#and pact was so good so why did this have to fumble so hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxvladdy · 4 years ago

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heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!

A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!

Hope you like it!!

Case of the Munchies prt 3!

Word Count: 4.2k

Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos

TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore

Satan

As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.

He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.

When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn’t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.

He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.

Mini Fic

His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.

Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.

“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.

“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.

“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.

Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.

You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”

"I thought you would never ask."

Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.

You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.

"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.

Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"

"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.

“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.

He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.

“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.

“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.

You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.

He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”

Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”

You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”

“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.

You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”

Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”

“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”

Belphegor

After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.

In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.

But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.

When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.

Mini Fic

“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.

You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”

“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”

Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.

“Rude.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.

“Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”

“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”

“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.

Imagine what those brothers would do to them…

You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.

“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”

You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Diavolo

It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.

He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.

He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.

The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*

He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.

Mini Fic

Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?

Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.

You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.

“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.

Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.

You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.

Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.

“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”

“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.

Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.

The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.

“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.

“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”

“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.

You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”

Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.

You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”

He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.

“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”

“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.

“Of course!”

The food was as wonderful as his company.

Barbatos

You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.

He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.

Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.

He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.

He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.

Mini Fic

Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.

Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.

He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.

You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.

You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.

“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.

“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.

“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”

Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”

Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.

“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.

“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”

“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”

“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”

He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”

#obey me #om satan #om belphegor #om diavolo #om barbatos #fun request!

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raunchyom · 4 years ago

Text

Vices, Not Virtues: Kindness

[ Chapter 3 ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

A/N: Surprise! Wasn’t planning to have this out on Levi’s birthday, but also wasn’t planning that hiatus. School, amirite? On the plus side, I’ll officially be free by May 1, at which point I can start updating this (semi-) regularly again, so look forward to it! Tagging: @devintrinidad // @dweeb-central

word count: 2.7k || warnings: n/a

Listening to Leviathan rant was pretty much something that came with the territory of being his friend.

Whether about anime, his brothers, video games, anime, school, socializing, normies… oh, and don’t forget anime. There was always something on his mind, and his severely limited social circle meant you were often the recipient of his rants. Today in particular, it spanned a lot of different topics. Your recent absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the way he was going on made it seem like he’d bottled up every single emotion over the past few days and shoved them into a box labelled ‘re-open for Mc.’

Not that you loved him any less for it, of course. Poor Levi really couldn’t catch a break, and he was so excited to have someone like you who really cared about him-- well, who could blame him for wanting to open up?

Over the past week in particular, he’d been subjected to the usual trauma around the house. Apparently, he’d had Asmo and Satan gang up on him about never leaving the house, even the bookworm agreeing that Levi was too far gone. Mammon had ‘borrowed’ something of his, only for it to never return. Levi knew it was a bad idea every time, but he was too easily won over by promises of his investments being worth it. The last Akuzon delivery was supposed to be a limited edition maid-cafe-style Ruri-chan figurine, that smelled like her bean-cake best friend Azuki-tan-- which, of course, meant that Beel took a bite out of the package before Levi could get there to stop him. Lucifer had lectured him about grades, saying that he knew Levi could do better, if only he stopped playing video games so much-- “as if that’s a compliment!”

Levi finally stopped pacing, rolling his eyes at the mere memory of it. He glanced down to where you sat, perched on the side of his tub.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the house, but his room wasn’t exactly made for visitors; you had to make do when you were there for a rant. He’d generally start talking while playing a video game, then gradually pause it, turn around, and eventually stand up and act out his frustrations. It was better for you to just start off seated on the side of his tub, that way he would have an aquarium backdrop for when he inevitably paced in front of you. It gave you a nicer view from the start, and when he wanted to sit again, he could choose to pull up his gaming chair or, if he was feeling particularly bold, sit down next to you.

As if he heard your thoughts, Levi plopped down next to you with a frustrated sigh. “Ugh, they totally don’t deserve to have you helping them all the time.” He grumbled, almost as if talking to himself. “I mean, I don’t either. I don’t know why you spend so much time around some gross otaku. And listen to all my problems, and--”

“Levi, it’s fine.” You assured him, “I don’t mind; we’re friends.”

Levi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as if he didn’t believe you. He shifted his gaze back to the fish tank in front of him and continued, “Still, I know I’m always venting to you, and…”

The lack of eye contact didn’t prevent him from seizing up in your presence. You could practically see the buffering symbol in his brain, mouth wavering as he tried to force the words out. His face was getting red just from knowing your eyes were on him, somehow feeling as if every moment you waited politely for him to continue was a moment of pure torture.

“You don’t ever talk to me.” He mumbled. The words slurred together, as if he could barely convince himself to enunciate the syllables. He fumbled with the cord of his headphones and his stare shifted to the floor. Even eye contact with the fish must’ve been too much.

“We talk all the time.” You sounded much less sure than you felt, probably more out of hurt than anything. Did your friendship not mean as much as you thought it did?

“That’s not what I--!” Levi frowned harder, tugging more incessantly at his headphones. He huffed out a frustrated breath, knowing what he wanted to say but not how to say it. “You do talk to me, but… you listen to me a lot more…”

“So… you want me to talk more?” Levi was usually pretty easy to read. Sure, he didn’t say his emotions outright, but they were often written all over his face. In times like this though, when he was stuttering and refusing to make eye contact even more than normal, he wasn’t quite as transparent.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but not-- I meant-- why don’t you ever ask?” Levi finally blurted out, surprising you both. “...for help? Why don’t you ever ask for help?”

“Uh… what?” Well, this was out of nowhere. You were supposed to be listening to his problems, but now he was upset that you hadn’t brought up yours? Was there some part of his rant that you were supposed to cut into with your own?

“I notice, around the house, and RAD, and-- and everywhere. You never let people help you with things. You never ask for it yourself, even when you need it.” After a second, his eyes widened. “Not-- Not that I watch you! I-It’s nothing weird like that! I-I’m gross, and an otaku, and-- b-but-- I don’t st-stalk you or anything!”

It was funny, watching Levi dig his own grave deeper. On the one hand, it was amusing to hear Levi desperately try to explain away any potential misinterpretation, but it was mixed with a fair amount of confusion about what his point was supposed to be. Your face must have portrayed this in some way, or at least one of these two emotions, because a cursory glance from Levi had him forcing himself back on track before he could say anything worse.

“I mean, I get why you don’t want my help. I-I’m just some yucky otaku, who’s anti-social and um, probably couldn’t help with anything anyway.” Levi was really good at kicking himself while he was down. Given, he always seemed to be down, and he always seemed to be kicking himself.

“Levi, that’s not why...” The words fell away halfway through your sentence, having caught yourself before admitting to anything.

“So why?” You may have caught yourself before admitting anything too damning, but Levi caught it too. He was dense, not an idiot. “No, you don’t have to tell me. I mean, there’s a lot of other reasons you might not ask for help, too. Maybe you don’t want to feel weak, or admit that you need help from other people. Or maybe it’s because it’s hard to ask someone for something, when you’re already annoying them just by being around them. Or… that last one is probably just me.”

“You’re not annoy--”

“It’s not about that!” Levi cut you off, determined to make his point. “The point is, you can’t do everything by yourself. Even Henry has the seven lords to help him. And Ruri-chan has her friends. In fact, her friends are what make her so--”

Levi took a deep breath, for once stopping his own tirade about anime. “Can you just… tell me why, at least?”

Song references aside, it wasn’t an easy question to answer, even if you wanted to. Levi didn’t often ask for this kind of thing though, which made it hard to turn him down. “It’s a lot of things, like you said. I just want to show that I can. Do things on my own, I mean.”

Levi frowned, unsure how to combat you. He already wasn’t exactly a pro on asking people for help, he holed up in his room too much for that. He had been, so far, basing it off the rare times he left his room. But now you were mentioning something that he could relate to on some level, except… “You… want to prove yourself?”

“I guess.” Not how you’d phrase it, necessarily, but not entirely inaccurate. Or really, it was oversimplifying the issue by a long shot, but it was better to give Levi half credit rather than no credit. His self esteem could certainly use it.

“But why!? You’re-- you’re so cool! You made a pact with every demon in the House of Lamentation! You could make a pact with Diavolo if you tried! You taught Satan to control his anger, you got Asmo to care about someone other than himself, you stood up to Lucifer when he was going to kill Beel and Luke-- and you, too!--, you got Belphie to get along with everyone again, you even died and--” It could’ve been that he realized what he was saying, or it could’ve been that he saw your face when he brought it up; either way, Levi clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence.

“I-I mean, not everyone gets to respawn.” He mumbled, hoping a video game reference would make it less awkward again. After a moment of silence, he reiterated his original point. “You don’t need to prove yourself. You already have.”

It was heartwarming, hearing Levi sing your praises as he did. But that wasn’t exactly a quick fix for the fact that asking for help meant admitting you were bad at something. Or even just admitting to needing help at all. Lucifer said he had to teach you some pride, well here was a lesson you could skip. This one you knew well: don’t want to swallow your pride and ask for help? Easy, just don’t ever ask!

Levi seemed antsy to fill the silence, but managed to hit the nail on the head when he spoke again. “I know how it feels, when you see someone that’s better than you at something. It’s frustrating. And painful. Especially if you’re supposed to be the best, and then someone else knows more than you do, about a book series that they just read for the first time, and then spoil stuff about the one that hasn’t even been released yet, even though you’re the number one TSL fan and they shouldn’t even have that informa--”

“That was one time!” You protested. Levi let out a puff of air that was somewhere in between a scoff and a snort, but he didn’t seem to be legitimately angry. Then again, leave it to Levi to hold a grudge from the early days of the exchange program.

“Sometimes though, you can use that jealousy. Being jealous of someone can drive you to get better at things, or to learn from them. Or just ask them for help, if you have to. I’m never gonna work out like Beel, so if I need help lifting something I’ll just ask him for help doing it.” He deliberately didn’t mention his past experiences in asking for Beel’s help in getting fit, hoping you didn’t know about the devilgram posts Asmo made about it. You did, but decided to let it go. After a moment of consideration, he added, “I usually have to pay him with food, though.

“We may not always get along, but at least my brothers and I know how to depend on each other. Lucifer may act-- well, be annoyed a lot, but there’s a reason everyone goes to him for help. He helps the people he cares about… even if it comes with a lecture. Everyone knows to go to Satan if they need information, or help studying. Asmo’s so good with fashion that he works with Majolish, and still--” Levi’s chest puffed out a bit as he spoke-- “he comes to me for help in design too, since he knows I’m the best at cosplays.”

“That almost sounded like you were complimenting yourself.” Levi deflated a bit at your teasing tone, both embarrassed and a bit self-conscious. You felt some guilt about the latter, but none from the former. Not when his embarrassment meant his face scrunched up like that, and he floundered to go back on his own claims.

“W-Well, I didn’t mean-- of course I’m good at otaku stuff! A normie wouldn’t understand!” He floundered, clearly at a loss for what to say if he was falling back on calling you a normie. That was pretty much his version of sticking his tongue out when he lost.

“It’s hard to imagine Mammon ever gets asked for help.” You offered, trying to get him back on track. ...and maybe continue to push his buttons just a tad.

“That idiot--” Levi took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he sought a way to talk about Mammon without including some form of insult, “He gets into trouble all the time, obviously. He’s a moron because of the kind of trouble he gets into, not because he asks for help. At least he knows to come to us for help when he needs it.”

At that, Levi gave you a pointed look. Well, consider that the last time you ever try to help him get back on track.

“Mc, none of us will think less of you. People usually consider it an ego-boost if someone comes to them for help. Especially if it’s y--” Levi fumbled, quick to brush past his near-slip. “If anything, we want to help. If you asked for help with your work and school and things, you’d have more time to yourself; for watching anime and playing games.”

Levi tried to make it sound like he was being benevolent, but the implied ‘with me’ was hard to miss.

“So, you could try asking for help some more, to lighten your load. If you want. It would make me-- um, make u-us feel better, too.” He seemed content in ending it there, and made an effort to end any potential continuation of the topic. Flipping on a dime, Levi was quick to talk over any potential response. “Th-That’s all, anyways! Uh, we can just-- go back to, you know. Playing devilcart, or um, we can watch some anime, or--”

“Thank you, Levi.” You had to put a hand on his arm to make him listen, the simple action instantly sending the touch-starved demon into fight-or-flight mode. “I’ll try.”

He swallowed back his nerves and nodded, surprised he had managed to make it through that whole talk. You were too, really, as soon as you realized that this was supposed to be his intervention for you.

As much as you might loathe to admit it, his talk made sense. Or at least it had some aspects of truth to it, and perhaps you felt marginally better about asking the bros for help. Levi made it very clear how he felt about wanting to help you, the least you could do was see if the others felt the same. And hey, maybe he had a point about people wanting you to ask them for help in general, too. Who would’ve guessed it, but so far these demons seemed to know a thing or two about sinning.

---

“Is something the matter, my Lord?”

“It’s been awfully quiet the past few days. I wonder what those brothers are up to?” Boredom generally caused Diavolo’s mind to wander to the Devildom’s most notorious troublemakers, but this week especially. His fellow members of the student council had been quieter than normal, without even a yelling match in days; much less something exciting enough to warrant Diavolo’s attention. Thus leaving the prince here, sighing as he pondered their goings on.

Barbatos poured Diavolo’s tea with a knowing smile. “They have been quite busy this week.”

“Oh?”

“It seems they’re corrupting Mc.” Barbatos spoke as if it were a common occurrence.

Diavolo chuckled. “Should we be worried?”

“Quite the opposite. They’re working together to get Mc to take better care of themself.”

“Is that so?” Lethargy had caused Diavolo to ignore his tea at first, but the new information made him forget about it altogether. Diavolo sat up straighter, excitement tugging his mouth into a smile. “Perhaps I’ll bring tomorrow’s meeting to Lucifer, and pay the house of lamentation a visit.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

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obey-me-fics-n-shit · 5 years ago

Note

what do you think would be the most embarrassing things the brothers could do in front of mc? and how might they/mc react?

Huh, this one’ll be interesting. It took me awhile longer than I wanted it to, but here it is :D

Embarrassing things the Obey me! Brothers would do in front of mc

Lucifer:

The most embarrassing thing for Lucifer would be anything that tarnishes mc’s opinion of him. He’s the avatar of pride, so his image is everything to him. If some lower demon were to talk to you about all the less-than-savory things he did during (or even after) the war and his fall, telling you “how brave you are for living with the big and scary Lucifer (and his brothers)” Lucifer would be beyond upset. He’d probably want to get angry and make that lower demon pay, but he would hate to prove their point.

He’s been very careful in making sure that the worst thing you think of him is that he’s strict and has a bit of a temper. On the other hand, he doesnt mind as much if you know some of the nicer side of him, but if Diavolo gets talking about some things he’s seen Lucifer do that are ‘too cute’ he will also be embarrassed. Best case scenario in both situations is just to laugh it off and say something like “haha, not the Lucifer I know.” And let it be, it would crush the poor guy if you were frightened of him for any reason.

Mammon:

Mammon gets embarrassed so easy you could do it without trying (and you have) but the absolute worst thing that could happen would be if those witches he made pacts with ordered him around while he was trying to spend quality time with you, or even worse if they ran into you and him on a day out and ordered him around in front of you. In any case where that is to happen the best way to ease his embarrassment would be to get right back to what you were doing before. when he gets back to you, a quick insult thrown the witches way and a peck on his cheek is a sure fire way to help him feel better quickly.

If it was a rough day beforehand and this happens, he’ll need some extra re-asssurance, because the witches interruption with be the cherry on top that ticks him off. To help him in this case you’ll probably need to sit down with him for a second somewhere and reassure him that you understand that when it comes to those witches somethings are out of his control. He’ll grumble and say something along the lines of “nothings out of control for the great mammon,” but after a pause he’ll thank you for being so good to him and then you can go about your day.

Asmodeus:

Asmo has just about zero shame, getting this boy embarrassed is next to impossible, so when you do see him embarrassed it’ll probably be quite a shock to you. It probably happens when Asmo takes you to Majolish and an old flame of his who he left high and dry tries to warn you against perusing a relationship with Asmo while he’s in a changing room. Asmo comes out to model the new outfit he’s trying for you, only to see you practically cornered by that pesky ex of his. Asmo also has the pleasure of hearing you tell them to “piss off asshole” before you turn to see Asmo in his new outfit.

Asmo isn’t so embarrassed that someone he was intimate with found you gave you a talk, it was bound to happen anyway, what Asmo is embarrassed about is how he wasn’t there to help you. He’s also flattered that you stood up for yourself (and him) but it’s also part of what embarrassed him. He knew how you felt about him but this was the first time it really hit him. For the first time in a long time, his relationship wasn’t purely physical. Asmo immediately takes off whatever he tried on, leaves Majolish without buying anything and he’ll spend the rest of the day showering you with affections and letting you know how thankful he is for you.

Satan:

What gets Satan embarrassed in front of mc is when he loses his temper. It happens on a nice day around the House of Lamentation, when Satan has found out that Mammon sold one of his prized first-edition books for some quick cash. Satan had planned to spend a nice afternoon reading it with you but when he couldn’t find it he called a house-wide search for the thing and eventually Mammon got so fed up with the guilt he told Satan. Needless to say Satan blew his lid. Not in a normal ‘I’m so angry get out of my sight in 3..2..1...” kinda-way, but in a “I’m gonnna rip to shreds before you can even make it to the doorway” angry

you’d been told his anger was frightening, but you’d never seen it this bad, Satan had a moment and he saw you out of the corner of his eye and immediately regretted getting angry in front of you. It’s common knowledge that he’s gotten better at controlling his temper but he also promised himself not to get angry in front of you. He’ll go back to his room to calm down. Give him about three minutes before going in there, you don’t have to say anything he’s great full enough to have your company. Once he’s had a good while to gather himself he’ll apologize and its best to give him a reminder that everyone gets angry sometimes, that venting a little is healthy and you’re there for him. I promise you he will be so touched he’ll damn near cry

Leviathan:

Pretty similar to Mammon it’s not hard to embarrass this poor guy. It’ll probably happen when he gets a new package from Akuzon and one of the brothers (probably Mammon) gets the package first and opens it in front of Levi and you at the breakfast table. Now having one of his games opened itsn’t all that bad, but its a dating sim and one look at the main character makes it pretty obvious that they’re a dead ringer for you. Mammon will let out a roaring laughter and shove the game over to Asmo and Satan, who take turns loudly debating wether or not Levi bought the game because the main character looked like you, or if Levi’s dating you because you look like main character. Obviously this is mortifying for Levi, who snatches the game out of Asmo’s hand and rushes off muttering about how he should’ve known better than to let someone else get the mail this morning.

You should let Levi have a good half-hour before checking up on him. Quietly slipping into his room with a bowl of popcorn you can sit down next to him and ask if he’s started playing his new game yet. “Why do you want to know?” Levi’s gonna ask accusingly, letting him know you wanna spend time with him no matter what his brothers say about him and his game, will make him blush like crazy. The absolute best way to get him to forget all about breakfast though would be to ask him if you could stay and watch while he played. (Bonus points if you use watching him play a dating game as a way to give him pointers on wooing you)

Beelzebub:

Beel is too big, too soft, too precious to be embarrassed about anything. Or at least that’s what you thought, but when he caught sight of you in the stands he couldn’t help the blush that formed, his team noticed. Soon enough they started giving him little “oohs” and “ahhhs” and suggestive winks, saying that he should make sure to show off a little extra just for his “beau in the bleachers” you couldn’t see it from where you were but Beel got even redder and tried to laugh it off and back to practicing. Now this wasn’t the first time you’ve showed up to watch Beel practice, but it is the first time he’s known you were in the stands watching. Every time before you’d sat way in the back and watch for a minute or two before going off to do something else. Today you had no other commitments so you thought you’d stay and support him. But pretty early on you noticed he was fumbling more often than the other times you’d watched. You thought nothing of it, maybe it was just an off day, they happened, after all.

After practice when the two of you were relaxing, you brought it up and asked if he had a bad day before practice. Beel immediately reddened up, but had no qualms about explaining his team got him worked up about you being there and he was trying to look good for you but in the process fumbled up during practice. Seeing a blushing Beel is one of the cutest sights, and seeing that he got embarrassed of your behalf because he was trying to impress you is so adorable you cant help but smile really big at him and give him a quick peck on the lips.

Belphegor:

Belphie ended up embarrassed because you had spent a lot of effort into making up a nice night for he and you to go stargazing, but three hours before you were going to set off for your date he persuaded you into a nap. Belphie woke up before you did and when he looked at the time he saw that the two of you were supposed to leave an hour ago. He wanted to go back to sleeping and pretend in the morning like it was a big goof and you could go out another night, but he instead decided not to let all of your hard work go to waste. He softly shook you awake and while you were still recovering from your impromptu nap he had persuaded you to take, he explained that the both of you had overslept. He was so upset and embarrassed that he had ruined the date you planned but instead of you getting upset with him like he expected, you laughed. After you got yourself together you looked at Belphie “you know the starts will still be there even though we slept in, yeah?” Oh. Now Belphie understood why you laughed, but it didn’t really make him feel much better that you laughed about it after he felt so bad.

It’s written all over Belphie face that this whole deal got him upset, so you rolled out of bed, and pulled in your shoes “if we go now we can watch the stars, ill go grab the picnic basket from the fridge and hope Beel hasn’t beaten us to it.” You stopped by Belphie to pull him into a big hug before he got to his feet and joined you to go start your date.

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luciferist · 5 years ago

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– how the obey me brothers apologize after a fight (pt.2)

> asmodeus

flirting’s in his nature, don’t you know?

and asmo doesn’t mean it! he’s been so good ever since you two become exclusive, he swears... :( and, well, he loves you the most, over anybody else... you should know that by now.

and you do, you really do. but you can’t help but be jealous. how could you not, seeing your EXTREMELY attractive boyfriend unconsciously make everyone he meets fall in love with him?

you decided enough was enough when he had received the sixth love letter of the week and skipped out on your after-school study session to respond to the sender personally. when he finally showed at the library, you were fuming.

“asmo, where have you been? i’ve been waiting for half an hour.” “oh, darling, remember the letter i showed you this morning? i know you told me not to go but i just HAD to personally thank my fan. plus, it’s not like i actually accepted their confession, so it’s fine, right?”

asmo dove in to kiss you on the cheek but you covered his lips and dragged him out of the library. “why don’t you just tell all of your ‘fans’ that we’re dating? they’ll stop and you don’t have to keep showing up to reject them.”

asmo looked perplexed. “what do you mean ‘why’? ‘cause their letters are SO cute! i just love getting them. they’re adorable when they come up to me with red little cheeks and run away all shy. and trust me, i have, but i guess i’m just that irresistible?” he said every word with a smile like nothing he said was wrong. you couldn’t believe him. how could he not get it?

you walked away without a word, when asmo soon followed, chirping “what’s wrong?”s like a little bird. you didn’t respond.

giving him the silent treatment all the way home, you slammed the door on him once you got to your room.

asmo didn’t understand at all, beginning to get irritated that you wouldn’t just TELL him. what did he do wrong? he was just telling the truth, it’s not like he said yes to the person :(

satan passed by and asmo grabbed him, explaining the situation and asking for advice

satan, who quite obviously wanted to leave and Not Listen, tossed out some generic advice: “hm. try imagining yourself in their shoes. how would you feel if _ continuously stood you up to hang out with one of us?”

now alone, he tried that very thing. hmm, well... if _ skipped out on a date to go see mammon or belphie... ugh! that’d make me so mad. i mean, what’s the big deal? they’re mine, not my brothers’, and they should let everyone know. everyone should know by now... i...

and asmo finally understood. it wasn’t a problem of you thinking he was cheating because in the end, you knew he was loyal, but it was a matter of everybody else knowing that he wasn’t available to anyone else, anyone but you. he belonged to you and that was that.

now how could he get mad at you for something so romantic?

knocking on your door, he began to whisper

“honey, i gave it some thought... i belong to you only. oh, well i guess i have a pact with solomon too, but i can break it off if you want me to... and tomorrow i’ll let everyone at school know really clearly that we’re together, so i’m off-limits. i’m sorry for making you feel insecure about our relationship. i’m yours and you’re mine, right? now let me in, i want to give you kisses and show you how much you mean to me.”

> beelzebub (tw: slight physical violence)

beel and you never fight. honest to diavolo, beel is the sweetest boy you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and has never started a fight with you

if you have a problem or you’re irritated with him, he’ll immediately sit down with you and fix it. will never go to bed with you angry with him. he just can’t stand it :(

well, unless he gets into THAT mood, that is... usually he’s good at not letting it get to that point and staying away until it was resolved

but this time was just bad.

beel saw you waiting for him after fangol practice. you began walking towards him with a big smile but he swerved immediately. he didn’t want to risk anything, especially since he was already irritated

see, usually midway through practice, beel had a small snack (a meal about the size of two people’s lunches) to keep his energy up for the rest of the session. but when he went to go eat it, it wasn’t there... because of that, he fumbled the rest of practice

after this, he was fixated on finding the culprit and making sure they never did it again. little did he know that you secretly took it out during class so he’d be extra hungry. it was friday and you wanted to treat him to a big meal at hell’s kitchen. rookie mistake, really, but you only had him in mind.

you knew he why he seemed a little angry and, thinking you were immune to his food mood swings (IDIOT), caught up to him quickly despite being avoided. “beel! okay, i’ll admit, i was the one who took your food, but-”

you should not have said that before letting him see you.

beel immediately turned around and grabbed your wrist with his eyes blazing, easily shifting to his demon form. he didn’t seem to notice it was you even though he was staring straight into your eyes. “where is it? the food you took, no, stole from me, where is it?”

you tugged and tugged, trying to take your wrist back, but to no avail, until belphie ran up, most likely called by one of beel’s teammates

“BEEL! what are you doing?!” hearing his twin, beel’s trance of fury seemed to dissipate into thin air. “huh?”

finally being able to pull away in beel’s moment of weakness, you quickly drop to the ground in fear. your wrist was aching from being squeezed so hard. you were lucky it wasn’t broken, just beginning to bruise a bit.

beel saw your face and had never felt regret so deeply in his heart ever before this very moment. i... i’m a monster. i can’t believe myself. out of fear of what you might say, he fled the scene, running all the way home and shutting himself in his room.

after that were days of awkward encounters and no speaking at all. truth be told, neither of you were actually angry at each other, but you were frightened of what the other would say, thinking THEY were mad

and so beel’s days of going to sleep thinking you were angry began.

until one night during dinner, you dropped your fork because of your bandaged wrist. beel, being the first to notice, saw you wince in pain too. seeing you in pain was something he’d never been able to stand, so out of pure instinct, he got up and ran around the table to you, gently picking your wrist up in his large hand

with the possibility that you might be angry at him now tossed out of his mind, he picked you up bridal style, excusing you and him and bringing you to his and belphie’s room, placing you gently on the bed

“ah, beel, it’s not that serious...” “no, let me wrap it up again for you. it’s... it’s my fault, after all.” moments of silence passed between you two like air while he carefully wrapped your wrist

suddenly, simultaneously, the same words came out of both your mouths: “i’m sor-” “i’m really so-” you both shut up quickly.

you spoke again first. “beel, it’s not your fault, it’s mine. it was stupid of me to take your food when i should’ve known you’d get mad. it’s my fault i got hurt, so don’t worry. i won’t do it again, i promise.” you tried to smile so he wouldn’t worry

he started shaking his head immediately once you began to speak. kneeling in front of you, beel placed the gentlest kiss onto your padded wrist.

“no, i shouldn’t have reacted like that... i need to work on it but i couldn’t help it. i’m really sorry. i would never want to hurt you. i promise i’ll never hurt you ever again.”

> belphegor

belphie would vehemently deny it with all of his soul, but in many ways, he’s similar to his dear eldest brother lucifer

ESPECIALLY in the way that he’s stubborn as heaven

it got really annoying in the way that he still held onto old beliefs and made jokes about killing off the entire human race

like c’mon man. yeah humans aren’t GREAT but they’re still your people :/

one thing led to another and the next thing you knew, you were yelling “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I JUST KILLED EVERYONE IN THE DEVILDOM DIPSHIT??????” and he was yelling “WELL I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU TRY!!!!!”

out of utter frustration, you stormed out of the room. you though he changed, you really did, but maybe humans were still a joke to him. you thought that maybe, after falling in love with you, he would see that humans aren’t too bad

and you thought he was sorry for the... unfortunate things he did to you, but maybe that was nothing too.

and on belphie’s side, he didn’t understand either

laying on his bed, he huffed out a big sigh

what’s wrong with them? it was just a joke...

beel walked in munching on a granola bar, just coming back from a workout

“what’s up, belphie? are you okay? you’re in bed but you’re not sleeping.”

belphie sat up, looking very serious. “beel, hypothetically, if _ and i were fighting because i told them all humans except them should die... what would you say?”

beel frowned, shaking his head. “that’s so mean, belphie. why would you say that?”

“HYPOTHETICALLY.”

“okay, well... humans other than _ can’t be that bad. i mean, two of them literally CREATED _. and some of them kept _ company until they met us. humans kept them alive and there are probably a lot of humans that _ loves or admires. so you can’t blame them for being mad when you joked about eradicating them.”

belphie thought and thought about this.

hey... wait a minute. you’re onto something.

out of nowhere, without even responding, belphie rose and speed-walked (he doesn’t run, it’s not cool and it’s tiring) to your room immediately

after knocking on the door, you opened it with your hands on your hips

“what do YOU want?”

belphie cleared his throat, obviously not expecting you to have opened the door so quickly.

“ah, um... sorry for what i said earlier. i didn’t mean it and i won’t say it again. but hey, i was thinking... i don’t know a lot of humans besides you. so what if we took a trip to the human world together? i can meet your family and friends and get a better feel for humans so i know better. how about that?”

part 2 done!! sorry for the delay, anon, please enjoy!! and whoops, these got longer than pt.1 >____<

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #asmodeus #om! asmodeus #beelzebub #om! beelzebub #belphegor #om! belphegor #om! belphie #lili writes

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devildomdoofus · 4 years ago

Text

Winter Storm:Part 2

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

WARNINGS:

‼️contains spoilers from chp. 16‼️

[[angst, cursing, anxiety, fear/terror, depression, near death experiences, hypothermia, dehydration, fainting, severe pain, cliffhangers, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suggestive themes, if I missed any - please let me know!!]]

Author’s Note:

As you already know, I will forever apologize for my sluggishness but I hope that when I do get to posting, it is worth the wait 😣 I’m particularly proud of these pieces, especially Beel’s and Belphegor’s... the angst was fun to write and helped me let off some steam! Forgive me, but Asmo is kind of hard to write for as we’re practically polar opposites 😭 OH!! Since this is the final piece to my “Winter Storm” puzzle, I’ll be needing more requests so if you’ve got something on your mind that you wish to bring to life, send ‘em my way and I’ll do my best to help make it come true!! I’d love to hear what you lovely individuals have rattling around in your brains✨. As always, thank you kindly for your patience, your generosity and support, and thank you very much for hyping me up to write and continue writing. You’ve helped me in more ways than I can count. Stay ruling them all, MCs ❤️

- DevildomDoofus

Prologue/Part 1:

Asmodeus:

It was difficult letting you go on an adventure without him, especially since you were taking the camera with you and he was all dolled up to the nines, looking way too good to not be in the pictures you were going to take... but then you offered him a reward he simply couldn’t refuse, IF he were to be patient. You took him by the hand, gazed into his beautiful eyes, and whispered low enough that he had to lean in close to hear your proposition. “Wait for me here and when I get back, we can dip into the hot tub and sip our favorite drinks until we’re pruny.” He practically kicked you out of the door so that you could hurry back and fulfill your promise.

In the time that you were gone, he busied himself with intricately arranging yours and his belongings until he felt you’d be proud with his eye for organization. By then, you hadn’t returned in the time he felt you‘d said you’d be back but... if he went out looking for you now, he might not get to be warm and bubbly with you later on and damn it, he was going to get that time with you. Once again, he tried to find something to keep his mind off of saying ‘the devildom with it!’ and going after you anyway. He flipped through magazines, scrolled on his D.D.D., sang and danced to his favorite human songs on the radio, but eventually, all he could think about was you. Wondering if you were ok, if you were having fun without him, what kind of pictures you might be taking to show him later... “Ok, that’s it. MC, sweetie, you’ll just have to forgive me.” He donned his comfiest and cutest winter trend setter, lathered the remaining exposed skin in protective lotions and creams because he simply CANNOT have his skin cracking or breaking, and stepped out the door to come find you- “Unholy shit...” The sky had darkened and the wind had picked up immensely. This is not good. For him, his skin, and much less you. He had to find you and fast. He spotted markings on the trees and the piles of stones nearby and he tilted his head. He knelt down to pick up a stone and eyed it a moment before he brought it to his nose for a quick sniff. It smelled of the lotion he had given you on one of your birthdays and for a brief moment, his heart flutters. You wore it constantly because it reminded you of Asmo and whenever you were feeling down, you’d take a whiff of yourself to feel closer to him and whatever was bothering you would instantly vanish. You told him this and he never forgot it nor did he ever let you hear the end of how happy it made him. Emotional in nature, Asmodeus started to tear up a bit as his fear of losing you increased. If he couldn’t find you soon, you’d surely be in danger if you weren’t already. He continued after you like a bloodhound, following you primarily by scent as his vision was becoming obscured by the blinding snow and ice. In addition, he would call out your name, hoping that by some unholy miracle, you’d hear his voice and come trudging through the snow into his arms. Today, he wasn’t so lucky.

Before long, your trail of markings and scent waned into nothingness and he came to a halt. “No, no, no, noooo!!” He turned in circles, sniffing until it hurt to do so, desperately trying to pick up your scent again but it never came. “Damn it!!” he cried as he dropped to his knees, a bit exhausted and heavily defeated. He couldn’t catch the tears before they trickled from his eyes so instead, he held his face in his hands and let them go. How could he have let this happen? The only one he could love more than he loved himself was probably stuck out here alone, terrified, and most likely hanging on for dear life but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it because he couldn’t find you. He was so overcome by his feelings of weakness and hopelessness that he almost missed the echo of your voice crying out through the storm. Almost.

He perked up in an instant, stumbling back to his feet before chasing the sound and calling after you. “MC?! Where are you, love?!” Although there was no reply, he continued in the same direction with your scent having picked up, until he came across the makeshift shelter you held up in. As he crawled in and got closer to you, he came to a complete stop before his jaw dropped to the floor and heart concaved within his chest. You were lying there like-... like you had been lying once before like a broken porcelain doll, abandoned and forgotten by it’s owner. He covers his mouth with his hand and began to cry once more, only this time in much more pain. Crawling over to you, he takes one of your hands in his and brings it to his quivering lips, gingerly kissing your hand before taking the rest of you into his embrace. “Oh MC... My sweet, sweet MC,” he whispers through his tears, “I’m so sorry.” The lump in his throat strangles the words that try to come out. “So very sorry.” He clutches you tighter, leaning his head against yours and rocking you in his embrace, telling himself this is a horrible dream. He never imagined days would come when someone else’s wellbeing came before his and yet the moment you had made a pact with him, he was immediately catching himself thinking of you before he ever came close to thinking of himself. It was incredibly bizarre... and he only wanted more. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that if fewer thoughts of himself meant more thoughts of you, he’d gladly take himself off the pedestal and place you on top instead. Unfortunately, this newfound wondrous feeling wouldn’t last long as the possibility of losing his source of selflessness and humility was rapidly increasing.

“As..moo...” His crying stops and he jerks up, looking down at you. For a brief second, he thought he heard you speak but seeing as you looked the exact same, he assumed he was starting to hear things. Until you said it again. “A..sm..oooo.” Any human would have thought that their ‘cheese had slid off the cracker’ because now, they’re hearing voices from beyond the grave, but Asmodeus knew better. He saw the curving of the delicate lips that your frozen face had allowed and he gasped. “MC!!” He tugs you ever so closer and snug to him that your spine could’ve snapped if he hadn’t of pulled away seconds later to litter your profile with swift and gentle kisses. When he’s done showering you in his smooches of relief, he stands up with you cradled to his chest and flies to back to the cabin to try and bring you back to the MC who once inspired him to be more by thinking of himself less. Besides, you owed him a dip in the hot tub and he wasn’t about to let some horrible blizzard take that away.

Beelzebub:

When you told this man that you wanted to go on a little scavenger hunt to check out the area, he thought you meant you were going to go see what kind of food joints were nearby and he was a little heartbroken at first, thinking you were doing such a thing alone. Without him. The avatar of Gluttony. But you assured him that you two would go together to do that later, and then buy as many groceries, snacks, and take-outs as he pleases as soon as you got back from a quick sight seeing. You also mentioned that you might find some berry bushes on your outing and you would bring some of those berries back for him to try. His cheeks dimpled and he gave you that smile that made your heart do cartwheels in your chest. For his cooperation, you gave him the location of the secret but not so secret because he could smell them anyway stash of your packs of fruit snacks. Ever since the pact, he has never been offended that you had ‘secret’ stashes because he understood all too well why you had to hide them away. His brothers did the same. But even still, you would always, and I mean always, share parts of your food with him so all he really had to do was wait for you to get hungry and surprisingly enough, it was almost as often as he would. You two were a match made in the celestial realm that could eat take the world by storm and he could never really put into words how much that connection that the of you two shared meant to him other than sharing HIS food with YOU.

Thinking of all of this food inevitably made him hungry so he went to your luggage, fumbled around a bit until he found them, and then gobbled down the full packs of fruit snacks, one by one, to hold him over until you came back. He then shuffled over to the couch to plop himself down and wait for your return. Before long, he was shifting and fidgeting in his seat as the cabin started to creak in the uncomfortable silence. He tried watching tv, doing little exercises, and eating more snacks but nothing was helping ease the uneasy feelings he was having.

There were many times in his life where the world around him seemed uncomfortably quiet. Yes, he was technically used to bouts of quietness with Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth himself, being his twin brother and roomie. But typically, Belphegor was at least in the vicinity; either quietly snoring across the room, resting himself against Beel in one way or another, or could be called on and they could reach each other in a matter of seconds. They were never too far apart nor were any of his other brothers for that matter, if Beel needed a distraction. But as life can be a bit unforgiving, Beel was left alone, on occasions, for long periods of time with nothing but his increasingly loud thoughts to keep him company. And mind numbingly loud they were. It would range between his memories from The Great War of battling angels he once called friends, his overwhelming guilt of not being able to save Lilith, a bit of leftover anger with Lucifer for locking his brother away and then lying to him about it, guilty anger over Belphegor’s attempt to kill you, but most of all... he’s bent to the point of breaking over the fact that he knows he has a problem with his sin, more so than his brothers, and yet celestial realm knows there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it and that is what hurts most of all. And when thoughts like these come knocking at- no- BEATING DOWN his door, he either works his body until he crashes from fatigue, goes on binges for months to drown them out, bottles it all up until it terrorizes him in his dreams, or all of the above. That is, until you came along. Whenever you’re around, his mind, body, and soul seem at peace, and no more does he feel that he is starving, or broken and in need of fixing, or so far beyond forgiveness for what he’s done and who he has become that no one should ever be around him again for he’d only hurt them in the end, unable to stop himself. With you around, the quiet nor his own mind are his enemies but rather, potential friends. Indeed, he still has his moments where the ‘darker’ silence still pays him visits but they have become fewer and farther in between. And it’s all because of you.

That being said, this is one of those ‘darker’ silence visits and before it can get any sort of footing in his mind, he shoots up from the couch and heads out of the door to come looking for you.

He noticed little digits in the trees and piles of stones lining up with a trail going in a particular direction. If he remembers correctly, Satan had once mentioned that humans used these types of techniques as a survival tool in order to find their way back or leave a trail to be found if need be. Wow, his human is a smart cookie- “Damn it.” Shouldn’t have thought that. His stomach growled as if it was summoned and he pats his belly in an effort to console it. “I know, I know. I’m sorry buddy. We’ll find MC soon and then we can go eat with them.” It practically purred in response.

Minutes passed of following your trail and the sky began to darken with the wind picking up, followed by the walls of snow and ice. This was unsettling as he knew that humans couldn’t really survive out in weather like this for long, no matter how smart or capable they were. It was even more unsettling that your markings had disappeared and you were nowhere in sight.

“MC!!” he calls after you but you don’t respond. He continues, over and over, calling after you yet only the wind calls back. There was only one solution left and it was one he didn’t particularly like. He could use his ability as the Avatar of Gluttony to enhance his senses and sniff you out but... the problem was in the fact that he only ever used it when he was particularly starving, so inherently, whenever he zeroed in on something, he was going to eat it when he found it. This didn’t bode well for you considering you, in particular, had an exceptionally appetizing scent and it was extremely difficult to ignore, even with a full belly on the rare occasions that it is and out of his demon form. But because he was out of options and time was running out on the possibility of finding you alive, he had no other choice than to shift into his demon form and zero in on your scent. By Lord Diavolo, it was immaculate. The oh so sweet aroma was speaking sweet nothings to his stomach and the growl it emitted could shake the earth, if not hidden away under flesh and bone. He could make out a ghostly outline of your old footprints, beneath layers of snow, leading in one particular direction. He followed blindly, his hunger now at the wheel and in full on stalking mode as an apex predator on the prowl. It lead him in a few circles before ending up at the miniature shelter and by now, your scent was overwhelmingly delectable to his senses. He ducked low and could make out your silhouette in the darkness. Inching towards you, his nails turned to darkened claws and his teeth bared themselves with an impending goal to devour you whole until there was no trace of you but the outline of the snow of where you once laid- “NO!!”

Beelzebub stripped his sin from the reigns of his mind and he dropped to his knees beside you before it could begin it’s feast. He shook his head, trying to completely erase the thoughts of consuming your body and the immensely alluring smell that lead him to you in the first place. He then looked back to you and your drooping, solidified form and couldn’t hold back the tears that started to trickle down his face. “M-MC...?” Your heart would’ve shattered, just as his did in that moment, upon hearing the pain in his voice. “MC, no... please don’t do this.” He takes your head in his hands and turns your vacant, expressionless face towards him to try and get you to wake up. His thumbs trace circles over your cheeks and he’s calling your name but with no reply. The hands that are usually ever so steady and gentle with you, the hands that you’ve come to love with your whole heart, now shake in bits of agony as he pleads with his entire existence for you to wake up and come back to him. You continue to lay there, upon the cold, hard stone with your empty eyes looking right through Beelz’s and he can’t take it anymore. He lifts you into his arms and races back to the cabin with your limbs dangling towards the snow. Once there, he gingerly places you on the couch and flies around the cabin, grabbing the things he needs to get you warm and bring you back to him. He strips you of your wet clothes and dresses you anew in dry pairs. He throws a plethora of blankets over your body, covers your hands with fuzzy mittens and your feet in multiple pairs of fuzzy socks, then wraps a scarf around your neck and adjusts it so that it comes up to just beneath the opening of your nose. Lastly, he tosses firewood into the fireplace and sets them ablaze before settling onto the couch, placing you between his legs and wrapping his large arms around your frame, snuggling his face into the crook of the scarf around your neck. He inhales deeply, taking the sweet scent of you into his lungs before exhaling and letting his tears fall again. His grip on you tightens as he’s torturing himself for allowing this to happen to you a second time, the one and only person who could ever really take all of the darkness in his life into the palm of their hands and toss it to the four corners of the earth like it never existed. Like it never even knew his name in the first place. Now it was his turn to take away your pain, your darkness, your mistakes and it terrified him because as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t feel as if he could, no matter how strong he was or tried to be. The only thing he was certain of was that he had try his damndest to bring you back but then wait for fate to decide the rest.

Belphegor:

To be honest, Belphegor didn’t exactly want to come up to the human world in the first place, for a couple of reasons.

(1): He still has a teeny tiny ginormous grudge against humans, even if he knows Lilith became one and you were one as well. That didn’t mean that the rest of them were not still thorns in his side and most likely will remain so until the end of time. Especially Solomon. I mean really, what is that sorcerer up to half of the time?

(2): There isn’t much he prefers to be doing more so other than sleeping. He’s the Avatar of Sloth, Mr. Sandman himself. It came with the ‘job description.’ So he would just be going from sleeping down in the devildom, his palace of comfort, to sleeping up in that Father awful human world, the bane of his existence. “What a joy that would be,” he thought to himself while rolling his eyes as you were in the midst of going over all of the reasons he should come with you on this trip.

And finally (3): As much as he refuses to admit it, deep down in his heart of hearts, he often times feels guilty for being so low energy while you attempt to do things with him and share your life with him. He’s angry with himself for not being able to do much about it given that it is his sin, other than try his best to spend as much of his waking hours with you as he can for as long as you live, rather than sleeping both of them away. Which is why he inevitably caved and agreed to come with you on the trip. Besides, maybe the human world isn’t so bad when he’s with his favorite one? And maybe the chill from the snowy mountains could be his obvious excuse for snuggling ever so close to you under the piles of blankets and pillows. A smug little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth while he imagines it, eyeing your frame slowly, up and down, before nodding at whatever you had just said... sorry, MC. He wasn’t really listening at the time.

That is how the two of you ended up waving goodbye as you stepped out of the cabin to go sight seeing for a bit and he stayed behind, assuring you he would try his best to stay awake and unpack. We both know how that went

He awoke to the sound of an alarm you had secretly set on his D.D.D. knowing all too well that his promise was empty and growled at the ringing in his ear, nevermind that it was as soft as a loving mother’s lullaby. He jerks up, fumbles his hands in and around the mountain of blankets in search of his device, until he feels the vibrations of it and snatches it from its snug hiding place between his rump and the cushions. The light from it was blinding, having him squint into a frown as he swipes away the alarm. He grumbles, scratching his head through the tuffs of chaos before lifting his intertwined fingers towards the ceiling and letting out a groan, stretching his limbs. “MC?” he calls with his eyes still closed in a grumpy squint. Assuming you simply didn’t hear him, he calls for you again, a little louder, and with no reply for the second time, his eyes finally open and he looks around the empty cabin. He wiggles out of the blankets and walks around, giving the entire cabin a quick once-over, looking for his little, seemingly hard-of-hearing human. That’s odd. You weren’t home and it was-...? He checks his D.D.D. It was about the time you said you would be back. He glances out of a nearby window and frowns. It was swiftly darkening outside and not because of the sun laying down to rest, but due to a vicious storm beginning it’s onslaught. It ticked him off that you hadn’t returned since he felt that you knew better than to leave him waiting for you and it ticked him off a little bit more that now, there was a storm brewing and he had to go out in the cold to drag you back himself before you got yourself killed. Being here was pointless without you and staying awake was quite difficult; Therefore, if you weren’t going to be there with him when he happened to be ‘with the land of the living,’ he would simply go back to sleep... angrily for that matter considering he put time and effort into staying awake for you. He never did that for anyone, not even Beel. So you had better have a good reason for still being out in the cold, soon to be cold storm, or there was going to be devildom to pay. But instead of laying back down to return to his rudely interrupted slumber, as much as he wanted to do so out of spite, he grabbed a coat that was thicker than the one he typically wore and stepped out to come looking for you and then eventually punish you for your transgressions. He sighed as he pulled the hood over his head in an effort to reduce the blasts of ice filled wind and shambled through the rising snow, looking high and low for any traces of you. That’s when he noticed the carvings in the trees and stone piles shaped in an odd fashion. “Ah... not so naive after all,” he mutters to himself and another one of his signature smirks makes its way to his face, but that soon fades as the wind picks up and his line of sight shrinks further and further. This storm was becoming a bit too strong, even in the eyes of a demon such as himself, and that thought alone gave him chills that no blizzard could muster for he knew that this kind of storm was not something humans typically survive in, especially alone. “MC, I swear on Diavolo’s very demon soul that if you’re out here goofing off, you’ll regret the day you came back from my attempt to kill you.” The threat was empty and uttered without any true intention of being carried out. He was simply masking his fear with anger because he felt that his fear would weaken him and you didn’t need someone who was weak, you needed a strong and capable Belphegor to find you and bring you back home, safe and sound... being that you’re still alive.

He followed your trail until it came to a complete stop and with you nowhere in sight, he leaned against a nearby tree, one of the last ones you had marked, and traced his finger along the outline of the markings in the bark. “MC!!” He shouts for you but you don’t respond. He shouts your name over and over but the wind simply swallows them whole. Those fingers he once had on the bark, curled and tightened into a fist and he inhaled deeply just as he was rearing back before delivering an earth shaking blow to the center of the tree, leaving a gaping hole in its wake before the giant finally slunk to one side, toppled to the ground, and sent clumps of snow up in the air. His body shook no longer from the cold, but from the fear and the rage and the guilt overtaking him. He was terrified that he was losing you. Angry over the fact that no matter how hard he was trying, he couldn’t find you, much less save you. And celestial realm only knows how immensely guilty he felt for being the cause of your possible death, both in the past and now. He was shifting in and out of his demon form, his mind and sin arguing over who gets to take the reigns. Regrettably, his sin won without too much of a struggle and he bursts into his demon form onto his hands and knees, and began to scream, balling his eyes right out of his skull. “Please, MC!! For fuck’s sake, I can’t do this alone!! I need you, damn it!! I need you so fucking much!!” The world itself seemed to darken even further as Belphegor poured his breaking heart right out of the newly vacant pit in his chest. Nothing in all of the three realms could pull him from his decent into madness...

...until the sound of your voice makes it way to his ears, past the baying wind and cries of agony. Time itself seemed to stand still and the world around him grew deathly silent as he listened for your voice. He hears it echo from not too far off from where he kneeled. In the time it takes lightning to reach the earth, he has wiped his tears clean off and is now on his feet and bolting in the direction of your voice. That oh so delightful sound of your voice.

He reaches the knockoff shelter that you hid away in and hunches down, making his way to you. As soon as he reaches you, he slows to a stop and places his trembling fingers against your neck, testing for a pulse. It’s dangerously low but his heart lightly flutters because now he knows there’s a chance that you could make it out alive... if he hurries. Refusing to give up, he takes you in his arms and bolts back to the cabin to try and warm you up. If he can save you, he will make the celestial realm seem pale in comparison to the world he will provide for you. If not... Father have mercy on them all.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #otome #mine #my posts #devildomdoofus #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mc

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salty-fang · 5 years ago

Text

Twisted fate: Sugar edition

Chapter 2-

Marinette thought she was getting better. She really did. After all, she had adjusted to Gotham’s dark atmosphere and had only cried about losing Adrien twice. Per day. For a month. She was puzzled as to how she had ended up snarfing down Rocky road ice cream whilst bookmarking photos of Adrien. Upon noticing his toothy grin, captivating eyes and playful demeanour, a wan smile fixed itself on her face.

“No. Bad Marinette!” She remembered how quick he dropped her for Gabriel’s wishes and felt the cold, clammy hands of betrayal lace themselves around her throat.

‘Tight. Too. Tight.’ Her chest constricted as she let out a choked gasp. Her hands reached to shut her desktop down. Memories, terrible memories, flashed in her eyes. She had recognised those olive-green eyes. Those eyes clouded by greed, thirst and hunger. Hunger to trample the hopes of any opposition. Hunger to humiliate her. Hunger to seize every last important thing from her.

In a flurry, photos of her and Adrien came raining down. The mirth and adoration in her eyes evaporated, replaced by pain and bloodlust. Her bluebell eyes radiated a frigid coolness as her eyes fell upon the picture of Adrien and her third anniversary. Traitor. Her doe eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. Anger rolled off of her with each picture she ripped. She had read the attacks, the taunts and jabs at her for being a ‘whore, gold-digger’ and ‘attention seeker’. She had seen Adrien’s unresponsiveness to the situation, leaving her for the hounds to devour. Coward. She’d seen pictures of Adrien and that witch frolicking as she was left to pick up the broken pieces of her heart.

An unquenchable flame raged in her heart. With every memory, the flame burned brighter until the ache for love became unbearable. She hadn’t asked to be broken. She hadn’t asked to not be good enough. She hadn’t asked to lose control of her heart like she did but it still happened.

‘We could never be satisfied,’ she thought. The dull thrum of her heart rang in her ears as silence hung in the air. She knew she was anything special but, damn it, she thought she could be enough.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding onto her sanity. A war waged in her mind as she searched blindly for anything, anything to ground her. She shouldn’t cry. He wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her. She wouldn’t -. A sound that could only be described as pure grief ripped through her throat, slashing the air. She rocked herself hoping, wishing and praying for his return to her.

She fondly whispered “He’ll come back. He always has, the idiot.” A glint of resignation shone in her eyes before she slept, her back against the wall by the door.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Damian loved Gina. He really did. He loved her composure in the face of danger and her frankly reckless attitude. But if one more person breathed her name, he would throttle them. So, when Todd teased Alfred for his fresh attire for Gina, he silently thanked the heavens for the opportunity to release some energy. He pounced, lunging for Todd’s throat wrapping his hands loosely. Nah, who was he kidding, his hands coiled tightly around his neck.

“Demon spawn, the hell?” Jason managed to choke out. Damian relished the pink hue that had crept up Jason’s face.

“Tim-no. Richard- ack, not you either,” Bruce started, voice hesitant. “Uh Duke?” he tried fumbling about for glasses and his coffee. “Ja-"

“Don’t even think about it old man, it’s Damian, you dolt,” Jason winced as he felt the nails dig into his neck.

"Ah yes, Damian, let go of him this instant. It is Damian, right? Right?" He heard the thud of someone's body hitting the floor.

Damian knew he hadn’t lost his touch. Assassin’s blood would forever run in his blood. His family were moronic buffoons, that he knew. But, if they thought he was turning ‘soft’ then they weren’t doing much to challenge the status quo and prove him wrong. They were simpletons through and through. And though he would never admit it, he loved them for it. As Jason warned him to watch his back, he couldn’t deny the thrill, the rush of adrenaline that ran through his body. Man, he loved this family.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette felt weird. She knew something was wrong. The lingering feeling had teased her subconscious for a while, now. And if the urge to constantly pee, excessive vomiting and constant fatigue was anything to go on... she was pretty certain she had an inkling as to what was happening.

All it took was that test and she had her suspicions confirmed. The two lines that appeared filled her with dread and excitement. Choosing to focus on the latter for now, she squealed, shaking and shimmying the best that she could with her heavy feet. She was PREGNANT.

Crap, she was pregnant. They hadn’t talked about children. They hadn’t talked about raising a child. Their apartment wouldn’t have enough space for all of them. They didn’t have a name. They knew nothing about childbirth. They simply weren’t ready. Worst case scenarios ran through her head. What if she wasn’t a good mom? What if Adrien left her? What if he hated their baby? Or worse, what if she hated her baby?

'Wait... they used p-p-protection. So how?’ The notion cut off her train of thoughts, turning her into a blushing mess. She could feel the heat sear through her cheeks and she could see the contrast of her freckles against her flushed face.

‘Oh no. She couldn’t tell Adrien; she couldn’t burden him like that. Not when he already had so much on his plate. She wouldn’t tell him but maybe she could hint at it. Yes, that would be the ideal course of action.’

Adrien really was the most oblivious human alive. Marinette had forgotten about that factor. Two months later and Adrien still hadn’t gotten a clue. She refused to believe he was that blissfully ignorant. She stroked her developing stomach, contemplating whether she would just tell him or surprise him with a kid. She was opting for the second option as Adrien had looked more stressed than ever, running errands for Gabriel more frequently. God, she hated that man. He constantly critiqued her for ‘not being good enough for his son. After all, she was a Baker’s daughter.’

Marinette could still remember the times when Gabriel had tried to persuade her to leave Adrien without an explanation. He’d threaten her, try to win her over with money; anything to let his son be rid of her. Marinette knew the pain of being left in the lurch. She knew the pain of wondering if it was her fault. She knew the pain of wondering where it went wrong. She wouldn’t do it to him. Not like that.

And then, he’d broken up with her. She had regretted nothing. She’d left him whole. Maybe a little damaged but not scarred. And that was most important to her. She’d regret nothing. It was the least she could do to salvage what was left of her chipped heart.

Marinette had awoken to tender kisses placed on her forehead. Her Nonna looked like a mess. She looked frazzled yet she focused her energy into calming a frantic Marinette.

“Netta, my fairy, I’m,” Marinette whimpered. She could hear the shakiness in her Gigi’s voice. She was a bad luck charm. She always caused pain for everyone. Slowly, she peered up at Gina expecting disappointment to be etched on her face. Yet her face shone with love and her eyes were filled with pity, no, guilt. “I’m so sorry. I broke our pact. I’m no better than them.”

She curled in on herself, head bowed, breaths shallow.

“I’ve hurt you Marinette, I’m a failure.” A short sharp ‘enough’ cut her off. Leaving no room for deliberation, Marinette said

“Nonna, please, if anyone’s a failure, it’s me. I mean who would want a single, unemployed pregnant woman?” Gina sat with wild eyes, jaw slack as she processed what Marinette had just said.

“Hold up, you’re PREGNANT?”

“Have been for the last three months but you know.” She shrugged. She’d processed this already but Gina hadn’t. Gina had switched from pained to bubbly in the span of a few seconds. She screamed before peppering Marinette with questions. Marinette had answered most of her questions and told her killing Agreste- which one she had been referring to was a mystery- was off the table. She’d crush him and make him beg for mercy in her own time. She told her how ‘Adrien hadn’t known’ and by the time they’d finished, it was past midnight. Gina pulled her into a bone-crushing hug before tucking her into bed.

Marinette woke up with a sore back, throbbing headache and bloodshot eyes. She noticed Gina had crashed on the floor beside her sofa. The events of what had occurred last night replayed in her mind. She really fell asleep with his picture beside her for comfort. She’d called his girlfriend a witch. How was she supposed to look him in the eyes after that? She couldn’t even look herself in the eyes. She really wasn’t looking forward to their ‘date’ today. She rose, albeit reluctantly, and stretched. With a steady hand, she applied her mascara onto her lashes. Clad in a baby blue sundress and floppy hat, she set out in a bid to meet Adrien.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette had arrived late but she had not expected this. Adrien and her had been enjoying their date and she had loved her triangle sandwiches. So, when Lila sashayed over, hips swinging , her mood soured and she groaned. Loudly. Apparently, that fuelled Lila's desire as she launched into an awkward kiss, teeth clashing against Adrien’s. Adrien remained motionless as she kissed him once. Twice. He felt her bite down hard on his bottom lip. He felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He felt her tongue slip into his mouth, demanding satisfaction.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ he wondered. ‘I should be enjoying this. So, why does it feel so wrong?’

He responded on instinct, battling her tongue with his own, with an intensity he had saved for Marinette. When they pulled apart, saliva intertwined and breaths heavy, he noticed the hungry look in Lila's eyes. She seemed to forget Marinette’s presence as she moved to straddle his hips. An over exaggerated cough had Lila leaping from his lap, yelping before her eyes settled on the culprit. Marinette. Lila chose to sit beside Adrien, wrapping an arm around his tense shoulders.

“Still disgustingly fake as ever Lie-la,” she drawled. “No personality but I see you have paid for implants.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but I’d be lying. And I don’t lie,” she blinked innocently. “Now scram before things get a little steamy for your virgin eyes.” Her obnoxious voice grated on her nerves. She bit back a comeback as the urge to puke bubbled in her throat. She couldn’t stop herself as she vomited. Heavily. On Lila. At least Adrien had the sense to bound away before he got hit.

Lila was pissed. Marinette had wrecked her outfit with her sick. She couldn’t twist the situation maliciously as anyone with eyes could see Marinette was pregnant. So, in blind rage, she punched Marinette in the face.

“You deserve more, bitch.” Lila spat at Marinette. Lila had intended to punch her in the stomach when she felt a hand wrap around her fist. Marinette had growled at her and she actually felt scared. For the first time in her life, she backed down. She stalked away towards ‘her Adriboo’, who was having a hard time stifling his laughter. She pouted as she realised that her pride bruised.

“That will teach you to mess with me Lila.” Marinette levelled a glare at her before she bolted.

'Run.

Run! Don’t look back!

Just run!'

She didn’t stop until she was safely on her balcony and so, she missed Adrien intervening, Lila screaming and the stranger slinking in the shadows. She just felt so dizzy. Her insides swirled and she slumped against the balcony ledge. The hand she clamped over her mouth made the sensation worse. She threw up and from the sounds of it, she had hit someone.

‘I have to stop puking on people,’ she thought as she heard the cry of indignation from below. ‘Poor sap.’ Slowly, she retreated back into the hotel room to get some rest before she met the people who made her grandma so happy.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Damian was having a horrible day. First, Grayson had chosen him as the latest victim of his matchmaking attempts. Sitting in a cat themed coffee shop, he had listened to an attention seeking gold digger ramble on about herself for an hour and a half. Did she not get tired of her own voice? He knew he had, for certain. He was ready to curse Grayson’s awful choice in people again when something piqued his interest. A harlot was engaged in battle with an angel. And from the look of discomfort on the harpy’s face, the blue-eyed beauty was winning.

He knew he shouldn’t have followed her when she left but he felt a strong pull towards her. He knew she felt sick but he hadn’t expected her to puke on him. Granted, he was hiding and the balcony was pretty low... but still. He screeched in disgust as his suit and hair were covered in what looked like bird shit. It smelt like it too. So yeah, pretty horrible day. At the very least, he could look forward to Gina coming to the mansion later today. She’d cheer him up. He just knew it.

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. When was she going to get here? A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from earlier.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Go check out the salt version @loveswifi

Taglist: @lunathealphafemale @sassakitty @krispydefendorpolice @blackmagicforever @nach0ava @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @moonlightstar64 @iloveitwhen @little-angel1031 @screwthisshit111 @rebecarojas07 @animegirlweeb @mystery-5-5 @moonystars14 @gingerdaile @spyofthenightcourt

#marinette dupain cheng #damian x marinette #daminette #damienette #lila rossi #adrien sugar #adrien agreste #lila salt #gina dupain

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devilishsahbi · 5 years ago

Text

Dark Wings, Dark Words (1/??)

"I WOULD THINK YOU'D have a nice gallon of vodka or two after that, except you're sitting in an alleyway with a Red Bull and looking at the wall." The demon at the back door grinned at her with a sly smile, watching the half breed flip him off and take another chug of the energy drink. Her fingers slipped clumsily over the aluminum can, wet and darkened with blood, leaving smears wherever she rested her hands. "On a brighter note, I'm glad you saved him. It would have been awful if he had died."

"I doubt any of you care if he did die." [Name] fumbled in her scrubs for a wet wipe of some kind, at least to get some of the more vivid parts on her arms, but came up empty. "You certainly didn't mind when I was elbow deep in his rib cage pulling out that angelic monstrosity."

She pointed lazily to the broken dagger blade laying across from her in the alleyway. Even detatched from its hilt and the hand of the owner, it glimmered dangerously with golden runes along the flat edge, lethal to any demon who touched it except for her. Her human blood came in handy sometimes when she wasn't being hated for it.

"Yes, well, what can I say?" He shrugged. The earrings in his ears glinted under the artificial light of the lamp post outside the door. "I'm the patron demon of sadism."

"Good point." [Name] took a final drink and crushed the can in her palm. She rocked forward onto her feet, wiping her hands on the legs of her pants. Another pair ruined with demon blood. "He should heal up just fine now that that's gone."

"What do I pay you?" Zotiel crossed his arms and leaned against the door. She clearly wasn't going back inside. "Lucifer says you're very expensive to work with."

"Did he?" She laughed and toed off her shoes. Those were ruined too, doused in the blood her patient had vomited when she palpated his stomach. The white was indiscernible from the dark liquid. "Let me keep that blade and I'll consider it paid."

"Deal." Zotiel smiled, holding his hand out to shake. An oddly human gesture, but she accepted it anyways, not the least bit shocked when he squeezed hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. He inhaled deeply, much to her disgust and amusement, eyes fluttering shut. When he opened his eyes again, he gave her a tiny shrug, but wasn't apologetic in the least. "Sorry. Your pain smells amazing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She pulled her hand free. "Or should I be concerned?"

"No. It was a compliment." His smile grew wider, his eyes darker. "You have my number if you want to explore it a bit more."

Not in this lifetime. She smiled at him one last time, turning on her heel and scooping up the dagger as she went. "Thanks for the offer, but no thank you. I'm going to head out now. Drop by if you're ever in the human world."

"Doubtful, but I'll keep it in mind. See you."

When [Name] was safely around the corner and far away from the storage building, she breathed a sigh of relief. Dealing with Zotiel had been a pain⏤Lucifer loved sending her on jobs that involved the demon, whether she wanted to or not, and got a sick kick out of every interaction she had with him. There had been far too many times where Zotiel got way too close for comfort and inflicted some kind of pain on her, even if it was something as simple as a pinch or poke.

If she'd had a choice, she wouldn't touch him with a thirty foot pole. And for extra measure, another ten feet, because she wasn't sure how far his range extended for sensing her pain. He'd even admitted, shamelessly, to finding even her emotional pain arousing.

The disgust she had felt when he told her that had followed her all the way to Lucifer's office.

"Ugh." She rubbed away the chills that raced up her arms and flicked out a cigarette from her back pocket. She never smoked often, but stressful situations like that one had her nerves on fire. It was why she had never completely dropped the habit, even after going cold turkey. "Why do I even bother?"

[Name] knew why she bothered. Without the underworld, she was nothing. Without the Devildom, she was nothing. The measly human side of her would fizzle away if she didn't have the Devildom to return to. It was the only thing keeping the awful urges at bay anymore. No one could pick out just what she got her power from, but she was abnormally powerful even for a half breed, alluring to even purebloods like Zotiel.

She had tossed around ideas like death or regret, but none of those seemed possible, seeing as she would be infinitely more powerful than she was now if that was the case. Whatever it was, it didn't require physical contact like Asmodeus, or the overabundance of eating like Beelzebub. It just was, and seemed to exist everywhere she went, even in Devildom.

[Name] shook herself roughly and took another puff of her cigarette. She didn't have time to bother with the origins of her power. She had to get to Lucifer's office, report her success, and return to the human world, take a quick three hour nap, and repeat it all over again. If she wasn't half demon, she would be dead ten times over already. Her stamina was astonishing, her lack of sleep even more so.

Luckily, no one questioned the back-to-back forty eight hour shifts she took without a wink of sleep.

She reached the House of Lamentation in record time, pocketing the dagger where no one could see or even sense it. One of her sorcerer friends, Solomon, had been kind enough to provide her with the spell to hide such a relic, but only after he wheedled a pact out of her and promised to only use it if he was dying.

To her surprise, she found Asmodeus and Mammon on the front steps, one sulky and the other irritated, glancing back to the door every so often. They would meet gazes, then look away, and repeat the entire thing. She wasn't even sure they heard her walk up until she was right on top of them, scaring Mammon to the point where he looked like an agitated cat, jumping a few feet in the air.

"Damnit, [Name]! What do ya think you're doin'?!"

"[Name]!" Asmodeus cooed, vastly more excited to see her, his pout taking a one-eighty as he cocooned her in a tight hug. The kiss he pressed to the side of her neck was a greeting at this point, even when he lingered a bit too long for her comfort. "It's so nice to see you again! I was worried Lucifer had fired you when you didn't show up for the raid last week."

"Could'a used your help then," Mammon supplied, in that same accusatory tone. He shoved Asmodeus aside and brought her into a hug of his own, though, even though he was as stiff as a board. He had taken to doing that after she yanked a spear out of his stomach and kept him from bleeding out by loaning him some of her power when he was worryingly weak. "Beel got sick an' Belphie took out a few minions."

[Name] patted his back and smiled when he parted from her, retreating to what she assumed was a comfortable distance for him. Any closer and he'd probably combust on the spot. She scratched her nose, cringing at the smell of blood. "Sorry, I was busy that whole week. My mother hasn't been the best lately."

"Oh! Mrs. [Surname]!" Asmo cheered. He knew the demon woman from a few centuries ago, she remembered, after she'd nearly snapped his neck for getting too close to her with the intent to seduce her. "The patron of disease. How is she?"

"Ya know she could just come back down here," Mammon suggested, leaning against one of the stone statues dotting the front lawn. "That's probably why she ain't feelin' too hot."

[Name] shrugged. "You know I can't make her, and besides… She refused. I do what I can. But why are you both outside?"

Asmodeus went sulky again. "The king released the prince from his bonds last week. If you'd been here, you would have heard everyone gossiping about it! And he's quite good looking, If I have to say myself⏤"

"Lucifer did somethin' to get on his bad side," Mammon finished. He tried to look unconcerned, but she could pick out the worry on his face like a beacon. "Somethin' 'bout defyin' him."

"Lucifer and his insufferable pride," she sighed. She rubbed her forehead, uncaring about the blood smearing across the skin. She could only imagine what Lucifer had told the prince. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes!" Asmodeus raised a finger. "You probably shouldn't go inside. I don't think Lucifer wants the prince to know you're here, or that you even exist. I'd suggest just going topside and reporting in later."

[Name] groaned. "I have a shift tomorrow, I can't do that. What's so bad about this Prince, anyways? He can't be that bad…"

Asmodeus and Mammon exchanged glances.

"Uh… He's pretty bad." The demon of greed screwed his face up as he recalled something. "I keep reportin' to him, so I'd know. I think ya should be careful around him. He's even got Luci on a tight leash."

Lucifer on a leash was something she couldn't imagine. But with the way that her two friends were talking about him, she figured she'd better take them seriously and just report later, like Asmo had said. She sighed and stretched out her arms, preparing her power to teleport back to the human world.

"Well, I guess I'll just report later." [Name] shrugged and let Asmo pull her into a quick side hug in farewell, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of pulling on her magic reserves. "It was nice to see you two. I'll be back when⏤"

Her mouth froze when the door opened and power pushed past the wards protecting the house. All at once, her teleportation spell fizzled out and she was out of breath, suffocated by the energy that swelled past the barriers. Asmodeus's face twisted up into worry and slight horror, reaching over to steady her before she really lost her balance and face planted.

Not even Lucifer managed to overpower her like this, and he had been one of the first angels, once upon a time. Or he was at least stifling his to where she could converse with him comfortably without succumbing to her baser instincts⏤the demonic side that always purred at the thought of power.

Lucifer came out first, but he wasn't the source. His energy was calm and cool, most of the time, and not boiling hot, as if she were standing too close to a fire in an insulated jacket. He was frowning, displeased, and it deepened even further when he caught sight of her steadying herself on Asmo's arm, winded.

The demon inside her was unusually quiet.

"Whatever ya do, don't provoke 'im," Mammom advised, moving to her other side to rest a firm hand on her shoulder. He completely ignored the bits of gore left on her scrubs. "Don't talk unless he speaks to ya. Just be quiet. He'll ignore ya."

It didn't stop the dread creeping up her legs like phantom chains.

Out next came the source of the power⏤the topic of their discussion.

The Prince of Devildom.

[Name] was sure that if she wasn't so winded, her breath would have hitched at his appearance. He was tall, a few inches more than Beel, and he was already tall enough. His skin was golden bronze, nearly the same color as Mammon's, unusual as nearly everyone else was as pale as the moon. His hair was a deep crimson, reminiscent of fresh blood, and even from her distance, she could tell his eyes were a bright, burning gold.

Her fingers tightened in Asmo's bicep. He mistook it for fear and patted her knuckles soothingly.

His clothes, though, were spattered with blood. The white shirt he wore was ruined beyond saving, and behind him, a butler held a blazer in his arms, stone faced and nonchalant. [Name] probably admired his physique more than she should have, gradually regaining her breath and watching the muscles in his arms flex when he crossed his arms.

He was terrifyingly handsome.

She nearly forgot she was supposed to be breathing for a moment.

The prince ignored Lucifer entirely, a slight that showed as he walked past the former angel and walked down the steps at a leisurely pace. His butler followed, his own power nothing to scoff at, and she realized, belatedly, that they were walking towards them.

This time she felt Asmo and Mammon's grip on her tighten, not her own.

Her concern was for nothing. They walked past without a glance in their direction, the butler not even regarding them with a glance.

She sighed in relief. It was too soon.

[Name] heard a quiet sniff and it didn't belong to Mammon or Asmo. Lucifer's face drew tight. The demons beside her stiffened.

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

The prince paused half a foot from them, his head tilting towards her direction. The butler moved as he turned on his heel, poised easily to look back at her halfway.

[Name] swallowed the curse that was bubbling up in her throat.

"A half breed?" She felt his scorching gaze sweep up the length of her body, from her toes to her head, lingering on the blood dyeing her arms red, then at the necklace on her throat. Her mother's necklace. She had to fight not to tuck it in her shirt. "I didn't know Lucifer kept half breeds in his employ."

"Yes." The butler nodded. "A recent addition. A healer."

Asmo's quiet intake of breath wasn't lost on her. Clearly this demon had some sort of knowledge that they didn't.

"What's your name?" Those eyes were fixed on her again, boring into her own like molten gold. Now she really couldn't breathe.

Mammon's tightening grip on her shoulder, close to fracturing bone, told her to answer.

"[Name]," she answered, but it was strangled, breathy as she struggled underneath the power he was letting off. His eyebrows lifted, ponderous, then he turned away. She felt as if someone had left her out to melt on a hot sidewalk.

"Pretty name." His mouth quirked up, just a bit. "Let's go, Barbatos."

[Name] melted just a little more.

And then they were gone, like they had never even been there to begin with. She took a breath and slumped against Mammon, who was for more rigid than Asmo, and rested her hand over her chest, wincing at the ache from having her breath stolen for so long.

"This is bad," Mammon sighed, wrapping his arm around her back when her legs went wobbly. "Really bad."

"Definitely." Asmo shook his head in agreement. "Let's get you inside, [Name]. You can report while you recover."

The whole walk inside, those golden eyes haunted her.

Not even Lucifer's angry frown could stop it.

#obey me #mafia au #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo

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jaxsteamblog · 5 years ago

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Hidden

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

In the morning, Katara walked into the kitchen to see Suki draped on Sokka as he cooked something at the stove. Her arms were around his waist and her chin perched on his shoulder. They swayed together and then there was a pop before a streak of Sokka’s swearing.

“You’re at least wearing a shirt while making bacon right?” Katara asked as she sat on one of the stools at the small island. Suki turned around and smiled at her, letting Katara see that her brother was appropriately attired.

“Want some coffee?” She asked and Katara nodded.

“So that was a lot.” Suki said as she poured coffee into two mugs. Still swaying around the kitchen, she opened the fridge with her foot, held onto the mugs by their handles in one hand, and grabbed a container of creamer with the other. Using her hip to close the door, Suki hummed a little bit before putting everything down next to Katara.

“You’re in a good mood.” Katara remarked and Suki beamed at her before turning again to open a drawer. Sokka turned into her place, depositing strips of bacon onto a plate padded with paper towels.

“A lot is happening.” Suki said cheerfully, returning with small spoons. They started to make their coffee while Sokka returned to the stove, swiftly cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Too much.” Sokka added gruffly and Suki rolled her eyes as she leaned over the island, holding her mug up in her hands. She still drank hers black, as they all had when running through war zones, but Katara liked the extravagance of cream and sugar. She sometimes took it a step further and splurged on flavored creamer.

“So, the Blue Spirit huh?” Suki asked over the rim of her mug, raising her eyebrows before taking a sip. Katara scoffed but took a drink as well.

“It’s not a big deal.” She replied.

“I don’t know, I remember you being awfully reluctant to talk about the help you got at the river factory.” Suki said.

“That was years ago and doesn’t matter any more.” Katara replied.

“Do you think he still has the mask?” Suki asked.

“SUKI!” Both Sokka and Katara yelled in unison.

“What? I do.” Zuko interjected.

Katara groaned, slapping her palm to her face as he took a seat next to her.

“It was my mother’s. I wasn’t going to get rid of it.” Zuko continued.

“You absolutely should have. That is going to be the thing that ignites a coup you know, when someone like your sister finds it.” Sokka said, bringing over a platter of scrambled eggs.

“I’m not worried. But hey, it makes sense now why you’re always thinking about that kind of stuff. I guess you’re a prince like me now, huh?” Zuko remarked. Katara looked up to see Sokka give him a withering look.

“I don’t like talking about that.” He said firmly, almost angrily.

Katara turned her face away, but still saw Suki go to him, putting a hand on Sokka’s back before leaning her head onto his shoulder.

Sokka was a lot like their father and fell in love quickly. And it was hard enough for anyone not to have fallen in love with the radiant light that filled Yue.

“And the royal family isn’t really going to work like that anymore. Apparently, Arnook is going to invoke some ancient law that says only a Waterbender can inherit the throne. If Katara doesn’t have a magic water baby, I get nothing.” Sokka said, sounding calmer.

“What if you have a magic water baby?” Zuko asked.

Sokka and Suki looked at each other; he chuckled while Suki smiled.

“Two non-Benders? One of whom is from a long line of people living in Kyoshi?” Suki replied.

“Doesn’t the Fire Nation have something like that though?” Katara asked.

“Sort of. It’s a mix of bending ability and bloodline. If I were to have a non-Bender heir, it might still work out considering I’m the descendent of Avatar Roku.” Zuko answered.

“Excuse me? You’re what?” Katara asked.

“Are you serious? You still haven’t looked up anything about me?” Zuko asked.

“There’s a whole HummFeed Unsolved about the disappearance of his mother.” Sokka said. Zuko winced.

“And I don’t like talking about that.” He said, then sighed. “Plus, that episode is banned in the Fire Nation. She wouldn’t be able to watch it here anyway.”

“Okay, let’s just air everything out. No more secrets, no more hidden knowledge.” Katara said and turned to Zuko. “Give me the rundown.”

“Ah, okay. Um.” He stammered and ran a hand through his hair. “My father is the Fire Lord, I’m his heir, but I was also the vigilante known as the Blue Spirit that tried to disrupt imperial forces. After the war, I went to college under a fake name to study, met Sokka, we survived an assassination attempt when I was discovered, and so my uncle paid for his store in thanks for his saving my life.”

“WHAT? YOU SURVIVED A WHAT?” Katara faced her brother who, holding a forkful of eggs, shrugged and continued eating.

“What about you?” Zuko asked as Katara vigorously rubbed her face.

“Sokka and I left home to find our parents and we quickly got tagged by the Fire Nation navy when they found us on the wrong side of a blockade. We escaped with the help of the Kyoshi Warriors, but they trailed us to the North Pole thinking that I was,” Katara drifted and Sokka stood rigid.

“Kat, you don’t have to-” He started but she held up a hand.

“Fair is fair.” She replied.

“They thought I was the Avatar.” Katara continued. “So when they attacked the North Pole and Zhao, did what he did, I made a pact with the ocean spirit and dragged him down into a canal to drown him.”

“What.” Sokka croaked.

Tears fell down her cheeks but she smiled, her breathing hitched and ragged.

“Afterward, not finding either of our parents, we went from prison to prison to find them. Along the way we met up with Suki and her people. Suki got arrested and ended up in the same prison as my father, so two birds, one stone. Then we got into another prison and found my mother. And Hama.” Katara stared into her coffee, stirring the liquid slowly. “I learned things that still haunt me, my mother died, and now that I’m saying all of this out loud, I probably have PTSD.”

“Katara, you burned eight prisons to the ground and you’re a Waterbender.” Sokka said. “Yeah, I think you might have a little PTSD.”

Katara laughed but they all very quickly fell silent. Sniffling, Katara wiped her eyes and slapped her hands on the island counter top.

“But none of that is going to get fixed today so I’d like some breakfast and more beach time.” She said.

“I’m down.” Suki said.

“I don’t feel like that’s the healthiest course of action.” Zuko said weakly.

“Oh yeah? You got a Ph.D. in psychology to help out with that? Or did you study PoliSci?” Sokka retorted.

Zuko and Sokka started to bicker while Suki got plates for everyone, handing one to Katara and giving her a one armed hug. Kissing Katara’s cheek, Suki leaned her head against hers.

“You okay Tara?” She asked. Katara shrugged and pressed her head back toward Suki’s.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to someone when I get home though.” She replied.

“Good.” Suki said and dumped a large scoop of eggs onto Katara’s plate, making it tip away from her. “I know a good veteran’s group in Ba Sing Se.”

After breakfast, Katara got her wish and they started packing up for the beach. This time, Suki unearthed an instant camera from her suitcase. She started to take pictures, shaking the wobbly film as she avoided Sokka in the hall. Her laughing shrieks made Katara relax but she was still surprised when Suki thrust the camera into her hands.

“I need you to be in charge of this for awhile.” Suki said and winked before lowering a pair of sunglasses on her face.

Right as they were about to head down, Katara stood in the back sunroom. Zuko stood on just the other side of the screen, looking down into the cooler. Slowly lifting the camera, Katara took a picture of his peering thoughtfully down into the ice. At the snap, Zuko looked up and smiled.

“You look awfully contemplative.” Katara remarked.

“One always has to consider the most effective way to move supplies.” Zuko said.

“You guys ready?” Sokka asked, tossing a towel at Katara before pushing open the screen door.

This beach day was much calmer. Katara swam while the others stayed in the shallows. Suki moved through the water, her pants rolled up as she bent over picking up shells.

As Katara waded up through the water, Suki gestured with her head and winked. Confused, Katara wrung out her hair as she walked to the towels. As she sat down, Zuko came and sat beside her.

“I got kicked out.” He said and Katara looked down at Sokka and Suki. They were standing close together and Suki was pulling shells out of her bucket.

“Hand me the camera.” Katara said. Quiet, Zuko fumbled through their bag and handed Katara the camera.

As she raised it, she saw Suki look up and toward her.

Katara took a picture of Suki showing Sokka the bucket. She handed Zuko the picture. She took a picture as Suki pulled out a shell. She handed the undeveloped picture to Zuko. She took a picture as Suki knelt in the sand. She took a picture of Sokka putting his hands in his hair. She took a picture as Sokka fell on Suki.

“Did she just…?” Zuko asked. Katara lowered the camera and nodded.

Zuko started to laugh and Katara smiled as Sokka and Suki got back onto their feet. When the two came up to the towels, Katara could see her brother shaking.

“Congratulations!” Zuko said and Sokka fell onto his knees before plopping facedown on his towel.

“Since we were getting everything out in the air.” Suki said and sat down, rubbing circles on Sokka’s back.

“Let me see.” Katara said, poking Sokka in the ribs. He flopped out his arm and Katara picked up his hand. The band was titanium with a Water Tribe motif carved around the ring in the middle.

“That’s amazing.” Katara said and then looked over at Suki. “Sorry for making your morning so depressing.”

Suki let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s what it always was though right? Falling in love with the world falling apart?” She said and looked down at Sokka. “We take the good with the bad. Pain is a part of life.”

Sokka turned his head to lay on his cheek, looking up at Suki.

“Well isn’t this just adorable.” A chilled woman’s voice said. Zuko’s eyes widened and Katara turned to look.

Azula, Mai, and another woman stood, looking back.

“Still taking the good with the bad?” Sokka groaned.

“This world likes to test me.” Suki said.

Their beach day was cut short and Zuko closed himself in an office with Azula. The rest of the group could hear them shouting, but Mai looked bored. The third woman had introduced herself as Ty Lee and looked strained enough for two people.

“So why are you all here?” Sokka asked.

“Azula found out Zuko was here and decided to drop in.” Ty Lee said with a massive dose of forced cheer.

“It was mostly that she found out he was here with you.” Mai said, looking pointedly at Katara.

“And how’d she find that out?” Katara retorted.

“I’m allowed to talk about where my boyfriend is.” Mai said.

Katara put her hands on the back of a chair and ice formed around her fingers. Noticing the chill, she took a deep breath and pried her fingers free.

“I’m not going to be here for this.” She stated. Pushing the chair away, Katara marched toward the front door.

“Katara.” Sokka called out.

“I need some space.” She said gently. “I’m sorry I keep walking away.”

Suki held onto Sokka’s arm and he held her hands.

“We’ll be okay.” Suki said.

Katara walked out of the beach house and into the wide cul-de-sac. The other beach houses were spread out, quietly ignoring each other to create the illusion of isolated privacy. Sand soaked the lawns and covered sidewalks, making Katara’s flip flops slip over the surface and spray grit up the back of her legs.

Taking a walk wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. It wasn’t what drew her, and she quickly abandoned her route. Taking a wide berth around the house, Katara skidded down the sand dunes and walked to their part of the beach. Hiding behind a dune, she shed her clothes and darted to the water.

Here she could think.

Katara spent a few hours in the water, her thoughts slowly floating through her mind. Nothing really came from it, except that she realized she needed to think more about a few things. It felt like she kept trying to walk away from a lot.

As the sun started to inch toward the horizon, Katara got out of the water. With her bending, she dried herself and pulled on her clothes. While not damp, they were still covered in sand and she grimaced.

Heading up the stairs, Katara sighed but froze as she heard voices.

“Why are you talking to me about this?” Mai asked.

“Right, I should definitely talk to Sokka about my feelings toward his sister.” Zuko said.

Katara looked around, hearing the voices advance, and she darted into the outdoor shower. She pulled the curtain closed as the porch door creaked open.

“Well you absolutely shouldn’t be talking to your girlfriend about your feelings toward another woman.” Mai remarked.

Leaning against one wall, Katara peered out of the gap from the weathered curtain. Mai and Zuko sat on the small steps leading down to the sandy space before the dunes.

Zuko looked uncomfortable and Mai sighed.

“No, I get it. I do.” She insisted and pushed Zuko’s shoulder. “I used to have a crush on Sokka.”

Katara covered her mouth and nose, stopping her attempt to gasp. Zuko looked just as stunned.

“What?” He asked.

Mai blushed a bit, turning her face away and tucking her hair behind an ear.

“It was when you started college. I always liked the idea of being with someone,” Her blush deepened and she kept her hand at her ear, slightly shielding her face. “Silly.”

“Silly?” Zuko repeated in absolute shock.

Mai covered her face and actually made a strangled noise that sounded like amusement.

“It’s just, I never experience life like that!” She said and opened her hands. “People like him and Ty Lee make everything more colorful.”

“And I’m not silly?” Zuko asked.

Mai leaned her head back, looking at him from an angle.

“Zuko, you’re awkward and soft. Our relationship has made me feel like I’m swimming in pudding.” Mai said and turned in her seat.

“Ouch.” Zuko replied and winced.

“Katara is dramatic, strong-willed, and, from what I’ve been hearing, she’s kind. You don’t need someone that’s your opposite, you need someone that compliments you.” Mai laid her hands down on her lap, palms up. “We were put together because of politics and I know I can be happy with you. But will you be happy with me?”

Zuko looked down at her hands and slowly put his on top of hers.

“I don’t think I can.” He said softly.

“But you’ll do the honorable thing and marry me anyway. Forever miserable but never straying to make sure you don’t make me lose face.” Mai said. Zuko sighed and his shoulders sagged.

“I don’t really know what to do here.” He said.

“I can’t make any choices for you. But I’m your friend Zuko. I’ll help you figure it out, no matter what you choose.” She laughed and looked down at their hands. “It’s not like I haven’t stood up to my parents before.”

“Thank you Mai.” Zuko said.

“You can thank me after you actually made a decision. Which, knowing you, will take a stupidly long time since you’re-”

“-soft and awkward. Yeah, I got it.”

They laughed and Katara felt her chest tighten.

“I’m going to go back inside and get your sister to leave.” Mai said and leaned in, kissing Zuko’s cheek. “Try not to burn anything down.”

“One time!” Zuko remarked as Mai stood up.

Katara pressed her back against the wall of the shower and stared up at the open sky above her. Water dripped slowly from the shower head, hitting the sandy floor with heavy splats.

It did feel a little bit like she was walking through pudding.

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

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another-om-mc · 5 years ago

Text

prequel to [this] @himbo-beel

That stupid fucking kid! Fuck angels and fuck Luke in particular. I hope he can hear me damning him to hell. Lucifer in his demon form is a sight indeed, should he have been any other, personality wise, it would be potentially a beautiful figure, but the mutual animosity taints the image. Well, that and the fear of death.

Magic. We learned a spell for this! He’s attacking and hes coming for us! The adrenaline has already kicked in and everything is moving so slowly, but even then hes so fast. This stupid angel kid is going to be the death of us, my dumb brain is going to be the death of us, Mammon, and Beel, and fucking… Lucifer is going to be the death of us!

“clypeus!”

It worked! It’s working... It’s not fast enough! Everything is so slow, and I can see the shield of magic forming, its gold... that makes sense. I want to protect them, it’s a desire so therefore a greed in a sense, so it makes sense. It’s so weird to see it; I’ve never used this kind of magic; I’m not that brave. My hands sting like burning grease is poured on them, the pact with Mammon probably giving strength to the magic itself; but it’s so thin. Maybe if I want more? Please, make it thicker! He’s so close! I want to protect them, I want to help, I want to live! I want I want I want I want I want I want I want – WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

Why did she step out! Mammon is so fast, why didn’t my shield spread fast enough?! Shannon is already stepping out; she didn’t see me, or didn’t know what I was doing, or- who cares it doesn’t matter, I want to protect her most and she’es not behind the shield!

Shes yelling at him, and everything is so fast now! The tint of gold between us is gone faster than it appeared and I need to catch her. Beel and Mammon are moving so much faster than me. I’m no good at this. I’m so useless useless useless useless -CRACK.

Oh no.

Seconds. Seconds out of my grasp and I don’t know if she’s ok! I’ll kill him if she’s not ok!

I know I’m scrambling and fumbling and not very coordinated; it’s hard to see, my fingers are numb, my blood feels like ice, my hands hurt. My hands... they’re in her hair and its so slick. I don’t need to look at it to know it’s blood; what else would it be, but it isn’t everywhere, so she must be ok? “PLEASE!” I don’t want to shake her but she isn’t responding and I don’t know enough! I don’t know any healing magic yet! They didn’t cover it! “Wake up!” I can’t see, and I can’t help, I can hear them all arguing and fighting, and things are breaking. She’s so much taller than me, I can’t pick her up to leave with her. Useless. All I can do is fucking cry and wrap around her so no one can touch her. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

Someone’s touching me!

I whipped around so fast, teeth bared and snarling too much like an animal. I still can’t see, even when I try to blink away the stinging moisture, its still so blurry, but I can see orange, and it’s fine. It’s Beel. I can trust him. Is he ok? I can’t even tell.

“Please?” I don’t even know what I meant but that; please help? Please just pick her up for me? Please don’t let her die because I’m selfish... I don’t even know if he heard me, I couldn’t even hear myself, but he picked her up any way. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He’s walking away with her and I scramble after them, digging the back of my hands into my eyes so I can see. I don’t what to look at the blood. Normally I don’t care about blood, but right now isn’t normal. Nothing about this place is normal.

I had a thought to look around, see who else was still here, what was going on, but I didn’t. I just watched my best friend lay like a corpse in Beel’s arms as he carried her to who knows where and followed like a kicked puppy.

Guilt. My fault. I did that to her. She wouldn’t have been hurt if I wasn’t so nosey. I keep hurting her.

We’re in ... a room? Who’s room is this? It’s cute.... There’s two beds? Beel. It has to be his room.

He’s setting her on his bed and I still don’t know what to do... “Thank you.” It’s still a whisper, but he nodded, so I know he heard me. I wonder if he thinks it’s my fault too. He should.

I keep wringing my hands; I didn’t even notice I’d been doing it. I hope Mammon doesn’t feel how gross it suddenly feels. The smeared half dried blood. The guilt. ... He doesn’t need to feel more guilt.

What if I had used my pact? What if I had told him to protect her? Would that have been better?

Theres a loud growl and I jump out of my thouhts and snap my attention to it and sigh; It’s just Beel. He looks so uncomfortable. I’m sorry.

“I’ll make food, if you stay with her.” He looks at me, a lot less hate than I expected. I show him my hands in the most minor way; I realy want to wash them. Please know I want to wash them. “She would mush rather wake up to you, I’m sure.” The smile is so forced, I don’t even have to see it and I hate it, but it’s true. She probably hates me now... that’s fine though, I hate me too... “She likes you, it’d probably help.” I failed, I failed her specifically even, why would she wanna see me first thing?

“Can you make that much?”

I laughed a little; I don’t really know why. “Yeah.” I nod.

#first person pov #2P AU #obey me #obey me au #angst

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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years ago

Text

2 _ 29 The Biljka Pact

Waiting for nothing.

That’s all it was. Bundled up in a blanket and just waiting for them to return, but when would that be? Arthur hadn’t been too elaborate about the whole thing when he burst in.

“We found Vi, she’s okay.” Arthur was frantic and spoke in short bursts of words. Dimitri had no easy time putting the sentences together, hadn’t been too sure if the little half choked grunts Arthur spat were meant to be vocalization. The scrawny blonde dove into the back of the van and fumbled around. “Something’s come up,” Arthur burbled. He took the keys, a spare bag, food, and left Mystery in charge. Mystery didn’t seem overly exuberant about the last command, but he was a dog after all.

This cryptic news barely relieved Dimitri from the stiff worry he held, since learning of Vivi’s disappearance and the probable cause. They were all correct in their hypothesizes, somehow something altered the way people thought, robbed them of empathy, and now the Mystery Skulls were out there, most likely searching for his brother. Probably. Dimitri remained apprehensive, he wasn’t there to make sure they wouldn’t fall back into the manipulation, and he wasn’t there to make sure they did find his brother. He wanted to be there, but… he was truly afraid, though he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t put up a fight when Arthur zoomed out of the van – Dimitri had been stunned, everything happened so fast, a word edgewise would not have made a difference.

With the engine was cut off the heat that had thwarted the biting chill faded in mere of moments. That did stir Dimitri to reach for the driver side door. If he hurried he could catch up before they got lost in the woods, make sure the group kept safe and focused. The police force and volunteers spent weeks searching the woods, miles and miles of land covered in the span of a few weeks. Not one prson ever reported anything unusual… or they kept it quiet.

As he scooted towards the door, Mystery rolled off his lap and maneuvered between Dimitri and the door. Dark paws pressed into Dimitri’s coat and Mystery refused to budge, his red eyes caught the moonlight and reflected a crimson light. At first, Dimitri was speechless, until he realized how close he was to Mystery’s snout.

“Calm down, Mystery. I just want some fresh air.” But the mutt only straightens his legs out and placed his paws over Dimitri’s shoulders and held onto him, in a kind of hug. “Would you move!” Dimitri struggled to get the dog off him, and get out of the blankets they were tangled up in, but Mystery was stubborn and maintained his rigid posture with ease. “Okay, fine,” Dimitri grumbled, and sank back into the seat.

Satisfied with the surrender, Mystery curled down on the blankets with Dimitri and rested his head on his paws. But always the dog kept one eye open, wary of his charge and any slight movement.

The Mystery Skulls faded into the swirling curtain of the forests edge. Dimitri watched the lawn for a span longer, wondering what it was they had found. Arthur had told him nothing, only that Vivi was located and they….

He looked at Mystery again, and the red eye gleamed amidst the blue fur. “It’s cold up here,” Dimitri said. “You wanna sit in the back where its warmer?”

Mystery only watched him unblinking. After a time of staring, the dog raised himself from the cushion and allowed Dimitri to free his legs. He wasn’t far behind Dimitri’s gradual movement, until the two had settled behind the bench seat, the blanket was dragged down after Dimitri as he wound it around his shoulders. A sudden sneeze ignited from Mystery, and his collar rattled in the dark as he gave himself a hard shake. That felt good.

“Hang on. Do any of these lights work?” Dimitri was going through the cuvees looking for the one that he usually saw Arthur pull a battery out of. He had imagined the little makeshift slots in the vans wall to be interdimensional pockets, and whatever you could need would be provided if only you sought it. It took a minute of blind searching, but Dimitri found what felt like a flashlight, and a few lost batteries that had fallen from the package. He unscrewed and screwed on the cap of the flashlight in the dark gloom, and before finally he put the batteries in the correct order.

“There. That’s better.” Dimitri shined the light around and Mystery winced, as he raised a paw to his spectacles. “Sorry.” He propped the torch beside one of the larger overnight bags the group carried, and sat down. It looked like Vivi’s, her blue color. An amber bag was not far from it, by the wall. They carried a lot of personal gear, color coordinated – blue and yellow.

Dimitri freed a hand from the blanket and tugged at the chain around his neck and pulled the glossy, carved rock out from his shirt. His eyes moved past it and to the back doors of the van, and for a short time he studied the doors as his other hand fumbled with an item he’d plucked out of a cuvee. He wondered how far they’d managed by now.

Mystery ‘oofed’ at him. And what are you doing there?

The twine was tied around its spool, but Dimitri managed to work off the tied end and pull out some slack. When Mystery ‘urfed’ at him again, Dimitri only smirked in the thin veil of yellow light and shifted to face Mystery with his back. “It’s a game,” he offered. “Cats-cradle.” He could do the bridge, a tower, and cats whiskers, but those were all easy. “It’s mostly you doing stuff with the string, until it gets into a knot. The goal is not to make a knot, but it’s tricky.”

This explanation didn’t seem too suspicious, and Dimitri was only a child after all. Curious, Mystery shuffled closer to Dimitri’s shoulder and watched as the boy pulled the string through the tied loop of the twines end. Dimitri moved a little more away from Mystery’s stare, but Mystery set a paw on his shoulder to politely deny Dimitri from further movement, and Mystery brought his attention back to where Dimitri’s hands spun and twisted. Dimitri’s hand gestures didn’t strike Mystery as complex or coordinated, but he had not managed a knot in the thread yet so it was presumably a success.

“Actually, this part is kind of hard,” Dimitri murmured. “Can you help me?” He held up his palms and shows Mystery the twine zigzagged between his hands. “You just need to take this thread right here,” he twisted his hand over to point out the specific length, “and pull it. Or… would that be hard for you? You’re a dog after all.”

Mystery drew his head back and frowned. I am not just a dog. But this was NOW highly suspicious. On the other hand (paw), if he was careful Dimitri couldn’t do much but be disappointed. As long as he wasn’t focused on running off, this little diversion could work well for Mystery. Two could play this little game.

Dimitri smiled as Mystery moved around, face to face with him, and sat. The dog raised one paw, his bandaged paw, and took the side of the indicated thread in his claw. He pried it back, and Dimitri carefully worked so as not to slip the selected thread free as Mystery tugged.

“I always have trouble with this part,” Dimitri went on. He sighed, his breath fading on the frigid air. Mystery drew his paw back as the boy spun one hand over, and gripped several loops of thread between his fingers. “Oh geez, look at that.” Somehow, Dimitri managed to coil a loop of twine around many of his fingers. “This is why they don’t let kids at my school play this game anymore. Here, can you hold this?”

Mystery reached a paw up to paw at the threads with his claws. While Dimitri spoke, he looped a coil of thread through the mess he made around his fingers and snagged it around Mystery’s raised paw. Wait a minute—

As this registers to Mystery, the dog recoils onto his back legs and Dimitri looped a lasso of thread around his other paw, then yanked the bundle taunt from the string still attached to the spool he held. Alarmed barks and yelps leap from Mystery as he twists away, but the more he tugged on his paws the tighter and closer they snagged together.

Dimitri lunged, tackling Mystery to the side and pressed the thrashing dog down with his body. Mystery’s alarmed cries became muffled as the blanket slipped over his head. “I’m sorry, Mystery! Really! I would never do this to you! You’re a good dog, I really like you!” Dimitri straddled Mystery’s shoulder blades, and pulled more of the twine from the spool. The little bundle of thread tumbled around the two as Dimitri worked. Mystery’s paws had been pinned to his side, and Dimitri hastened to get them secured together before Mystery had a chance to recover and buck him off. “Just try not to struggle, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

I’m not worried about myself! Mystery capacities were limited in Dimitri’s presence, he could only lay there annoyed and dumbfounded he’d let his guard down. Still, he fretted over what Vivi would say if she found him like this. He vowed he’d never let that happen again, and yet here he was. This was beyond embarrassing.

After Mystery front paws were secured, but not too tightly, Dimitri stood up off Mystery and took the blanket that had fallen over the dogs face. He rolled Mystery up in it like a burrito, and tightened the corner around the dogs shoulders in a thick knot. Dimitri snatched up the flashlight, then knelt low beside Mystery to smooth back his ruffled mane.

“I’m sorry. You’re such a good dog,” he repeated. “I know they’re trying to help, but I can’t sit here and wait. Not if they’re looking for my brother.” He leaned down and gave Mystery a kiss on his eyebrow. “I’ll see ya later.”

The back door snapped shut, cutting out the chill and the light and the air spun still. Mystery inhaled a deep breath and sighed. That could have gone better. Vivi! Vivi was not going to like this. He wriggled around and pushed forward his back legs, setting a paw to either side of his snout and braced his claws onto the floor. After some pushing and disgruntled snorts, he managed to dislodge himself from the dog burrito. With the cords on his paws exposed, Mystery begins gnawing at them quickly. One after the other each loop snips, he does so with a great deal of patience but no lesser amount of urgency.

The forest was thinning, the large trees aged and weary succeeding the decades their kinship had fallen due to plague, disease and age that favored natural selection. The overall terrain took noticeable change that was discernable, maybe accented upon, with the pale hue of moonbeams slipping through the thin canopy. The undercover was made up of thin silver reflections cast by ice tinged branches and soil, as with the dark contrast of the thickening creeper vines.

Never in the search did the Mystery Skulls once catch sight of the lost child; the only indication of her presence remained the disturbed patches of thin frost. They were down another slope, then around a rocky cropping of stone and weeds. Thick vines wound around across and through the undergrowth, no origin of where this originate but always present through the canopy and path. The forest scape had a quality of life unlike the town. It was ancient and mysterious, sentient in a way that it had been present within the slow spiral of history in the making. Towns grew, streets laid, hospitals built and condemned; but the forest had not changed in centuries. It remained, growing and expanding despite civilizations ambition to tame its unrelenting spread.

When the trail moved away from the sharp rise of rocks Vivi noted that Lewis had fallen back, had nearly stopped altogether. The frost cover had been thickest and bright white over the pale dark soil, and it was easy to discern the path the girl had taken without extensive study. Arthur hadn’t noticed and walked on ahead, while Vivi gave pause and waited. “What’s wrong?” She could hear Arthur shift and presumably turn, his torch flashed in the corner of her peripheral.

Lewis stood on the soil just staring off, as if he hadn’t heard. Vivi called again.

“We’re losing time,” Arthur muttered. Vivi shook him off when he took her arm, and moved back to where Lewis had alit on a patch of roots.

“Lew?” she whispered.

“I—” He began, but paused and seemed to focus. “There’s something out here.” He held up his hands, as if testing the frail breeze. “Something repelling, unwanting… I can feel it. An emotion.”

“A spook?” Arthur asked.

Lewis shook his head, the embers behind his sunglasses brightening. “I don’t know. I can feel it, but I can’t draw you a picture. I never… I’ve never experienced this. Before.”

“Can you move….” Vivi caught herself, the word she was about to use, and adjusted the question. “Are you able to come with us?”

“Yeah,” Lewis said, and he gave her a thin smile. “I just… walked into that. Like a wall.” A low kind of shudder escaped him. He was getting good practice sounding ‘normal.’ “Let’s go. No time to spare, y’know?” He hiked after Vivi on foot when she spun away, but he kept glancing over his shoulder, up into the tree branches and tangles of vines above. The night was vacant of breeze, but the branches almost recoiled from his regard. Withdrew. Bark creaked and the branches rattled, but there was nothing visible, only the sensation of… impression. The notion of it nagged at him, apprehension, evasion, a kind of lull but with more pulling. It pressed into his incorporeal sense, searching into him for something yet blundered about with no direction. If it were conscious he would have worried, but as it was the presence was more… awkward. Indirect.

At length Arthur fell back behind Vivi and slowed his steps. That deep concentration took his face, and Lewis could detect his concern. “Do you guys… hear that?” asked Arthur.

Vivi kept walking, but shook her head. “Do you hear a voice? Voices?” she whispered.

Arthur covered his mouth with the edge of his vest collar and coughed. “No… not voices.” He kept walking, but stays close to Vivi. They were headed downhill amongst tall trees that seemed to curl inward over their heads with thick bundles of creepers sagging low obscuring outward sight, a kind of natural corridor with small saplings and brittle timber. The forest was absolutely silent, no breeze tickled through, no life save for the two members of the Mystery Skulls. The air hung heavy, thick and hazed like water.

“I don’t know,” Arthur went on, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. Never did he glance to the tall figure shadowing Vivi; only into the vine cover, and the thick grove extending into an endless maze of timber. “Maybe it’s just Lewis. Wait, I didn’t say that. Did I say that aloud?” Vivi nodded, but didn’t express outward concern for the creak of alarm in Arthur’s voice. “Crud. Um… that’s not what I hear.” He staggers, trying to catch his flashlight when it slipped from his metal hand.

“Calm down,” Lewis rattled. “Don’t get excited. I can’t think when you get excited like—” He silenced himself when Vivi shoved herself backwards, free hand pressed to his chest. Lewis halts in his tracks, and looked past her to an opening in the grove ahead. A few yards out from the thick tree trunks they stood behind, and from the distance he couldn’t be certain what he saw. A tense moment of waiting expires, but a small blur does dart around through the vines. There and gone, it keeps moving out of the grove and flitters out of range. “Ah!” Lewis would have swooped forward, if Vivi hadn’t reinforced her grip on his coat collar and held him there by her will alone.

“Arthur hears something,” Vivi whispered, her breath thick and white in contrast to the black hovering shade they stood within. Once she is certain Lewis wouldn’t just go charging off she moved forward, but refused to release his jacket collar. Lewis half glides and steps after her, eyes fixed on where the shape had darted out to. Vivi used her thumb to click off her flashlight – they really didn’t need them – she would have stashed it in her backpack, but she feared Lewis would bolt the instant her grip loosened. “I can see something. There’s a clearing.”

“Guys, guys,” Arthur stammered. He turns off his light and sticks the torch in his back pocket. Arthur mirrored Vivi’s movement, a little jerky and delayed but quiet, the only sound from the scrawny figure came from shrubs snatching at his backpack. He crept in closer to Vivi’s side, and fiddled with the straps of the backpack digging into his shoulder. It was too cold for him, and his unease was making it worse. “S’like… you don’t hear that? I’m sure it’s not Lew’s.”

“Calm down Art.” Lewis tries to grab him by the vest, but Arthur ducked away and disappeared into a bush. “Art?”

Vivi hissed, hushing them. “Look. Look,” her voice became strained, low but with force. She hauls Lewis with her, behind a large rock and tree combination and peers out. “There.”

Not far from them something crashed suddenly out of the twigs, and Lewis picked out Arthur’s shape on the other side of some brush, panting and huddled low. With Arthur accounted for, Lewis focused out and inspected what lay ahead. As Vivi had proclaimed there was a sort of clearing, filled with the remains of fallen bleached trees like bones; petrified woods. Several yards across this toothy plain, a tall wall of jagged stone rose up from the forest floor. Gnarled bent trees had grown high under its seclusion, but were dwarfed by the imposing height of the rocky peak detailed by loose brush and blue ice.

Lewis could see the girl wandering across the cavity infused basin of rocks and ice, barefoot but with no care of the inhospitable weather, no concern of the jagged edges of rocks at her feet. Void of mind. She strolls up beneath the low hanging reach of the ancient trees bent arms, staring… up?

Back through the twisted tree trucks, some distance above the base of the rock face smoldered a sort of fire brightening against the rock. It might be better described as a kind of Saint Elmo’s flame puffing yellow and blue from the rock. Willow Wisps? It zigzagged beneath the canopy of gnarled tree limbs, gliding down and down towards the child, as her steps slowed.

Lewis felt Vivi tug on his coat. He hadn’t been aware he was inching forward.

“Wait,” she said. “We need to think about this.” Vivi’s focus was forward. She had relinquished hold of her torch to raise a hand to her face, and pressed her bright glasses close to her eyes. “This… there’s something about the reports I’m trying to remember. The flawed reports. Art?”

Arthur was tugging at his goatee with his good arm. His metal arm was near the leaf cluttered ground shaking as he sputtered with a sound. “Uh… what happened when Lewis went dormant?”

Vivi glanced Lewis’ way, then turned back to the scene before them, the child and the wispy flame dipping lower and lower. Lewis waited as she took a breath and held it, her mind sifting through data she had absorbed when she had been in an unreliable state. “We got close.”

“Lewis went down,” Arthur repeated.

“We got close,” Vivi resumed. “Because Lewis, you found something. You gave us something.” She was getting excited now, and turned to Lewis wide eyed. “Do you remember what you found?”

Lewis reached a hand up for his tie, the jacket was in the way so he patted at the frayed collar. “The pattern. Harvest moon,” he muttered. “Children go missing… big forest. Searches.” He turned to Vivi, realization dawning. “The search parties.”

Vivi nodded. “This place was found,” she whispered. “And it turns people away. They didn’t stop worrying. Adults were the ones that would be looking, but it sent them away when they got close. But you’re protecting us, it… ghosts don’t know ghosts.”

“That’s no ghost,” Lewis crackled. He watched a moment, twitching internally. He wanted to go out there. Why was Vivi waiting, if she was right she would sa—

Arthur shivered and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “That sound….” He leaned forward on his knees and stared forward, breath coming in fluffy small puffs. “You don’t hear it? You have to.” Vivi was about to answer, when it came to her. Yes, there was a sound. A humming trill. She knew that resonance anywhere. She glanced Lewis’ way, but it was not him. But Arthur recognized it too.

The flame wisp descended to the leafy floor, a transparent outline filling around the space of the flame, a heart of fire burning, swelling; crystalline turquoise distortions of blue intermixed with the smooth, glossy shape. Its manifestation could be liquid, it shimmered like molten class as it bowed towards the child poised below it. It wasn’t like a ghost, in that it resembled nothing human, yet it did resemble a person, a forgotten name. But it was something akin to energy, an 3-dimensional illumination sculpted from moon beams.

And it was singing.

“Thy hollow tis the sanctuary to the weary soul. Eternal wandering, misguided childer drifting. They are drifting through thee woods, wayward souls. Seek eternity, thy world is thine. Let me share a wish with thou, weary soul. Come to thee, hear thy song and come hitherto.” It walked, drifted, around the child, as the child watched the figure move and glide, gold wisps following in delicate lacey vapors. “Thy contentment is thine, nay shall sweep thou away. Adoration thou doth give, and the warmth of thy cradle from which thou shall never fall.” Flurries of cyan glide from the ‘sleeves’ of the sprite, drifting into the underside of the reaching canopy. The large trees lurch, their limbs bow low with tangles of the vines, bundles and wraps of creepers, unfurl and descend from the gnarled fingers of the looming trees. “Be with thee for the pact will be fulfilled. Amend what was wrong wayward soul, and thy indenture for thou will never falter.”

In the large bundles of vine coils hung faces. Gaunt, dirty, little faces, eyes closed and lost in a deep sleep.

Only a few times at night had Dimitri gone out to the woods, usually in the summer when it was warm and cool. If he and his friends could sneak out they’d play tag, or other games that were made exciting in the dark, with the potential dangers were made possible after night had fallen and the woods were transported into another realm, a new plain of existence that could not be compared to its daylight counterpart. If you got scared and went home, you were a wuss for a whole week. At least until someone else caved early and went home, but it wasn’t often they could get together and play after nightfall. It was safe in the dark, and it amazed him how easy it was for them to hide from each other.

That’s where he learned to track, more or less. In the summer the forest floor was coated in mulch from the leaf fall, and it took practice to identify where the leaves were scattered on a calm day. Dimitri was the best out of his friends and he had gotten so good he could track at night. Following the fresh onslaught of tracks trampled through the layer of frost was no new challenge. He was out of practice, out of his element, but once he got going he picked up the technique like an lost friend. The Mystery Skulls were far ahead.

Only his ragged pants kept him company and his laborious footfalls as he bulldozed through the undergrowth, shredding brush and tearing through creeper plants. He’d never come to this side of the woods before, it was creepy and old and far-far too far out from the town. There were rumors that people came through, criminals and the like to take refuge in the endless forest when they wanted to disappear- supposing like the children, may have been responsible for the children that had gone missing. That’s why, when his parents had been so adamant about it, he had never thought to question or disobey the order. Besides, he had his own section of territory he liked to hang out in, where he and his friends had a sort of clubhouse set up with old discarded construction lumber.

That was before the disappearances.

It haunted his mind as he ran. In the distance he swore he heard something scuttle, a twig snap, and a growl accompanied by the flash of hostile eyes. He ran faster, harder, sometimes stumbling over the roots and vines hidden beneath mulch.

“Why are they out here,,” his mind screamed. “Why all the way out here?” But he felt he knew. He knew why but he was fighting to avoid the answers he had thought he wanted. He tried to force away the tears, the hot betrayal that would mark up his face. He wanted to know, but the answers terrified him. What would he find? What awaited within the heart of the woods?

He had believed finding his brother would be the answer to his sorrow. But the truth, it had finally caught up to him and he could not bear it.

Dimitri barely paused, out of breath and mist swirling in front of his eyes. He checked his direction, examined the moon, then he was shooting off again. He raced away from the haunting stones, legs weak from cold and exhaustion but he pushed himself. A thought in his mind warmed him, or was that fury stoking his furnace? In the end, it wouldn’t matter what he found. He needed to know, or he could never stop running.

The frost thinned and the direction was difficult to confirm. They must have middle around, got lost too. Most times he could only identify two sets of tracks, they might’ve splint up. Dimitri skipped to a stop on a bundle of broken vines and turned his flashlight, examining the path he now stood. Which direction? What way? As he jerked around wildly, something glint a few feet from where he stood. It spooked him back several steps, but he realized in his movement that it was nothing but some polished stone, glinting white within a tangle of vines.

Something was wrong with the stone. The frost didn’t stick to it, and it lay upon a mound of something in the root bed. He shuffled forward, fearful of sounds and twitters in the heavy air, but he was alone, so very alone. He knelt and poked at the lump with his flashlight, some of the ice coating the side chipped away revealing bright colors, cloth, an arm.

Dimitri dropped to his knees in the leaves and ice, his grip on the torch tightened until his fingers and had gone numb. The sad little sack stared up at Dimitri – lifeless, stiff and cold. Its glassy eyes glimmer with light from the moon. He reached out and touched the small arm, rotted from many days pummeled by fall showers. No… no. He knew it would be awful, he knew it would hurt, but seeing it here in the state he was, he couldn’t bear it.

It was supposed to protect him, his mother made it to protect him. “Why?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you take care of him? You were made to PROTECT HIM! WHY!” He dropped over the filthy sock monster and cried onto its foul smelling cloth. His anguish was the only sound in the despondent woods. Far from his home, lost from his world. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you.” His mumbling died down enough that he could hear, the faint warble of… a voice.

Dimitri pulled himself back and searched through the dark with his flashlight. The light seemed to make distinguishing the shadows difficult, and he switched it off. It was there calling? No, singing. It sounded like the songs his mother used to sing when Luther was an infant. Dimitri loved to listen to her voice through the door when it was left a crack. The memory was so distant and fog laced, but that voice brought it back with such a harsh sculpted focus. Someone was in the woods. A person.

But he wouldn’t leave Dimitri. He stuffed his flashlight into his coat pocket, and then worked to untangle the little toy from the roots that had pierced into its underside. Soil and leaf bits sprinkled the blue ice crust beneath the sock monster as he raised it. He almost wanted to leave the rotted toy, it was rotten, falling apart, plant infused, but… he wanted it back. He needed it.

The voice hummed. He couldn’t make out words, but it was melodious and sweet, such as a bell, or the chime after a combat games finishing move. He brushed aside the gnarled vines that draped in his way and moved carefully through the brush. When he had moved further out from the tree grove, he stopped and clutched Dimitri to his chest.

Trees. Light. But what he saw first were the quivering vines, slithering and binding. The shape was alight, burning brighter as vines bundled over the small figure of a child no older than him. Impossible. What was it. An alien? A monster? Something inhuman doing terrible things.

And in the midst of the highest bundles of old vines was a familiar face. A face he hardly remembered.

“What do we do?” Lewis snapped. Vivi fists were remained latched to his jacket collar, but he was about ready to burst forward and do something drastic, maybe regretful. But he knew better. If Vivi was restraining him, it was for the good of those kids, and his. He wouldn’t be able to exist as his sane self if he did something… anything, that might harm them, even indirectly. He had to wait, but they were running out of time.

“They’re asleep,” Vivi reasoned. “Sprites or things, they’re not normally dangerous to the living.” She bit her lip as she watched, barely containing herself. Her fingers kneaded into Lewis jacket collar. “It… might let them go. It might not. I don’t know, I didn’t think to do extensive research into the area.” She sighed, and Lewis placed a hand on her shoulder. Vivi shook her head. “I don’t think we have the training for this. We could… try and help them, but if they’re in some sort of spiritually induced comma, interfering may do more harm than good. Their souls can be removed, lost.”

“Okay,” Arthur hissed. He was inching back under a space in the shrubs, leaning on his good arm as he pushed himself back. “Then let me iterate, WHAT do we do? Hanging out here isn’t helping.” He winced back under the brush when Lewis glanced his way.

“You were right, Art. This….” Vivi clung to Lewis jacket as she slumped to her knees. Lewis put an arm around her and kept her upright when her shoulders began to shake, her aura knotted with an inner turmoil. Vivi heaved a shaky breath. “Bad case. A Failed case. We have to call someone, get somebody out here that knows this sort of thing.” She let her head hang. God, this was hard. More than that, it felt… wrong. They didn’t fail the case, they failed the kids. They failed Dimitri. “If we risk— ”

A strangled sound came from the brush not far from where the group huddled. Lewis thought at first it was Arthur, but no, Arthur was giving his own half cry as he tumbled over and out of sight into the thicker shrubs.

Then Lewis knew. “Oh fuck,” he snarled, untangling out of Vivi’s hold. It wasn’t difficult, she must have understood from the pitch of the wail what was happening and threw herself aside, as Lewis lunged, nearly gliding out of the grove to snare the dark figure tearing from the vine cover. “Ethan! NO!” Leaves and frost scattered as he caught the back of Dimitri’s coat and held on, keeping the struggling child from falling onto the frost coated earth.

“No?” Dimitri screamed, voice cracking beneath the swirling fog in his eyes. “NO?” He twisted his coat out of Lewis’ hold and stumbled, propelling mere inches beyond the long reach. “My brother! And you say NO!”

A burst of commotion thrashed about in the thicket, muffled whining and Vivi shouting with the backdrop of an eerie hissing; hissing like water on hot stones. Lewis thought he could pick out the sporadic bursts of Arthur dodging around, but he had to concentrate on his hands. He had to get Dimitri and get away.

“All’s not lost!” Lewis shrieked, voice popping. Dimitri was too upset to notice how Lewis’ grip kept slipping through his flailing wrist, but he managed to hold enough together to keep Dimitri from racing full off. “You’re brother—” Lewis began. He would lie. He would do it. They had to get away, he had to get them all away to safety. “He’s in no danger! Are you listening? Ethan, listen! Trust me!” That word, that hurt worst of all.

The clearing brightened, snags of vines and tree branches curled backwards up beneath the stooping canopy. A flash of turquoise glinted, spun to where the disturbance had taken root among the broken memories of once tress. The hiss became louder, something more akin to slithering brush and leaves racing among root clusters of the forest floor. Vines detached from their ancient resting place between the old trees, snapping up over the glimmering light of the Saint Elmo’s flame. Earth splint and pulled back beneath the flickering orb, latching out and coiling up among the constricting layers reaching upward, higher, long shoots of vines seeking the origins of the moonbeams.

Leaves scatter and sigh as the twisting shape convulsed around the light of its core. It bent forward and arched a mass of vines, tangling thicker, locking into something like a back, but never formulating into such a structure; knowing no structure or its function. “Intruders,” the leaves wheezed. “Not welcome. Leave. Leave.” It chanted, as saplings rose up to its vaporous base. “Leave. Leave.” A mass of vines lowered from the tree branches, snapping free and drag around the burning light of its hot core. “Leave, or suffer thy retribution.”

“Do you hear me?” Lewis cries, desperation reverts his voice into a grating screech. “Trust me, Ethan! We will not abandon you! But we cannot help lik—”

“SHUT UP!” Dimitri snarled. Lewis caught his wrist and hauled him back, but Dimitri refused to relent and shoved himself back on his heels. “You’re lying! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!” He swept an arm out, the deranged and broken sock monster sliced through the steadily brightening gloom and connected with Lewis’ head.

In that instant the panic and screaming ceased. Lewis raised his head, somewhat dazed by an obstruction flying directly through his line of sight; and Dimitri broke from his fight to gawk up at Lewis, his small shoulders quiver in his coat. He struggles to tug his arm out of the restraining hand, but Dimitri’s efforts were subdued, he just kept staring at—

“Oh. Oh no.” Lewis raised his other hand slightly and Dimitri recoiled, his small arm was about ready to pop out of its socket. “Don’t…. Don’t be afraid.” Lewis paused, despite the noises and hissing and approaching chanting. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. “Please. Don’t— ”

“Y-you’re not human,” Dimitri whimpered. Hollowed out eye sockets gazed back, in their pits burned an unnatural light. It looked awful, painful somehow. Those… dumb sunglasses he always wore. Always. Dimitri gulped on the icy air, when he let out his breath it lingered in a thin cloud. Lewis’ breath never showed – he never slept, never ate; all these pieces he hadn’t noticed, details that were too obscure, unimportant. Until now. It all added up in one horrible congested realization.

“You’re… you’re some kind of monster.” He was prying his feet into bleached stone, as Lewis’ hold came loose. Dimitri fell onto his butt and sat there, fist digging through the frail material of the toy he clutched to his chest, like a protective totem. “That’s why? That’s why Arthur was scared?”

There was nothing Lewis could say, not safely. He didn’t get that chance either, when Vivi tore from the brush and grabbed Dimitri around his shoulders. Vivi’s gaze was not on the shaking child staring right through her, it was beyond Dimitri and on the grating shimmer of light shedding off its once brilliance. Lewis can’t see it, he doesn’t want to move. All that he can sense is Dimitri’s appalled stare, betrayed. For a moment Lewis wants to disappear, cease to be. It would be less painful than this.

“Lewis!” Vivi screams. “We have to go! Dimitri! On your feet! Wake up!” She grips Dimitri’s shoulders and shakes him. But her eyes raise to the sprite as it begins to sway, and hum.

“Sleep sleep sleep,” it sang. Roots and tangles of branches dig into the hard earth like the many legs of a centipede, swaying to a fro at its base and up to its thicker head portion. It creeps closer to the girl in blue on its crumbling segments in a flowing wave of timber, the tail end curling out and around to bar in its intended victims. “Sleep child, dream of thine eternity. Leave behind thine worries, let thou—” A ring of flames erupts between the sprite and its writhing nest of plant segment base, leaves ash and roots wilt back.

The entire length of the wood sprite coils back, vines looping around the throat base and narrow chest space, where the core of its flame was nestled, protected. It expanded the surface of its structure with vines and roots leeching from the soil, and heaved its upper half high upward. “Disrespectful soul.” It twitched and coiled back around itself as it tracked Lewis’ movement. “Thine nay human!”

“No,” Lewis said. He moved himself between his ring of fire and Vivi holding Dimitri, and stood before the woods sprite watching him with its glimmering orbs fluttering through its long ‘neck’. The fire diminished by degrees, the soft fuchsia fading from the frosted surfaces of petrified rock and tangles of foliage. “Do you have a story you wish to share?” Lewis held a hand behind his back and gestured to Vivi, trying to shoo her off. She wasn’t watching him though, she was staring at the apparition as its shape shifted and molded; conducted by the forest wound about its soul.

“Protect the forest from wandering souls, tis thy tireless contract; lost shades buoyant amidst realms of null and presence, dimension and space. Lost, lingering, erroneous.” it began to sway and hum, its tightly bound vines creaking; and Lewis began to realize the voice was feminine. Patronizing and feminine. “Life then death doth make the cycle repeat, eternal and unequivocal. Then you! Your kindred violate my sanctum!”

“Isn’t that a shame.” Lewis was trying to be discrete, but Vivi was entranced. Was it the spirit, or her drive for the discovery and the supernatural, or a little of both? He backed up as the spirit swung forward, roots knotted into the base of the frigid soil, carrying its body in its malevolent advance. Staring up at it as he backed away, Lewis half expected it to lose its balance and topple over them, but the roots anchored it as it glides lower, graceful.

“Man kin comes and doth take what tis nay thou. Thieves of life, and thieves of greed. Take even what tis already thine. Wound thee deep with thine spiteful craft, but remain thou have and stay thou shalt.” It continued, curling the length of its body down to glare with the shimmering globs in its neck. It raised appendages of long branches around its head, and its midsection sunk in as it swept down in a smooth, fluid motion.

Lewis brought his hands forward, slowly, readying his internal flame. Keep it focused on him, it didn’t like his presence. Give Vivi more time to collect herself, come out of the spell. “Please Vivi. Snap out of it.” He curled the hand behind his back into a loose fist, but he couldn’t risk a mere ember. The forest sprite edged him, was on the teeter of lunging on the slightest movement.

“The land of man kin hitherto honors the pact thou brought unto,” its bark groaned, lowly. “That thou taketh the childer to mend thy fractures. Release them back thy shalt to them. Life is not mine to take, but unto you my ire will sate.”

“Hey! HEY! Excuse me? Over here!” The spirit wrenched its head aside and up high, turning its upper half over to stare with its glimmering ‘eyes’ onto the distant side of the forest graveyard. It said nothing, only the soft rustle of leaves swayed on its back as it stared at the small figure hopping about and waving its arms, a torch beam flashed high above its shock of bright hair. “You look like you’re from around here!”

Lewis tilts his head. “Arthur?” Oh wait, this was a distraction. He gently backpedaled and leaned down near Vivi.

“I’m a little lost!” Arthur went on. He was grinning, cackling, god he was insane. “I’m looking for the nearest Pizza place? Do you know how I can get outta these woods?” He waved his good arm and signaled with the flashlight, waved the beam over towards the big whatever the fuck it was. The thing was coated in branches, and creeper vines bound its limbs together, reminiscent of veins and sinew within a body. Arthur read plenty of medical, and he’d seen… enough. It remained anchored into the frozen soil by segments, while its body curled over itself in a wave like motion alternating what sections were held down at a time; like a giant centipede or mantis.

He hated mantis men.

Timber smoldered and cinder still wavered timidly on the icy ground around Vivi, not enough to keep her trapped. Anything short of a box with no door could not hope to keep Vivi contained. On her lap lay Dimitri, fainted or put into a sleep; Lewis was frightened to dwell of what caused his swoon. Lewis edged closer to the crouched figure, though his attention does slip back to the forest sprite drifting away in its creaking, flawless momentum. “I can keep it busy. But you—”

Vivi grabbed his jacket collar and yanked him down, nearer. “Do NOT tell me to leave you! I know you can’t protect us! I know you’re gonna be the only one standing in its way! But no! No, I don’t want to hear you say those words!”

Lewis would’ve blinked. He gave an uneasy smirk instead. “Well, should I be the martyr here, and force you to run so you wouldn’t have the burden of—” He shut up when Vivi jerked him down and pressed her lips to his. Lewis raised an arm to push away, but it was Vivi. Her fevered aura singed the edges of his ethereal sense, tightening on his vague suggestion of placement. It jarred Lewis for a moment, and he let himself slump to his knees beside her.

He wanted this to last forever. He didn’t want to leave her again. His soul couldn’t bear it. He reached a slack arm up to touch her shoulder, to feel the solidity. But Vivi pushed him away.

“Arthur. Don’t let it take Arthur,” she said. Vivi gathered Dimitri in her arms and rose to her feet. She opened her mouth, but paused from saying whatever had come to mind – last advice, words of encouragement, a selfish plea. She couldn’t bring forth the words spinning in her mind. She only gave a strained, “Please.”

Lewis slowly levitates himself. He glanced aside, tightening his fists beside him. Arthur was still screaming, giggling and off kilter; he wouldn’t last much longer. “Right,” Lewis muttered. He caught Vivi by the shoulder before she managed to dart away. Lewis unzipped his jacket and draped the coat over Dimitri, sagging in her arms. The locket at his breast coat flares softly tinted blue, holding its steady pulse, its gentle tempo in time with hers. Lewis tries not to look into Vivi’s agonized eyes, instead he kicks off backwards and shoots away with a flash of flames.

“Remember,” she called, stepping away, watching the small sputter of embers at Lewis’ heels. “We’re trying… we have to get away! Don’t forget. Don’t… lose yourself.” It was meaningless talk, though Lewis might need the reminder; he was going to be very upset. The sound of it in her voice gave her hope.

Vivi adjusts the limp bundle in her arms and pivots, diving off into the ticket. She wanted to go back, more than anything she wanted to stay. The last thought she wanted on her conscience was abandoning Lewis again.

On the furthest side of the open forest, Arthur was still rambling to the thing of the forest as it uprooted itself and moved. “It’s an acquired taste,” he went on, backing away towards the shrinking clear space on his right. It was lowering its body segments across the forest graveyard, the tail section unfurling towards the rock face; herding him until his movement would be restricted, strangled. And he didn’t want to be near the tall monoliths of timber, driving their jagged knuckles into the sky. If he saw them, the suggestion of a face in the shade of a nook, he would lose all functionality. The thought brought violent quakes to his body, Arthur could hardly stay upright.

The spirit maneuvers its shape and rolls, always segments of its body latched through roots in the earth, snapping and grinding through the ice. It began to pick up pace as Arthur lost ground, the frightened man kin was becoming anxious and edging to run before it cut him off completely. There was still room, to scrape by and dive off into the grove and hide. “And my, what big trunks you have!” He bolted, legs blurring over splintered petrified wood. Too soon too late, he hadn’t thought it through; he had only one objective to dedicate his survival to. Get away, escape. Flee.

He chanced one glance up at the woods sprite, when it gave a horrendous shriek, a cry eerily like an angry woman, lost amid the snapping of timber falling, crashing. It sounded human, once it was human, and it kept that trait through the many years it had existed. The front segments of its body spun over, snaring soil in high rolling waves. This wild motion brought it before Arthur in two of its strides; but perhaps Arthur had staggered sideways when it had lunged. The wood sprite twisted its front over in front of Arthur, roots dragging the base downward as it heaves long tangles of vines outward, toward its quarry.

Arthur stalls and skids over his heels, he drops to his back and lashes out at the soil behind him frantically to crab crawl away. Eyes remain locked on the shrieking entity as his fingers scrap over icy, sharp rocks for a handhold, metal fingertips clacking. Roots snagged at his ankles and dragged him forward, while vines slithered around his shoulders, tightening fast to his neck—

A bright ball of sizzling fire smashed into the side of the forest sprites neck. The fire ignited and the spirit squealed, coiling down into the ice and spinning into roots and rock beside the cliff face it called dwelled within. The multiple limbs tore free from its captive, and slung the long tangles of vines around the cinder chewing at the glimmering globs in its neck.

“Shit! Shit!” Arthur chanted as he cartwheeled over and over, fighting for stability. Roots were flying, leaves crammed into his face and dirt clouded his eyes; he was a mess of limbs, unable to pick out where the cold space of his left side and his damaged shoulder hit, but he felt the pain sear through his torso. Through the chaos a voice was screaming at him, over the murderous shrill of the spirit.

“Arthur!” The muddled figure felt his vest snagged, and the ground fell out from under him. He couldn’t see through the swirling grit but suddenly Arthur was airborne. “Out of the way!”

Lewis spun out of the toss unconcerned with where Arthur might come down, as long as he was far out of range. The woods spirit spun over as coals cracked and fell from what Lewis decided was a neck. Its whole construction was not living, it had no organs that could be wounded critically. What consisted of its body was a shell knotted over its luminous core, enabling it to rise fifteen or more feet high, as it did now.

“Desecrate thy sanctuary,” the spirit howls. Already vines wind over the damaged kindling, reinforcing the weakened structure. “There is only one penalty for thine ilk.” But it doesn’t descend onto Lewis, not yet. It dithers back and turns the side of its head away scanning through the edge of the grove, presumably seeking the other members of his group. Fire ignites over Lewis’ fists as he launches at its base, delivering a sizzling wave of flames across its roots. The air fills with thick gray smoke, and the spirit of the woods wails as it is brought back to the forefront of his presence. Leaves rustle along its back in frenzy as it tilts, several of its pliant arms lash out when Lewis retreats around its side; fuchsia and red flames flash across Lewis face, until the bleached skull is cleansed and revealed. Momentarily, the forest sprite is static, the lengths of its vines curling back into the flint littered soil beneath it.

The woods sprite was not the only one distracted. As Lewis skied back across the field, adjacent to the path the others would have taken, he turned his flickering skull to check the cocoon of vines within the dark canopy high above. He could count one, two, at least seven children… plus one more. All asleep, each unaware, spirited away from their warm homes, their families.

A sudden mass of roots snag his ankle, burrowing into his sub-solidity of his leg before he has a chance to fade through. The forest sprite drags itself towards Lewis, while at the same time the roots beneath it twist around at the soil level and fling Lewis against the base of the ancient trees. The roots remain fixed within his leg, while more cluster and spread up over his thighs and chest, twisting through Lewis’ ribcage.

The dapper ghost manages to keep his translucent arms free and bring them close to his chest, shielding his glimmering locket from the invasive plant coils. It didn’t hurt per se, but the sensation of matter burrowing through his incorporeal suggestion was unsettling (that was an understatement). And Lewis feared there was a method of harm that it could implement that he was not yet aware of. He could do without the lesson.

The locket on his chest escalated its tempo, blues and gold pulsing, mingled over the silver glitter encrusted roots tightening on and through his form. The cool colors soon blaze with a vibrant gold and red, magenta spills from Lewis’ suit collar, his ribs are swept with a flash of fire, black soot scatters outward in a thick wave. The plant fibers are engulfed with thick smog and wither, scorched by the ravenous lashing flames. Clumps of ash ignites from Lewis suit as he thrusts his arms outward, snapping the thicker coils that remained latched into him. The displaced cinder takes flight and scatters, some catching to the brittle kindling of the old trees lowest hanging branches.

The wood sprite gives a shriek. Not from the damage inflected to its segments, but twists its neck to view the flames spreading to its craft above. “Vandal!”

“It’s not like I want to be HERE!” With a sharp kick to the ground Lewis raises himself several feet, one hand plastered over the dully flutter of his gilded locket. The sprite lashes its upper segment high intending to intercept Lewis’ movement, but it reconsiders its pursuit at a sudden flash of crackling fire swept out from Lewis’ coat sleeve; a formidable barrier cast midair. With that arm extended to the forest sprite, Lewis raises the other hand and swept fresh wisps of flame onto his lost fire. Once the spark wisps settle over the spirit fire, he grips his fist and draws his arm back. The flames along the vines and tree canopy extinguish, and Lewis lets himself drift downward as his shield scatters into a puff of colorful mist.

One flame in his skull goes out.

“Scandalous!” The wood sprite shrieks. With the barrier gone it moves on Lewis, as Lewis skits away across soil backwards, sparks glittering at his heels, steam coughing up from melting frost. The wood sprite descends after Lewis, the base of its structure digging and snapping roots through the soil, its body moving in a wave across the clearing. “Fiend! Wraith!” A nest of vines from the thickets edge lunge out the moment Lewis is within reach, snagging his suit and legs. A quick burst of flames ignites down Lewis’ back, freeing him from the hold. Light flashes within Lewis eye sockets as he propels himself at the wood sprite, directly on level with the thick armor of its lowered torso. Flames surge from his knuckles, Lewis slams his palms to its layers of vines twisted around its core. “Destroyer!” The forest spirit howls as it recoils and twists down, coils of roots from the icy soil tear forth to loop over the spreading fire. Lewis adjusts his midair posture and forces flames from his sleeve cuffs; his eye sockets flash out, turn black. From the grove more vines shoot, snaring Lewis by his torso and haul him off of the master. “Slay my children!”

Fire gushes from Lewis’ collar, obliterating the coils digging through his suit edges. “They’re not YOURS!” They’re far enough from the canopy that he can risk throwing himself at its head region, and Lewis digs his claws into a set of the bright globes in its throat. The thing stalls and shakes, leaves and soot coughs up as it rolls over and down into the icy crust of the soil. The roots that build up along the wood sprites arms snap out, binding through Lewis and wretch the flaming ghost off. “Let them go!”

“Not by thou command, wayward soul.” The wood sprite jerks away from Lewis, smothering its long shape down into the soil as fires and black smoke bellow forth on the cold air. Lewis is a wild blaze as he scorches at the knots of roots tangling through him, fighting to reach the momentarily stunned sprite of the forest as it knots its body into the toothy soil, the lights in its neck glowering. A mass of vines tear from the high canopy and snare Lewis back, drag him high and whips the dapper ghost skyward at its end.

It’s too high, and Lewis lets loose a piercing shriek as he ignites an inferno of fire across his suit and skull, shredding out a large spherical circumference around himself; a trail of black flakes follows his rapid descent. When Lewis comes down within the shelter of the canopy, he alights on a sturdy branch and crouches for a moment; not balanced precisely on the branch, but hovering and using its permanence to keep his form stable. Lewis raises a hand and inspects the gray wisps of his glove, drifting off in a scarce breeze. Most of the knuckle is exposed in his hand, but that isn’t his concern.

The forest sprite throws itself into the thicket, moving along the branches and vines dangling, pulling its large shape towards Lewis as he waits. At the moment it reaches him, Lewis ducks aside and presses a palm blazing with sizzling flames onto its head. He holds onto the sprite by digging one hand through its vines, his fire infused palm punches through its blackened skull. A cloud of soot rises, but not all of it is from the shrieking mass twisting about in the canopy.

There’s no advantage to the scheme, the sprite’s body snaps the branches and vines tangled into its mass as it spasms; it and Lewis go crashing to the forest floor. Ice flurries upset from their branches drift down with clumps of mud, along with smoldering leaves from the sprites body. As Lewis wrestles to get his shape insubstantial or rip himself from the constricting thing, he presses fire and more untamed heat into what should be the sprites shattered skull; his other hand is pressed across his chest defending his locket from the feral battering of the sprite as it struggles away from the fire.

What neither spirit has yet to notice is that they are the only ones in the thicket. All other members had fled, and Lewis was alone.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #msa fanfic #mystery skulls fanfic #msa fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa lewis #msa arthur #msa vivi #msa mystery #mystery skulls #animated #fanfiction

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ruewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Craving Affection Chapter 3: A Weekend

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 1829

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3

Asmo wasn’t as enthusiastic as he usually was walking into RAD that morning. Usually good morning texts from Solomon would make him perk up, but today they made the yearning in his being that much stronger. He wanted to reach through the screen and just be with him. The demon was out of it, extremely out of it. So out of it in fact that he almost didn’t notice the sweet treat on his desk. It was frozen and pink with red syrup swirling up the edged to perfectly applied whip cream on top. Tiny pink, yellow and blue sprinkles laid on top of the whipped cream in between pink sparkling dust. Picking up the drink he noticed a note underneath.

Stopped by that coffee shop you like so much this morning.

Thought it might be something you like.

Asmo couldn’t help the smile and blush that spread across his face as he brought the straw to his lips. That wasn’t the only gift he received that day either. Throughout the day he found little presents in his areas. From pink flowers, to small candies, and small things that Asmo enjoyed. Each gift was accompanied by a note from his sorcerer complimenting some aspect of him or just sweet nothings. By the end of the day Asmodeus had a bouquet full of pink dahlias, hyacinths, carnations, and orchids with another note inviting him over to Purgatory Hall with things he needed for a weekend.

-Solomon

Asmodeus had never packed an overnight bag faster in all of his life.

Solomon didn’t even get a chance to open the door before the Avatar of Lust was throwing himself at him and crashing their lips together. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me,” his sorcerer teased when Asmo finally pulled back to let him breathe. His arms were tight around his middle and Asmo was enjoying being held close.

“I felt like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Asmo said, almost breathless, he buried his face in his neck and smiled, “Thank you, for all of the lovely presents.”

“I haven’t really been able to give you the attention you deserve as of late, so I wanted to make it up to you now.”

Asmo pulled away and looked up at him quizzically, “And Luke and Simeon?” He had gotten Solomon’s attention stolen from him so much, he wasn’t about to get his hopes up that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Gone to stay at Diavolo’s Castle for the weekend.. So I promise that this weekend will belong to you and you alone,” Solomon smiled. His hand left the small of Asmo’s back in favor of his cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.”Come in? I was thinking we could order out. Your pick.”

How could Asmodeus say no?

It was the little things about Solomon that made his heart throb. The fact that he knew exactly how the demon liked his tea, how he knew where his comfy spot was when they cuddled, or how he could guess exactly what he wanted when he did nothing but name a place.

“Have I told you how witty you are lately? Or that you’re funny?” Solomon cooed, running his hands up and down Asmo’s back, “Or how much I absolutely adore you Asmodeus?”

“Hmmm. I don’t recall. Remind me?”

Solomon was warm, and the hum that ran through his chest was such a lulling sound. “Well, I’ve never met someone quite like you. You’re extremely special to me. You’re so fun loving and you have such an eye for beautiful things. I suppose it does take something so beautiful to recognize true beauty.”

“Solomon! Oh you’re so sweet to me!” Asmodeus didn’t even have to register that Solomon was bringing him into a kiss. They melted together so easily, it was almost like they were made for each other. Of course when they pulled away Solomon wasn’t quite done smothering him yet. Taking his demon’s hand, Solomon kissed his knuckles, the back of his hand, the inside of his palm. His movements were slow and meticulous. Asmodeus let out a tiny trill of delight.

“It’s what you deserve my adored Asmodeus,” he purred in between kisses. Nuzzling the inside of his palm, he looked up at Asmo, “I would give you so much more if I could. If I were able to, I’d have you by my side every waking moment.”

“Oh Solomon -”

“I mean it. I swear.” A smirk crossed his sorcerer’s lips as he leaned in close next to his ear. “May I show you Asmodeus?”

Asmo shuddered and nodded, leaning into Solomon, “Yes, you may.”

The sorcerer grinned and shifted his position. Hooking his arms underneath Asmo’s legs and tried to stand. “Wait, wait! Oh shit, this is… harder when I’m not already standing up,” he chuckled.

“Don’t hurt yourself! It would be my luck to spend our weekend in a hospital.”

“Don’t worry, I think I got it.” It took three attempts and a lot of giggling before the two were finally making their way to the bedroom. Asmo learned it was a little hard to be his boyfriend’s eyes when said boyfriend was nipping at his neck and laughing.

As they approached the door, Asmo stuck his hand back, fumbling with the doorknob. Why did the door have to be shut?

“Need help?”

“Solomon if you drop me I swear I will never forgive- Oh! Got it!”

As soon as they reached Solomon’s bed, Asmo let go of his neck and allowed his upper body to fall back onto the bed, legs wrapping around his sorcerer’s waist. Solomon’s arms braced on either side of him as he delivered more kisses. One hand moved to his jacket and tugged at the zipper. Soon both sets of hands were on the other, tugging off fabric and not caring where it landed. Laughter was still breaking through every now and again, even through prep.

“Fuck I’ve missed us,” Asmo sighed, honey colored eyes gazing up at Solomon, “You’re just too- Oh!” Well, it’s good to see that Solomon hadn’t forgotten where that was. He tilted his head back and let out a sweet moan as the tips of Solomon’s fingers brushed against that wonderful spot while stretching him open. “ Baby , I-ah~ I’m ready, I’m ready for you.”

Solomon nodded and removed his fingers. Asmo couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden loss, but he knew his sorcerer wouldn’t make him wait long, not when he was the focus. He watched with hungry eyes as Solomon took the lube bottle in his hands and coated his cock. It was such a pretty sight, watching how his brow threaded together, the gasps falling from his lips. Then he felt the tip press against him. “Ready Asmodeus?” he asked.

Asmo’s heart fluttered.

“Ready my darling.”

Solomon nodded and pushed it. Asmo gasped and gripped the bedsheets, and arched slightly off the bed. The sorcerer watched his demon, concern on his face. Even if he was the Avatar of Lust, Solomon still couldn’t stop the worry from creeping over him.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Asmo responded quickly, noting the concern, “I just needed a moment to adjust to you.” He caressed Solomon’s face, brushing a few white strands of hair to the side. “Now why don’t you fuck me like you mean it?”

Solomon chuckled and pulled his hips back before snapping forward. Asmo’s hands flew to Solomon’s shoulders, claws digging into human flesh. Of course the sorcerer didn’t forget who this was for and made sure to find that sweet spot once more as fast as he could. “ Fuck Solomon ,” Asmo whimpered, “ Right there . Just- Just keep doing what you’re doing, please. ”

How could he ever dream about stopping. Asmo felt Solomon’s lips connect with his neck. He tilted his head to the side, giving his lover more access to trail up and down his neck until he found a spot he found suitable. Asmo’s grip tightened on Solomon as he sucked on his neck and another moan escaped him. He could feel Solomon’s pace quicken as his one hand went down to start stroking Asmo off. His mouth unlatched from the demon’s neck to whisper in his ear, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Asmo let out a whimper, “Solomon, please, make me. Make me cum~”

Asmodeus felt their lips connect and Solomon continued to thrust into his lover until his movements became less controlled before stuttering to a halt. He didn’t let Asmo go until the demon was crying out and spilling onto his hand. Solomon chuckled and lifted the hand up to his face, licking it clean before kissing Asmo again, “I love you.”

“I love you too my darling,” Asmo sighed, returning a kiss of his own.

The bath afterwards felt just as satisfying. The water was warm and filled with bubbles to Asmo’s content. It wasn’t stuff that Solomon liked to use, but if Asmo was happy, so was he. Having his sorcerer behind him helping threading his fingers through his hair and gently running over his skin. Of course Asmodeus couldn’t resist turning around and helping the other wash his hair (even if water spilled out onto the floor, it could always be cleaned up later). As they dried off Asmo couldn’t help but trace over the pact mark. His pact mark. It earned him even more kisses from his favorite sorcerer that continued well into when they were curled up together, Asmodeus in his pink satin robe and Solomon in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Solomon was recounting the story that Satan had lent him, not leaving out a single bit of his own commentary in between the story. At one point, Asmo couldn’t help but tilt his chin downward and kiss him, “I do love you. A lot. And I missed you. I missed just this, even if it wasn’t long since the last time.”

“I love you too, and if you ever doubt it I won’t hesitate to remind you how I feel,” Solomon assured, playing with the damp ends of his hair, “You never have to fight for my attention either, you know you only have to ask.”

Asmodeus blushed and leaned in closer. He really should have known. He felt silly now that he had ever been trying so hard to get Solomon’s attention. “I know… I’m happy I get to spend a weekend with you. Just the two of us. I can never get enough of my time with you.”

He watched his sorcerer smile and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I know my darling, I can’t wait to spend the next few days with you. Maybe we could schedule another weekend.”

Asmodeus liked the sound of that. Weekends with Solomon sounded like something out of a dream. It was domestic, sickeningly so, but he didn’t mind. Any time spent with Solomon was beautiful, and Asmodeus cherished every second.

#solodeus #asmodeus x solomon #soloasmo #asmosolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me #smut #fluff #but it's fluffy smut #ruewrites

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mythandlaur · 5 years ago

Note

alright. test of redemption. and also dissonant counterpoint and "are ya winning the tournament son" for good measure. go.

The WIP Tag Game

Couple repeats, but I have more snippets for both of them so it’s fine.

Long post once again!

The Twins: Test of Redemption (old title) - Terraria - 2016

Ah, yes. My baby, and the bane of my existence. A piece that makes me both smile and cringe whenever somebody happens to find it on AO3. A piece that embarrasses me now because I didn’t know “sp*z” was a slur at the time and now I can’t figure out what to nickname Sp*zmatism thanks Re-Logic. And also embarrasses me because I couldn’t think of a better title. I didn’t even think it was a good title back then I just couldn’t think of another one. This story is a specter that sometimes leaves for a while, but occasionally returns to remind me of its existence, and when it does I look on it with as much fondness as I do shame. I had so much planned. To an extent, I still do. It sits in the back of my mind, waiting for me to get the courage to try again. Maybe I will someday, but for now it sits in a massive series of documents on my computer and Google. And here, now.

Randall and Sherwin Spencer, chosen heroes of Terraria, failed, and died. However, a pact Randall made with an otherworldly power both damned and saved them, and twenty years later, with the world shifting more violently than ever, the stars align to see them revived--without any memory of either of their past lives, man or monster. Guided by the displaced and irritable Keeper of the Underworld, who's trying and failing to remain low-key, the two eventually make their way to a refugee town founded by those the Spencers had abandoned long ago. And so their fight for Terraria begins anew, though now more difficult than ever with the Moon Lord trying to hinder them, the land's strengthening corruption pulling at their very souls, and a few key members of the Lunar Cult keeping a too-close eye on them, one of whom has more than a little bit of a bone to pick after a hasty decision invokes the Moon Lord's favoritism. Meant to be a story of companionship and family, hope and guilt, making up for mistakes and facing the people you hurt without running away, and saving the world--even when it's hard.

Okay, big spiel over, you can tell I still love this stupid thing. Have a bit I wrote slightly more recently (during NaNo 2018) of our green lad being outrageously stupid and summoning a boss, but it’s fine because the moon told him to do it, and then the boss screwed off because the cult told it to go and try to destroy the town so the twins didn’t have any support network. Instances of the character’s name have been replaced by [S]

The next orb was in another dip in the ground just before the main cavern closed itself off into a dead end. A grin spreading across his face, he swung practically before he even reached it.

This time, when the orb broke, dropping an odd-looking spear at his feet, the ground immediately began to rumble.

All at once, the gold light he’d been emitting winked out, leaving him in the purple-tinted darkness. He jolted as if suddenly waking from a dream, his thoughts quickly slipping back into focus as he leapt forwards to avoid being knocked down. A great quake shook the world around him, sending his teeth rattling in his head as he tried to figure out exactly where he was and how he’d gotten here.

He—he’d been on the roof, hadn’t he? The moon…but…how had he gotten here?

Another tremor. [S] grit his teeth and braced himself against the stone with both hands, hammer discarded at his side. He could swear he heard something in the distance; the earth turning, stone crunching, the low rumble of a creature’s roar…

The ground exploded behind him.

[S] scrambled forward, but found himself hitting the cavern’s dead end. He quickly pushed himself around to face the threat, and all the blood drained out of his face.

It was a titanic worm, thicker around than a man with mandibles the size of [S]’s head. Its skin was a sickly purple that almost blended in to the corrupted landscape, and it was covered in innumerable yellowed eyes, all focused directly on him with a look of absolute hatred as it rose up out of the earth, roaring loud enough to shake some loose stone from the walls.

[S] staggered backwards, back hitting the wall as he gaped up at the creature. Was this the worm he’d been told about? There was on time to worry about it—he was unarmed, he needed to get out—

The worm lunged forward with surprising speed, and [S] cried out as he launched himself to the side, back roughly smacking into the wall of the cavern. Hammer was quickly replaced with shield, and he scooped up the thin spear from the orb, testing its weight before plunging it down towards the worm’s body as it raced past.

The spear itself didn’t connect, but with a pulse of mana, it shot out a spike that made the worm roar in pain. [S] quickly dashed further down the cavern in an attempt to get more room to move as the worm burrowed itself into the ground, then burst out of the dead end towards him.

[S] quickly grappled the ceiling, feet barely an inch above the worm as it raced by underneath him, then burrowed back into the ground. Another roar shook the cavern, and the world around him rumbled and lurched, before the head of the worm popped out again above him, and its undulating body twisted up to try and encircle him.

Teeth clenched, he used the power of the shield to dash forward and past the worm, though it nicked him on his way by, causing him to hiss in pain and fumble his landing. He rolled along the ground until his head smacked into a Demon Altar, and stars shone in front of his eyes even as he struggled to get his legs back under him. He could hear the worm burrowing, hear it getting closer, closer, he forced himself up and started running without being entirely sure in which direction he was heading—

And then, the faint moonlight shimmering down from the surface seemed to brighten. The worm burst straight down vertically out of the ceiling where [S] had been standing, but it burrowed straight down into the floor without paying any mind to him. Its next appearance was traveling straight up, up, and out of one of the chasms, leaving [S] frozen as he watched it disappear and heard its roar fading into the distance.

A minute passed, then two, [S] listening intently to ensure the worm wasn’t about to come back. Three minutes later, [S] crumpled to his knees, gasping for the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and letting the shield and Vilethorn drop to the stone beside him. His hands reached up to his head, and his face twisted as a massive headache blossomed behind his eyes.

His mind was racing. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he been on the roof moments ago? What had made the worm so upset at him?

Why had it left? And…where was it going?

[S] pushed himself into a proper sitting position, throwing his head back, eyes shut. The allure of the Corruption had absolutely left him, replaced by fear and guilt. Just what had he done, and why? Had Ret been right? What was he supposed to do now?

Ungodly screeching and scrabbling from creatures deeper in the cavern snapped him out of his endless questions, and he scrambled to his feet. He—he couldn’t go back to Rifdale, not yet, so without thinking he ran, he ran until he reached an alcove where one of the orbs had been (he remembered that, somewhat, vaguely, it was difficult to tell) and curled up inside, staring up at the opening as some of the Corruption’s strange mandibled creatures tried and failed to figure out a way through the opening.

Once he was certain they wouldn’t get in, he buried his face in his arms. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay there, but if he hadn’t been able to face Ret before…he certainly wasn’t ready to now.

---

Dissonant Counterpoint - Crypt of the Necrodancer - 2017

Talked about here, but here’s another bit dated January 2018, from near the fic’s tragic end, immediately after the undead Fret’s been incinerated by a red dragon.

"It seems a shame to just leave you here like this. You did have so much...potential."

He wasn't sure how he could see or how he could hear--it was something beyond him, now, some sort of magical tomfoolery he'd never wanted to deal with. But he could see Octavian's boots in front of his face and could hear his constant song pulsing inside his head.

"Ah, don't worry. I think I'll be able to get you set up with something you'd like."

Anger flared again.

You don't know a single fucking thing about what I'd like, he thought, You don't know anything about me. You never did. You just know what you made up.

He wasn't sure how he could stand, either, but he did, compelled by a command. He stared at his former friend, who now looked somewhat uncertain and spooked. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but words were something else beyond him.

He could see and hear when he shouldn't be able to. He could stand when he shouldn't be able to. He could live when he shouldn't be able to.

And yet whatever cruel joke the universe wanted to play on him still refused to let him speak.

"Still have nothing to say to me, old friend?"

The anger burned away, just like everything else had. And all it left was a grim, defeated sort of certainty.

His final act of defiance would be to give in.

He refused to give Octavian the fight he so clearly wanted. He would not let this man tease and torment him, control him however he liked and know he was still there watching it all in despair. He refused to despair.

He couldn't move on his own anymore. He was no doubt unidentifiable. No one would know it was him except Octavian.

How's it gonna feel to get everything you wanted? He wished he could somehow convey his own bitterness, but he was frozen. To know there's nothing more for you to do?...I bet you're gonna hate it. You always wanted to be something more. How's it gonna feel when there’s nothing left to be?

Octavian ducked out of his sightline, and then something was shoved into his hand; the familiar shaft of his halberd. His fingers closed around it, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. Octavian looked...perhaps the least bit upset.

"Er, here. I'll get you something better later. Come along."

The song pulled him forward behind Octavian as they walked deeper into the crypt and away from his own coffin. The only thing that made him question his decision was the thought of Maria--his weird little half-sister that he did care about so much--sick, dying, clutched by fever like he was and all because of him. If she came here...If he wasn't here...

But maybe it would still be better, because she and whatever ghosts she could conjure to her aid would destroy him. And then it would be a double loss for Octavian. Something he could never fix.

Give him hell for me.

But he was going to free himself. He would not let himself stay trapped here anymore.

...You win. How's it feel?

The song seemed to grow louder in his head, rattling him to the core, overwhelming him, and the anger came back, burning hot and bright, and he stopped. He saw Octavian turning back to face him in confusion.

In one final act, he gathered up all of his strength.

He threw his head back, and broke whatever curse had left him speechless.

And he screamed.

---

are ya winnin the puyo tournament son (doc name) - Puyo Puyo - October 2020

Talked about here, but have another bit.

“Yes? Did you need something?” She looks them over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?”

Ajisai gives a small bow. “Yes, very much so. I only just arrived here a little while ago, but I heard that you were arranging a Puyo tournament--and that more than just the magic school students were able to participate. Is that true?”

Accord turns her head, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, though the prize will only be for students this year. We had some...unexpected guests vying for it last time, and I’d like for my students to have incentive to show what they’ve learned.”

“Of course.” They nod respectfully. “I’m not interested in the prize, but I would like to participate if I’m able. I’ve been told I have some skill.”

There’s a moment’s pause as Accord looks them up and down searchingly, then shares a glance with the cat. A sly smile spreads across her face as she meets their eyes. “So, you’re participating by yourself this time?”

Ajisai’s eyes widen slightly, but they manage to recover. “Ah...yes, yes I am. Good eye.”

Accord giggles. “You could say we have a nose for this sort of thing.”

“And we don’t trust mew,” the cat adds, baring its teeth.

Ajisai turns their focus to it, a hand to their chest in mock offense. They know what the cat’s about, of course. “You don’t trust me? Why, we’re practically family.”

The cat hisses, and Accord laughs again, though tries to hide it behind the feather of her cane. “He’s a bit high strung,” she offers, stroking the cat’s head with a finger--it appears to try and pout, but leans into the touch anyway. They’re almost positive they hear purring. Her gaze becomes serious. “Though I do hope you don’t intend to cause any trouble.”

“Of course not.” A hand over their heart, this time genuine. “My wits are about me again, and that is all in the past.” ...They can’t help a slight smirk. “...well, mostly. But I don’t want to cause any harm.”

Accord nods slowly, taking a second to judge their sincerity. “I’m going to choose to trust you.”

“I appreciate it.” Another, lower bow.

#apprenticenerd

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dicebox · 5 years ago

Text

The Hand of Fate

Jerrica Reder only had moments to scream out in fury and terror before the sea took her.

She was sinking beneath the waves before she could even gasp in a desperate breath, the makeshift ballast chained to her ankles pulling her down, down, down into the dark, cold depths below. She thrashed in vain, arms straining uselessly against the ropes binding her, her lungs burning in her chest. As she looked up, the sun over the surface was already a dim, far light. It flickered out entirely as she sunk deeper still and darkness claimed her.

There was nothing but the dark, empty void around her as the pressure in her chest gave way, and Jerrica breathed in the first gulp of sea water. It was cold, colder than it had already been on her skin, ice filling her lungs.

With her last thoughts, she twisted her eyes shut, and tried to think of home. Everything was darkness.

Then, she was on her back, sprawled out on hard stone. She was no longer sinking. All she could do was gasp breathlessly, the taste of the air coarse and strange in her mouth. She was no longer drowning.

Jerrica opened her eyes. The sky above was a dull, bleak grey, the sun bright on the horizon, but giving off no warmth. Her clothing was no longer soaked with seawater, but she could still feel the chill of the deeps down to her bones. She sat up, rubbing at wrists as she found herself freed of the ropes and weights. Her breath hitched tightly with a thrum of fear as she looked outwards.

An endless expanse stretched out before her, empty save for chunks of grey rock floating in the nothing, some carrying hints of architecture, some nothing but jagged edges of stone. Somewhere in the distance, a whale's call echoed mournfully and Jerrica couldn't help but shiver.

Ahead of her, a rusted buoy floated in the nothing, its lantern flickering weakly. She stood and shambled weakly over to the edge of the floating island of rock she found herself on and looked down to the sheer nothing below.

"You're far from home, aren't you?"

Jerrica turned about with an unsteady stumble, her hand fumbling for a knife that had long since been taken from her. A man with pure black eyes stood before her, staring impassively. It was then she knew where she was. And who he was.

But the image she’d had in her mind from the stories had never painted a picture of a man so young, so seemingly harmless. He was a thin thing, barely older than a boy, dressed in plain clothing. If not for the promise of a yawning entropy in those black eyes, she would never have imagined why anyone would fear such a man. But those eyes were not that of a man.

She scoffed out a bitter breath, despite the dull thrum of terror in her heart. “So they were right all along. Come to collect my soul, eh?”

“Oh, that’s of no interest to me. Not in keeping it here, at least. But you, Jerrica, are quite interesting. I want to offer you something.” The man with black eyes said with an ethereal calm, staring at her still, and Jerrica couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse to meet that empty gaze.

"Do you now? What's the catch?” Jerrica sneered defiantly at him, if only to show something other than fear. Regardless of his show of mere idle curiosity, his focus was upon her, and that was as terrifying as being cast into the sea. “I get to live for a year and a day, before you drag me back down here? Or do I gotta send a hundred souls to you in trade?"

The man with the black eyes did not smile. He did not blink. But for a brief moment, his eyes might have narrowed with a hint of annoyance. "People always seem to think I want their souls. They drastically overestimate the value of their own. The passing of a soul will happen regardless of my will and most likely without my notice. The pleas of the dying can be so very boring."

"Feh. Well, what do you want?" Jerrica blinked as she spoke, and when she did, she was standing on the deck of the whaling ship she had been thrown from. She swore, looking around, but there was no one but herself and the man with the black eyes.

Then he did smile, ever so faintly, without any warmth in those empty eyes. “You act as if you know me. If you do know the stories they tell of me, then you must know what I wish to offer you. The question is... what would you do with my mark?”

“What do you expect me to do with it?” She asked, as if she didn’t know the stories. As if she wasn’t stalling, desperately trying to gather her scattered, terrified thoughts.

The lips of the man with the black eyes curled in the barest shadow of amusement. “What you do with the gift I offer is your choice. As is everything that shall happen from this moment.”

Jerrica turned her back to him without an answer, glaring out at the emptiness. The Void was blissfully silent. A whaling ship, its hull torn open, floated in the distance in between massive pillars of grey rock, as if the emptiness was a sea of its own.

She did know the stories, to be sure, all of them gruesome in one way or another. Witches reading entrails upon whalebone altars. Ancient kings making pacts in blood. Underworld kingpins who could walk through walls or turn themselves into hordes of rats in order to maintain their grips of terror upon the slums. Every story was ultimately the same. Someone given a great and terrible power. And then the blood would flow.

“Do you want to see her again?”

She tensed as the voice pulled her from her brooding thoughts, her fingers curling tightly until her fists trembled. “Don’t you dare speak her name.” She snapped, as if she could make any demands of him. As if he didn’t seem to know everything already.

And as if the Void itself was reading her thoughts, Jerrica looked back to the man with the black eyes, to see him standing in the cramped parlor of a tiny apartment. Sitting before the fireplace was a young girl with a ragged mop of red hair, her excited flailing of a toy horse frozen in time.

It was either a cruelty or a blessing that the Void didn’t show Jerrica the child’s face. She couldn’t muster the strength to step any closer to her daughter, to see how she’d grown in the time she’d been gone.

“I will tell you this. You may choose to reject my offer. But if you do, she will live her life without you. In time, the memory of your face will fade away entirely. But she already is living her life without you, isn’t she?”

Jerrica looked back to him again with a surly sneer, but she bit back the obvious retort on the nature of choice. After a heavy breath in and out, she replied quietly, “Tell me one more thing, first. If you brought me here, did you do it? Did you save those worthless shits?”

The man with the black eyes shifted his shoulders in what might have been a bored shrug. “Two days ago, leagues east from where your ship drifted, a sudden squall scattered a pod of whales as they were near the water’s surface. A calf was separated from his mother. The seas as stormy as they were, he and his mother were unable to find each other. He drifted aimlessly for those two days, right up to your ship. Your crew killed him, squeezed every last ounce of oil from his drying corpse, and carved their dinner from his flank. Then they pulled into Dunwall three days later. The captain paid everyone an extra half-share for their silence and now they are toasting their good fortune and drinking away their guilt.”

“Was it you, you black-eyed bastard?!” Jerrica shouted with a fresh flare of fury. “Did you change their fate?!”

And when she blinked, she and the man with black eyes were standing in a silent tavern, the frozen sight of carousing whalers all around them. The whalers who had tied her up and thrown her into the sea. The captain was among them, toasting, laughing, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle him. But all Jerrica could do was scream at the man with the black eyes. “Tell me, damn you!”

“I think you already know the answer. Has the sea ever been fair to you, Jerrica? Is fate not the same?” The man with the black eyes said, perfectly calm. “Raging and treacherous. Untameable and unforgiving. And yet... call it fortune, call it coincidence, for if neither existed, people would not risk everything.”

“There is always that chance of something unexpected, isn’t there?” There was almost the faintest twinkle of amusement in his empty eyes. “But the unexpected only delays the inevitable. The sea always claims its due. Isn’t that what they say in Morley?”

“You like to talk, you know that?” Jerrica spat. “Answer the damned question!” “Your crew will credit me for their fate. They will clutch their little charms of whale bone and recite the half-forgotten rites, as if such paltry things could ever catch my interest. It was not their prayers that caught my interest, Jerrica. It was you. You are not the first to die in such a way. Oh, how the others cried, and begged, and pleaded for mercy.”

The man with black eyes paused for a long moment, looking off into the Void, his gaze distant, as if momentarily distracted by some thought. “But not you.”

She was standing on the deck of her ship, behind the group of whalers who had crowded near the railing, looking down into the sea. Most had their heads bowed in fearful reverence as they watched the waves. Watched where Jerrica had sunk down into the depths.

“They could have died on that whaler. Whether by thirst, by starvation, or by fist and blade as they turned upon each other to determine who would be cut up for meat first. But they lived and they think you did not. They think they stopped the inevitable.”

“Am I not dead?” Jerrica held her arms out, gesturing to the emptiness of the Void. “Because this sure ain’t bloody Dunwall!”

“You are not dead. Yet. I will only hold you here for so much longer.” The man with the black eyes paused briefly. “I will tell you one more surety. What do you think your former crewmates will do the next time they so desperately need good fortune?”

“What do I care what the sodding bastards do? They’ll probably drink themselves to death.”

“Don’t you lie to yourself enough already, Jerrica? Will you really just let them go on their merry way, until they decide to do this again? They’ve tasted blood, now...” The man with the black eyes paused, looking at the frozen captain still standing on the deck, tense and grim faced. “And what of your lover? He let you into his bed, but not his heart. Or so he tried to tell himself. Of course, did you let him into yours? Perhaps if you had, he would have told you of the pathetic little cult infesting his ship. Perhaps if he had brought you into that circle, it would have been someone else who just happened to draw the shortest straw.”

They were in the captain’s cabin now. It was empty save for Jerrica and the man with black eyes, but she could almost smell the thick scent of cheap whiskey and cheaper cigarettes, and as she couldn’t help but rest a hand on the crumpled sheets, she could almost feel the warmth of the bed. But the Void didn’t carry such sensations. There were only her bitter memories.

“You drew the straw just as they all did. If it had been another, would you have stood by and watched, as they all did? Would you have tied the ropes around your crewmate and thrown them into the sea?”

Jerrica turned and picked up a bottle off of the desk, gripping it tightly before she threw it hard against the cabin wall. It shattered with barely a sound, all the more revealing itself for the facsimile that it was.

“Tell me, will he be the first one you kill?” The man with the black eyes asked, as if he knew her answer. “Or the last?”

“Who said I’m going to kill anyone?” Jerrica groused, with a sinking feeling in her heart that he did know, even before she did.

“What else would you do with a second chance? Go back to Morley and beg in the streets like so many others? Is that not why you left? And all the while those who you worked and suffered alongside walk freely, after they threw you into the sea like a spoiled catch?”

Jerrica clenched her fists until she thought her fingernails would draw blood. She wanted nothing more than to smash the smug calm from the man with the black eyes’ face. She wanted nothing more than to go home to Morely, to her daughter.

And yet, she wanted nothing more than to look the captain, her captain, in the eye, and spit in it. Him and all of those who had been on that deck, unable to look her in the eye as they’d beaten and restrained her, mumbling blasphemous prayers as they’d thrown her overboard.

The man with the black eyes was staring at her, unblinking as ever, but for a moment there might have been a flicker of distant, amused triumph.

She scowled. “Fine. Give me your mark. But I’m not doing nothing for you. I’m not cutting out anyone’s guts for some sodding witchcraft.”

“My mark is yours to do with as you will. Do try to remember that.”

It was only when the back of her hand began to burn that Jerrica remembered the pain of drowning, how the icy water filled her lungs with a chilling burn, searing at her from the inside out. This was almost the same, a cold fire gouging a brand from bone to muscle to skin, until the dull gleam of the Outsider’s mark shone on the back of her hand, brighter and bolder than any of her sailor’s tattoos.

“I look forward to seeing what you will do, Jerrica.”

---

The sea was all around her again and it was all Jerrica could do not to scream in panic and fill her lungs with seawater once more. Everything was spinning as the tides took hold of her and she flailed uselessly against the crushing weight of the water.

Then she struck the hard, rocky shore, and as the waves drew back, she drew in a desperate breath of the rot and the smog of Dunwall. Jerrica pushed herself up enough to stagger a few steps further across the stony beach before she slumped to her knees, and retched out seawater and bile.

Laid out ahead of her were the familiar sights of the docks and slaughterhouses of Dunwall’s whaling district. It wasn’t home, it would never be home, but it was her port.

Jerrica looked down to her hand, where the eldritch rune had been seared into her skin. It hadn’t just been the dream of a drowning mind.

She could not decide whether that was better or worse, that it had all been real.

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 8: The Hunters

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Katherine returns with a friend and some bad news. Nadya meets another member of the Council.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Hey, Adrian?”

“Hm? Yes?”

“I think I put that I knew shorthand on my resume.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I think now’s a good time to point out that I don’t know shorthand.”

Adrian’s delayed laughter is like a lag in the matrix. He looks up from his files and offers a comforting smile. “No worries. You’re not here in an official capacity.”

She hopes it isn’t obvious how she slowly slides three of her four colored pens off the tabletop and into her sweater pocket. If Adrian notices he doesn’t call her out in it. Not like orange pen would show up well on yellow office paper anyway.

Before she can ask him to clarify there’s a sharp rap of knuckles; the conference room door opens to Nicole with a stack of papers tucked neatly in her elbow. Not a hair out of place. God what Nadya wouldn’t give to look so impeccably perfect right about now.

Everything in the VP of Operations’ body tenses when she catches sight of the pair of them sitting thick as thieves at the end of the long white board room table. Nadya tries a small wave, but she’s not surprised that Nicole ignores her.

“Mister Raines, your ten-thirty has arrived.”

“Great,” he nods and starts piling up the spread of documents and research he’s slowly been hoarding, “send her in.”

Nicole looks as if she’s debating saying something — whether it’s her loyalty to Adrian or her professionalism in the workplace that wins out it just leaves Nadya feeling even more confused.

“She’s brought a guest.” When Adrian looks up; “Another one of them.”

The vampire’s expression darkens and Nicole takes her leave. Professionalism her butt — Nicole looked delighted to have upset her boss just so.

Nadya watches him pace with growing concern. “Then what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“Keeping you in the dark just doesn’t sit well with me anymore,” explains Adrian, “not on anything.”

The door opens again — this time without announcement — and they both turn to greet their guests. The vibrant punch of colored hair sends Nadya reeling into another moment of nostalgia. She’s been having a lot of those in the last month. But it isn’t Lily who joins them — it never will be.

“Katherine, a pleasure to see you again.”

Adrian crosses the room in a single bound. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, Nadya notices. His eyes scanning documents faster than her heart can beat and the occasional vampiric dash to catch something falling. Even his familiar black-matte water bottles no longer carry the guise of a tea bag string hanging over the cap.

How hard must it have been, she wonders, for him to pretend to be human with me?

A charade he obviously doesn’t need to have around Katherine. With everything going on she’s not thought about the mysterious stranger from the Gallery in a while but now she’s just another piece of the puzzle that’s growing faster than Nadya can solve it.

Katherine backs up; nearly into the figure behind her, at Adrian’s approach. Plasters on an obvious grimacing smile and doesn’t take his offered hand.

“Yeah, wish I could say the feeling’s mutual but — it’s not, so.”

At Katherine’s back the dark-haired man’s face grows somehow more stern; something Nadya wasn’t sure was possible. Were his brows furrowed any lower they’d obscure his eyes. He doesn’t move to put himself in the way of Adrian but there’s an obvious connection between the leather-clad guests that Nadya can see even at a distance.

Adrian’s well-versed in the world of business transactions; knows he’s not going to be able to force either of them to ease the tension through stiff-if-polite interaction. He nods curtly to the man and gestures for them to take any of the open seats at the conference table.

Katherine pulls out one of the chairs and only then seems to notice Nadya.

“Well look at you,” though everything she says seems laced with sarcasm there’s an impressed sparkle in her eye, “all grown up and at the big kids’ table now?”

In her confusion, Nadya only fumbles. “I—huh?”

Katherine’s friend yanks his chair back and practically falls into it — kicks his snow-caked boots up on the pristine white table and gives less than zero fucks about the flecks of mud that dirty the marble.

He jerks a thumb at Nadya; still floundering. “This the muggle you were talking about?”

Katherine nods. “Yeah, but I could’ve sworn she didn’t know a thing.”

“What, that vampires are real?” She pushes up her glasses and puts on her best fake smile. “I’m pretty perceptive.”

“Not just vampires.” There’s a chuckle hidden deep in the man’s Southern twang that brings a pink to Nadya’s cheeks. Before she can ask what he means, Katherine hits his legs.

“Can you at least try and act professional, Ryder? Christ.”

“Anything for you Kathy.”

Ryder’s boots find their way firmly onto the floor. He gives Katherine a ‘What?’ look with only his face but remains silent.

Back at the front of the room Adrian clears his throat. “If we could begin… I have another meeting in an hour.”

Not that Nadya expects Katherine or her friend Ryder to suddenly pull out a presentation on the overhead projector, but whatever this meeting is (importance aside) she hoped for something a little more official. But apparently official just doesn’t exist outside of secret meetings at city events.

“Anything for you, boss.” The word drips off Katherine’s tongue with nothing less than her full sarcastic capability. “Did you follow up on the information I gave you on Courette?”

Courette. Even hearing his name sends a shiver down Nadya’s spine. Makes her remember everything Courette led to; The Shrike, the Baron, Maricruz — what happened to Lily — the Cellar…

“Yes, thank you for that again,” Adrian sifts through his papers and pulls out a small packet, slides it down the table where Ryder snatches it up to lazily peruse, “but it led to a dead end.”

Nadya glares at him sharply. “Seriously? What about the Summons?”

“He appeared in front of the Council as per the pact. But Courette stopped showing up for work a week prior to his attacking you. Sometime in between the two events he was Turned Feral. The Council voted and decided there was no connection.”

When was this, Nadya wonders; can’t help but wish she could give that Council — and The Baron — a piece of her mind on the matter.

Adrian squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. It helps and it doesn’t. Too many things were complicated these days.

“I hope you know info’s info and I demand payment regardless.” Katherine warns. Adrian gives her a curt nod.

“Kamilah’s already transferred your funds as well as a compensation for hazard pay. We do appreciate the danger you’re putting yourselves in — whether you believe us or not.”

The comment seems directed at Ryder; who snorts and goes back to reading. He’s not a man of many words.

Coming into this, Nadya had hoped Adrian would at least fill her in beforehand. Trying to pick up the story from context is proving harder than she thought — but there’s no way in Hell she’s raising her hand and asking what’s what. Katherine and the Ryder guy were hired by Adrian and Kamilah for something involving the Ferals — something that was starting even before she was attacked.

“Well that’s mighty generous of you,” drawls Ryder, “but I think it’s in Kathy’s best interest to up the pay anyway.”

Adrian stills. “And why is that?”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Ryder seems to be getting some sort of delight in whatever information they’re withholding. Katherine smacks his arm but his smirk doesn’t abate.

“We think we found a couple of viable candidates for the Feral that Turned Courette.”

“A couple?” asks Adrian, appalled.

“Well, a few.”

“I need a number.”

“Eight.”

The color drains from Adrian’s cheeks. “Ei — over half a dozen?”

“Well, there were ten, that’s why Kathy called me up from the Bayou.” Ryder explains. “But we took care’a two of ‘em.”

It’s Nadya’s turn to offer comfort as Adrian sinks into his chair with a hand on his forehead. He’s not sweating — she doesn’t even know if he can — but he’s definitely more pale than usual. With the bright fluorescents overhead the shadows under his eyes are more prominent, too.

“Is that more than you thought?” she whispers while pushing his water bottle close. He shakes his head like he can’t even stomach the news let alone a drink.

“We’ve killed a good baker’s dozen on our own… and thought the problem handled.”

Ryder clears his throat to draw their attention. “We’ve narrowed down their territories to a couple square blocks per target. I’m sure I don’t gotta tell you these bastards are normally pack-oriented — but they ain’t smart enough to divide and conquer.”

“So most likely scenario we can come up with is that someone’s making Ferals with no relation to one another to keep them separate. Nothing to tie them to each other or whoever holds the leash.” To her credit, nothing in Katherine’s voice is amused. In fact Nadya wonders if she catches a quiver of unspoken fear.

Adrian doesn’t immediately reply — the duo wait in patient silence. She feels so useless, so ignorant; like any suggestion would be met with Ryder’s laughter and scorn and an explanation as to why she’s so wrong. She doesn’t know what to do and it’s an awful, awful feeling knotting inside her.

When Adrian finally stands the room lets out a collective exhale of relief. Palms flat on the tabletop, he keeps his eyes downward.

“Nadya, can I have you head back up to the office and set up a meeting with Kamilah before the night is through?”

It’s a little bit of a shock. Takes her a moment to realize he’s talking to her even though he very clearly said her name.

“Uhm, yeah,” because that technically is part of her job, but… “like, right now?”

“Yes. Please.”

It takes her a few seconds to catch up, but she does. It’s in the way Katherine suddenly won’t meet her eyes — how the Ryder fellow’s dark gaze hints at pity. Whatever Adrian has to say — really say — he doesn’t want her to hear.

She wants to argue even though she knows it’ll make her look like a petulant child. After all wasn’t that why he’d asked her down here? So out of respect for her dignity she doesn’t. She does, however, make sure she pushes back her chair a little louder than necessary when she grabs her things.

“Let her know it’s urgent.”

“Yes, Mister Raines.” She finds small satisfaction in his almost imperceptible flinch.

“Nadya…”

“Anything else I can do for you, Mister Raines?”

He sighs. “No. Thank you.”

“Of course Mister Raines.”

So much for not keeping me in the dark. She gives a nod to Katherine and a polite smile Ryder’s way as she leaves. Finds herself lingering by the doorway — literary irony thou art a cold-hearted witch — to catch the turn of the conversation just briefly before it closes.

“How much will extermination cost?”

“For something like this? A favor.”

When she tiredly scrapes her key in the door the first thing she hears is the faint lilt of opera music through the thin wood.

Nadya’s gotten used to living alone. She didn’t want to — sometimes her brain even tricks itself into hearing the familiar sounds of digital violence and Lily’s cheers of inevitable victory. “The harder you hit the buttons and the louder you yell the more powerful you are,” that’s what Lily would say. And she played like it was a proven fact, too.

But there’s no pretending this is Lily. Winter’s been melting into spring and her grief still burns bright but not so much it makes her ignorant.

Her thumb hovers over the button to dial Adrian as she slowly pushes the door open. Yes, most people would call the police. But most people didn’t have a two hundred year old vampire for a boss and yes she’s still frustrated at that very vampire but that wouldn’t stop her from letting him make a midnight snack out of anyone stupid enough to break into her apartment and listen to opera.

When a voice she doesn’t recognize calls from inside she almost drops her phone from fright.

“Miss Al Jamil, finally. Here I was starting to worry something terrible had befallen you on your commute home.”

It’s not quite sunrise yet. Maybe an hour—hour and a half until it would be dangerous for Adrian to drop her off. Yet the living room curtains are drawn and the whole place smells of faint spices she’s not indulged in since she moved away from home.

She closes the door behind her and tries very very hard to understand the broad-shouldered figure sitting at the tiny table she’d forced Lily to buy prior to taking up her share of the lease.

“Senator Vega.”

The Senator smiles; all charm and one left dimple in the way that’s won him at least the household wife vote. He looks dreadfully out of place — Adrian was the last time something that expensive walked through her doorway — but at the same time doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable. He just is. But he is in her apartment.

“I gotta tell you,” yes, she’s disturbed beyond belief, but Nadya follows her routine like it’s any other day — leaves her shoes by the doormat and goes to put her dirty lunch container in the sink, “there’s such a thing as going too far with your constituents. This. This is too far.”

But why else would Senator Vega be in her apartment? She’s not dumb.

“The sun will be up soon.”

Vega laughs with a shake of his head. His fingers drum continuously on his starched pants.

“Well, Adrian wouldn’t have signed you into his Clan if you weren’t bright. But I have to say Miss Al Jamil —”

“Just Nadya is fine.”

“— Nadya, then; you should be a little more careful going forward. I’m sure you can guess our kind aren’t deterred by locks and deadbolts. Do you even carry a stake in your purse?”

She chugs half a bottle of water from the fridge before turning to Vega fully. “You know, until now I hadn’t seen the need.”

“Tsk tsk, then Adrian has failed you in properly ensuring your protection.”

Her fists clench at her sides. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t break into my place to tell me what Adrian’s not doing right, Senator.”

“Please,” with that same politician-smeared endearing tone he uses during newscasts, “call me Adam.”

“No thank you.” Even in the darkness barely permeated by the overhead kitchen lamp she sees the tick of his frown — there and then gone in a flash. Vampires are cunning and politicians are cunning so what happens when you put all that cunning into one vessel? Nadya’s got a sickening feeling she’s close to finding out.

He waves it off easily. “I digress. Yes, Nadya, I am not without ulterior motive for visiting you tonight. But I’m not the only Council member eager to put a face to the name Adrian praises so often these days. My associate Cecil had the, ahem, pleasure, I was told, but he’s not the most hospitable even on a good day.”

“Cecil?”

“Our friend ‘The Baron.’” He says the name like it’s on the same tier as ‘The Boogeyman.’ Nadya sucks in a breath and nods.

“Yes, yes we were told you two had been acquainted. Dreadful business — certainly something that never would have happened under my purview.”

“Sucks you weren’t there, then.”

Vega obviously finds her funny but he’s the only one laughing. “Indeed. Now, onto business…” Nadya does her level best not to tense when Vega starts pacing the apartment. His angular nose twitches — makes her wonder if he can catch some whiff of what happened to Lily. Adrian tried to insist on a cleaning crew but Nadya refused — wanted to take care of it herself. Took a long weekend and spent it on her hands and knees scrubbing industrial bleach over the tiles and threw away everything with even so much a speck of dirt on it just in case that dirt was blood.

He stops opposite her, the kitchen island between them, and thumbs the leather strap of her purse idly.

“I don’t know how much your dear employer has told you about the Council. How it was founded. Why it was necessary — why it continues to be a necessity in these troubled times. What we stand for, and what we stand in the way of when it comes to the balance of things.

“This city is teetering precariously, Nadya. We’ve become a mountain on the head of a pin in the middle of a hurricane. And if things continue as they are…” He doesn’t have to give her the visual. “I’ve already prepared for the inevitable; as many of us in the Council have. But I fear Adrian may be too ensconced with the present to be thinking ahead as he must.”

She fumbles for words. It’s a lot to take in. “If you think — or know — something bad is going to happen, why don’t you try and stop it?”

“Such a finite way of thinking about things; part of that mortal charm, I’m sure.” Answers Vega — only it’s not an answer at all. He’s just talking in circles.

“The Council and I need Adrian Raines to be looking far ahead — his sights set on the future. Your influence has apparently been enough to keep him fixated on the present, so perhaps your influence might be enough to tilt his chin up a bit — if you get my meaning.”

No, I don’t, she wants to say. Get the hell out of my apartment, she wants to say.

But he’s waiting for an answer, so…

“Yeah.”

“Good. If you value him as much as he values you then I think you’ll find this leads to an outcome beneficial for all.”

The sudden beeping of her phone cuts through the tension harshly. Makes her jump and grasp her chest before she looks down at it. Her sunrise alarm greets her with a digitally smiling sun.

Vega’s the one who turns it off — takes a moment to look at the screen with something akin to amusement before hitting the snooze. “I believe that’s my cue to leave. This has been an enlightening discussion but the sun waits for no vampire — no matter his age.”

Discussion? She can’t remember really discussing anything. Only talking in circles.

“No need to show me out, I remember the way.” Vega takes her hand without prompt and kisses the back of her knuckles. God, how she wishes chivalry was dead right about now. “Thank you for entertaining me, Nadya. I hope you found this meeting as delightful as I did.”

She resists every urge to yank her hand back, but crosses her arms defensively. “Sure. That’s a word for it.”

The Senator heads out likely in the same manner that he came in; as though he owns every piece of ground he walks on. He stops just shy of closing the door behind him and gives Nadya a final farewell with his unnerving politician-practiced smile.

“Don’t forget to vote.”

The door clicks shut but Nadya doesn’t move. She stares at the blank wood with a trembling lower lip. Just waiting, waiting for him to come back inside. Or for another vampire to invade her space.

Her snooze alarm snaps her out of her trance. Nadya sinks to the kitchen floor in blubbering tears.

“I do not seek to invalidate your fear but leaving your front door unlocked sends a message even I am confused about. Has it been this way all day? Nadya? Where are y — Nadya.”

Kamilah sighs as she takes in the sight before her. Nadya on the kitchen floor, legs curled to her chest, phone clutched in her hand. White knuckles that won’t thank her for keeping such a tight grip later on in life.

“What are you doing down there?” She waits for an answer but Nadya… she doesn’t give one. Doesn’t think she can speak more than the dozen desperate voice messages left on Adrian’s cell.

A dozen whimpering, tear-filled pleas for him to come protect her and what did she get in reply?

[TEXT]: Nadya I’m so so sorry. Out of the city. Calling Kamilah ASAP. -Adrian [TEXT]: Kamilah en route. Stay there. Have a bag packed. -Adrian

“Stand.”

She lets out a shaky breath and shifts her legs. Pins and needles race along her skin and her knees ache in protest. How long has she been down here?

“Are you impaired, now? Or injured in some way?” Then Kamilah’s face comes into her sight line; the vampire crouched before her in a way that lesser, confused people might call concerned.

“Nadya, look at me.” Her voice, like smoke and cinnamon, draws Nadya’s eyes to hers. Lets her map every little crease that was allowed to set in before she was Turned — frozen in eternal beauty. Holy… wow. “Are you injured?”

It takes a second for her to recover but Nadya manages to shake her head. Kamilah nods, satisfied, and when she stands she has a slim hand extended in offering. With her help Nadya pulls herself up.

“Oof!” The pins and needles catch up with her; angry at her audacity to move after being still from sunrise to sunset. She sways and reaches out for purchase. Finds herself held steady by a lithe and impossibly strong grip.

“You said you were uninjured.” chides Kamilah; who now looks Nadya over with almost medical scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” though her voice probably shouldn’t sound foreign to her own ears, “seriously — my legs just fell asleep. I’m fine, Kamilah. I promise.”

Only when the vampiress seems satisfied does she let go of Nadya — Nadya who’s desperately putting every brain cell she has left into resisting flushing crimson red. Without another word Kamilah vanishes in a blur — reappears not a moment later. The opera music no longer plays.

“The premises are empty.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that.”

“You seemed incapable of doing much of anything.” Kamilah glances back where Nadya had been on the floor and, well, she’ll give her that. “Adrian contacted me hours before, but I could do nothing until sunset. He said you were attacked. But I see no evidence of —”

“Not — it — lemme explain—”

“I expect nothing less. After we’re far from here.”

Nadya packs under Kamilah’s careful surveillance. She has to wrangle her old suitcase out of her closet — runs past her vampire protector several times to grab her things from the bathroom, the living room, Lily’s room — but manages to shove in a couple changes and enough comfy hoodies to last a prison sentence in Siberia. And a change of work clothes just in case.

“Make what you can carry last,” Kamilah advises her from the doorway, “you likely won’t be returning soon.”

Nadya pushes up her glasses — a reminder that has her rifling for her spare pair in her bedside table. “What do you mean?” Well there’s one pair… what happened to the third?

Kamilah scoffs. “You’re unprotected here.” She says it like a fact; something obvious. And in retrospect the fact that she continued to sleep in the same place where Lily was attacked — where Lily was killed — for weeks after… It makes Nadya pack just a little bit faster.

She’s known objectively that Kamilah and Adrian were very different people — but learns just how different when Kamilah opens the passenger side door of a car that would look more at home on a 60s spy film set. Her suitcase stays clutched in her lap while she waits for Kamilah to join her; both taking in the dark leather-lined interior and finding herself terrified of damaging it.

Kamilah shuts her door with possibly more force than necessary. “What are you staring at?”

“My student debt cost put into one vehicle — how did this thing not get stolen while you were upstairs?”

“If that is truly your only curiosity then you should really reconsider your living arrangements.”

“A broke girl lives where a broke girl can afford.”

Kamilah looks at her sharply — Nadya quickly backtracks. “Something Lily used to say; but without the expletives.”

It’s no surprise that Kamilah’s empathy has a limit — and she’s expended all she can manage. The car peels away from the curb in a squeal of tires and blaring taxi horns. If she wasn’t so exhausted she’d be a little more terrified of crashing. Instead Nadya lets the purr of the engine and the lights of the emerging New York night lull her into a snooze until they arrive.

There’s one thing glaringly wrong with all the splendor of Ahmanet Financial and the apartment Kamilah sets her up in: it’s nothing like the condo at Raines Corp. at all. Still wide and spacious but every turn of her head makes Nadya dizzy — no surface left un-adorned with antiques older than she can even fathom. And despite the night every curtain is still drawn shut and clasped with a wrought iron hook. Nadya wouldn’t mind seeing the view from this side of the city but she’s not going to impose on Kamilah more than she already is.

“I thought we were going to Adrian’s.” She follows Kamilah’s lead and toes off her shoes at the doorway. Steps on the raised hardwood floors and feels the cold leech through her socks.

“Adrian is out of town until tomorrow. Urgent Council business.”

“You didn’t go with him?” The arched brow she gets makes Nadya fumble to take her words back. “I—I just mean, you know, as a Council member too.”

“No. I did not. Lucky for you.”

Her tour is brief — closed doors mean stay out and she’s strongly encouraged to take a shower. “Or a bath, if you prefer, I trust you know how not to drown.” And the way she gestures to the single fanciest bathtub Nadya’s ever seen in her entire life incites just a hint of jealousy.

All too soon Kamilah’s sliding her heels back on at the doorway. Nadya stares silently — she can’t help but feel a little like a babysat kid… or a house pet left to its own devices.

“Try not to have any life-threatening emergencies. My butler Gerard can be reached through the landline.” Christ she’s not seen a landline outside of an office in ages. “Keep up after yourself.”

“You’re not going to…”

Kamilah’s stare stops her words in her mouth. “What,” asks the vampire, “did you think I would stay?”

Adrian would, she thinks, and definitely doesn’t say it out loud because she values her head on her neck.

“While it may be the single most bothersome occupation I’ve filled my time with, the running of a Fortune 500 company does not simply happen. We’ve made ourselves titans of business and now we must follow through.”

“Yeah, yeah no, of course.”

Kamilah opens the door; seems to remember something and flashes a look over her shoulder.

“And one more thing — do not leave. This is where you are safest.”

She wasn’t planning on it. “Thanks — again. I mean… for everything. Thank you, Kamilah.”

“Mm.” The door closes with Kamilah on the other side.

Nadya wraps her arms around her middle and tries — with little success — not to feel so utterly alone.

#bloodbound #nightbound #adrian raines #nik ryder #playchoices #bloodbound mc #katherine nightbound #mc: nadya al jamil #adam vega #kamilah sayeed #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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