softly tutting his tongue with a disapproving shake of his head as Natsuo attempts to aid him with your aftercare, movements clumsy as he stumbles to his feet, inept and awkward as he blunders towards you.

“No,” Touya’s large hands wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders, halting him, steadying him, forcing Natsuo to look at him. “You rest,” he instructs sternly, guiding Natsuo back to his previous spot and delicately depositing him onto the desk chair. “I’ll get to you in a minute, okay, Natsuo-kun?”

Natsuo hums out an affirmation, eyes closing briefly as Touya’s fingertips affectionately trace the curve of his cheek, palm patting it once.

It’s in moments such as these, nights after hours and hours of extreme punishment, that Touya automatically, perhaps unknowingly, slips into Big Brother mode, and you’re reminded of the age gap between them.

Because even though Natsuo’s bigger than Touya, taller than Touya, beefier than Touya, he looks so tiny under his older brother’s protective gaze.

You both must reek terribly, covered in drool and sweat and cum, must look like hot messes, strands of tangled hair saturated with salt and sticking to your cheeks, but your Touya-nii is still right there regardless, whispering the sweetest affirmations and the tenderest praises to the both of you as he wipes each of you down with a damp cloth infused with lavender, telling the both of you how good you did, how proud you made nii-san, how pretty both of you are.

Nimble fingers spend a decent amount of time rubbing soothing circles of moisturizing cream into each of you, your most sensitive skin rubbed raw, aching and puffy from such intense maltreatment, before Touya-nii dresses each of you in his softest, comfiest clothes, steady stream of pure, unadulterated love never stopping as it pours from his lips.

You’re all each other need, after all; because he loves you both more than he could ever put into words—and you each love him back just the same—and that will always be more than enough.

Touya reaches across your body, arm a pleasant, heavy weight as it rests on you, and runs slender fingers through Natsuo’s sweaty hair as you snuggle into your nii-chan’s chest, and Natsuo nearly mewls, nuzzling into his nii-san’s touch as Touya instructs the both of you to sleep, now, a film playing softly in the background as the three of you drift into unconsciousness together.

#todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #natsuo smut #todoroki natsuo x reader #AAAAAAAH jesus finally #this is A Lot lol #tw:incest #tw noncon

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archived-kin · 4 years ago

Text

you go to a devildom zoo and a penguin attempts to seduce you (the brothers are not happy)

note from kin: this was meant to be out way sooner but covid-19 and a whole lot of catch-up coursework said no to that idea >:(

anyway formatting on mobile is actual ass so let me know if this ends up unreadable!

enjoy, darlings!

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor, diavolo (mentioned briefly)

pairing(s): demon brothers/reader, penguin/reader (one-sided), a bat also very briefly tries to seduce you

warning(s): reader really loves deadly creatures which i know isn't really a warning but just as a heads up for those who can't relate i guess??? also this is ended up WAY longer than i intended lmao

genre: fluff (but also crack)

oh the pure joy you felt when you found out that there are zoos in the devildom

zoos full of sphinxes, chimeras, hydras, krakens, manticores, basilisks and griffins, but zoos nonetheless

in fact, you’d argue that the fact that the zoos here are full of potentially lethal legendary beasts is even COOLER

so, naturally, you begged lucifer to let you go to one

his response?

“absolutely not, you could be killed.”

well now that’s just unfair

there are so many things down here in the devildom that could kill you! the heat, the food, the dragons just wandering around in the skies, your fellow students at rad, belphie, not sleeping enough, the stupidly narrow staircases, lucifer himself! in fact, you’d argue that lucifer has already come close to killing you more times than any of those creatures at the zoo

unfortunately that was entirely was the wrong thing to say because now lucifer’s gone all broody on you

you just KNOW he’s gonna spend all of next week either drowning himself in work or sulking in the music room if you don’t cheer him up quickly

so you guess it’s time to pull out the puppy eyes and hope that they work

spoiler alert: they do. you also end up being stuck in lucifer’s arms for about five hours afterwards as he cuddles out all of his negative thoughts, but that’s not a bad thing, so you’re not complaining

the next day, however, you are BACK on your bullshit

and you are back with a vengeance!

you are getting a trip to that zoo whether lucifer likes it or not and you will not rest until you succeed

your first idea is to go to diavolo for help because.... he’s diavolo and lucifer would listen to that demon before anyone, including himself

unfortunately that doesn’t work because diavolo is out on a business trip to the human world with barbatos

(which means your butler buddy, who could probably have helped you make your case, is also out of the picture)

you suppose that you could try getting simeon in on the scheme but you’re pretty sure he’d end up making it worse with his insatiable penchant for teasing lucifer

your final solution?

cry

and it worked a treat too!

lucifer is just a sucker for his human and he doesn’t like seeing them sad okay :((

he finally agrees to let you go to the big zoo just north of RAD since it’s directly under diavolo’s jurisdiction, but he also makes you promise that you’ll take at least one brother with you

(he’s hoping you’ll choose him)

but then you uno reverse card him!

jokes on you, lucifer, your human wants a family day out!!

lucifer would be lying if his heart didn’t swell slightly when you proclaimed you wanted all the brothers to come with you so that you could all spend the day together having fun

although you may have just made a mistake because now lucifer is going to do everything in his power to make sure the day goes perfectly, and if that means smiting the rude demon in line in front of you, then what about it?

(luckily you stop him from the killing someone before you’re even inside, but it was a close call)

the moment the eight of you step into the zoo satan whisks you off to look at the devildom equivalent of big cats

which means the sphinxes and manticores first, then the giant fire-breathing tigers

he’s planning to have a nice heart-to-heart conversation with you while the two of you stroll along the exhibit, but then you both get distracted by how cool the animals are

so the two of you just end up dragging each other back and forth to look at one creature after another

not the romantic scene satan initially had in mind, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t also absolutely perfect

holding your hand while you talk enthusiastically about how majestically that manticore leapt thirty feet into the air with your entire face lighting up like the most beautiful lantern in the world? stunning. outstanding. he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

meanwhile, back at the entrance, levi is sulking, mammon is fuming, beel is already stuffing himself with overpriced food stall delicacies, belphie has crawled under a bench to nap while he waits for you to come back, asmo is taking pictures with the extra long-legged flamingo billboard, and lucifer is so preoccupied with trying to figure out just how the hell the walking system here works that he hasn’t even noticed that you and satan have just disappeared into the void

in the end the remaining brothers split off into pairs, all agreeing that whoever is the first to find you and satan will get to have some one-on-one time with you next

and, drumroll please, that lucky pair turns out to be... beel and belphie!

(really they have an unfair advantage though since beel can smell out anyone he knows from a mile away)

meanwhile satan has just spent just about all of the grimm he brought with him on a hideously overpriced plush version of the manticore you were so fascinated with

but the smile on your face when he gives it to you?? the LIGHT that exudes from you when you declare that the plush’s name is now greenie because it has green eyes just like his?? worth it. absolutely worth it.

but uh oh, the moment is soon to be gone, because guess who’s here?

beel and belphie can’t let satan have all your attention! beel is a little more forgiving, but belphie is going to make sure he’s the first to get a kiss today, anti-lucifer club alliance be damned!

he’s not going to admit that of course. instead, he’s going to very subtly hip-bump satan out of the way so that he can hold your hand instead (beel can have the other hand, but if he tries to pull you away, he’s getting what-for.)

normally satan would be pretty miffed by this, but hey, he’s in a good mood right now and he doesn’t want to spoil the day by getting pissy, so he lets the twins get away with it. younger sibling privilege, am I right?

belphie wants to take you to his particular favourite exhibit here, the giant carnivorous cattle with horns the size of chair legs

beel, on the other hand, suggests that maybe you don’t want to see a gargantuan mammal tear apart a giant piece of meat that may or may not have been sourced from a human graveyard (the giant carnivorous cattle are picky, okay? at least they’re not murdering people for the meat)

you, however, are absolutely fearless

besides, what harm can a giant carnivorous cattle with horns the side of chair legs do to you when it’s being kept behind six inches of hellfire trench, with three of the devildom’s most powerful demons close by to swoop in to your rescue?

beel begrudgingly agrees to go see the giant carnivorous cattle, but makes you promise to stay slightly behind him so that he can jump to defend you should they get out of hand

your big strong demon standing in front of you, protecting you as you get to look at a super cool and also deadly creature? you are absolutely on board with this.

(satan is slightly concerned by your willingness to go near creatures that could tear you to pieces in a second, but if he gets to see you smile like that again then... well, what can he say, he’s a simp)

so off you go!

the giant carnivorous cattle are AWESOME. you get to watch a trio of them eat what appears to be an entire car in, like, two seconds, tops, and they don’t even look bothered by the metal disappearing down their massive gullets.

(you ask belphie in an undertone why the cattle are eating cars if they’re carnivorous. his response is that even giant carnivorous cattle need their minerals, so the zookeepers feed them a bunch of the metal stuff you get in human scrapyards.)

(sounds like an RSPCA violation to you...)

you’re practically tumbling over the fence as you lean forward to get a proper look at them and their adorable tiny wings, so belphie ends up having to pull you back

just as he does it, however, he has a very bright idea

so instead of gently tugging you back as he’d originally planned, he practically yanks you into him, conveniently slipping your hand out of beel’s in the process

listen, it’s not that belphie resents letting beel hold hands with you at the same time as him. a demon’s just gotta get his hugs sometimes, alright?

of course you’re a little miffed about being so violently yoinked, so you’re about to turn around and give belphie a piece of your mind, but then he pulls you close to him and nuzzles his nose into your hair

how are you supposed to scold him for that???

he seems so content and he’s even doing that adorable little purring thing demons do when they’re happy that he never does in public

you can’t just pull out of his arms! it’s probably illegal!!!!!

belphie gets a pass for being cute this time. only this time. no more.

(as an aside, this sort of thing happens at least once a day because belphie’s a whiny little baby who can’t go twelve hours without your love)

anyway now beel looks a little downtrodden which you are not having

your solution? wait until belphie lets go of you on his own and then you can give beel a hug of his own.

unfortunately belphie doesn’t seem interested in separating from you

luckily you don’t end up having to deal with that, because then satan steps in

partially because he feels bad for beel and also partially because okay that’s enough touching now, know your boundaries

which means it’s BEEL’S TURN TO SHINE

does this demon want you to die? because that is what’s going to happen if he keeps being so friggin sweet

first of all he buys you a bunch of treats from the nearby food stalls with his own money and offers every single one to you

is he on drugs? is that what’s happening here? what happened to the avatar of gluttony who ate first and asked questions later???

of course you aren’t going to be so cruel as to take every single one of the treats he’s offering when you can physically hear his stomach rumble as he holds them out to you

instead, you take a handful or so and tell him to eat the rest himself because he deserves it

beel almost tears up he’s so happy he loves you so much in that moment

some may say he’s being dramatic but beel says that every moment with you is a treasure and he has every right to be emotional

belphie is a teensy bit pissed that satan simp-policed him when he’s just as whipped but it’s beel so... he’ll stay down

satan, meanwhile, starts snapping pictures of you at every opportunity, most of them candids, to save to the album he has dedicated especially to you, and also to send to the brothers’ group chat to brag

asmo responds to each one with even more heart emojis than the last, levi always has some kind of jealous comment to make, lucifer stays silent (satan knows he’s saving the photos to his own gallery to gaze affectionately at later though), and mammon just keeps sending angry stickers and then quickly adding that they’re not aimed at you but at satan for having the audacity

anyway, the four of you end up leaving the giant carnivorous cow exhibit after spending a few minutes just sitting together on one of the giant benches while you and beel (mostly beel) eat the giant pile of food he purchased

(beel’s not evil so he offers satan and belphie some obviously, but he makes it clear that you’re getting first pick)

beel’s about to ask where you want to head next when

here comes trouble

and make it double

asmo and levi are IN the building (zoo)

levi, having gotten so antsy waiting for you to show up, disregards all subtlety and basically throws himself right at you, scoops you up, and takes off

leaving behind your poor manticore plush, a stunned satan, beel, belphie, and asmo, who immediately starts running after the two of you, shouting ‘hey, that isn’t fair!’

satan, belphie and beel are left to exchange disbelieving looks and attempt to follow

(don't worry about greenie, satan picks him up and vows to keep him safe until he meets up with you again)

meanwhile you are being quite literally swept off your feet

“levi. levi stop i can walk. levi i’m coming to aquarium with you. you don’t need to pull me. levi i’m getting a little dizzy over here. levi please”

luckily you are saved from your impending doom (because, realistically, there is no way mr hasn’t-exercised-in-several-millennia can carry someone halfway across the biggest zoo in all three realms without tripping) by asmo

now, asmo does not like exercise. it makes him all hot and sweaty (and not in the sexy way) and it’s just... not it. however, because it’s you, he will make an exception just this once.

so he grits his teeth, pins back his long-ass fringe with a cute butterfly clip, and runs for it

normally jealous-mode levi will not stop for anything, but a running asmo in the right situation is even more terrifying than a quiet angry lucifer, and a quiet angry lucifer normally means multiple people are getting burnt alive

so what does levi do? naturally, he stops in his tracks, lets out a scream of such a high frequency that he disturbs a flock of deathseye hawks nesting in a tree nearby, and almost drops you on your head

asmo immediately stops running, takes a moment to dab off any sweat on his forehead with his dainty little pink handkerchief, and lets his hair back down

because he is not exercising for a second longer than he has to

anyway, now that you’re not being torpedo’d halfway across the world, you can finally take a second to breathe and actually ask levi what he wants

he goes pink and stares shame-facedly at the ground and refuses to say a word, especially with avatar of lust ‘i like teasing my brothers to the point where it might be sexual harassment’ asmodeus Right There behind you

but you want your purple boy to be honest!! which means it is puppy dog eyes time again

finally, staring determinedly off to the side, levi mumbles, “you promised we’d go see the fish...”

oh your poor heart

you’re inclined to start pressing kisses all over his face, but you just know he will immediately blow up on the spot if you do in such a public area, so you settle on giving him a subtle hug and reassuring him that yes, you will go see the fish with him

now, asmo’s a hoe for attention, we all know that, but even he has his moments

so, making you promise to go see the birds of arcadia with him later, he departs with a wave and a very sneaky kiss planted on your cheek to let you and levi have your time together

thanks asmo

so off you and levi go!

the aquarium FUCKS

sorry that was too strong

the aquarium is GORGEOUS

it’s got this beautiful deep blue-green ambient lighting, and there are enormous tanks for the giant sharks that essentially make up the walls and ceiling

and there are SO MANY FISH!

rainbow fish, neon pink fish, fish with tiny markings that make them look like they have moustaches, fish with scales that change colour every five seconds, glow-in-the-dark fish, fish the size of a small car

literally any kind of fish you can imagine? they HAVE THEM

you’re almost too distracted to notice levi tugging aggressively on your sleeve

when you do, though, he quickly ushers you over into the tunnel exhibit, where the dolphins live

devildom dolphins look pretty similar to regular human dolphins, except they live in what’s essentially hydrochloric acid and are pitch black in colour with bright purple eyes

you’re pretty confused as to why levi wanted to drag you in here so quickly - you’d have thought he’d go for the goldfish, or the venomous water serpents, or even the special hydra exhibit they’ve got for a limited time

but then levi pulls you over to the very edge, taps his fingers lightly on the glass, and... starts clicking and chirruping?

you’re about to very concernedly ask if he’s feeling alright when something amazing happens

the giant male with scars all over it who, according to one of the signs along the tunnel, spends most of his time skulking as far away from the glass as possible and will eat any demon who comes too close, swims over to him

then, wearing the gentlest little smile, levi turns to you and tells you to say hello to captain

you almost yell out of sheer excitement, but you manage to collect yourself

instead, what comes out is an aggressively whispered:

"hello!! hi, captain!! it's lovely to meet you!! i love you!!!!"

and captain loves you too!!!!!

he swims right up to you and butts his nose against the glass

well you can't not immediately press your face against the glass as well so it looks like you're bumping noses with him can you???

so you do exactly that

all the while going "hello!! hello!! you're such a pretty boy!! what a handsome boy!!"

levi almost cries because you are just too perfect

you love captain? and captain loves you too? he seriously has to hold himself back from dropping to one knee and proposing right then and there

after taking a moment to get his heart to calm down, he translates what you're saying to captain, who immediately starts clicking back

and guess what??? captain says you're the prettiest!!!!!!!!! you’re the handsomest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

now you're going to cry

you and levi spend ages in that tunnel together, just talking to captain and holding hands and exchanging little kisses now and then

levi is so in his element here in the aquarium that he isn't even as nervous and stuttery with his affection as usual

it's almost jarring, but are you complaining? absolutely not

when and levi emerge from the aquarium, both a little giddy and still enthusiastically talking about all the other creatures you said hi to after captain (who you are most definitely coming back to visit sometime), asmo is waiting outside so impatiently that he's getting a lot of irritated looks for his aggressive foot-tapping

levi wants to go see the reptiles now, but then asmo plays the 'i let you get away with having alone time, now let me have mine, bitch’ card

and to be honest levi's pretty sure that even self-proclaimed romance expert asmo can't top the mini-aquarium date you've just had with him, sooooo...

buying you a little keychain replica of captain just to get a final one over his brother, he bids you goodbye and goes off to the reptile house on his own, pulling on his headphones on his way so that he won't accidentally end up talking to some stranger again

it is now asmo's time to shine!!!

and so off the two of you head off to the birds of arcadia exhibit

however, it seems that asmo doesn’t have much interest in the birds themselves apart from for taking pictures with them for his devilgram

the birds are beautiful indeed, but guess what else is also beautiful? here is a short and concise list:

1. holding asmo’s hand

2. giving asmo kisses

3. receiving kisses from asmo

4. giving asmo hugs

5. receiving hugs from asmo

6. cuddling with asmo

7. sleeping with asmo (in the literal sense)

8. sleeping with asmo (in the not so litera—)

this has been a short and concise list of things that are very beautiful and you should absolutely do right this second (not ghost-written by asmodeus, avatar of lust, not at all)

anyway, it’s kind of hard to concentrate on that adorable neon striped pecker sitting close by to you when asmo is draping himself all over you like a damn scarf

it’s cute! it’s cute. but.... the birds...... you want to see the birds.........

in the end the two of you settle on a compromise: asmo will let you have some time to just look at the pretty birds as long as you keep holding his hand, and then the two of you will go and get matching face paint together

asmo’s kinda pouty about it at first, but he quickly changes his mind when he sees how enamoured you are by the birds

you really are too cute!! he just wants to scoop you up and cover you with kisses, but he’s already promised to leave that for when you aren’t in the middle of a busy public space

(he definitely isn’t the slightest bit jealous of them because he wants to be the only beautiful thing that you look at like that. he knows he’s prettier than those birds.)

(but, like... he’s still gonna puff up his chest a bit when he catches one edging just a bit too close to you. he may be the avatar of lust, but he does have his moments of jealousy as well… even if they’re at blooming birds.)

finally, when you’ve decided that you’ve had your fill of gorgeous birds, asmo immediately pulls you off to the face-painting booth

all the designs the demons managing it have come up with are pretty beautiful, so he’s not bothered about which one to get as long as you two are matching

which means you get to choose!!!!

at first he thinks you’ll ask for the super popular one that imitates the feather pattern of the most popular bird of arcadia, the lesser spotted spectra

but then you turn to look at him, think for a moment, turn back to the demon doing the painting, and ask if they do custom designs

asmo can only watch on, confused, as you and the demon whisper conspiratorially back and forth for five minutes

then the demon has started painting, and the cheeky little grin on your face is making him a little worried that you’ve deliberately asked for a really stupid design just to mess with him

but then, as the strokes and colours all come together, he realises something that might make him a little teary eyed. just a little bit.

the design you’ve asked for just so happens to be the gorgeous, swirling pattern of the avatar of lust’s pact mark

and it’s not just that, either. he takes a closer look and realises that the little flowers added around the edges are his favourite kind of rose as well

and THEN the demon doing the painting turns to him and tells him with a smirk that, by your suggestion, the paint he’s using has been enchanted so that it goes rainbow when you kiss the person who’s wearing it

oh, he really should have had more faith in you! this is even better than anything he could come up with!!!

(he takes about a million photos of you while he’s waiting for his own turn and sends at least a quarter of them to the group chat)

asmo is practically vibrating with excitement as he sits there getting his own face painted

and if you think he doesn’t drag you off to some secluded corner for a good half an hour just pressing little kisses all over your face and giggling when he pulls away and your face paint has gone all the colours of the rainbow, you are severely wrong

of course, he wants kisses as well. this is a give-and-take system and he wants just as much as he gives!!!

unfortunately, there is one disadvantage to spending so much time just canoodling

the others haven’t heard from you or asmo in a good hour and they are beginning to PANIC

mammon in particular is practically shooting off the walls and just constantly spamming you with ‘WHERE ARE YOU’ and ‘COME BACK’ messages

asmo doesn’t want you to go but he’s also kind of running off a high right now so he decides it’s okay and sends you off you find mammon with a cheery wave (and a love struck sigh once you’re out of earshot)

you find mammon just walking in circles in the communal area outside the cannibalistic not-zebras exhibit

he almost bursts into tears when you come up to him and tap him on the shoulder because it feels like he hasn’t seen you for what feels like hours and hours and he just,,, he missed you okay

after five minutes of him just furiously rubbing his eyes and refusing to admit why, he gathers himself and asks you what you want to go see

you have to think for a good long while because, while you’ve been to plenty of zoos in the human world and know by now the sorts of animals most of them have, devildom creature species are unpredictable

you could jokingly say ‘hyper-aware empathetic goose’ and they’d probably have one

but then you have a look around you and see the big map

and what is the first thing you see on that map?

‘vampiric venomous bats’

oh fuck yeah

mammon is a little concerned because the vvbs are known to randomly swoop down and attack the people who walk into their exhibit

he knows you can protect yourself!! but when you’re being swarmed by a horde of more than fifty giant bat creatures with enormous teeth full of venom that can kill you in seconds, there’s really not much you can do

and there is no expressing the amount of absolute misery that would descend on him if he let you get hurt

so instead, you make a compromise and decide to go to scheduled talk on the vvbs in ten minutes instead

normally mammon finds these zoo talks boring as all hell, but heck, if he gets to hold your hand for a whole forty five minutes without having to make an excuse to do so, he’s down

so off you go to the talk!

you’re having the absolute time of your life as the keeper shows you one of the more lethargic bats and describes exactly how it paralyses its prey with high frequency screeches and then kills it with a single bite to the neck

mammon, on the other hand, is honestly kind of spooked

that bat may be half-asleep, but it’s got the eyes of a murderer

so what if he shuffles a little closer to you every time the bat moves?? it’s not like he’s scared of it or anything! no way!

(please hold him or he may cry)

but then... DISASTER strikes

the keeper looks out across her bright-eyed audience, listening attentively to her explanation of how the vvb detects prey through the slightest vibrations in the air... and asks if there are any volunteers who want to hold it

everyone goes quiet. they’re all looking at the floor and avoiding eye contact like students who don’t want to be picked to answer a question in class. they may be demons, but even they know danger when they see it.

except...

mammon is just commenting to himself in amusement about how quiet everyone’s gotten when he looks to the side and practically feels his heart freeze

your hand has flown straight up into the air, and before he can pull it down, the keeper has called on you

mammon may be just as terrified of that bat as everyone else, but he isn’t going to let you go near that thing without him to protect you

the keeper looks a little befuddled as to why one of the most powerful demons in the devildom is following you up to the front like a very attached duckling, but luckily she goes along with it

first she gives you a super thick dragonhide glove to wear, just in case the bat gets violent

then she attaches the little lead around one of the bat’s feet to the end of the glove, so that even if it tries to attack an uncovered spot on your body, it’ll just get pulled back

(meanwhile, mammon, standing just behind you, is just barely holding back from bursting into demon form and wrapping himself around you to protect you)

and so, as you watch in anticipation and mammon in terror, the keeper slowly moves the bat from her arm to yours

at first it just kind of sits there and blinks and... doesn’t really do much

the keeper, however, seems very happy about this

“it means she already trusts you!!!”

and she tells you to try a simple little trick

“just flick your wrist up and she should swing down to hang from your hand!”

mammon is very pointedly whispering to you that that’s enough, you’ve held the bat, come on let’s get out of here

but you are determined to continue putting your life in danger, it seems, because you do exactly what the keeper says

and it works!!!

piki, which you have learned is the name of this particular bat, lets out a quiet squeak and drops to hang from one of the enormous fingers of your glove

you immediately go ‘wooAAAAAAAAAH’

mammon almost bites his tongue in half because of how on edge he is, but it turns out that he doesn’t need to be

because the bat turns to you, blinks once, and suddenly puffs up around the neck

you panic a little at first, but the keeper seems incredibly excited

“she’s displaying!!!!!!! she likes you!!!!!!!!!!! she sees you as a potential mate!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

okay mammon is not having any of that

he is not about to be upstaged by a goddamn bat

and so the instant the bat and glove is removed from you, he grabs you by the hand and charges right out of that room, shouting something about it being urgent

leaving poor piki the vampiric venomous bat squeaking sadly because her new crush is gone

sad :(

now mammon is buying you a giant plush to make up for dragging you away like that

happy! :)

and you KNOW this means a great deal because mammon does not part with his money very easily. in fact, most of the time, one would have to physically threaten him into buying something for them

and the fact that mammon bought you a ridiculously expensive enormous plush that probably dug a pretty big hole in his savings without you even asking??? your heart basically melts on the spot

now you definitely can’t get angry at him for pulling you away so suddenly

so instead the two of you go to see the giant narwhals

you’re fascinated, but mammon is too distracted to even look at the narwhals

he just keeps staring at you looking so happy hugging the giant plush he bought for you so close to yourself with this giant dopey grin on his face

(s i m p)

he’s shaken out of his infatuated daze when he hears a camera shutter directly behind him

at first he whips around ready to fight because he’s expecting levi or asmo, but then he looks up slightly and comes face to face with none other than his beloved older brother

lucifer doesn’t even try to hide the tiny grin on his face as he very slowly raises his phone and takes a photo of mammon’s half shocked and half irritated face

mammon is so dumbfounded by how much kinder lucifer looks when he smiles like that. he doesn’t even recover in time to tell you who’s just showed up - you end up noticing by yourself

you should have given lucifer a bit of warning because the moment you turn around and and greet him with such a bright and happy smile on his face he is DECEASED

all you and mammon see is his cheeks going pink but let me tell you this man is screeching like a trapped possum on the inside

lucifer may act like he’s a Big Important Unfeeling Demon but everyone else knows that this man would quite literally bring you the moon if you asked (he probably wouldn’t be able to pull down the entire moon, but damn him if he isn’t going to try)

he has to stay silent for a moment because he knows that if he speaks his voice is going to crack and mammon absolutely would NOT let him forget that for the rest of his long life

once he’s managed to get his puddle of a heart back to a state where he can speak without sounding like the physical embodiment of being smitten, he’s quick to offer to take you to the nearby penguin exhibit

he’s paid attention to the messages he’s been receiving periodically from the other brothers throughout the day about the things you’ve been getting up to with them, and he has seen a pattern in the sort of creatures you like the best

that pattern is: the more deadly, the better, with bonus points if it still looks cute

and lucifer has been to this zoo enough times to know most of the best exhibits pretty well (especially since diavolo’s taste in deadly creatures is very similar to yours, so he knows that any of the demon prince’s favourites will probably end up pretty high in your list as well)

therefore he knows that the devildom’s penguins are about two and a half meters tall, with millions of retractable fangs in their beaks and venom sacs in their necks that they can spray so violently and quickly that they’ve become known as ‘venom machine guns’

and you are ALL ABOUT THAT

you’re so excited by the concept of these penguins that you don’t think twice before tucking your arm into lucifer’s outstretched one and following him off to the exhibit

leaving mammon pouting furiously behind the two of you

now, while the avatar of greed doesn’t dare to directly interfere with his older brother, he most certainly dares to inconvenience him

what does that mean? it means that mammon is immediately whipping out his DDD and shooting a quick message to the group chat specifically made without lucifer to let everyone know what’s going down

and, within ten minutes, every single one of the other brothers are heading right for the penguin exhibit as well

lucifer is in the middle of listening to you excitedly talk about piki the bat when he feels something hit him in the back

he turns to see, with great dismay, that the six other brothers have started following behind the two of you, and have begun taking turns throwing things at him. satan doesn’t stop even when he realises that he’s been spotted.

lucifer feels a vein pop in his cheek when satan manages to nail him right in the middle of the forehead with a screwed-up ball of paper

unfortunately for lucifer (and fortunately for the other six brothers), you quickly take notice of the group following behind you

the avatar of pride can only watch in dismay as you call out for the others to come join you to see the penguins

well, obviously, the others are coming now that you’re inviting them over!!

asmo immediately jumps to give you a little kiss on the nose just so he can see your face light up in all the colours of the rainbow again

(which earns several surprised noises from the other brothers since, while they knew from the pictures from asmo that the two of you had gotten your faces painted, they didn’t know the paint did that)

belphie subtly shuffles up behind you to give you a little prize figurine he spent way too long trying to win on one of the zoo’s mini claw-machine games, while beel attempts to find a stealthy way of sneaking the bag of treats he’s carefully sourced for you into your pockets, but ends up giving up on that and just hands you the bag instead

levi is still on a bit of a high from the mini aquarium date, so his face immediately goes fifty shades of red when he sees you, but instead of running off like he usually does when he’s flustered, he just offers you the WIDEST smile

satan is a little disheartened when he realises just how much bigger the plushie mammon got for you is than greenie... but who cares!! greenie is small and cute!! he most definitely isn’t puffing up slightly like an indignant owl when he sees you hug that plushie to yourself like it’s the softest thing in the world!! no sir!!!!!!

mammon is being kinda whiny about lucifer barging in and ruining your one and one time together, but then satan reminds him that they’ve all just interrupted lucifer’s one on one time with you before it could even really begin, and also points out (a little saltily) that, judging by the giant plushie in your arms, he’s already spent more than enough time with you

(luckily mammon isn’t exactly perceptive so he doesn’t pick up on it or else satan would be in for one hell of a teasing)

you, meanwhile, don’t miss the way that lucifer not so subtly presses himself closer to you as the eight of you are walking to see the penguins

so close that your arms are physically touching

it’s not like lucifer to be this clingy (well, clingy by his standards, anyway), but you aren’t going to bring it up considering that he would probably immediately move away out of ~pride~ if you did

unfortunately the other brothers don’t need you to point out lucifer’s behaviour to immediately start attempting to sabotage him

by the time you all get to the penguin exhibit, you’re surrounded completely by all seven of them, and they appear to be executing a genuine attempt to crush you if the pressure on all sides is anything to go off of

looking on the bright side of things, though, the penguins are SO CUTE

sure, they’re about nine feet tall with beaks full of millions of tiny serrated teeth and very toxic-looking feet-claws. but they’re ADORABLE

you love them so much!!!!!! but now the brothers are being big MEANIES and aren’t letting you get close to the fence

“those penguins can shoot venom up to twenty feet, we’re not taking any chances” so WHAT you just want to see the goddamn penguins!!!!!!!! you’ve survived countless near-death experiences down here, you can manage a bit of venom!

eventually your very pointed complaining finally gets most of them to relent (asmo is still against it, but majority vote says you get to get closer to the penguins, so HA) and you are allowed to go right up to barrier that separates the attraction from the spectators

you’re absolutely delighted, but the brothers quickly realise that their concerns about this whole thing were not unfounded

because that fucking penguin over there is totally giving you the googly eyes

levi is the first to notice - as the general of hell’s navy, he has a natural connection to all animals of the seas, even the ones that are only semi aquatic

satan notices soon after him - he’s been to plenty of ‘taming dangerous creatures’ club meetings, and he knows how to recognise attraction in animals

you yourself are pretty clueless until you suddenly notice that one of the flock is now sliding beak-first on its belly towards you

levi silently hopes you’ll be scared into leaving, but instead you just lean right up to the barrier (lucifer hurriedly grabs you by the arm before you fall over it) and whisper-shriek “hi baby!!!!!!!!!!!”

oh the brothers did not like that at all

but the penguin seems absolutely THRILLED

you’re pretty sure you see its eyes light up. like physically light up, not in the metaphorical sense - its eyes glow

(do devildom penguins understand human/demon speech?? you could swear from the penguin’s reaction to your greeting that they do, but when you ask satan about it later, he just scowls and shakes his head, proclaiming that devildom penguins have ‘a brain smaller than a tangerine and the motor function of a slightly bent paper clip’)

(damn satan you didn’t have to do the penguins like that)

anyway, this penguin, now thoroughly convinced that you are its destiny, hops to its feet, nods its head several times, then proceeds to start making the weirdest noise at you

you don’t even know how to describe it. it’s like a laser beam has been combined with a motorbike combined with a vacuum cleaner combined with levi when his favourite idol group releases a new song combined with that godawful screeching violin satan has been playing on repeat for two weeks just to annoy lucifer combined with, i don’t know, a turbo-charged printer or something. and then the whole thing’s been shoved through a dubstep filter.

it’s such a rattling sound that asmo, mammon, levi and belphie clap their hands to their ears, beel frowns so hard his entire face squishes inwards, satan recoils so far backwards that he’s about two feet further away from you than he was at first, and even lucifer actually physically flinches

(short break for a personal headcanon of mine but hear me out here: this man probably listens to nothing but full professional orchestra classical all day. he absolutely has that thing where his ears are sensitive to poorly played notes or just harsh grating sounds in general. you know, like how lan wangji and lan xichen in mdzs are physically repulsed by the sound of bad music? yeah that)

you wince slightly, but the pain in your eardrums is overpowered by your thrill about the fact that this penguin is actually talking to you

you smile wide and reply, leaning right up to the banister, “hello!! hi!! it's nice to meet you too!!”

if the penguin was happy before then it’s absolutely over the MOON now

it makes the weird honking sound again, nodding its head furiously at you, all the while shuffling closer and closer to the barrier

you are positively delighted by this development, but each of the demon brothers seem to be taking the penguin’s approach as a personal threat both to them and to you

beel’s expression is steadily scrunching up more and more in displeasure as each second passes, asmo’s glare could probably boil the penguin alive, and you’re pretty sure you just heard levi hiss at it

you turn around to try to tell them off for getting jealous over a penguin out of all things, but they are just not listening to reason

the penguin meanwhile is desperately trying to get your attention back by nodding even more frantically and honking so loudly that lucifer actually reels back a little

you try to turn back to it but then belphie decides that he’s going to shove his way right between you and the barrier and block the penguin’s line of sight

the penguin immediately sets up an extremely loud complaint, but belphie refuses to give it any rope at all

at this point the other brothers begin catching onto what he’s doing

mostly because of his weird twin telepathy thing, beel is the first to join belphie’s quest, with his giant frame being substantially more effective as a barrier, while asmo and satan work together to not-so-subtly start ushering the entire group backwards and away from the penguin

you’re attempting to protest, but lucifer is practically shouting over you about how interesting and fun you’ll find the giant giraffe exhibit, which just so happens to be on the other side of the zoo

the penguin is positively screeching at this point, but a moment later is suddenly goes silent. for a moment you’re afraid that one of the brothers have lost their nerve and actually killed it, but then you manage to spot it sliding away again around beel’s massive shoulder

turns out that, though his brothers don’t seem to care about his status and power placement at all, the avatar of greed’s glare is enough to silence even the most passionate of penguins

while the brothers exchange triumphant looks as they lead you away from the penguin exhibit, though, you’re more than a little upset by this whole ordeal.

the disrespect? abundant. the lack of sympathy? rampant. the audacity? sheer.

you make your displeasure very clear by scrunching up your face, crossing your arms, and refusing to respond to any of the brothers when they try to ask you something

goddammit, it was supposed to be a good thing that they saved you from the so obviously dangerous penguin, but now you’ve got them feeling bad

in the end, though, you still can’t stay mad at your boys for long

they all apologise (well, all of them except lucifer, whose pride will forever be his downfall, and belphie, who genuinely doesn’t think he’s done anything particularly wrong), and you can’t bring yourself to keep dampening the mood

so, with a short scolding that’s really little more than a light slap to the wrist to remind the boys that you don’t need to be protected from everything like some sort of delicate glass case despite how much they might think that’s the case, you’re back to your previous happy self

thank fuck

the rest of the day goes smoothly! the eight of you do indeed go to see the giant giraffes, which you actually get to feed, and beel somehow manages to knock down an entire row of rigged carnival targets to get you a pretty wooden carving of a super cool dragon

(you’re still not entirely sure how that happened but it was probably the sheer willpower)

you convince all of the brothers to take about three hundred photos with you in the cheesy green screen safari booths (it was mostly levi, lucifer and belphie who needed convincing, since beel and satan weren’t too fussed about it either way, and mammon and asmo were downright thrilled to do so)

lucifer buys the whole group matching keychains, despite the fact that they were pretty basic wood-and-plastic affairs but still cost a good fifty grimm each

(you’ve noticed that he seems to like doing that, considering the harrison porter keychain you’ve still got from that trip up to the human world back during the whole body swap fiasco)

he gets himself a fire-breathing peacock, mammon gets a gold-hoarding crow, levi gets a sea serpent, satan gets a good old regular cat, asmo gets a lesser spotted spectra, beel gets a manticore (since they’re known to eat more than three times their body mass on good days), belphie gets a giant carnivorous cow, and he begrudgingly lets you pick out the giant penguin design - as an apology for his actions earlier.

(you don’t fail to notice the slightly irritated looks levi and satan in turn both send the keychain as you tuck it safely into your pocket)

all in all

a lovely day out

10/10 would do again

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the-trinket-witch · 2 years ago

Text

The Potions Accident

(Just another one-shot fic featuring Al and a few of the other boys) SUMMARY: Potions accidents happen all the time. What happens when one such accident splits Albert into 4?

Albert knew the historical and general properties of certain ingredients, and he certainly knew how to measure out, but any deviation from the recipe offered too much room for error. Which was why it almost didn’t surprise him when the cauldron thickly sputtered and blew up, knocking him back with a crash. Whatever red concoction had been brewed by him and Grim now dripped as a thick coating all over the unconscious student’s front.

“GAH! Al! I’m sorry! Hey, wake up! C’mon!” The small beast howled, trying to rouse his lab partner.

Something under his paws began to vibrate and rumble and tear. A searing heat threatened to torch his grey paws even from under thick gloves. From under him, what was once one Albert began to molt, splitting off into four. The splotches on his gear began to glow with a blinding light. Grim chanced a quick squint to see if the light had faded. Instead of one, now four ‘Alberts’ sat in a nest of tattered lab gear. He wanted to assume they were all Al-they all had the same face-but that seemed to be their only shared resemblance.

“A-Al? That you?”

The four roused back to consciousness with a cacophony of groans. One quietly righted himself, straightening a steely blue suit and morbidly tied, tiger-stripe tie. Another seemed to spring back up with a little too much pep in his step. Alongside a rusty orange cardigan, he wore that familiar, fox-like smile, but with none of its bite. One groaned upright, a hand buried in a more rusty than brown head of hair. He grumbled as he tossed his jacket around his shoulders, revealing a fractious red tank. One last Albert, slowly blinked back awake. His face seemed to fall, almost as if he were disappointed in waking. All color, from his hair, to skin, to chunky sweater, had fled to leave a faded-memory grey.

“Fuuuuck what the hell was that? Grim, What’d you do?” The brash-looking Albert drawled. He snatched at the beast with a resigned sigh. “Hope you’ve got an idea how to unmess this. It’s not been even five minutes and I don’t want to see this tosser’s gob for a second more.” He motioned towards the stiffer of the four, who returned a cold, disinterested glare.

“Likewise. I can smell your petulant attitude from here. Surprising, since this one,” The professional-seeming Albert snapped, “still reeks of burnt rubber and petrol. Maybe if he’d get up and do something, instead of wallowing, they could start being a productive piece of our consciousness by pulling. Their. Weight."

"Now now, we're only just seeing each other for the first time-no need to be at each other's throats already. This one's been through a lot; why don't we afford them some time to grieve?" The orange-clad Albert cooed. "Come along, let's get to the infirmary and we can have this sorted out before tea."

"I'm not goin' anywhere with this arsehole. He's just gonna nag the whole time about shit not being exactly perfect," the grungier of the bunch snarled.

"Well someone has to. -sigh- And you wonder why He never comes home when everything is a mess," the more starched of them grumbled.

A rowdy hand snatched at the tiger-striped tie to draw him close, "You take that back you pompous, arse-kissing…"

He couldn't finish his tirade, not with being yanked away by Deuce. Every muscle in his face twisted in fury, with his target now out of reach. It would have been anyone's guess what had pissed him off more: the opportunity to clock a part of him into next week ripped from him, or the unflinching lack of expression on the other’s face. If looks could kill, one would have lit the other on fire, the other would have bored the first to death.

"C'mon, man, let's go! Crewel needs ya in the infirmary! We gotta get you pulled back together," Deuce strained trying to reel in his upperclassman, but his grip had simply been shrugged off.

"I'll see him dead before 'getting back together' with him," the punkish Al growled. He left the lab with a silent shrug of his jacket over his shoulders, snatching his umbrella on his way.

The last Albert, the most stiff of the four, simply sighed again. "I swear-the brute simply exists to spite me. He really ought to be thanking me; he wouldn't exist without me. At least he's out of my hair, for now. I can at least try to start picking up this mess."

And off he went. Not out, like the rest, but to clean the residue off of the floor. It didn't seem to stop there. He swept, scrubbed and disinfected wherever he touched with the thoroughness of a swarm of dermatid beetles. There wasn't a contented sigh once he stopped. It would have indicated satisfaction, and there would be none with this portion of Albert. Prof. Crewel clasped a hand on the man's shoulder once he'd stopped.

"Two have the common sense to head to the infirmary. Both you and the one who ran off need to meet me in the infirmary in a bit, I have some ingredients to collect to reverse…" Crewel pointed with his crop, "This. Mr. Rosehearts, please see to it he gets there on time."

Riddle had eyed the man in his cleaning spree with a definite interest, already. He simply nodded in agreement before saddling up next to a piece of his friend.

"Albert-are you alright? That potion split you into four, but what do you think actually-"

"It somehow sectioned me into four core components: the brutish defiance, that naïve cheeriness that keeps wanting to hide away that sniveling shell-shock, and then there's me. I am the perfection, the aspirations, everything my father instilled in me. Quite frankly it's refreshing to not have them chaining me down." Every syllable dripped with condescension.

"Well, I've been tasked to accompany you to the infirmary, but Professor still has to gather ingredients. I also have some spare time if you'd wish to accompany me for tea."

"I see no reason not to-we can discuss some better enforcement of your dorms rules, as well as better create a system for my own. But first," Albert agreed, but not before undoing and re-tying Riddle's tie. "There. A bow is entirely unbecoming of a Dorm Leader; I couldn't stand to see something so unprofessional on you a second more."

Red that could have matched his hair began to creep up Riddle’s face. His grating teeth were all that kept him from blowing up in indignation. His better self pushed down his pride to try escorting his friend to Heartslabyul, before there were any other attempts at grating on his quickly fraying nerves.

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

Riddle wouldn't have been surprised if his companion had fainted at the sight of the whimsical shapes Heartslabyul's furniture took on. A disgusted look didn't go unnoticed when he poured out for Albert. It must have been the shape of the pot that somehow offended, even if it was traditional for The Queendom of Roses.

"With only 810 rules to abide by, it is a start. Would you prefer I take notes as to what I might incorporate into Pentergeist’s rulebook?" Albert asked. He filled the silence with a sip of tea, only obligatorily sweetened per his host's law.

"Well, honestly I'm intrigued you want to incorporate more rules to your dorm, considering our first series of interactions," Riddle noted with a sip of his own, sweetened much more to his own preference.

"I'm of the mind that tradition, discipline and rules are the most fundamental tools one has to lead. Without them is left disorder, catastrophe, anarchy; in short you have a ghastly mess."

"Funny. You seemed so willing to champion otherwise when we first met. It's what helped me get out of that cycle I'd been stuck in for so long. Don't tell me that accident caused a complete change of heart."

"No, I have always been a paragon for order; I just now sit unclouded by things like guilt or some complex to save someone from having to experience rules stifling their life," Albert retorted. He reeled in his answer with a curt adjustment of his tie.

"Silence!"

Another indignant flush reddened his face. Rational or not, he was not going to sit there and listen to a friend backtrack on the best advice he'd learned from the man.

"If I hadn't taken your advice, I'd have likely not come back from overblotting. I'm actually approachable since I've taken your advice. I wouldn't have had the gall to tell my mother off if not for what you said!" He ripped the tie from its formation and defiantly tied it back into a bow with a huff. "Queen of Heart's Rule No. 45: Guests are not to overstay the welcome of their host. The Albert I know is always welcome. You are not. Get. OUT."

Some kind of emotion-anger, sadness, anything would have been a welcome volley against his outburst; which made his guest's stoic motions all the more infuriating. The Albert sitting across from him simply returned his cup, wordlessly dipped to bow before turning heel and marching away. As he left, so too did the breath Riddle didn't realize he'd held escape him. Now alone, he all but hoped whatever effect the potion had on him would be soon resolved in the infirmary. He certainly wasn't going to accompany the stickler there after this. Is…is that how people see, no, saw me?

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

One of the two Alberts making their way towards the infirmary would have forgiven you for mistaken them as completely different people. The other…wouldn't notice anything outside of their headspace to comment. The Albert, wrapped in an orange cardigan, guided his more dour half to sit on one of the cots with all of the maternal gentleness he embodied.

"Hold tight, Dear-I'll find you something to sip on til we regroup. 'Be right back."

He'd only just turned the corner out of the ward when a blue, metallic body collided with him.

"Oh! Ortho, lovely to see you again. How's your brother?"

"Hi, Albert! That's actually why I'm up here-I'm on my way to grab some anti-nausea meds. Honestly, he worries me when he games this long and forgets to eat something."

"Well, would it help if I brought something for him to eat? Just tell him it'll help the medicine go down?"

“Really? Thanks! Let’s go!”

Al took a quick glance back at his more solemn piece, still huddled on the cot, before deciding that was the best place for him. Well, Ortho’s brother wasn’t going to feel any better on nausea medication and nothing else, and from his minimal interactions with him in the past, maybe prepping some meals would do the Dorm Leader some good.

“Sure! It’s spelt S-U-P-E-R-C-A-L-I-F- Ah, here we are,” Albert sang as the door swung open.

“Brother! I’m back! I brought Albert with me, too! He’s got some food he wants to drop off. And I have the anti-nausea med, too!”

“W-what?! Why’d you bring somebody with you? I just needed you to grab the stuff, not a whole dinner set. I’m in the middle of a dungeon crawl and I can’t just ‘hop out for a sec for a recharge’. Ugh, just…tell’em to put it away and I’ll get to it later,” Idia chided. He barely turned his chair around to acknowledge the two before swiveling back to continue playing.

Ortho sighed electronically, waving in their guest. Albert all but bounced in with his schoolbag. His chipperness wasn’t unknown to the Dorm Leader, but it still came as a startle that someone would dare enter his ‘gaming lair’ with such gusto. “Ah, good to see you again, Idia! Lovely afternoon, wouldn’t you say?”

“I-uh, wouldn’t know. You can just leave it over there; I’ll get it later, thanks.”

“My pleasure-it’s always nice to help out a-” Albert stopped.

Fully inside the gamer’s room gave him a better scope at the disheveled state of the place. His hand mindlessly began to organize part of the table to make clear a spot for the snacks. There, perfect. Though, looking over towards the bed exemplified how much a worse state it had been in comparison to the now clean table. Al shrugged away the thought of whether it was considered an invasion of privacy; his hands already folding and sorting clothes and other items.

“Albert, you don’t have to do that,” Ortho sighed. “I know it looks unorganized, but he’s got a place for everything and knows exactly where it goes. It’s a whole system!”

“And such an intricate one,” the cheery aspect replied. “I shouldn’t impose, but you know what they say, ‘Uncluttered space makes for an uncluttered mind’.”

“Really don’t need help with that, dude,” Idia dismissed the assistance with an eye-roll. “Look, don’t worry about it, just go before-” he’d swiveled back to find his unwanted guest exactly where he didn’t want him. “GAH! PUT THAT DOWN!”

Al had been caught gingerly dusting a plastic figure, not seeming to have minded the salacious pose or dress it wore. Neither did he startle at the other Dorm Lead’s demand as he replaced it back in its now dustless spot on the shelf.

“Ugh whatta pain. First he barges in, all sunshine and rainbows, now he’s cleaning my figures so casually as if he has any idea who the characters are, I just HNNGGG!” His words hissed out, jumbled as the rest of his room. Even the tips of his infernal hair licked with a frustrated red. “I don’t need help cleaning my room, I don’t want help cleaning my room, and I don’t need anymore of my time interrupted trying to be left alone.”

A deafening silence clung in the air. A whole Albert would have deflated at such a rejection, but the sunny portion before Idia simply smiled with an apologetic bow.

“My sincere apologies,” was all he allowed himself to say, lest he begin a more long-winded attempt and draw further ire.

He didn’t offer another word before retreating back out to leave the brothers to themselves. Once assumed out of earshot, Idia slumped back in his chair to fully take in his room's new condition. It had only been partially cleared, part of him was thankful for that. Though, seeing the other half, not yet touched, made his hands itch to complete the otherwise half-done objective. “Might as well finish. Can’t get the weekly bonus if it’s only part-way.”

The bright quarter of Albert, though rejected in his attempt at helping, remained unperturbed. He’d resumed the tune he’d begun teaching Ortho on his way back to the infirmary ward.

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

“‘Be right back.”

That’s what the Albert in the orange cardigan told the monochrome Albert as he seated the other onto the infirmary bed. His words barely seemed to register to the one staring off into space. A heavy silence, punctuated with muffled sobs, filled the ward, until a familiar mer’s drawl rang out.

“Kajiki, ya in here? Kaji-” Floyd hollered.

Something was terribly off. It didn’t take silent, questioning looks between either twin to figure that out. All alone sat their one human partner shuddering in a violent throe of grief. Some small fry told them where to look for their partner when he hadn’t shown up in the cafeteria. In an instant they’d swooped in to assess.

“Albert, what happened? Are you hurt?” Jade asked. His answer was just another ragged sob. The two finally took a better look over their greyscale partner. “Seven, you’re a wreck.”

“Blech, ya smell like one, too. Ya get in a car crash or something?” Floyd asked.

The query only made him draw further into his knees. But it did also result in a nod. Both eels exchanged puzzled glances; they had learned of a previous wreck their human had survived, but this was new. How could he have been in a collision on campus? And why was he devoid of color?

“I-I couldn’t do anything,” Al tried explaining, muffled in his winter coat. “I was in the passenger seat. Mom swerved…”

His mother. That couldn’t have been right, as the two remembered their partner only had one surviving parent: his father. And that collision had been over a year and a half ago, so why he was recounting the incident as if it had just happened, they couldn’t guess.

“Kajiki…that happened a long time ago. What’s got you thinking about that now?” His hand grazed the man’s shoulder. He’d barely touched him but the way he recoiled would have made one assume his hand was barbed like a jellyfish.

“I-I don’t know. It just keeps playing on loop, like it keeps happening,” he spat, shuffling to start clawing at his hair. “The headlights. The brakes. She turned it so it hit her and not me…”

As he relayed the memory, both men could only watch him bolt upright, jerking and rotating in some unseen car seat. An arm clenched the sheets, the other slamming against Jade’s shoulder, bracing against where a door might have been. Without anything tethering him to the imagined seat, he lurched forward, only to be held back by Floyd. He climbed behind his human to try stopping…whatever was going on in front of him. His hold tightened until the momentum seemed to finally stop. The arms that had halted the fragmented Albert began to envelope around him in a restrictive hug, drawing him closer into the eel’s lap.

“Al, listen,” Floyd growled. The human in his lap once again resumed his violent shivering, even against his steel-like hold. “You’re not there anymore. That’s all done already.”

Jade stood aback at what he’d heard; his brother never referred to anyone but himself and Azul by their name. But then, there he was, trying to calm their partner from hysterics and using his real name. He clawed at his brain for any words to offer for some other form of support, though what kind, he didn’t know himself.

“W-what? I…I was just…I was just there!”

“Albert…You’re here, with us, remember?” Jade hushed. Part of him wrestled with whether or not to grasp at his partner. He let out a small sigh of relief watching Al melt into the gloved touch on each side of his face. “You’re not there anymore. I need you to tell me what you can feel, right now; what you can see.”

Jade had always been the more patient of the two, but with Floyd in a preferred position-his arms wrapped around his partner in his lap-he didn’t have to worry about waiting for a quick response.

“I-I see,” Albert’s breath hitched, fresh tears spilling down the drying tracks on his cheeks, “Your earring, your hair. I think I feel Floyd here.” Eyes still focused far off, his hand trailed towards a knee and offered the lightest clench. He still must have been spooked based on his jolt feeling the eel holding him rest his chin over his shoulder.

“Ya ain’t gotta worry about that anymore, Kajiki. D’ya remember what all happened before ya ended up here?” Floyd grumbled.

“I think…I was in potions class…and something blew up in my face…”Al murmured. “It was me, and…also me…”

“How many of ‘you’ were there?” Jade asked. Caressing the man’s cheek with his thumb seemed to help the question register. He had to hold back a more amused smile, feeling his partner further relax into his hand; some things just didn’t change.

“Three others, I think? One said to wait here, before-”

Floyd could feel muscles tense under his grip along with a gasp catch in his throat. Jade, in turn, closed in with a hand to the fragment’s chin. He further directed his human’s gaze towards his own, hopefully before there was a chance to spiral back.

“Before we got here. We’re here now; you’re here, now. We need you to breathe, alright?” Both eels puffed their chests, Al responding with a shaky draw of his own. Jade had closed in, hoping to draw his human’s focus. Any closer, he probably could have sworn to have seen the awful memories reflecting in teary eyes. A glance back to his brother showed similar concern he’d already been feeling: where were the other three pieces? How long was this going to last? All the three could do until someone came by with an answer was, “Breathe.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deuce’s grip on the more gruff fraction of Albert had been shrugged off. Accidents in potionology were not uncommon, but this was the first time seeing someone split into four. It certainly left him momentarily dumbstruck. Professor Crewel’s heavy sigh jostled him from his thoughts.

“Whelp-Go fetch. That one needs to be brought to the infirmary with the rest of them.”

“Right!” Deuce answered.

He just hoped wherever Al went, it wasn’t far, or out of reach. Deuce kept an eye out for any sign of the Pentergeist Dorm Lead. It was a definite surprise how quickly the fragment disappeared. He tried the cafeteria, no luck. Octavinelle: nothing. The previously ramshackle dorm was next on Deuce’s list. He had begun crossing the courtyard, taking note of a small gathering of students. Shouts and grunt erupted as he kept watch, eventually spilling out with a whirl of kicks. From the center of the brawl spun Albert along with a fist-swinging Epel. An itch in his fist made it difficult to not want to hop into the fray. “You’re an Honors Student. Honor Students don’t get into fights,” he ran his mantra over in his head.

The crowd of assailants began to either drop or flee in response to Albert’s kicks and Epel’s fists. Those that remained either scattered or lay prone, groaning on the ground. Al offered an elbow to bump with his fighting partner with a crow of triumph. Deuce watched Albert straighten out before shooting off on his umbrella, grin wide and wild as first-year had ever seen. Based on his direction, he’d assume the man was heading back to his dorm. His voice wouldn’t have reached the man, but Epel afforded at least a bit of context as to what had just happened.

“What was that? You guys okay?”

“Yeah! D’ya see?! Those Savanaclaw guys were giving me Hell, and they kept trying to attack me, but Al showed up, and we beat their ass!”

That wasn’t something Deuce found outside the realm of possibility, considering. Just with how gruff the fraction had been when taking off painted a much more jaded picture. At least there still seemed to be some semblance of the Dorm Lead there. But to fix the whole mess, he had the duty still ahead to bring this piece back before Crewel brought out the crop. *******

Deuce was no stranger to the previously ramshackle dorm, on account of his friend, the Magicless Vice Prefect. His presence had always been announced with the squeak of the gate out front. Even from the walk towards the burgeoning dorm, he could see a figure atop the roof. Or, more he could hear first. The speaker thumped out some angsty crowing as Deuce approached. He had become familiar with the way the chimney worked, so it was a routine shot up to the roof, where the music had since changed. There wasn’t hiding his approach, but the brusque-looking Albert offered a lackadaisical grin and cheers with a thermal flask.

“There you are-dude, what’s with you running off? Professor said you needed to get to the infirmary. And…that’s not alcohol, is it?” Deuce rattled off.

“Ya know what they say, ‘Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder’~” He offered a wink at the jest, but it didn’t seem to land.

Deuce’s face twisted in disgust, but mostly disappointment. He silently watched the fraction release a resigned sigh before shutting the stereo down.

“I’m just bein’ cheeky, mate. Just some juice Epel sent over,” Al drawled before swigging the rest down. “Ya get to see him and me have a bit of a miff with those meat-heads? Serve’s ‘em right, picking on the little guy.”

“Wait, so you weren’t just picking a fight?” “That’d be a waste of time, wouldn’t it? No, I saw them tossing him about and thought he’d like an extra hand.”

The revelation knocked Deuce to his heels. A sigh gave away his relief, knowing his upperclassman wasn’t just going on a punch-drunk rampage. Still, there was a duty to fufill; he needed to bring Albert back to the infirmary. He offered a hand up, nodding over to where they needed to go. All his gesture had been met with was a disappointed sigh of his own.

“So, you’re supposed to ‘wrangle me in’? I’m sure the potion’s got a bit longer to run its course. Ya can’t just…Let me have just a bit longer? Savor this little cock-up while I’m away from that insufferable fuckwit that’s my ‘Perfectionist half’? Pity the poor bastard who has to watch his unsatisfiable arse.”

“‘Half’? You mean the one who cleaned up everything after you left?”

“No surprise there. And I guess, ye. Whatever that potion did, split ‘Albert’ into his Sunny Veneer that hides the Trauma, the Perfectionism that clings to some hope Father will acknowledge him if he tries just enough, and Me. I’m the kickback against that stupid notion. I know that isn’t going to happen. I know that no matter what I do, Work will always come first, to him. And you know what I say to that?”

“I guess, ‘To Hell with it’?” Deuce answered. Al nodded with a cocked grin.

“Why be ‘Perfect’ when you can just be you? Push back against what everyone says you’re ‘supposed’ to be.”

“So that’s why you’re acting…”

“Like a punk? Takes one, to know one, innit?”

Deuce stood silent, but his frustration still bubbled closer to the surface than he’d have preferred.

“I’ve put that all behind me now. I told myself I was going to be an Honors Student, for my mom! And I’m doing everything I can do to be that! No one’s telling me to do that but me!” His face twisted to a scowl, almost beckoning for a fight. Immediately, Albert flew out of his seat, jutting his chin in a dare to clock him.

“And you’re doing just fuckin’ dandy. But who says you can’t be an Honors Student and be able to hit when it’s deserved?”

“But…Getting into fights…disappointed Her.”

“Was it the fights themselves? Or that you weren’t fighting for anything?”

Another tick of silence. Deuce had retreated inward, contemplated just what he’d been fighting over in the past. Was it because somebody had mouthed off? General frustration? The fact he couldn’t even recall a specific thing he’d been fighting over made Al’s words ring all the louder. His face fell, anticipating another jab at his intelligence for his oversight.

“Well, you’re older now. You’re also a lot smarter than you think. Look around and find what you think is worth throwing a fist over.”

The first year turned his gaze to the roof tile, mulling over something he wouldn’t tell anyone. His face hardened, but a smile hinted at a renewed determination. Al smiled in turn, before righting himself to follow back to where he was needed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The infirmary became a lot more raucous as each piece of Albert filed in. The Twins deflated in relief knowing this whole ordeal was going to be over. The cheerier part floated in, smiling wide as the day was long.

“Ah, Floyd, Jade! Fantastic to see you! Thank you so much for taking care of that part of me! I hope I didn’t cause you any grief.”

“This Kajiki tired himself out a lil while ago,” Floyd grumbled. “Was gonna see if Jade would track ‘the rest of ya’ down. But looks like here they come.”

Behind the orange-clad Al, the more stoic of them marched in with Professor Crewel.

“And to no one’s surprise, that rebellious portion is nowhere to be seen. Hm, good riddance,” he growled.

“You fuckin’ wish,” A voice crowed from around the corner. The last piece sauntered in, finally, standing proud and defiant.

“Well, good thing, because this won’t work without all pieces,” Crewel stated. He had been swirling a fluorescent liquid in a spritz bottle. “Now, let’s have the litter get lined up. I’ll spray you each, which will make you all adhere to each other.”

The four lined up, keeping two pieces on opposing ends to keep from fighting. Crewel made good to saturate each of them. As they waited for the effect to kick in, the roudier fraction turned to the stiffer one, smirk creeping up his face. He allowed a beat of silence between them, before snatching the other two’s arm and clocking the third across the jaw. On impact the four burst into light, close to blinding the others. A light cacophony of yelps rang out as they all began to meld together. Their cries reached a fever pitch before the light quickly dimmed. In spot of the four that had been there, sat a very tire, sweating and dizzy Albert, whole once again.

“Ugh, Seven, what happened? Grim put something in our potion…and now I’m here?”

“Kajiki!”

Al didn’t have a chance to right himself before being smothered in the arms of one of the eels. Floyd flung his partner around to show just how far over the moon he was to have him back. The sound of the professor clearing his throat reminded the three of his presence.

“Now that that’s been taken care of, Whelp, you can have a seat here and we’ll wait for Mr. Rosehearts and Mr. Spade to return to get a report of this…development.”

#albert eastwind #trinket's rattling bones #twisted wonderland #twst oc #original character #twst fanfic #oc x canon #canon x oc #floyd leech #jade leech #ortho shroud #idia shroud #riddle rosehearts #deuce spade #my writing

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girlwiththereapertattoo · 3 years ago

Text

begin again - part two

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: Y/N is back in Charming and gets a visit from a ghost of her past.

Word count: 2,5k words

Warnings: Bad language and a mention of a family member’s death (I can’t think of other warnings but feel free to point them out)

Author's note: For reference of Y/N’s childhood home, this is the house I was picturing. It’s only the exterior, you can go wild with the interior. HERE

Beta read by @crucifixedbitch

PART ONE

💀💀💀💀💀

Four Years Later

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself back in Charming and yet here you are. Life happens though and certain situations are out of your control, like the passing of your mother. You came back for her funeral, and since you’re her only surviving family, you’ve been left with the task of taking care of her affairs, including the selling of your childhood home. You look around, taking in the messy sight before you.

Stacked boxes fill the small, relatively empty, kitchen space. Eventually, all these boxes will end up in storage until you figure out what it is that you want to do with them. A costly decision, but there’s no way you’re lugging them back to Charlotte with you, and apparently, no one’s looking to buy used furniture in Charming.

“Mommy?”

A sleepy S/N’s standing at the entryway clutching his favorite toy in one hand whilst the other rubs his eyes. He shuffles over to you and throws both arms around your legs then buries his little face in them.

“Hey, ace! How was your nap?”

“It was good.” His voice comes out muffled and small. “Mommy, can we watch a movie?”

You scoop him into your arms and spin him around before you set him on your hip. “I’ve got a better idea,” you press a loving kiss to his forehead and hug him to your chest. “Why don’t we leave the house for a bit? We deserve a break from all this packing, don’t you think?”

He perks up. “Can we get ice cream? Please.”

“Ice cream… with sprinkles!”

The suggestion earns you a double kiss to the cheek and the title of ‘Best Mom in the World’! Once you set him down, he dashes out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom to grab his shoes. In the meantime, you grab your keys and purse from the breakfast table and wait for him at the front door.

“Ace?”

After a stretched pause, he calls back.

“Is everything okay?”

Concerned, you make your way down the hall and find a frustrated S/N sitting on the bedroom floor, struggling to fasten his sandals.

“Need a little help with that, ace?”

He shakes his head with a huff. “I can do it myself.”

You know better than to push him when he gets this way and so you patiently wait. It takes him a moment but he gets it done, and he looks quite pleased with himself.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yep.” He makes his way over to you and links his fingers with yours, “Do you have everything?”

You chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

You say a little prayer as you leave the house — may you not run into SAMCRO.

💀💀💀💀💀

A lot has changed since the last time you were here. Most of the small shops and restaurants have been shut down or replaced, including Hanna’s Diner, which has now been replaced by Benny’s, a fifties-themed diner. Cringe. It’s not really your style but S/N insists on eating here because the servers are on roller skates. Wanting to be inconspicuous, you ask to be seated in a booth on the far end of the restaurant.

Your waiter hands you a menu and gives S/N a picture to color in and a cup of Crayons. You order yourself a beverage, a milkshake for S/N, and whilst you wait for your order to arrive, you help S/N color in his picture. You’re engrossed in the task, joking about with your son, when your name is suddenly called by a familiar voice. Your heart lurches in your chest, a shiver traveling down your spine at the recognition — Gemma fucking Teller.

“Shit,” you murmur.

You focus your attention on your son, hoping she gets the message loud and clear: you’re not looking to make conversation with her. As her heels click towards you, you heavily regret leaving your house today. What were you thinking? Charming’s such a small town, you were bound to bump into a ghost of your past and it just had to be Gemma. She stops beside your table but still, you keep your head down.

“Jesus Christ, it really is you.”

Left with no choice, you force yourself to look up at the woman who once made your life miserable. “Gemma, hi.”

She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hi, sweetheart. I thought you might be back in town. I heard about your mother, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you coming over,” you muster a smile.

Gemma glances down at S/N who’s engrossed in his coloring. She looks back at you. “Cute kid. Is he yours?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Who’s the dad?”

You look away from her. “I think you should leave, Gemma.”

“It’s Jax, isn’t it?”

Your silence is all the confirmation she needs.

“Does he know?”

“Gemma,” you plead. “Don’t do this.”

“He deserves to be in his son’s life, Y/N.”

“Oh, spare me the crap.”

She opens her mouth, preparing to fire back at you but you cut her off.

“We’re not doing this, Gemma. Not now, not ever.” You abruptly rise from your seat with a huff and grab S/N. “I’m only going to tell you this once, stay the hell away from me and my family.”

You slam the money that you owe for the drinks you ordered — but didn’t get to enjoy — onto the table, and march out of the diner.

💀💀💀💀💀

“Come on, ace, it’s bedtime.”

“But Mom!” he protests, throwing his head back and whines. “Only five more minutes. Please.”

S/N’s nighttime routine’s simple: bathtime before dinner, he’s allowed twenty minutes television time after dinner, then he’s got to brush his teeth, and once he’s in bed, you read him a bedtime story. It’s the same routine every night, with a few exceptions, and yet every night is the same struggle.

“We can’t keep doing this, ace.”

His eyes remain fixed on the television screen, lips parted, completely entranced.

“Ace..?”

He slowly tears his eyes from the screen, his face splitting into a toothy grin, “Yes, Mommy?”

“It’s bedtime.”

It looks like he might object, negotiate more time, but with a defeated sigh, he slides off the couch and walks over to where you’re standing. Together, you make your way to the bathroom for S/N to brush his teeth. He’s just rinsed out his mouth when light knocking sounds from the door.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug, “Probably one of Gammy’s friends coming to check on us. Why don’t you go to the bedroom to pick a book to read, okay?”

He climbs off his step stool and leaves the bathroom. The knocking sounds again and you announce that you’re coming. You open the door to find Jax Teller standing on the other side with his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets. A stunned expression flashes across his face as he takes in your appearance.

“Hey.”

“Jackson, hi.” You step out onto the porch and pull the door behind you, leaving it ajar. “What are you doing here?”

Well, that’s rude. You don’t intend for your question to come out so curt and direct but what the hell is he doing at your door? Gemma, it’s got to be Gemma, and if he’s been talking to Gemma, then he must have questions. Questions you’re not entirely ready to give him answers to. You just wish he’d picked a better time to drop by.

“I, uh, heard you were in town and I thought I’d come by to see you before you left.”

“Uh, thanks. I–”

“Mommy! Mommy!” S/N yanks the door open before you can stop him and joins you on the porch, quickly retreating behind you when he sees the man at the door. With a small voice, he tells you, “I found a book to read.”

“You did?”

He nods, his eyes fixed on Jax.

“Good.” You pick him up off the floor and press a kiss to his cheek, “Go wait in the bedroom, okay? Mommy will be there in a minute.”

You set him on the ground and he scurries back into the house, leaving you alone with Jax once again.

“I can come back another time if y–”

“No, come in.” You catch yourself off guard. Why the hell are you inviting him into your home? “Unless you’re in a hurry. I just need to put S/N to bed and I shouldn’t be long…”

“Do what you gotta do, I’ll wait.”

You let him in and he makes his way over to the living room. In the bedroom, S/N has already tucked himself under the covers and he’s paging through the book, reading from memory.

“Are you ready for storytime, ace?”

He turns to you. “Is the man gone?”

“No,” you make your way over to the bed, “he’s still here.”

“Is he Gammy’s friend?”

You chuckle as you settle on the bed beside him and press a long kiss to the top of his head. You accept the book that he hands to you and read the title aloud, “A Tiger In Space by Micki Lee.”

He nuzzles into you, his head resting on your arm as he listens to you read for him, occasionally chiming in to comment on the illustrations.

“Goodnight, ace,” you press a final kiss to his forehead, “sweet dreams, I love you.”

“Goodnight, Mommy,” he yawns and shuts his eyes.

You quietly make your way out of his bedroom, leaving his nightlight on, and make your way to the living room, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You find Jax on the couch, fiddling with his pocket chain. When he hears you walk in, his head jerks up.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

You stand awkwardly, unsure of how to handle yourself. And to think the man has seen you naked. “It’s alright.”

“How long you in town?”

“Not long,” you shuffle your feet. “I have to take care of a few things before I head back. I’m putting the house up for sale.”

“Well if you need anything…”

“I know who to call. I appreciate the offer.” You give him a tight smile, “I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

“Anyway,” he pushes onto his feet, “I should get going.”

A wave of relief washes over you as you walk him to the front door, glad that the awkwardness was coming to an end. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“It was good seeing you.”

“Likewise,” you open the door, and with a final smile, you bid him farewell.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” He steps out onto the porch and turns to you. “I’d really like to be a part of the kid’s life.”

You’re stunned speechless, unsure of how to respond to his request but you don’t have to. Jax turns and makes his way back to the tow truck parked outside your house. You watch him drive off, frozen in place, and as you shut the door, you wish you’d said more to him.

💀💀💀💀💀

Jax’s sudden reappearance in your life has you off-kilter and for a good portion of the next day, you don’t exactly know what to do with yourself. You’re overcome by a wave of emotions, inundated with the memories of the girl you once were. It feels like a lifetime ago but it’s only been four years. Jesus. Your love was epic, meant to last lifetimes, but shit doesn’t always go according to our plans.

In the years you’ve been apart, so much has happened. Your mother would often give you updates on Jax and the Sons. News of his incarceration affected you more than you cared to admit because a part of you always hoped that he’d see the light and distance himself from the club. ‘It’s a good thing you got away when you did, he’s a violent man. You had no future with him,’ your mother would remind you every chance she got.

You stare down at the vibrating phone that rests on the couch next to you, your boyfriend’s name glaring back at you. Worn out, you toy with the idea of allowing his call to go through to voicemail, for the fifth time this evening, but it’ll only bite you in the ass.

“Babe, hey.”

“Jesus, Y/N, where the hell have you been? I thought we agreed that you’d call me at eight.”

“I’m sorry, I was clearing out the basement and the service’s really bad down there.”

You lean into the couch, bracing yourself for an outburst that never comes. Instead, he asks about your day and S/N. He tells you that he misses you, and offers to fly to Charming to assist you with the packing. He also tells you about the puppy he saw today and how he immediately thought of S/N.

“The house feels empty when you’re not here,” he concludes.

“We miss you too. Especially S/N.” B/N came into your life shortly after S/N was born, he’s the only father he knows. “I don’t think he likes Charming very much.”

“I don’t blame him. When are you coming back?”

“Next week, I hope.”

At that moment, you hear the loud rumble of a motorcycle pulling up onto your driveway and you just know it’s Jax.

“Honey, I hate to cut this short but someone’s just pulled onto the driveway.”

“At this hour?”

“Can I call you in the morning?”

“Is it safe?”

“It’s probably a friend of my mom’s.”

A light knock sounds at the door.

“I don’t like this.”

“I promise to call you in the morning. I love you, goodnight.”

You hang up before you catch his response and toss the phone back onto the couch. Jax has his back turned to you when you open the door.

“Jax?”

He turns around and flashes you a heartwarming smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” you return his smile and step out to join him on the porch, “is everything okay?”

A serious expression settles on his face, “We need to talk, Y/N.”

It’s about S/N, you just wish he’d let it go already. “Jax, I–”

“Hear me out.”

You sigh, “Fine.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell him that I’m his old man but I’m sure he’s getting restless with no friends. He can always spend time with Abel.”

“Jax–”

“I just want to get to know my kid better, Y/N, that’s it.”

After a long pause, you ask, “You’re not going to back down from this, huh?”

He chuckles, “No, not really.”

“I’ve got conditions.”

“I’m all ears.”

“The playdate happens here.”

“Alright.”

“And you can’t stay long.”

“Fine by me.”

“And no Gemma,” you cross your arms over your chest, “you can’t tell her about this arrangement.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. Bring Abel tomorrow around noon, he can have lunch with us. He got any allergies?”

Jax’s smile widens, “None. Thank you for agreeing to this.”

“You left me with no choice.”

“I mean it, Y/N, I appreciate it.” He leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

💀💀💀💀💀

PART THREE

tag list:

@princesssterek @derangedcupcake @furiouscopshepherduniversity @crucifixedbitch

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x you #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #sons of anarchy imagine #juice ortiz #soa #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam x you #chibs telford #tig trager #bobby munson #opie winston #gemma teller

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uniquevocashark · 3 years ago

Text

A Good Servant Part 5

Content Warnings for:

graphic descriptions of gore, blood, murder, threats of murder, lady dimitrescu and her daughters eating people, threats of violence, assault, bodily harm, grievous bodily harm, blood baths, implications of murder, mentions of experimentation (very brief), mentions of manipulation, mentions of excessive eating, mental fuckery done by the protagonist

THis monster is 11 PAGES ON WORD DOCS, AHHHHHHHHHHHH

You cast a look at Daniela, who sneers at Vanessa with more venom than a viper. Vanessa’s hands raise up and she backs away from you, the cut on her neck shallower than you expected. Daniela pushed her sickled down harder until Vanessa was forced backwards, several meters away, then dashed back in front of you. She left her sickle loose in her hand, then flashed an imitation of Cassandra’s smile.

“Why did you touch our things?” She repeated, the joy leaking back into her voice. She turned her wrist slightly and her sickle caught the light brilliantly, a clear demonstration of an agonising amount of time and effort spent polishing it.

“Your ‘things’?” Vanessa said and you would have intervened if a bug hadn’t flown into your mouth.

Another crawled along your collarbone and down your hands and when you looked found that they had red eyes rather than green. Miss Bela bit down on your tongue gently when your mouth twitched into a frown and you smoothed your expression before Daniela noticed.

She grabbed your choker and yanked you forward along with it, displaying the Dimitrescu crest that usually sat proudly cradled against your throat, “This isn’t just decoration, you stupid man-thing. They belong to House Dimitrescu.”

“They don’t.”

“She does!”

“We,” Vanessa said, winking at you over Daniela’s shoulder, “Work for Mother Miranda.”

“But she doesn’t love Mother Miranda,” Daniela pouted, so caught up in stamping her foot that she yanked you even closer, “She loves us. And you aren’t allowed to touch what I love!”

Vanessa raised her brow, and you shot her a glare. Gently, you placed a hand on Daniela’s, and she looked at you moon-eyed after Bela had flown out of your bleeding mouth. “It’s alright, Daniela.” You said softly, rubbing her taut knuckles.

“It is not alright,” She insisted, then released your choker to grab your arm tightly. “Only House Dimitrescu can touch you.”

“I’m aware,” You said, and pushed her hand away, “Now, I must settle Vanessa in, Miss.”

“Fine.” She pouted, much like her mother, and disappeared in a haze of bugs. Another bug, with a bulkier wing set and yellow eyes bit your finger before fleeing as well. You brushed off the blood on your apron and shot a glare at Vanessa. The cut, you noted, had already disappeared. Mother Miranda must of improved how quickly she could regenerate.

“What?”

“’What’.” You mocked, averting your eyes.

“I am right,” Vanessa said, clutching her chest like a Victorian lady in need of a fainting couch, “We, technically, belong to Miranda. Not her adopted anger issues.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped the smears of blood of the walls that Daniela had made in her haste to get between the two of you. “Whether or not you are factually correct is irrelevant.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am,” You said tiredly, “Part of my very serious job is keeping the girls happy because it’s more important than the semantics of my situation.”

“It’s more than just semantics,” Vanessa insisted, “You’re lying to them.”

You sighed, “It would hurt them too much.”

“You’ve gone soft.” Vanessa bumped your shoulders together and smiled that smug grin you could never forget.

You crossed your arms and bumped her back. “Shut up.”

…

“Stop complaining for two seconds, would you?” You said, holding the door open for her.

Vanessa shrugged, leaning over you instead, “Who said I was complaining?”

“Go in the room.”

“I’m supposed to observe you.”

“And I need to attend to Lady Dimitrescu, now in.” You nudged her towards the room, and she stumbled more than she should have.

The room was small but warm. It was set next to your own and had been empty for as long as you had been there, so you had hijacked it for personal use until then. Lady Dimitrescu had given the room to Vanessa for the duration of her stay and, while you were attached to it, you cleared your extra things and remade it for her.

Vanessa, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate the spartan room all that much. She didn’t seem to like the lack of windows, or how dry everything was. You frowned at her for that.

“You should be used to this kind of living.” You said.

Vanessa sat down at the desk and propped her legs on the desk. “Maybe I got used to luxury.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda’s operating table is so clearly the height of ostentatious luxury.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth a moment later.

“Get comfortable,” You said after a moment, “I’ll be back later.”

“Do you have to help her?” Vanessa asked.

“I work for her.”

“You also kiss her ass when she isn’t around.”

You frowned, “I do not.”

“You do,” Vanessa cooed, “Every conversation you manage to sneak her in. Lady Dimitrescu this and Lady Dimitrescu that.”

“Not this again.”

You rubbed one of your temples. Vanessa shrugged from her seated position, her eyes barely moving from you. “She isn’t even here.”

“I’m not entertaining this,” You said flatly, “Stay in here, I’ll be back by the end of the day.”

“Define ‘end of the day’.” She said, picking up the axe you kept under the bed.

“Before dinner.”

“Okay.” You heard her say before you shut the door.

You walked halfway down the hallway then turned to look back at her door. It was closed, the corridor was well lit and warm and the noise of the kitchen from further down was the only thing you could hear. The only difference from yesterday was a thick black line that marked one side of the walls.

…

Lady Dimitrescu’s rooms were emptier without her pet, something that you always noted when she lost one. The extra bedding was gone, the extra candles, the smaller set of care products that she usually kept and the trunk for clothing. It almost looked too stark, and you could almost understand her obsession with always keeping a pet.

“Madame.” You greeted and she blew a stream of smoke at her own reflection.

“Wesker,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, removing her gloves, “Is the bath ready?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good.”

She didn’t move from her spot, slowly removing one glove at a time.

Her vanity mirror was covered in a viscous substance that drooled down onto the mahogany

“Come here.” She said softly, extending one hand towards you without turning to look at you. Her hand gleamed grey in the darkness and you were halfway to her before you realised you had moved. She planted the hand on your shoulder and untied the choker around your neck.

Her mouth was dark with blood, spilling into a cascade down her dress. What you assumed was the remains of Mihaela, a few bones, a dark patch of blood and intestines strewn neatly on the floor, sat at her feet. She caressed your cheek and brought you closer to her. You flinched and she smiled, her eyes burning gold, leaning over to capture your other cheek.

“What’s the matter?” She murmured, pulling you tight against her, smearing blood over your face and chest, “Are you afraid of me?”

You sucked in a breath that reeked like open bowels, “What is going on?”

She tilted her head slightly, and her mouth split too widely when she smiled, through her cheek and near her ear. She opened her mouth and her cheeks split open, her long black tongue pouring out of the side to lick blood off her jawline.

You moved your head away gently and she moved, licking your face from chin to forehead to clean away the blood she had left. She cradled you in her lap, dragging her lips over your forehead then her teeth and you stared at her blood covered neck quietly.

“Who did you use for the bathtub?”

You cleared your throat, “The chambermaids, Madame.”

She licked one of her fangs, “How many?”

“Fifty-four.”

She growled, moving to hold your waist and hug you to her chest. Lady Dimitrescu licked the blood from your cheek, her tongue as rough as a tiger, then rested her chin on the top of your head. You weren’t sure how to move; when you moved even slowly, she tensed, and she would periodically hum before she licked your face. It did not help much that her tongue scraped the flesh from your face and that she took obvious pleasure with each scrap she took from you.

Her face slowly sewed itself back together, but it was not a painless or soundless process. You watched her face, the cheek slowly come together, veins re-establishing before being filled over with flesh that reddened as soon as it grew. Her tongue grew softer, and she was no longer slurping down your flesh to fill her stomach.

“Bring up a few of the serving staff, I’m in desperate need of a good bath.” She said but didn’t let you go. You cautiously push her face away, and she nibbled at your fingertips softly. She was staring at you, her pupils wide and eyes hungry.

“Would you prefer the pastry chefs or the line cooks, Madame?”

She smiled, and it was normal, though her lipstick was smeared down her chin, “The line cooks should suffice.” She said and licked your bloodied cheeks clean.

…

You prided yourself on many things, because you were good at many things, but avoiding the suddenly clingy Dimitrescu family was nearly beyond your capabilities. The girls you could at least avoid for most of the morning, as they were always busy with one thing or another, but Lady Dimitrescu took every opportunity to have you with her as long as possible. It seemed not a minute could go by, even if you were cleaning her room, that she didn’t have a hand on you. By thirty past ten that morning, she had already called you five more times than she usually did.

When you could get away from her, and the endless workload she had decided to gift you after eating Mihaela, her daughters were there instead. Even dragging yourself through the dungeons and moving past the ghouls, one of them would find and attach themselves to you. And the first to find you as she always was, Daniela would appear and grip your sleeve or hold your hand in greeting.

She always bounced between anxious and forward when she wanted to start a conversation, not that you minded. She was, you thought, a reflection of what you were like when you were younger but made of flies. She was also hyper conscious of how she acted when the staff were around you, which you appreciated even if the extra effort was unnecessary.

“Are you thinking of leaving us?” She asked, sitting three steps down from you on the ladder you stood on.

“Thinking?” You paused, “Something like that.”

She wrapped her arm around your shins and looked up to you, her insects buzzing reminiscent of a cat’s purr, “Yes, or no?”

You stopped wiping at the thick black stain for a moment, “A bit of both.”

“That isn’t really an answer.”

“It’s more complex than yes or no,” You continued, rubbing at the stubborn spot with more force, “And try not to sound so unsure, it lessens the stern attitude you’re aiming for.”

“Okay,” She said, resting her cheek against your calf, “Can you explain the complex reasons?”

You rung out your rag, dipped it in water and tried to wipe the stain away again. You did so again, and Daniela watched you with a growing pout. “Please?” Daniela continued, kicking her feet into the air, “Don’t you love me enough to tell me?”

“There is no need to resort to emotional manipulation,” You countered, and pointed at the brush you needed, “Practice your sternness again.”

She cleared her throat while she handed you the brush, and her tone went serious, “You manipulate people too.”

“For complex reasons, and never about love,” You said lightly, patting her hair carefully and watching her smile bloom across her face, “I don’t really have a say in whether I leave or not, Daniela. If I must go, I go.”

Daniela dug her nails into your skin, but you didn’t mind it much. She held you a little tighter against her and frowned down at the floor. “I don’t understand, she gave you to us. So, you’re ours.”

“It doesn’t always work that way, Daniela,” She nodded but looked unconvinced, “Don’t frown so severely, it makes you look upset rather than stern but that was perfect vocal control.”

“Thank you.” She said but you could see that she was still lost in thought. She touched her necklace gently and toyed with one of swords, staring at you more severely than she usually did.

You looked out of the window you had just cleaned, to the sun shining down on the village and smoothed her hair down the side of her face again. “The day is rather fair, Daniela. You should ask your mother for a horse-riding lesson.”

She perked up, looking outside the window herself. “That sounds like fun.”

She hopped off the ladder and you followed her. The stain on the window had left your water black as ink and you still needed to finish the rest of the windows in the corridor before lunch, so you said your goodbyes to her. Daniela kissed your cheek and transformed into a swarm of bugs before you could react, already gone by the time you had registered the kiss.

She had always been more affectionate than her sisters, so you could almost excuse the sudden change in farewell. Out of all of the Dimitrescu, she was the one who liked you enough to want to be physically affectionate. You knew she had started doing it out of jealousy, though, ever since Vanessa had gotten too close to you than she liked.

After Daniela had disappeared and after a late lunch, around two thirty in the evening, Bela would find you as you left the kitchen.

Bela spoke the most and had mastered that stern tone that Daniela only practiced around you when they were too busy to find her. Her bugs had brilliant red eyes and settled along your collarbone with growing numbers each time she saw you. Now she kept a few bugs on you regardless of the time and you had woken to them buzzing above your head for the past three days.

“Thank you for recommending that exhilarating horse ride.” Bela greeted sarcastically.

“Miss Daniela wanted something to do.” You replied simply.

“Daniela has her books if she’s bored.”

“Miss Daniela has had trouble with riding for the past three years, it was an opportune time for her to ask.”

Bela walked closer to you than she usually would, and though she looked at your arm she didn’t take it. “Are you leaving?”

“What gave you that idea?” You replied flippantly.

“Are you planning to leave?”

“I can’t say.”

“Were you ever going to tell us?”

You didn’t meet her eyes.

Bela grabbed your elbow and made you face her, “Were you going to tell Daniela, at least?”

You pulled your elbow free from her grasp.

“I see,” She said severely, in perfect imitation of her mother, “Does Mother know?”

“She does.”

Bela frowned then let you go and then, softly. “She does?”

“I told her the day before last.”

Bela continued walking with you for a few minutes then turned to you as you were polishing a bust. “I need to talk with Mother about these secrets,” She spat the word out, “Don’t say anything to my sisters.”

Then she was disappeared in a swarm, and you were left with a group of flies clambering along the crest nestled along your throat.

…

Cassandra was never much of a conversationalist, focused more on her latest project that was undoubtedly a present for her mother than you. She had most strongly inherited her mother’s disposition towards people. She didn’t consider you a person, for example, more like a walking meal with the potential to be a person. Any opinions you expressed weren’t headed very much; it seemed to be a particular trait of the Dimitrescu family. It didn’t stop her from hooking an arm around yours after breakfast and not leaving you alone for the rest of the day.

Unlike her sisters, she kept a silent vigil over you, only speaking to shoo Vanessa away when she tried to get close to you. It wasn’t until just before dinner, when you were trying in vain to get your staff organised while Cassandra loomed over them with her sickle bared, that she started talking to you.

“You upset Bela yesterday.” She said.

You sent three maids back into the kitchen for messing up the placement of the cutlery, “Yes, I am aware.”

“What did you say?”

You paused, and the remaining maids looked at you and each other uneasily. They slowed down and you snapped at them to adhere to proper form.

“Well?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from pursing your lips when you turned back to face her, “You’ll have to ask Miss Bela.”

Cassandra forced her sickle against your throat, where your neck met your head and cornered you against the unfinished table. “If you hurt my sister on purpose, I am going to gut you no matter what Bela or Mother says.”

You pushed her sickle away from your neck. “Then you should aim your sickle at my gut and not my neck, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra chuckled throatily and moved away from you. She smiled and thumbed the point of her sickle with a smile, wiping the edge you had touched almost wistfully. She gave a flourished goodbye, waving her sickle happily and walking into the main hall.

…

Vanessa took up the rest of your time before dinner, still seating pleasantly at the desk in the same position you had left her. She grinned at you and sat up properly.

“Hey there, stranger.”

You gave her a look.

“You’re not looking so good,” Vanessa said, coming over and gently rubbing the scrapes along your cheeks, “Are you doing okay?”

“You know what’s strange?” You said instead.

“What?”

“I don’t feel anything. I’m not even sore and I’ve been talking all day.”

You moved into her room and sat down on her bed, gripping the mattress and letting out a long sigh. The black stains that had been plaguing you all day were also here, you noticed. Vanessa came over to you, sitting down and wiping your cheeks with a wet cloth. You hissed at the cold and she stopped, uneasy.

“It’s fine.” You said and pushed her hand away. The cloth was black with blood.

“It isn’t.” She insisted.

“It’s just a little blood.” You murmured and collapsed onto her pillows.

She lay next to you, dabbing against the scrapes on your face. She looked worried so you let her clean away the blood while your face knitted itself back together. She sat you up gently and poured you a glass of water, not leaving you alone until you had three glasses. When the bell rang you wobbled upright, and she looked almost ready to dive to catch you.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Will you make it that far?”

You waved her off, “Follow me if you must.”

“That would be for the best.”

You frowned, unnerved by her complete lack of blinking, “I suppose.”

…

Lady Dimitrescu was fully dressed by dinner, with her makeup freshly reapplied and her dress clean of any stains. It was one of her newer dresses, red as the wine she drank with buttons that were white around her wrists and down her back. Her hair was still wet and was kept in a bun instead her usual bob, tightly held at the side of her neck.

You dabbed at the loose droplets of blood that trailed down her neck after she sat down, and she bent her head away from you to give you ample room. It exposed the entirety of her neck to the light, and it glowed warmly in the candlelight. Vanessa slurped on her wine a little louder than usual and you frowned at her.

Lady Dimitrescu ignored the flagrant misuse of manners and turned to the cooked liver and sliced heart she was served that evening. If you were not mistaken, three bodies went into her meal, from the sauce made of blood wine, the thick liver from Rachel’s husband and Rachel’s heart. Vanessa looked comparatively smaller, nibbling on her veal and carrots drowning in gravy. It was comical to see such a normal dinner served at the Dimitrescu table and you smiled.

Daniela noticed immediately and dropped her knife on the ground.

“Whoops,” She said when you walked over and picked it up and pulled a new one from your pockets. “Thank you.” She smiled.

Lady Dimitrescu sipped her wine, “Be careful, my dear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Bela was much quieter than she usually was, not jibing Cassandra for eating without a fork or rolling her eyes at Daniela for being so obvious. Her eyes were fixed intently on Vanessa and barely strayed while her hands dissolved into bugs and ate her meal for her.

“Tell me, Vanessa,” Lady Dimitrescu began, drawing all eyes towards her, “How are you enjoying my castle?”

Vanessa swallowed the half-eaten potato she had in her mouth, “I haven’t seen much of it.”

“Oh? Not one to explore, are we?”

She looked at you, “I was advised against exploring.”

Lady Dimitrescu put a hand to her chest, the other planting itself on your shoulder and smiled magnificently, “I assure you, me and my daughters don’t bite. You are free to explore to your hearts content.”

Vanessa leaned back into her chair, “Thank you, I think.”

Lady Dimitrescu laughed and turned her smile on you, well pleased with herself. Her eyelids drooped for a moment and her smile went softer, “My dear Wesker will always be busy, of course, but my daughters do so love entertaining foreigners like yourself.”

You cleared your throat and she hummed then turned to Vanessa and returned to their last conversation. It was a clunky transition, one that she wouldn’t have made without reason, and you moved back to where your staff were. Their numbers were halved, the others the dinner on the girls plates, and you were left with only the best of the bunch. The perfect additives, the Lady called them, fit for her most expensive of wines.

You were glad to see that two more were worthy than the last round of cattle.

But that was out of your hands now. Lady Dimitrescu had ensnared Vanessa with a menagerie of questions that had clearly been building since their last conversation and you found many of your secrets were gouged with extensive glee.

Within the hour Daniela had eaten through an entire cake and was on to her second, while Cassandra had disappeared once again, kissing her mothers’ cheek as she left. Lady Dimitrescu’s menagerie had expanded to a national park of questions, and she spoke on and on without seeming to pause. Vanessa would finish answer one and have a dozen more posed within the next minute and she was ruddy faced and out of breath from talking so much.

Bela nibbled at her own slice of cake, strawberry and lemon tonight, looking so intensely at Vanessa you thought her eyes would merge. She listened too, more seriously than her sister did, and you could practically see her drinking in every detail of the conversation with interest. She looked at you a few times, for wine or in surprise, and at one point leaned over to murmur yikes after one particularly child unfriendly story.

You remained out of the interrogation, refusing to answer any question outright. That was how the Lady got in, she asked one innocuous question and then bombarded you with a million more until she was satisfied. Vanessa, it seems, hadn’t learned her lesson after the first time and fell for it faster than a plane landing on an airstrip.

Lady Dimitrescu laughed at one point, eyeing you, “Did you really?”

“I have no recollection of what she’s saying, Madame.”

“Surely you must, it sounds so outlandish,” She licked the wine from her lips, and you dabbed away the spit. “Unless you two are playing games with me.”

“No, Madame,” You said innocently, “We aren’t.”

She smiled, “Is that so?”

“It is, Madame.” You said and began clearing the table.

…

The morning after, you and Vanessa were in the kitchen, the windows open to the cold breeze. You were cutting vegetables, Vanessa’s dexterity with knives as good as a wad of putty left in the sun, and she instead kneaded dough poorly. Daniela had inadvertently whipped her sisters into an emotional frenzy after dinner last night and caused a series of unceremonious gorging on whomever was unluckiest and unwanted by their mothers’ palette.

With the chambermaids gone, it was the cooks who took the brunt of their hunger. Your sibling remained with his most trusted sous chef and the pastry chefs.

You had taken the last line cook down to the cellar last night, while she was still alive and kicking, dragging her feet along the floor in a vain effort to stop you. She had made excellent bread and glazed wonderfully; she smiled while she kneaded and had the best work ethic of all of them. it was for that reason you had recommended her for cadou experimentation and that reason alone why she had been spared from being eaten alive.

You had cleaned her hair up after you had restrained her and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

“You shouldn’t glare so ferociously,” You said, setting down a plate of mouldy bread, “You’ve been given a great opportunity.”

She looked mortified.

“You aren’t going to remember,” You continued, pouring a glass of water, “You don’t understand it and you won’t remember what I’m saying now, but you should be honoured by being brought here. It’s much better than being made into a bath.”

“What?”

“What precisely did you think happened to your paramour Jessica?” You smiled at her expression and set down the candle while she strained against the shackles. “The rest of the chambermaids were put into the Lady’s bath as well. They were sorely needed.”

This was perhaps your favourite part when you cycled through staff. There was something greatly satisfying about watching the pieces fall into place, faith wavering as they learned the truth and then visiting them afterwards and seeing the light in their eyes dead but for hunger.

Playing games, as Lady Dimitrescu said once, after she had caught you unravelling one of her subject’s entire life thread by thread. She had seemed pleased by your tendencies and even instructed you on how best to reveal certain information bit by bit. But you weren’t here for the joy of it, not right now at least.

“You’ve always been good with people, Bronwyn.” You said conversationally and she looked at you oddly.

“Clearly not, since I trusted you.”

“I’ve been manipulating people into liking me for years,” You waved your hand flippantly, “What would you have done if you had known I was like this halfway through your stay?”

The chains rattled, the ghouls scuffled past you and the cell and deeper into the dungeon. You heard the girls giggling down in the darkness, the scream of a man ringing so loudly as to hurt your ears and the cackling after. You stared at Bronwyn and watched her morph from horror to disgust and everything in between.

“Escape?” She said.

“But to me, personally. What would you have done? Would you stop talking to me? Forget things? Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously so stressed pretending as to be breaking apart at the seams?”

She swallowed and you backed away from the bars. You had ruined your mood already, and you had only been here for five minutes. The bars were grimy and rusted and you rattled them absently.

“Nevermind,” You said instead, picking up the candle, “You’ll want to rest before Lady Dimitrescu gets down here.”

As you left you heard her sharp intake of breath as she spotted her sister in the cell opposite her.

…

“You know, you really had me convinced.” You said to Vanessa when you walked into her room. She was, as ever, sitting blank faced on the bed where you had left her, her chest cavity open to reveal nothing but black mold beneath it.

“Did I?” She said, looking at you and smiling, “I don’t really remember much.”

“The last time I saw you, you were opened exactly like this on a bench in a cell. Do you remember that?”

“No,” She confessed, “I don’t remember how we got to this shit village either.”

“We were still recovering from waking up, they shoved us in a potato sack together and hauled us here.”

“I don’t remember that.” She said and moved her hand to watch it as it crumbled.

You removed the pins holding her skin open, folding them back against her ribs carefully. You lay beside her as she morphed into a blob of black fungus, nestling into the crook of her neck and hugging her chest to you carefully. She still retained a semblance of her former shape, but you could see the details of her face smudging away.

“Vanessa?”

“Yes?” She gargled; the words distorted away from her usually cheerful voice.

“What is it like? Is it painful?”

Her head was growing a large mouth, so you grabbed the knife you kept strapped to your thigh and straddled her chest after you had drawn it. Her chest was a mess of black and it had cooled drastically, like steam as it rose and changed to rainwater. A tongue lolled out of it and long black claws sharpened from her fingernails.

“I see.” You said and started cutting through her neck.

#HOLY SHIT I DID ITTTTTT #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #a good servant #my writing #5000 words cause i love my followers #<3

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