#hes got deadly evils shaking in their boots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allandoflimbo · 4 years ago

Text

Ashens (Part 22)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,600

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

He’s been gone all morning. You don’t know where he went and you didn’t ask before he left. Whatever it was, you weren’t too concerned, anyway. It was about time you two had some space. It helped clear your mind and helped you move on. You were moving on.

There was another reason you were thankful he had left for the morning. You could feel the chills run up the sides of your arms, goosebumps appearing where your skin was once smooth.

You eyed the closet doors curiously. It was almost eerie how quiet it was around you. You dropped your eyes for only a moment before raising them up again.

You had to do this. You were going to do this.

You finally gather the balls to do something you’ve been wanting to for some time now. It had been eating away at you like mad.

Once in front of the closet, you crouch down. You raise your left hand slowly roll the doors open, your eyes immediately dart down to the little black box on the ground. Exactly where he’d left it.

Part of you was happy that it remained untouched.

Per Steve’s orders, you had both buried any of your weaponry about a mile before reaching the wall nearly three months ago. You weren’t supposed to be bring any inside with you. It was forbidden.

It had shocked you when you and Bucky had been arguing about going after Ashen and he had pulled out a G19, angrily strapping it onto his leg to prove a point. He obviously snuck it in. At the time, you hadn’t really given it much thought. You were more shocked that he ignored his best friend’s request.

Now, it concerned you for different reasons.

You sat criss cross in front of the box, staring at it for a few more long seconds. Taking in a deep breath, you opened it. It opened with a small click.

There it was.

Matte black. Subtle but deadly.

You eyed the gun like it was a ticking bomb. You’ve never held a fire arm before, but that wasn’t necessarily why you were nervous. You were nervous to know why the hell he had it stacked away in your bedroom when you knew he didn’t even have the intention of killing anyone on this mission. He made sure to make you aware of this, many times.

You also knew it wasn’t to be used on you. There was no way.

The only other plausible reason he had it, kept you on edge.

You didn’t want your thoughts going there.

You reached slowly for the gun until you felt it lay heavy in your right hand. It was heavier than it looked. It felt deadlier than it looked.

You swallowed thickly, allowing yourself to think the worst.

Was he going to use this on himself?

You suddenly wanted it as far away from you as possible.

Your hand trembled slightly as you put it back in its place, letting your fingers linger on the ridges for just a moment.

You let out a long breath realizing.

When you had eyed the closet, you didn’t really think it through.

What were you going to do once you had it in your hands? Were you going to get the gun and hide it? Were you just curious? Was there something about it that secretly terrified you and you weren’t going to believe you really saw him hold it until you held it yourself?

You shake your head, pushing the box back into its original place. You were over exaggerating.

He probably just brought it in case you both needed it for self protection.

You looked over at your black back pack right next to it and pulled it out.

You fished inside, looking at different things you forgot you still had. You had your grey sweater, scarf, and beat up boots at the bottom. It smelled dusty.

You stuck your hand into the front pocket of the backpack, pulling out a note. It wasn’t your first time reading it, but you need the gentle reminder.

Thank you again for doing this. Thank you for helping me out and for agreeing to our plan to help Bucky be happy again. We can do this together. That plan, to me, is the most important thing right now. Thank you for doing whatever it takes to mentally convince him he deserves happiness. What you’re doing means the world to me, y/n. See you both again very soon. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.

Steve

You felt small tears in your eyes at your promise. If only he knew how it wasn’t so easy. You closed your eyes tightly together, took a deep breath, and placed the note onto your chest.

I’ll keep trying.

+ +

You didn’t understand these jobs that came with your ID. You didn’t understand most of what you were being told to do, but you did it anyway.

At the end of the day, your number one plan was to still kill Ashen. So you went through with what Bucky ordered you to do until it was time.

Your first day at the tower started off better than how you thought it would. Mr. Hyde was a old gentleman in his late 50s. He had short white hair and a nicely trimmed white beard to compliment it. He knew you were learning and that this would be your first time working up to a secretary job, so he started you off with small assistant duties like transporting paper work around the building, scheduling, and grabbing anything personal he may need here and there.

The best part was when he gave you a tour of the building, the whole reason you even were excited about it. Maybe this was why this was written into the mission.

He explained to you what each floor was but never took you past floor 15. You eyed the buttons on the elevator suspiciously.

He said that wasn’t their area and that “we didn’t need to worry about it”. You needed a special code to access those floors anyway.

You quickly made a connection. You wondered how Bucky had gotten in the other day.

The atmosphere in the elevator went cold when you stopped somewhere on the seventh floor and a man dressed in black and gold walked in. It was a fitted suit, expensive looking, and he had a cold look in his eyes. You swallowed thickly, looking away from him. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, trying to conceal your tattoo as much as you could.

Something about this man was off.

You heard the term Coroner a lot when you worked serving drinks. They weren’t the coroner most people knew, they were cop meets bounty hunter.

There was just something about them that left you uneasy. He stood in front of you and you felt yourself shuffle back a few inches. You looked over at Mr. Hyde and he gave you a small smile.

You smiled back.

+ +

It wasn’t until your fourth day at the building when things finally took a turn.

Bucky was going to meet you at a stairwell for floor eleven. He was going to trace Silas down once and for all. The night after the ball, Bucky was went traced them down to see where they would take the new import. According to what he overheard, there had been some complications and it wouldn’t be administered until today.

You got up from your seat, pretending you were just looking for the restroom, when you turned down the narrow hallway and went for the door that led into the stairwell.

You had three floors to climb up to meet him.

You were on the ninth floor when you turned the corner of the stairs and your heart nearly jumped up into your throat.

His face, his hair, his eyes, and his damn voice.

It all hit you at once and you turned back the direction you came from, leaning back against the steal rods. You put a hand up to your head as you felt dizzy. You could feel your heart beating away like crazy and you felt that anger you harbored down for so long.

It was him. The face from the diner and the face of the man that killed your mom and dad.

Ashen.

And he was with another woman.

“He’s our child and he’s dying!” The woman shouted. You could hear the tears in her voice.

“I know but there’s not much else I can do,” the voice. It was deep and violent. You hated it. You hated him, “He woke up this morning, cured! Without us even giving him the dose of the chemical. It’s obvious his plasma contains some kind of fending off mechanism. It took years, but he obviously survived it and no longer has it.”

You took a deep breath as you processed what you were hearing.

Had the little boy been infected with the virus, but now was doing well?

“And?” The woman insisted.

“And?” An evil laugh came from within Ashen’s chest, “We need all his blood, goddamn it! We need it distributed to our men if we want our side to stay strong once we go out there!”

“You can’t possibly still think—“

“It’s our world —“

“But we are safe here. Our son is safe here!”

“You didn’t think we’d all stay stuck in here for all eternity, did you? Hydra and Sword is to control the world, not the city. These walls kept us safe long enough and our son is well now, and we might have the cure in our hands. It’s all we need to conquer.”

You could hear sniffling.

“You can’t kill our son.” The woman begged.

“No,” he said slowly, “Not yet at least. We need trial periods.”

“Ashen, please-“

“I sacrificed everything for him!” A shriek followed by a gruntled groan came from the woman and you wondered what he was doing to her, “I cut the plan short, of us taking the capitol, because of him! I was minding my own business that night before I got the call. I took the risks, I found the refuge, I found the goods, and I called an initiative, and now look at us, we’re all safe. And our son just also happens to be the possible cure for all of this. If Hydra completing this mission requires my son’s life, so be it.”

“I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let you pick at him with needles and knives. He is my baby boy!”

“Was, honey, was.” You could hear a loud smack, “And after him, you’re next.”

“What?”

“Now let’s get back in there and congratulate him.”

You could still feel your heart beating away inside of your ears as you heard the shuffling of their feet, followed by the closing of a door.

This was way too much information for you to process. This was too much for you. Suddenly, you cursed Bucky for making you work intel. Intel was the worst part.

You knew this information and now you had to tell him without freaking out, or worst, freaking him out.

It didn’t take much longer for a familiar face to turn the corner of the stairwell.

His blue eyes met yours over his scarf.

“What the hell are you doing here, I said eleventh —-“ his voice faltered as he watched your stricken face. His own eyes fell and he raised a hand to the back of your head and caressed it softly, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. What’s going on?”

“I—“ you whimpered out. Bucky hushed you as he leaned his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes tightly together, “I—he—“

“Breathe. Breathe. Breath for me.”

You took in a deep breath and controlled your breathing.

When you opened your eyes he was staring straight down at you.

“I saw him.” Bucky’s eyes darted over your face, knowing exactly what you were talking about. Who you were talking about, “I saw him.” You repeat again. He nods, “I can’t stay here, Bucky. Not when he’s here. He killed mom and dad, Bucky.” You whimpered into a cry.

“Hey, shhhh,” he brought his hand to your jaw and ran his thumb there gently, “shhh. I’m sorry,” he straightens his head up over yours and places a kiss on the top of your head, “I’m sorry you saw him.”

You ran your hands up his chest and softly pushed him away from you. Bucky’s face fell, along with his hands at his sides. You looked away from him, running the back of your sweater-clothed hand underneath your nose.

You needed to create distance. You and him, whatever it was, was no more.

“I overheard them.”

“Them?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Yes, them. Him and what I can only imagine is maybe his wife? I don’t know, it was another woman. The little boy’s mother.”

Bucky took a deep breath.

“Okay, and what did they say?”

“He’s going to kill him. He can potentially save us, save all of us, but instead he’s going to kill him, I—I—“ you were freaking out as your ran both hands down your face.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The boy!” You shouted quietly, pointing to the direction where the stairs continued. “Ashen is after the boy. He’s going to kill the mom and he’s after the boy, too.”

“What? Why? Why is he after his own son?”

You took a deep breath and met Bucky’s gaze again. His jaw was tight and he looked apprehensive.

“They think the cure is in his plasma.” You say slowly and carefully, knowing how much weight the words held.

“The cure?”

“For the virus. The boy’s blood.”

Bucky let out a long breath, running a hand through his own hair now and pulling on it.

“And why does he want the child dead? Does he not want the cure?”

“No, no he does.”

“What? He wants it just for himself?” You whined as you looked away again, “Y/N, you came on this mission for this reason. It’s for you to give me the important information you have right at this moment. Tell me, why does he want the boy dead?”

“He says he wants to make enough just for Hydra and Sword,” Bucky’s face went pale, “I’m assuming it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else after that having access to it. He kills the boy, no more cure for anyone else.”

“That,” his tongue clicks, “That’s absurd. Hydra wants to recruit more bad, not kill off the remaining race. It defeats the purpose of world domination.”

“I think they have a change of plans. They said they want to control the rest of the world.”

“With a raging virus? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. That was all he said before I heard him choking his wife. I don’t know what they plan to do after they go out there, protected. I don’t know.”

“And in that vile? What was in the vile?”

“I don’t know, a trial drug. But nothing as good as the boy’s blood.”

Bucky lets out a long breath as he walks back and forth, clearly stressed and overwhelmed. You watched him, intrigued. You’ve never seen him worry like this before.

“Shit, shit, shit.” he mumbles under his breath, “What do we do? What do we do.”

You stare down at his feet as they continue to move across the floor.

“I think it’s obvious what we need to do.”

“What?”

“We need to take him.” You say seriously, looking Bucky dead in the eye.

“We need to take him.” He says back.

“We can’t let Hydra have access to the cure and let the rest of the world burn and we can’t get him get killed.” You place a hand on Bucky’s arm to stop him and he looks up at you. You could practically see the emotions in his eyes, “He’s just a little boy.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t just go in there and take the kid. I can’t just kidnap someone’s child.”

“Why not?” You ask simply.

Bucky lets out a scoff.

“What?”

“Bucky look at the stakes here. He wants him killed, he’ll build an army to dictate the rest of the world. Bucky we have no other option. This is the end of the world. There is no time for common courtesy.”

“Okay. Okay, just relax. We need to plan this through, okay? So far us two and his parents are the only ones who know about him right?”

“I mean his doctor probably knows too and also the scientist he’s working with. The man who probably sent in those viles.”

“Those viles can be good too, right? We need to take those, too. At least a few. There has to be a reason they brought them in. Maybe they aren’t timely useless. Trial drug or not.”

“So we take the boy, now—”

“We can’t, y/n.” Bucky says strictly. You don’t expect his hand to cup your cheek again. It takes your breath away. Why was he behaving this way? “He said he’ll wait anyway. They probably need to run tests first. We still have two and a half months left in here. If we take him now, they’ll notice he’s gone, and Hydra’s already suspecting there’s intruders inside the wall. It’s too risky. We need to wait,” he runs his hand over your chin and tilts his head slowly to the side. A pained look is in his eyes, “I know you want to, and I want to, too, but we need to do this carefully.”

“So what do you suggest?” Your voice comes out rough.

“I don’t know, maybe we can keep an eye on him or something.” He says. “His father works here, maybe you’ll see him around. Warm up to him. Make sure he’s safe.”

“Ashen knows what I look like.”

Bucky nods.

“I know that. Maybe there’s something we can do. Maybe I can find where he stays in the building. I’ll figure something out. And you’ll be safe, I promise. He won’t see you.”

You believe Bucky’s words and you nod.

“Okay.”

“What do you think? Should we risk him seeing me?” He says with a small smile on his face.

You look at him incredulously.

“Are you dumb?”

“What?” He asks like it’s nothing.

“You’re Captain America’s best fiend. If you really think he wouldn’t recognize you right away and run and tell his dad, you’re insane.”

___

It had been a successful day. It was exhausting and you and Bucky were both clearly burnt out, emotionally and mentally. A lot happened for both of you. You both took a shower, individually of course, you had dinner and you finally got him to watch the first half of Titanic. It was a long night.

But it wasn’t the end of the day yet.

You sat on the bed crisscross and in your PJs, looking out into the city, deep in thought.

Bucky moves over to you and across the bed and you close your eyes tightly together, feeling the bed dip down. You can feel him as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll save him, okay? Imagine how much Steve will love us when you come back not only with a life saved, but with the cure.” His words are gentle and sweet, but hold so much weight over you.

You couldn’t do this. You made that promise a few days ago.

“Look, Bucky I don’t think we should do this anymore. Our agreement.” You say quietly, your voice breaking off at the end.

He went still and you felt a cold rush where he began to remove his hand from your skin.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that—“

“Bucky—“

“I didn’t know you weren’t in the mood. I’m sorry.”

“No,” you say quietly and so heartbreakingly slow that you know he can feel it too. Why did it feel this way? “It’s not that.” You slowly turn around to face him. He’s got both arms stretched down on the bed below him, palms down, and he’s staring at you like he was afraid you would hurt him again like you did the other night. You looked away from him and pushed yourself away to give you both more room to breathe

“Sweetheart—“

“I’ve decided to go out with Pietro again,” You watch as his eyes drop from your own to the spot just next to your arm. He swallows hard and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that isn’t necessarily jealously, “We want to see where it goes. I know we’ll only be here a little while longer, but who knows the future, right? What if I see him again?”

Bucky swallows again and clears his throat.

“It wouldn’t feel right doing that to him.”

“Oh.”

“So, uh,” he straightens himself out until he’s standing, and he pulls his shirt down in a sort of fidgety way you almost find adorable if it weren’t for the heartbroken look in his eyes, “you’re gonna date?”

You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, feeling a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t bare.

Why did it feel like this?

“Yeah. I deserve someone that will take care of me like that, don’t you think?”

Bucky’s eyes are unreadable at that point. This was what he wanted, right? For you to move on and meet someone better for you?

“You’ll find a guy your age, you don’t want an old thing like me, anyway.”

“You do.” It hurt him to say it. It fucking destroyed him in the goddamn core.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander@nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics@kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing @everythingiloveandcherish @shinykoalacat @dragongirl31 @kaitlynisinfinite

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x y/n #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tfatws fanfic #bucky

148 notes · View notes

bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Text

“Ocean Breeze,” Levi x Reader

Pls this happened in my dream and I had to write it out.

Summary: after everything that’s happened when reclaiming wall Maria, the scouts finally get to leave and see the ocean. Levi can’t help the excitement when watching you be full of happiness at the sight of the sea🥺

Warnings: none ? End of s3 spoilers

Everything that has happened the last few days was a lot on the scouts. The amount of soldiers they’ve lost, the fact that even the Commander had died- it was a lot to carry but it didn’t stop the citizens from celebrating on reclaiming wall Maria and eventually opening it back up to the people.

Levi had noticed how miserable you’ve been during all of this, he’s tried his best to ease your mind and take the guilt you carried when you both would lay beside each other in bed.

He was worried, he’s never seen you this depressed or unhappy before but the overwhelming battles they constantly faced from the Titan shifters was nothing but stressful.

But as the scouts decided to head off on another expedition, traveling farther than they’ve done before. Their eyes had seen first hand- the ocean.

Everyone stopped, hesitating as they looked at the large body of water before Armin ran towards it, in absolute awe.

The plain look on your face as you got off your horse, taking off the boots you wore before stepping towards the shore, the sand soft and pleasant.

“Y/N.” Levi spoke, he wasnt too sure about the water yet but as everyone got in the water, excited- you couldn’t help but want to join in.

You ignored him calling after you, once your feet hit the shore, the cold wet sand squishing between your toes, it made you cringe at first until the waves as crashed onto the sand, hitting your feet and a loud squeal slipped from your lips from how cold it felt.

Levi had jumped off his horse, walking up behind you but stood far enough from the shore to not touch the water. This was the first time in a while he’s seen a smile come across your face, pure happiness as you went further in until the water was up just below your knees.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled under your breath, laughing at the feeling and you moved your head up to look at Levi, gesturing him to come.

He didn’t want to, he hated the idea of this and thought about the dangers that lied just beneath the water but seeing that grin on your face, it made his heart race and he quickly took off his boots and followed you.

The sudden cold water touching his skin made him almost flinch, groaning under his breath but you grabbed onto his hands and pulled him in further, seeing the unpleasant look on his face,

“C’mon, it’s not so bad you big baby.” You held onto his hands, keeping him still and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah but we don’t know much about this... ocean.” He scoffed under his breath, his eyes meeting yours and the way your eyes lit up, it instantly melted his heart.

The nights he would constantly cuddle you as you cried, trying to make you feel better about everything that has happened. The fact you turned stone cold like him, not even smiling for over a year, it had made him feel like he couldn’t make you happy anymore.

But you stood there in front of him, excited like a child on Christmas morning over the ocean. You couldn’t contain all the happiness that flowed through your body as you playfully splashed at Levi, making him shoot you a deadly glare before softening up.

He had decided to let this slide for once, to let you enjoy this ounce of happiness and he had pushed his feelings to the side, still not fully trusting this but you were having fun, that’s all he cared about.

As you turned around, looking at the ocean and how far it goes beyond- he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and placed a few kisses on your cheek, a breath of relief leaving his lips.

“What do you think is out there?” You asked him, turning your head back and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, probably a lot of things we have no idea about.” He mumbled, watching you turn around to face him.

He had given you a confused look as a evil smile appeared on your lips, tackling him down as the both of you landed in the water and a dramatic groan had left his lips, his hair now wet and falling over his eyes.

He glared up at you as you sat on top of his lap, soon replacing it with a smile and cupped your cheeks, leaning up to kiss your lips.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” He rolled his eyes, watching you get up and help him up, the both of your uniforms now soaked.

He took the opportunity to lift you up in his arms, running further into the water and the scream that slipped out of your mouth as the both of you tumbled down underneath the water, quickly swimming back up.

You splashed him again, not even caring how soaked you both were now as the rest of the scouts took that chance to go further in and swim around.

Your eyes landed on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging onto him close as you looked up at the blue sky above you.

His heart flutter as he watched you, everything that had happened- it was well worth it to see you this happy. It almost made his heart explode because all he wanted was to see your smile and your face light up, all he wanted was to make you the happiest you’ve ever been.

This moment, right here, was worth everything. He had completely fallen in love with you all over again just by the happy smile that stayed on your lips, the sun shining down on your skin and made you look even more beautiful than you did before.

He couldn’t help but stare, watch you, study you. He wanted to keep you in this moment, he wanted to keep that smile on your face.

You felt his eyes burning into you, glancing down to meet his gaze and the way his cheeks had tinted slightly pinkish, it made you sit there in awe.

“Why are you staring?” You knew why, you just wanted to hear him say it out loud.

“Never seen you this happy in over a year. I’m trying to make sure I take everything in and remember it.” Levi sighed, his eyes almost tearing up and it made you completely weak.

You opened your mouth to say something but quickly closed it as a frown appeared on your lips, cupping both of his cheeks and staring at him, full of love.

“Dont cry.” You mumbled, making him shake his head and turn away.

“I’m not.” He sniffles, not wanting to admit that seeing you like this made him a bit emotional. It’s been a long time.

“I know the last few years has been hell but- as long as I have you, as long as you’re happy.. that’s all I care about.” He spoke again, turning his head towards you as one tear had managed to slip but you quickly swiped it away with your thumb.

“I love you more than anything, don’t forget that.” You placed a kiss on his forehead, soon leaning your head on his as you closed your eyes.

He took a deep breath, the way his heart felt full, the way he felt finally at peace. All the stress, all the guilt- it had lifted from both of your shoulders and down into the ocean like it never existed.

It had made him see things in a much better light, the way he was beyond grateful to have you and how he never wanted to lose you- how you meant more to him than his own life.

“Marry me.” He abruptly said, making your eyes shoot open and look at him with shock.

“What?”

“Marry me.” He repeated, this time with more confidence and you were in disbelief.

“I don’t ever want to lose you.. I don’t care about anything else, I just- I want to marry you.” He softly said, making your heart pound inside of your chest.

You didn’t know what to say, obviously you loved him more than anything. You can’t see a future without Levi but the both of you have never spoken about marriage or a future besides killing titans so him suddenly bringing it up had you a bit stunned.

But it also made you feel even more happy if that was even possible, the way his eyes were searching yours to see a hint of rejection or sadness- none of it was there, instead your emotions washed over you and made you tear up, making him think you weren’t happy until you nodded your head repeatedly.

“I do want to marry you.” You almost whispered, brushing his wet hair back from his face and he smashed his lips on yours.

The kiss had felt like fireworks, it felt like complete love and passion. It made your heart swell.

You tilted your head, moving your lips in sync with his and moved your arms to cling around his neck, almost forgetting about the fact other people were around you until you both pulled back.

Levi had stared down at you full of admiration, full of love and as he sat there in thought, about you, about your futures together- all he wanted to do was make you happy till the day you both die of old age.

Plssssss🥺🤧

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi Ackerman #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi x reader #levi fanfic #levi headcanons #aot headcanons #aot imagines

627 notes · View notes

luciusmalfoysimp · 4 years ago

Text

Angst Imagine: Imagine Lucius Being Forced to Watch You Be Tortured After You Take The Blame For His Actions

WARNING: this is not gonna be a pretty imagine. there is a good amount of physical torture besides the cruciatus curse

this doesn’t take place during a particular school year from the books btw

reader info: reader has medium to long hair that can be pulled (no, not in the kinky way lmao)

•

You sat on your knees, a wand pointed at the back of your neck. Bellatrix and the Snatchers had stormed the Malfoy Manor, and you found yourself and Lucius terrified as the two of you kneeled before the deranged witch.

She walked back and forth, her dark eyes scanning the both of you as she paced. You felt completely helpless, like nothing but mere prey to her, like an antelope to a lion, and by the look on her face, she felt the same way and was enjoying it.

“Lucius, darling, I got word from a little birdie that you betrayed us.” Her cold voice swept through the room, and you felt a shiver go down your spine. She approached your partner and bent at the waist to meet his eyes. “You stole and destroyed my grandfather’s pocket watch.” Bellatrix stared at Lucius, who’s eyes were fixed on the floor. “You know I was going to give it to the Dark Lord. He was going to use it for another horcrux.”

Without warning, she took her knife from it’s holster and brought the blade to his face. You bit your tongue, trying not to show any fear, but your heart was pounding.

“It would be a shame to carve up such a pretty face.” Bellatrix’s voice was quiet and deadly. “My sister always had a good taste in men... but apparently, looks don’t make up for your betrayal.” She spoke the last part in a mocking tone, running the blade across his cheek and opening a shallow wound. You saw Lucius tense. In another sudden move, she grasped a fistful of his hair and brought the blade to his throat.

“You know what happens to traitors-” Bellatrix snarled, and without thinking, you stood up quickly.

“He didn’t steal it.” You spoke in a firm voice. The two of them instantly turned towards you. Lucius’s eyes filled with more horror as he realized what you were about to do.

“Is that so?” Bellatrix let go of your partner and stalked towards you. Her eyes met yours, and she stepped uncomfortably close to you.

“I stole it.” You spoke quietly, standing your ground and refusing to break eye contact. “It’s nothing but ash now.” A smirk crossed the witch’s face.

“Really...” Her eyes glinted with evil, and you shuddered. You could tell she knew you were full of it. She turned to Lucius. “Would be a shame for her if she were lying, you know.”

“I’m telling the truth, Bellatrix.” Her head snapped towards you as you said her name. “You know where I stand about the Dark Lord. I would never let him get a chance to become immortal.” The smirk quickly dropped off of her face, and you knew you hit a nerve. “I take full responsibility.” Your voice faltered. “Just... don’t hurt Lucius.”

“(Y/n), drop the act, now.” Lucius pleaded. You could hear the fear in his voice.

“Do whatever to me. Anything.” Your voice broke. “Just don’t hurt him...” Bellatrix nodded, and took a step back. To your dismay, she started to quietly laugh to herself. Her head whipped back towards Lucius.

“You’ve got yourself quite a partner, Lucius.” She returned her attention to you, and she began to circle you. “Saying she’s take anything you were supposed to get...” Your eyes watched her as she went to your left side and immediately looked to your right once she was in your blind spot. Your heart was pounding and you felt your breathing become more ragged.

Bellatrix stopped when she was right in front of you, her dark eyes gliding over to Lucius, who was absolutely still with fear. “I think I know how to punish dear Lucius without laying a finger on him...”

And with that, Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you to the center of the room. Her grip was like iron, and you had no choice but to go with her, giving small yelps now and then. You needed to stay strong. You can’t show any fear. She’ll enjoy herself more if she knows how scared you are.

She dropped the hair from her hand and stood over you while you doubled over. All it took was her pulling out her wand, and you instantly knew what the next word would come out of her mouth. You closed your eyes, mentally preparing yourself.

“CRUCIO!” Your assumption was correct, and you couldn’t even process it before the blinding pain hit you. Instantly, you let out the most blood-curdling scream, one that would permanently stick in Lucius’s mind.

You’d never felt pain like this before. Every cell in your body felt like like it was made of molten lead. You could’ve sworn you were bleeding from the pain, but miraculously, you weren’t. You writhed in agony on the floor, your voice having a mind of its own as you non-stop shrieked, not allowing yourself to stop at any point.

“STOP!” You could barely hear Lucius’s voice, but the sheer hurt in his voice only added to the pain. The sound of impact rang through the room and the torture abruptly stopped. Shaking, you looked to see Scabior delivering kicks to shut him up. You cried out at the sight and attempted to crawl towards him, but Bellatrix’s high-heeled foot came down on the middle of your spine and pushed you back down.

“That’s enough.” Her voice was completely nonchalant. The Snatcher stopped, and gave her a grimace. The heel of Bellatrix’s shoe ground into your vertebrae and you groaned quietly. “I have a brilliant idea. Scabior, darling. Come here. Fenir, make sure the Malfoy traitor stays put.”

You looked up and saw Fenir approach Lucius, who had a significant amount of blood pouring from his nose. Just by the look of it, you could tell it was broken. Tears filled your eyes, and you didn’t even notice Bellatrix whisper something to Scabior, who nodded and returned to Lucius.

“I think... I’ll have some fun with this.” Bellatrix ran her tongue over her grotesque teeth as she stared at your partner. “As much as I’d love to torture both you with the curse, I think it would be better for you to endure the pain of someone you love instead...” She gave a low chuckle and you shuddered.

“Bellatrix, I beg of you, don’t harm-” Before you could say a word, Scabior interrupted Lucius with a sudden roar of the Imperius curse. Malfoy went quiet and stared at you, eyes pooling with even more tears.

“Thank you.” Bellatrix snickered. “Now, you’ll be forced to watch miss (y/n)’s pain. All because of you.” Her foot left your back and she pulled your head from the ground by your hair. You could feel her breath against your face. “It’s a shame, really. You’re the one who has to suffer.” She gave an ominous chuckle. You squeezed your eyes shut, a lump forming in your throat. With a deep inhale, you let your eyes open and stared at Lucius, tears going down your face.

“CRUCIO!” Bellatrix’s voice exploded through the room, and this time, you felt as though each bone in your body had snapped. Your screams once again filled the hall, your throat starting to burn as you cried out. You didn’t even realize it, but you started convulsing from the agony. Each of your limbs jerked and twitched terribly as you howled from the absolute torment.

Lucius could feel himself start to hyperventilate. Under the curse, Scabior was forcing him to watch you as you were tortured, not allowed to say a word. Tears started to fall, partially from not even being able blink under the curse, but the majority of it was the heart shattering sight of you in pain. He was so angry at himself. He started to taste blood as he bit harshly into his tongue. His eyes met yours, and the tears fell quicker.

The pain stopped, and you took a few deep breaths. Your head turned towards Bellatrix, and you didn’t get a word out before the toe of her boot crashed against your jaw. Your head began to ring as you fell. You weakly spit out a bit of blood, noticing white fragments in the small stream.

“CRUCIO!” Your fingernails dug into the hardwood floor enough to leave marks. Every part of you was absolutely on fire, and all you could do was shriek and sob. You couldn’t see it above you, but Bellatrix stared down at you, a deranged grin across her face. This time, she held the curse for what seemed like hours before she stopped.

You began to shake as you laid face down, your head feeling as though it were about to explode. The feeling only worsened as the deranged witch took a fistful of your hair and yanked your head up. Her weight bore down on your aching back as you sat on you, making sure you wouldn’t move. The tip of her knife landed against your cheek.

“Look at your lover.” She commanded. You closed your eyes instead, just wanting everything to end. “LOOK AT HIM!” Your eyes met his, and you shuddered. His eyes were completely bloodshot as he stared you down. Bellatrix dug the knife into your face and began to slide it down, opening a cut in your face. You cringed, your lips pulling back into a pained expression as the burn across your face worsened.

With that wound opened, she took the knife and sliced open your bottom lip. You quietly cried, once again trying not to show fear.

“My, my, your hair really is lovely.” To your surprise, Bellatrix began to stroke your hair. “So soft and smooth... and long.” She gave a quiet, throaty laugh, before pushing your face against the floor. Your breathing picked up quickly as you felt her pull your hair, then the noise of light sawing filled the air. “YOU WON’T BE PRETTY ANYMORE FOR DEAR LUCIUS!” You began to weep, knowing that she was doing this to you to humiliate you. Your cries were drowned out by Bellatrix’s cackling.

A small swish beside your head caused you to look to the side. A good sized lock of your hair fluttered beside you, then a second, a third, a fourth...

The pile beside you only grew, and at last, she let go of your hair. Through your tears, you looked and thought you saw a glimpse of two huge green eyes staring at you. You blinked once, and they were gone. You sniffled quietly, and you were turned onto your back, where she pinned you down. Bellatrix stuck her bottom lip out at you, a fake sorrow flickering in her eyes.

“Aw, are you crying?” She mocked you. This quickly turned your embarrassment to anger and fueled it terribly. Gathering up a bit of saliva and blood from the kick from earlier and her cuts, you spat directly in her face.

A short, high pitched exclaim of disgust left her mouth as she recoiled. You forced your torso up, trying to see if you could get the upper hand and get her off of you, but unfortunately, the witch was too quick. With a force you didn’t even know she had, she slapped you so hard across the face you saw stars for a few seconds.

“YOU SNIVELING LITTLE BITCH!” She shrieked. Her hand went around your throat and forced you back against the ground, the thud against the floor only making your head spin more. With a quick movement of her arm, she sliced the other side of your face, causing you to cry out. She gave another, this time across your eyebrow. With pure fury in her eyes, she opened a long, deep cut going along your hairline, causing you to screech. Instantly, blood began to go down your face and the side of your head, reddening your hair and your eyesight.

Bellatrix stood up, delivering a kick to the ribs that produced a noticeable crack. She must’ve noticed your fingers splay out from pain, as she walked over and raised her foot, driving the heel directly into the center of your left hand. Your right hand formed a fist and pounded against the ground from the agony. Lifting her foot again, the Death Eater landed her blow onto your fingers, filling the air with the sickening sound of your bones snapping. You gave an angered and pain filled shout through your gritted teeth, angry at yourself for not being quick enough to apprehend her. She gave a swift kick to the back of the head, not to knock you out, but to make sure you wouldn’t get up. The sadistic witch wanted you awake for this. Raising her wand, she inhaled deeply.

“CRUCIOOOOOO!” It was almost silly how angry she was, but this seemed to fuel the pain of her curse. You felt as though you were being skinned alive onlynto have lemon juice thrown on you, and you screamed and cried terribly, noticeably more intense than previously. You then looked over at Lucius, and with your face covered in blood, your hair an uneven mess of different lengths, you pleaded to him.

“LET HER KILL ME!” You wailed. “PLEASE! IT HURTS TOO MUCH! LET HER KILL ME!”

These words haunted Lucius for years. He’d hear them when there was silence. He’d hear them in his nightmares. He’d hear them when the wind blew harshly outside. He’d hear them when he’d try to focus on his work. He’d hear them as you would wake up from your own nightmares. He’d hear them when he saw the Daily Prophet articles about the incident, especially when the damage pictures appeared on the front page.

Just as Bellatrix was about to go through with your desperate request, the room was filled with shouting of the stupefy spell, heavy footsteps, and flashes of light across the room. This went on for about twenty seconds, then there was silence. Utter silence.

“Lucius...” You recognized the person’s voice in an instant: Arthur Weasley. Your breath hitched, and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, but looked up to see the comforting sight of lilac hair.

“(Y/n)...” Tonks stared down at you, her eyes filling with tears. She went to touch your face, and you curled in on yourself, not wanting to be hurt. Voices muttered around you, and the voices faded as you at last slipped out of consciousness, having only been awake from pure adrenaline for the past few hours.

•

You weren’t out for long, perhaps fifteen minutes at most. You were woken up with a start, your head in Tonks’ lap as she wiped away some of the dried blood from your hair and face. You noticed some fresh blood smeared on her knuckles. Lupin sat beside her, his wand a few inches from your face, a noticeable bruise on his cheek.

“You should’ve let her rest, Remus...” Tonks’ voice broke as she scolded her partner. “We don’t know what she’s been through. Being out for a while could be good for her.” You could tell he agreed with her, but you knew you needed to be awake.

“We should fill you in.” He said. “Dobby, Malfoy’s old house elf, had come back to the manor on instinct. He knew something was wrong. His intuition saved your life.” You briefly remembered seeing his eyes at one point. “He contacted the Aurors, and, to everyone’s surprise, Arthur Weasley came along.” You looked and saw him quietly speaking to Kingsley. “Everyone apparated, a bit too late unfortunately. The Snatchers and Lestrange are already on their way to their Azkaban cells. You’re alright now, I promise-”

“Where...” You went to interrupt him, but your voice was completely gone. Your screaming had taken a toll on your vocal chords, and you could barely produce any words. You swallowed, then looked at the two. “Where’s Lucius?”

“Mad-Eye had to restrain him.” Lupin replied. “He was so desperate to get to you. That’s how I got this.” He pointed to the bruise. “Was scared he’d cracked my jaw for a second, he was so desperate. It would’ve been too overwhelming for you with the state he was in.”

You looked down and saw your hand, which was wrapped in bandages, then back at Tonks. “Can I sit up?”

“If that’s what you need, then of course.” She wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you sit up. You instantly gritted your teeth and hissed, your ribs on fire. Bellatrix had broken them, alright. But, you managed to sit up. Footsteps approached you, and your neck cracked slightly as you craned to see Arthur and Kingsley coming to you, a glass of water in Arthur’s hand.

“Here.” Arthur put the glass to your lips, allowing you to hastily gulp down the water. “I bet you think it’s odd seeing me here. Believe me, Lucius thought he was hallucinating when I tried to calm him down after he was taken away by Mad-Eye. When the elf told us that Bellatrix was torturing you with him being forced to watch...” His voice trailed off for a second, and you swear you saw tears in his eyes. “...I couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. We’ve... despised each other for years, but just the thought of anyone having to see their loved one in so much pain...” He made a fist and swallowed, his eyes going to the floor. “We actually talked like civil human beings back in his room. No tension. No obvious hatred. Nothing. He actually apologized for the way he’d treated me for so long. I’d never seen him cry before.” He looked back at you. “He loves you terribly, you know. He went against the Dark Lord to save you. He told me he’d never forgive himself for what you went through today.”

You were completely taken aback by Arthur’s words. You’d seen the two interact before, with their backhanded comments and the looks of pure disgust thrown at each other. Right then and there, you realized how much respect you had for him. Your eyes went to the blood on Tonks’ knuckles, and she followed your gaze.

“Oh, that.” She scrubbed at it, a grimace on her face. “A reporter of the Daily Prophet decided to show up. Tried to take a picture of you while you were out. I’m just glad my fist met his face just before he had the brains to apparate.”

“That’s my girl.” Lupin smiled playfully and slid an arm around her waist. You allowed the corners of your mouth to turn up slightly. You then looked to Arthur.

“Thank you.” Was all you could say before your eyes filled with tears. Arthur patted your non-bandaged hand with a warm smile.

“You’re going to be alright.” Kingsley said, and you turned to him. “Do you want to see Lucius?” You hesitated for a second. Do you really want to see him after all of this damage you’d taken? Would he find you ugly, like how Bellatrix had intended to make you?

“I think she doesn’t have much of a choice.” Tonks nodded in the other direction, and you turned to see your partner, sheepishly walking into the main foyer. Even from a distance, you could see the purple bruising around his right eye and across the bridge of his nose, which was slightly crooked. Mad-Eye walked beside him, a hand on Lucius’s shoulder.

Your eyes met, and you felt your chest heave with a sob. You’d thought you had no more tears left, but more fell as Lucius quickly approached you. He fell to his knees once he reached you and threw his arms around you. His body shook as he held you, and you instantly could tell he was crying. You returned his embrace, your arms sliding around his waist. His hands slid up and down your back, an action he always did to soothe you. The two of you just sat, enjoying the warmth of the other person. You snuggled your face into his neck, taking in his comforting scent for a few seconds before pulling away. Lucius went to pull you back into his embrace but the second your eyes met his, he grabbed the sides of your face and brought you into a sweet and sincere kiss.

You hadn’t noticed, but Tonks had rested her head against Lupin’s shoulder, quietly crying at the two of you. Lupin grasped her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. Arthur felt his heart warm, especially after knowing Lucius for so long as a cold hearted man.

The two of you held the kiss until you were out of breath. Once you pulled away, Lucius put his forehead against yours, your faces both stained with tears. He cupped your cheek, his breathing staggered.

“(Y/N)...” He whispered. A fresh wave of tears filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry...” He pulled you back into his chest, kissing the top of your head. Standing you up, he brought you to the couch, where you rested your head on his lap, and eventually slipped into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

#lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy x you #lucius malfoy one shot #lucius malfoy imagine #Jason Isaacs

341 notes · View notes

cosplaydude637 · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 08: Market Run.

Simon has been in the library for the last three days. He looked like crap. His hair was messier then normal and he had dark rings under his eyes, an energy ruin barind on his right arm. Isabelle walks in and looks at her husband and lets out a heavy hearted sigh.

“Simon why are you still here? You have to sleep!” She barks.

Simon slow looks up at her his eyes red from staring at a computer screen. “Is there word form the other have we learned anything?” He asks. Isabelle shakes her head slowly “Ok then that is why i am still here researching everything I can think of.” He adds. Isabelle sighs and walks out of the library.

Isabelle leaned her back on the door of the library. She loved Simon but damn that man could be stubborn. Then again she did love that about him too, just not when it came to her. Giving a heavy sigh she push off and heads down the hall to the weapons room.

Once in the weapon room Izzy fault at home. The room was covered in all kinds of weapons from swords and whips to axes and bows. As a weapons master Isabellea loved this room. Not as must as she loved her and Simon room…. There bed. How she missed her husband but ever since they learned of the Gates Simon has not left the library. She past most her time here.

However this time the weapons room was not empty. Ruthie one of the new young shadowhunters was standing there looking over a table of knifes. “Can I help you squirt.” Izzy asks. Ruthie jumps and lets out a little sqwill.

“Mr.s LoveLace you scared me.” Ruthie says turning to look at Izzy.

“It's Izzy and i am sorry but did you need some Weapons?” Izzy asks as she makes her way to her work table.

“Mr.s ...Izzy” Ruthie starts to say but catches her self. “You know every Weapon in here right?” she finishes.

“That I do, I would not be much of a weapons master if I did not. Why do you want to learn?” Izzy inquers.

Ruthie shakes her head “Not exactly. I am the medic for my squad as you will know. I want to learn how these weapons can hurt my team and what I can do to heal them.” she explands.

“Wall for must of them a Iratze will do the trick.” Izzy repalies.

“You just said, must of them?” Ruthie asks

“Wall ya if we are stabbed with a seraph blade it will not heal with an Iratze.” Izzy explands.

“And any truly deadly cut will need more than just a Iratze that's why Alec put into place a medic on every team.” Izzy says fingering a long sword that lies on her disk. Just then one of the other new Shadowhunters enters the room.

“Hello Xander.” Izzy says waving at him.

“Hey the console asked me to tell you that him, Jace,Simon,Clary, Mekyle and Angelique are all going on a mission and will be back later.” Xander says in a very droll voice.

“What's with you?” Ruthie asks.

“Just because I don't have a Parabatai I can't go on this mission.” Xander pouts.

“It does suck at times but there are just some things that only they can do. Trust me I dealt with it all my life.” Izzy says with a small smile.

“Ya but I am going crazy stuck in here with books.” Xander says.

“Well you know there are other ways to get info” Izzy replays with an evil smile. Ruthie and Xander exchange looks and smile.

An hour later Izzy, Ruthie and Xander are walking down Canal street in full gear unseen to all the mundens. “Where are we going?” Xander asked.

“Just keep up.” Izzy says ducking into an old run-down theater. The other two follow her. Their eyes go wide when they see a huge market unfooled before them. “Welcome to the Shadow Market.” She adds with a smile.

The two young shadowhunters look around in amazement. There were stands selling all kinds of things. One stand head a vampire selling Cross of all things. There were two Werewolves selling all kinds of meat. In the square two fey girls were dancing in circles. As they walked deeper and deeper in the market they were filled with wonder.

“Mrs.Isabelle, where are we going?” Xander asks.

“Just call me Izzy and we are headed there.” Izzy says and points to a small building. The sign over it says “The Dancing Elf.”

“Tell me that is a joke.” Ruthie smirks as they make their way in.

The Dancing Elf was a very busy bar with all kinds of downworlders in it. Izzy walks over to the Bar and kicks one of the chears so hard it flies over everyone's head and hits the back wall. The whole place goes silent and turns and looks at Izzy, Ruthie and Xander. Xanders hands slowly move to his Chakrums on his hips. Right as the room seems to start to bust into a full out brawl a Woman voce yells from the back of the bar at a round Table. “Damn it Lightwood why you gotta be a pain in everyone's ass!”

Izzy smirked and started to make her way to the table. She walked with a power that screamed go ahead and try to pick a fight with me, I dare you. But not a single one came at her. And there were gant Fey in this place but they just looked away or got out of Izzy's way as she passed. Xander and Ruthie followed behind her quickly.

“Cassandra you old Dog. You know me, I got to be the center of attachen.” Izzy flashed her a devilish smile.

Cassandra was a lean woman with long green hair and glowing yellow eyes. She was dressed head to toe in black with 3ich high black combat boots. Both her arms were covered in tattoos. Like Izzy, Cassandra ora screamed fighter. Seeing as Xander is from the mundane world Cassandra looks like something out of a biker gang.

“Izzy Lightwood it's been far too long.” Cassandra moshens for them to sit down. As the Shadowhunters take their seat the Bar goes back to its normal business.

“It's Lovelace's now Cass.” Izzy smiles and flashes her wedding ring.

“Wall lish me and send me to the powned A man who was brave enough to put a ring on it.”

“Cass be nice Simon is a great man and one hell of a lover.” Izzy smirked.

“So why are you here, most not be for a drank… Seeing as you got the kiddos.” Cass looked over at the two young shadowhunters. Ruthie's eyes were glued to the table but Xanders head was like it was on a swivel. In his mind he had already mapped out ways to get them out of this place with as little damage as needed.

“Cass, This is Xander and Ruthie. They are young but they are ShadowHunters and they are good. Or so Jace tells me.”

“Oh Jace how is my dear blond god?”

“Married” Xander smarted off.

“Oh the kids Got fire?” Cass asked. Xander locked eyes with her and for a few sacents not one of them blinked. “Oh i like you boyo.” Cass says liking her lips sadctvly. This made Xander look away. Cass leaphs out and turn back to Izzy. “so why are you here?”

“Need Info and you're just the bloodhound to find out for me.” Izzy says with a soft smile.

“Is Is she a Wolf?” Ruthie squikes out. Cass again starts leaphing.

“No I am a warlock that is shifter.” Cass answers.

“Shifter?” Ruthie asks, finally looking at the women.

“Ya I am a Shape Shifter. I mostly turn in to a dog. Hins why your monitor keeps dropping the dog jokes.”

“Hey you made one two.” Xander chimes in. Cass blows him a kiss and smiles as Xander's whole face turns red and he finds a very interesting spot on the floor to Look at.

“Cass focus I need info on a warlock that is called Sinara.” Izzy snaped. Cass whent raged and her face went almost ghost white.

“You seen her.. Or you know her.” Izzy stated

“Look Shadowhunter I think it's time you got out of my bar!”

“Cass, Please she almost killed my brothers.”

“Get out!” Cass growled and once again the whole bar fell silent.

Izzy studded up and slammed her fist on the table. “Damn you Bitch and all your kind!” Izzy stormed out of the bar. Ruthie followed suit behind her but as Xander made to leave Cass grabbed his arm and slammed a piece of paper into his hand. Xander looked at Cass and in her yellow eyes and for a split second he saw regret in her eyes.

Once All three of them were outside Izzy spun on Xander and grabbed his shirt. “What did she say to you?”

“What nothing just gave me this paper.” Xander holds up the paper and Izzy saches it out of his hand. She quickly opens it and starts to giggle like a schoolgirl. She hands it back and starts for the exit. Xander looks at the paper and again Blush like a mad man. All that was on the paper was a phone number and xoxoxo

As our group of shadowhunters make it to the exit a blood curdling scram coming from the Dancing Elf. Without thinking Xander turned and ran back with Ruthie and Izzy a few seconds behind him. Xander bust through the doors of the bar and drew his chakrams as he landed and stood ready to fight. The bar looked like a blood bath. Ruthie let out a small scream as she came charging in.

“By the Angel!” She states and starts to tend to the few that were still alive.

Izzy eyes sweep the room quickly. Xander does the same. Both were taking inventory of who was in the bar and how was not… “Cass!” They both shout. A werewolf with a broken leg slowly sits up. “They grabbed her and head out the back.” Ruthie moved to start working on his leg.

“You two Go I got this.” Ruthie doesn't even notice that Xander was already gone.

“Damn it!” Izzy snapped and took off after him.

When Xander got to the back alley he found to human shaped shadow hovering over Cass who was laying passed out on the floor. Xander threw one of his chakrams, That cutting off one of the shadow heads.

“Nephalum.” The other shadow histed

“Shadow Demons” Izzy says, waking up next to Xander, her shank bracelet slithering into its whip form.

“You know this breed of demon?” Xander asks as his chakram flies into his hand.

“Ya, A shadow demon is formed from the very essence of evil on the Abyss”

“So why are they after Cass?”

“Good Question lets ask.” Izzy flicked her wrist and her whip gois flying out and wraps around the demons neck. The sound of burning flesh can be hard and smoke was coming from it's nick where the whip was.

“Adumis..” It cried out in pain.

“That's right big boy.” Izzy scoffed.

Xander dashes over to Cass wall Izzy toys with the demon. Cass layed there on the cold ground unconscious. Xander slowly moved her head to where it was laying on his lap. “Ruthie!!!” He cries out.

“Why are you after my Friend!” Izzy bracked yanking on the whip.

“Shape Shifter talks too much.” the demon answers in a raspy voice.

“Who sent you?”

“Why you ask us that you know already.”

“Sinara” Xander ground out from clenched teeth.

Finally Ruthie head made her way to the ally they all stood in. She crouched down next to Cass and began working on her. “It's going to be ok Xan I think she is just out cold.” Ruthie lays her med bag down and Xander places Cass hade on it. Within sacets Xander head drew his other chakram and shoved it deep into the demons left arm and head the other at its throat. Izzy eyes widened and shock then softened in respect.

“I am only going to ask this once. Why... does... Sinara... want... Cassandra... to... stop... talking...?” He drew out the words of that last sentence so that the demon knew he was not messing around.

“Gatekeeper Gatekeeper!” It shouted out in fear “No Kill me I only do my j…” It started to add but was cut off when Xander cut it's head off with his charkram.

“You will never lay a hand on her again!” Slowly he clipped his charkram to his hips and turned to see all three girls staring at him. He locked eyes with Cass and she smiled at him. He gave her a soft smile back.

“Umm what's a GateKeeper?” Ruthie asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“I am.” Cass answers. Ruthie and Izzy help her up

“Ok what's that mean Cass?” Izzy asks.

“It's an order that the Shadowhunters started but over the centrays Downworlders have joined. We have one simple job.” Cass says with a heavy sigh

“Guard the gates of hell.” Xander finishes for her. Cass only nods in agreement.

#shadowhunters #shadow world #jace herondale #clary fairchild #clary x jace #alec lightwood #magnus bane #alec x magnus #simon lovelace #izzy lightwood #simon x izzy #epic #cool

3 notes · View notes

sharpen-jadescythe · 4 years ago

Text

A Himbo Man and his... Wolf? Wolves? Himwolves?

Sharpen reflects on a hunt gone wrong and the true nature of his very kindred wolf pet Cuda.

Sharpen unbuttoned his plaid shirt and spread out on the couch. What a long day. Cuda, his wolf, had found some humanoid bones up in the mountains. A hike turned into a sort of investigation, which turned into a sudden panicked pitch-battle with a man-eating yeti.

The burly Night Elf man had tried to stop his wolf from taking it too far—the bones were older. But then they came across some boot tracks that were fresh and much too close to the den for whoever it was to be safe.

Flashes of what had happened made him inhale a sharp breath now. The red of blood, the flash of fangs, his own furious shouts competing with that. Everything, his steel knife, his voice, all clashing against the stone walls. And at the time, what Sharpen feared could have been—this fight exploding out of his control at any minute. A routine hike through the woods with his wolf turning savage, evil, a claw cutting too deep, or cutting into his neck, slashing open his belly. Dragging him back through the snowy woods of Winterspring, freezing and covered in his own blood. Never making it. Every wild encounter was like that. Death was always at the brink of things.

But control the fight, engage the monster directly and control it, win, and you’ll live.

Sharpen remembered feeling foolish and then getting angrier than he had been in a while. This nightmare wretch was taking and killing men. Going out of his way to hunt mortals like him. The damned yeti knew better, this dominant male was big enough and so old enough to have seen plenty of encounters just like this one, with something that wasn’t meant to be prey suddenly using a gun, a sword, a shield, anything against him and fighting for their lives. But this was cruel on the yeti’s behalf. The way the big male sat quietly and let the tamed wolf wander into his territory, only attacking when the mortal man, the wolf’s master followed. In moments, Sharpen and Cuda had become the prey.

Sharpen had been slammed against cold rock wall. He remembered seeing black, wondering if he’d knocked his head and cracked it open. If he was bleeding inside his skull, then he was done, whether he got a lethal strike on the creature or not. The yeti, its shoulders far above him, came down like a thunderhead then. That yeti gave a roar that could rattle bones, and they did clatter all around the dark cave. Sharpen had a knife, only a knife. The beast had snapped his hunting bow in half.

Sharpen remembered his gaze racing up and down the yeti’s torso, trying to judge the logical spot to stick the knife in. He knew that same hand was shaking and it was down to making a single, perfect strike to end this. Or, his best hope was to at least mortally wound the creature, bring him enough pain to get around him and get the hell out of there.

That was when the wolf Sharpen called Cuda showed his stripes. Out of nowhere it felt, because the only heat in that deadly moment was between the two warm bodies, one about to end the other, the yeti and Sharpen the man, suddenly something even more terrible, without scent, without heat, without breath itself, sifted between them. The only warning Sharpen or the yeti had was that shifting of the air itself, that warping of the plane of life and light that men and beasts existed upon. For, before either of their brains could rationalize or justify what they were seeing, the wolf who was flesh and blood was suddenly a ghost, a pure wolf spirit between them, and Cuda had decided to pounce as vengeance incarnate. Twisting in a space that no lupine creature could ever fit or wedge themselves, the ghost wolf suddenly swifted up through the air, more of a wind, and then was suddenly a big head, glowing eyes and fangs that sank into the yeti’s neck. And the translucent gray wolf who could have just been a mere shadow, it held on and held on, impossible to dislodge as the yeti staggered back, then lost its footing and fell.

A wolf shouldn’t have been a real challenge to an alpha yeti, so Sharpen was still at the edge of his nerves, ready for Cuda to fail in his attempt to rescue him. And then Sharpen knew he would have to make the terrible decision to leave his wolf friend to whatever his fate might be and save his own life. But the real Cuda, his flesh and blood self that projected this strange wolf shadow ever since Sharpen first found him in the Western Plaguelands, that crazed wolf was on the other side, savaging the back of the beast’s neck. Both of them, wolf and his shadow, were working like a pack of two to finish off the one who had attacked their master.

Sharpen had guessed Cuda could do that, but this was the first time he was actually seeing it, and able to finally believe in it.

Now, Sharpen was home. One flesh and blood wolf wandered into the living room to sniff his hand and check on him. The other, the ghost wolf, was relaxing before the fire, back to the flames and ethereal eyes watching Sharpen in this eternal way. As if Cuda’s ghost shadow was not watching Sharpen the man, but his spirit.

Sharpen let out another anxious breath and scratched his mane of wild green hair.

He’d tried asking a shaman about it once, but they didn’t believe him, that such a thing was possible. To have befriended the wolf as well as his undead shadow. Sharpen admitted that he didn’t fully understand the Plague or the Scourge and what they did to raise the dead in an unholy way. A part of him was afraid to ask too many questions and risk some paladin of the Silver Hand informing him that they needed to exorcise his wolf.

Cuda just seemed… fine the way he was. Eerie, but fine. After a time, the spirit would fade and rejoin its body. But for now, Cuda seemed to want to be a pack to watch over his master.

“You wanted to fix that, didn’t you? You wanted to end that yeti for your own reasons.”

Because Sharpen was sure as hell too chicken to go and take that bloodthirsty monster out by himself with a knife and a bow that wasn’t even one of his best.

He spoke to Cuda again, blinking rapidly in disblief. “But there is no way we could have done that alone, not normally. You just charged in, you totally barged in there without another thought, Cuda. You didn’t see that?”

Cuda couldn’t really understand him, like any pet. Sharpen knew he was just venting his frustrations. But it would surely be the last time he was going hiking without something good enough to protect man and beast from, yes, an actual monster that wasn’t supposed to be along a simple hiking trail.

Cuda and his shadow both looked at Sharpen in that unraveling way for a long time.

Sharpen felt himself starting to sweat. He was an animal trainer but this was starting to ruin his own instincts about what to do with beasts in intense situations like this one. Cuda was a deeply unsettled animal and who knew what was simmering inside of his lupine mind now.

“Alright! Who wants din-din!”

Both wolves leapt up at once and started wagging their tails like mad, whining that they would love an early dinner.

Sharpen, eyes wide at how that actually worked, got up slowly, then went to the kitchen.

Sharpen put his hand on the bag of high-protein kibble he used for his canine pets, then hefted it up onto the kitchen counter, his biceps more than able to take the strain. These were high quality pellets, not fresh meat, but Cuda seemed not to mind it. Cuda didn’t seem to mind a lot of compromises a normal wolf would never put up with in a million years. And Cuda was prone to acting like a silly dog, getting stuck in long sessions chasing his tail or staring at boring walls, and all that.

“Well. Maybe we are well-suited after all, Cuda. Though, a spirit animal with your sort of powers should probably be off doing something way more important than din-din and slumming it with me, right? Like, shouldn’t you be in Ardenweald serving the queen or somethin?”

“Wait, Cuda. Does that mean… Are we both himbos?”

4 notes · View notes

helluvascribe · 4 years ago

Text

Martha’s Revenge

Previously on “Murder Family”

Mrs. Mayberry sat at her desk, looking stunned, her face turning red. The other woman was so young and beautiful. There was her husband, clad naked and showing off his muscles and parts to her.

With a blank shadowed look on her face, the teacher suddenly stood up and walked away. If she wasn’t going to be able to divorce that cheating bastard…

“Wait! Mrs. Mayberry!” called the brown haired girl. She took hold of the teacher’s hand. “Remember what you taught us…think before you act.”

Dark thoughts suddenly festered within the woman and she gripped the girl’s neck before tossing her up in the air through the roof. She stomped out of the room and shut the door. The children ran to the window to watch as she got in her old green car and plowed through a white picket fence. “I love school” was on her license plate. The children rushed to the computer.

The door to the bedroom was quickly pulled open.

“Oh shit, sweetie!” said her husband, caught in the act of fucking the young lady on their master bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up, Jarold!” A newfound rage flared in her eyes. A deadly looking riffle was in her hands. She fired several shots.

The blonde lady shrieked as Mrs. Mayberry moved closer.

“You scream like a fish!” the teacher mentioned to the blonde haired lady.

With a demonic yell, she brutally shot the younger woman across multiple areas of her body. Thick blood splattered everywhere.

Her husband gasped. “Oh god, what have you done?! She had a family!”

“We could’ve had a family!” the blonde teacher sobbed, in a flood of despair and rage. She picked up a bullet and shot her husband square in the head. He collapsed to the floor, dead.

“Oh god, what have I done?” she asked, frazzled, whipping away the blood from the screen. She saw her children stare in horror and disgust. “In front you all.” She broke down into tears, seeing her dead husband in a pool of blood. She spoke her last words through sobs. “I’m so sorry my children. Don’t forget to work on your timestamps.”

Mrs. Mayberry knew there was nothing left for her but jail time and grief. There was only one other option. With shaking hands, she shot herself in the chest with a yelp. The children fainted on the floor one by one at the traumatizing sight. The policeman took the wailing blonde lady to the hospital…and found Mrs. Mayberry’s body lying next to her husband’s on the blood-stained floor.

The blonde lady Martha stared lovingly with a brown uncovered eye at her new muscular husband Ralphie wearing an orange plaid shirt. He had brown hair and an athlete/superhero build. Their two children stood by her bedside as she recovered. The room had bouquets of colorful flowers in every corner. Camera flashed as news reporters talked to her.

“How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?” a newswoman asked.

“I just hope that sick woman finally found peace,” Martha drawled in her hospital bed.

Her husband comforted her, head lowered.

“You are so brave,” the reporter commended to Martha. “Here’s $2 million dollars!”

The woman’s face lit up as she was handed a large golden check. “Oh thank you!” She smiled at the cameras with her husband like she was a movie star.

The stereotypical America family lived in a house near the woods and by a lake. Martha dressed like a housewife with a long polka dot skirt. Her daughter had brown pigtails, a lavender shirt with a tie, and a red skirt, with boots. The younger boy had a beaver-skin cap, a white shirt, brown pants and camouflage boots. On the outside, they were the perfect typical family.

“You’re a hero,” said more news people as she stood elegantly at a VNN (Vivienne News Network) podium.

“You’re a hero, girl,” admired a brown skinned jogger with short blonde passing Martha by. Martha basked in the attention and wealth. Who knew that getting shot at would change her life for the better.

“My mama’s a hero!” declared the son.

“She is a hero!” The brown haired casher agreed down to him as the family went grocery shopping.

“Ooooh…You’re a hero!” moaned her husband as he thrust his penis wildly in and out of her as they made love in their bedroom. Their walls were covered with pelvises and newspaper clippings of Martha under “local hero” headings.

“You’re a hero,” smiled an old praying priest who stood by her at one church meeting.

Even worse for Mayberry, a new class of children cheered, “You’re a hero!” to Martha when she taught a “How to deal with trauma 101 class.”

“Oh you’re a hero!” another man groaned as he wildly gave her anal.

“That’s gotta be her,” Blitzo whispered. He then chuckled darkly. “This is too easy.” He looked over at Moxxie. “Moxxie, do you want this one?”

Moxxie looked stunned and smiled nervously. “Me?”

“Yeah, this one’s simple enough for you to handle. It’s just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital.”

Moxxie stood up and looked through the window. His face fell as he looked at the happy family enjoying dinner. A pig’s head was at the center of the table. The house was decorated with axes and guns on the walls. A lamp stand seemed to be made out of a spinal column. Ralphie and Martha affectionately rubbed each other’s noses, Martha holding a dinner platter in her hand.

“You snooze you lose, Mox!” Blitzo called out.

He got out his gun, which was black with flames painted on it. The reflector was an upside down cross and it hovered over Martha’s face. She smiled with large doe eyes and blinked innocently.

“And I’ve got you, bitch,” Blitzo murmured.

“Wait, are we actually killing a family?!” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

“No, don’t be a puss, we’re just killing a mother,” Blitzo remarked. “We’re running a family.” He grinned and clicked his rifle, positioning it.

“But…” Moxxie began. “Hold on, hold on, let’s just think about it…”

Moxxie lifted up the rifle just before Blitzo fired. The bullet hit a glass mirror in the house, causing the family members to gasp in fear.

“What was that, Ralphie?” Martha asked her husband, who sat at the table.

Ralphie shook his head. “I don’t know Martha, but whatever it is…”

He stood up with a sharp-toothed grin, holding a rifle in his hands.

“They’re gonna be tomorrow night’s dinner!”

Martha set the platter down on the table, downed a glass of wine and smashed the glass on the floor.

“Alright, kids! Guns out!” She called with an evil grin. The kids, too, grinned evilly as they pulled out smaller guns. The boy pulled out his from his brown beaver-skin hat.

“Looks like we’ve got some rabbits to catch, youngins!” Ralphie said with an evil chuckle.

A bullet fired through the wall and shot Blitzo in the arm. He cried out as black blood splattered.

“A new hole!” Blitzo cried in terror. “Scatter!”

Blitzo and Millie leapt into the air just as another gunshot created a larger hole in the wall. A grinning Martha and Ralphie leapt through the hole and chased after them, guns drawn. Moxxie peered out from behind the bush, rapidly looking around. A child’s hand grabbed Moxxie’s pointed tail and he yelped. He only saw a barrage of fists from the children before passing out.

Millie flipped backwards along a cobblestone trail before diving into the lake.

“There you go, little critter!” Ralphie called, firing another bullet. He stepped onto the wooden dock. “Y’all can’t hide long from me!”

Millie had her head above the water under the dock, a knife in her mouth. She broke through the dock with a crash before landing with a grin, knife at the ready. Ralphie swing a beer bottle at her, but she moved behind him out of the way. Millie jumped up in the air, knife in both hands. Ralphie swung the bottle upwards, hitting her in the head. The glass shattered and she fell to the ground with a loud yelp. Millie struggled weakly to stand, but collapsed onto the dock, eye twitching. Ralphie grinned down at her as the sky spiraled red. He picked her up and headed deep into the woods.

Moxxie opened his eyes and gasped with a squeak to find his hands and body tied with rope. He appeared to be tied to a stitched up headless dead body sitting on a chair. Moxxie’s face fell in fear as he stared at the boy and girl in front of him. Both their eyes were red and devious grins formed on their faces.

Moxxie tried to defuse the fear. “Oh. Hello there little ones. Aren’t you cute?”

The children spoke in low distorted voices:

“It’s nice to have a new critter to play with.”

Moxxie glanced up in terror at a red spotlight above him. The light revealed a human head high up and several limbs on plaques. The wooden walls were stained with red blood. Tow plaques held stitched up faces of skin. A larger plaque displayed a dead man with long white hair, arms crossed, eyes and teeth bulging out. His upper chest was connected to the plaque. A picture frame made of bones displayed another face made of skin inside it. Human skin was tacked to the wall with “bless this mess” stitched onto it. Moxxie looked and saw a dead human body on a platter, an apple in its mouth. Organs were displayed in a nearby bowl.

Moxxie took one look at the dead body and whimpered. “Aw. Crumbs.”

Meanwhile, Blitzo was running for his life in the woods. Four gunshots rang out as Blitzo darted through a bush, leaves falling to the ground. Martha’s evil echoing laughter quickened his pace. The imp slide down a grass hill, landing on his feet. He crouched under the bushes, looking around. He panted, catching his breath.

“I know you’re hurtin’, little devil,” drawled Martha in a sing-song voice.

Blitzo darted behind a tree, taking in deep silent breaths. His back was pressed against the bark. He covered his mouth, not daring to move.

“I promise that I can make that pain go real quick.”

Martha walked through the woods, not too far away, in shadow. “Just come let Mama Martha put a bullet in that pretty little skull!”

Blitzo sighed in relief after hearing the footsteps fade.

Out of nowhere, Blitzo found himself being pinned against the tree by the bottom handle of Martha’s gun.

“Got ya!” she grinned. Bltzo’s phone was on the ground, Stolas still talking.

“So, you’re a little devil, huh?” she asked, a wide grin. “Come to drag me and my kin to Hell? Well not today, Satan!”

She pressed the gun further into Blitzo. “Gonna send y’all back where ya came from!”

She hit Blitzo hard and he slumped to the ground. She took him and headed off into the woods.

Back at the house, Moxxie struggled to free his tied up hands and body. In the reflection of the window, he could see the orange yellow lights of fires. He gasped.

“Millie!”

The two kids stared deviously at him. He froze when the girl revealed a long sharp knife in her hands. Moxxie glared, determined. As the girl raised the knife, Moxxie shoved her backwards with the chair. There was a thud as the chair toppled over onto the floor. Moxxie grabbed the knife and cut the rope loose, freeing himself. A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign and a hangman’s noose hung from the wall. Moxxie burst through the round window, a shadow silhouette with glowing yellow eyes. Wasting no time, he raced into the woods and toward rows of torches. Hanging from the trees were red Satanic symbols. There were also tents around the area.

A full moon appeared in the sky from behind thin clouds. Down below, Blitzo and Millie were tied to a stake decorated with black spikes at the top. Ralphie laughed as he poured gasoline onto the ground by their feet. Martha stood nearby, holding a torch in her left hand. Her blouse was torn and low cut, with polka dots on them. Her eyes were red and she wore skull earrings.

Blitzo groaned in frustration. “I had that fucking shot. God dammit, Moxxie.”

“Satan!” Martha declared. “We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell!” She raised her torch. “May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!”

Martha tossed the torch underneath Blitzo and Moxxie, who still struggled to free themselves. Ralphie laughed again. The stake soon lit up in flames…

…leaving the imps unscathed.

“Yeah, that’s not exactly how it works, lady,” Blitzo explained. “Sorry, your fire doesn’t really hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that’ll get your dick hard.” He smirked and Millie giggled.

“Oh. Shit.” Martha stared confused and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have one.”

Then she got a better idea and grinned. “Well, I’ll just shoot you in your smart-ass mouth!” She held her rifle in her hands.

“That would be more effective,” Blitzo mentioned.

“Blitzo!” Millie spat.

Martha laughed again as she raised the rifle, two barrels pointing at the imps. The imps closed their eyes and flinched.

A loud bang and a yelp was heard. Martha’s eyeball flew from her socket and she collapsed to the ground.

“Moxxie!” Millie cried, seeing Moxxie hold a gun in his hands. Moxxie raced over and untied Millie and Blitzo.

Back inside the house, the boy and girl were in their father’s arms in a corner.

“Don’t move!” Moxxie demanded, pointing his rifle at them. The boy and girl looked scared and innocent. The girl even had a dark gray stitched up teddy bear with her.

Ralphie chucked. “What are you gonna do, little guy? Kill us?”

“I should!” Moxxie replied, stepping back. “You people are monsters!” Then he lowered the rifle. “But… you should have a chance at a life and a purpose. Look at your children. They have their whole future ahead of them! You are going to face your crimes, justly.”

He picked up a remote from a stand. “I am calling your earthly authorities and they will make sure you are dealt with, fairly. I am handing this, my way.”

He pressed a button and a television turned on in the adjacent room. A black and white program played. Moxxie gasped in surprise, then looked down at it.

“Oh shit,” he muttered. The black remote had pink and white buttons reminiscent of a smiling goofy face.

“Uh do you…do you have a phone to summon 911?”

“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Ralphie mentioned behind him.

Moxxie held the remote. “Then what’s this for?”

“It’s a universal remote,” Ralphie replied. “Got it for the kids.” The kids smiled and he pulled them in a hug.

“Aww,” Moxxie smiled, eyes shining.

He called the police and hurried back to the portal in the dark woods.

Moxxie heard the whirl of blades and flashes of light. He turned around. There were police cars and a helicopter in front of the house.

A voice over a loudspeaker said, “We got em’ boys!”

A missile fired at the roof and the entire house exploded in a fiery inferno. Something hit Moxxie in the face. He stared at the ground and found the head of the teddy bear that had flown off. He stared with a shocked look of disbelief on his face. The family that had a chance to be better was now dead.

Blitzo grabbed Moxxie hard by the neck and pulled him through the portal.

***

Hell, Pentagram City

Mrs. Mayberry

October 31st 2020, morning of Murder Family

Mrs. Mayberry woke up staring at a crimson red sky. Her form had completely changed… Mrs. Mayberry was now a purple demon with stripped curved horns on her head, wearing rectangular glasses. She wore a pale red shirt with x stitches on it, along with an eye where her pendant was on her chest. Her hair was long and white and pulled back with a black bandana. She wore a dark skirt with an upside down cross on it and heels. She also had sharp yellow teeth.

After finding a place to live and shying out of sight from shady strangers, Mrs. Mayberry had the chance to continue her career where she left off. So she did. It took some learning and adaptation to Hell’s culture but fortunately...it was pretty simple.

Mrs. Mayberry was soon hired at “Pentagram Penitentiary Place,” one of the top public schools in the district. It was a large school for grades K-12. The name of the school was in black letters surrounded by a red downward facing pentagram over the black front doors. “All grades in one place!” read the slogan. The building was of red-orange brick with three rows of low cracked windows facing the front. The outdoor playground consisted of rusted basketball hoops, a jungle gym, dark asphalt and a swing set that made squeaky sounds every time it was used. The slide was high up and made of metal, so that it was always painfully hot for the young demon children to slide down. A barbed wire fence with swirls of wire at the top surrounded the prison-like school.

A bunch of middle schoolers were bouncing a demon skull around and tossing it into the basketball hoops. Little preschooler demons rough-housed on the grass-less ground, laughing. One small green dragon kept making burping sounds, emitting orange sparks much to the delight of his peers. A dinosaur used his tail for a black eyed doll girl to use as a jump rope. There was even a little scary-go round that furry bird-like kids went on to test their flying and spin out of control in the air. One white bird crashed against the fence and slid down with a flop.

“Loser!” taunted a bulky blue cyclops kid wearing a baseball cap. He spat on the bird’s upside-down head and laughed with his goons. An older demon with a rhino’s horn was spray-painting teal blue penises on the walls.

“Watch your back!” he called out to a centaur who fired an arrow from a bow, startled. The green lizard demon tied to the target glanced down at the arrow that had almost gotten him in the crotch. He sighed with relief, only to have an ax lodged into his head, thrown by an orange goat teenager.

Nearby were two purple demons with silvery snake hair sitting on a concrete window ledge, wearing blouses, sequined navy skirts and shoes. They were listening to music from their Eye-Pods. One of them was painting her nails and the other took a drag from an e-cigarette. Every kid had a multiple digit number temporarily tattooed on their necks. An E, an M and an H were before the numbers, for elementary, middle and high school. The following number indicated their grade and the last two numbers were their position in alphabetical order. K or a P next to the E stood for kindergarten and preschool.

A loud buzzer rang at the top of the roof, signaling class starting. The children were lined up in front of their respective teachers. Mrs. Mayberry stood in front of her line of preschool demons.

After singing a song about a demonic turtle drowning in a bathtub with the class, she counted each child as they made their way to homeroom. They all filled in and sat at their wooden desks. The demonic alphabet was listed on a nearby poster with translations into English and other languages.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Mayberry trilled in the windowless classroom, scrapping her chalk against the blackboard before catching it with a twirl. “I hope you all did your homework.”

The kids fearfully nodded.

“Hmm, I don’t think you did, EP-04,” she scolded a demon boy wearing an orange shirt with no paper in front of him. “Go sit in time-out.”

The boy groaned and sat on a stool facing the wall. The white dunce cap burned on his head.

“The pledge of allegiance,” Mrs. Mayberry led. The class stood up with their hands on their hearts.

“I pledge allegiance and my soul to the banner

Of His Majesty Lucifer and Her Majesty Lilith

And to the unholy Inferno

For Pentagram City

One nation under Satan

Indivisible

With liberty and chaos for all!”

They sat back down.

“Now let’s sing,” Mrs. Mayberry ordered.

The demonic class broke out into song:

“We love to do our homework and learn stuff every day.”

“And when I throw in these hard questions, you should know just what to say,” Mrs. Mayberry sang.

“Okay!” they cheered.

She wrote an equation on the board. “Divide this number by…”

“Zero!”

“Our favorite paint is…”

“Bloody red!”

“And when there’s a stranger danger…”

“You stab them in the head!” they answered, making stabbing motions with their arms.

“A poison for a deep sleep?” she asked.

“Wormwood! Does no good!”

“The geological components of Hell?”

“Fire and brimstone!” added a girl.

“If you can’t use love…”

“Use hate!”

“Now it’s time for us to say the day and date.”

“Your death day was on January 8th, right?” piped up a boy in the back.

Mrs. Mayberry stopped short. “Hush up! We don’t mention that date.” She turned to the class. “Go on.”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon…” said a boy.

“On October 31st,” said a green girl.

“Hell’s heat is still hot,” said another girl, sweating.

“Let’s watch the episode first!” reminded the dunce boy.

The demons went “la la la” as Mrs. Mayberry stared at the board, red eyes wide.

“Oh my suns! Stop singing children. Shut up!”

The demons fell silent.

“I forgot it’s the new episode! I’m supposed to be off to pursue my revenge!”

“Maybe you could scare your enemies at a death-day party!” a girl suggested with her hands up in the air.

Mrs. Mayberry looked at her hell-phone and saw the last seconds of an I.M.P. commercial. She stood up to walk away.

“Wait! Mrs. Mayberry,” said a girl, taking hold of her hand. “Remember what you taught us. Act before you think.”

Mrs. Mayberry pat her head. “I think not. Work on your timestamps and assignments, children. I’m off to pursue a little education of my own.”

A horn-covered sub man walked in and bellowed, “200 pushups on the double! Or it’s back to your cells!”

The demons got up from their seats and bent down to do the pushups.

Mrs. Mayberry called a taxi outside and it drove her off.

Up on a screen outside her window, Mrs. Mayberry saw a full commercial where she learned of an assassination company called I.M.P.

“Hi there, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the funder of I.M.P.! Are you a piece of shit that got sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul who just so happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

The next shot showed a bulky red demon with horns, wearing a white Ohio shirt/jersey. A sign read, “Some guy who hired us!” The demon spoke:

“After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you could imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the State of Ohio killed me.” He rammed his meaty fists. “I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!”

“Guess I’m not the only one who murdered my spouse,” she thought. “I’ve also never seen a guy with…such muscles before…”

Blitzo appeared again. “Well luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…we promise to take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who may have screwed you over when you were alive!”

The sounds of the imp jingle motivated Mrs. Mayberry as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the I.M.P. building. She got out, climbed up the stairs and knocked on the office door. It opened and out popped Blitzo.

“Is this I.M.P.?” she asked.

“Yes,” Blitzo said.

“I figured, since I saw the commercial. I have one bad bitch that needs to be killed. And I’ve got a lot to say.”

“Well, come on in then,” he said.

Mrs. Mayberry paced Blitzo’s office at I.M.P. headquarters as she told her story.

“I was a good person before it all went down,” she narrated, pacing to and fro. “I was good my entire life.”

She continued on, adding details about her personal life. She held a cigarette in her hand. Apparently, it was easy to get into unhealthy habits in Hell.

“You do everything right in life, play by the rules, and still get sent down here with all the Hitlers and Epsteins of the world. After one measly massacre propelled by blind rage. So that’s why I’m here. To get my revenge.”

“I mean was she hotter?” Blitzo remarked with a smirk.

The demon’s eyes flared red in anger, her face partially in shadow by the drawn blinds. A lemon tree was in the background with a sign that read “no whores” beside it. Blitzo casually lounged in his office chair.

“I’m just saying I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits,” Blitzo chuckled.

Mayberry growled and her body briefly glowed red. Her cigarette bent in her hand.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Anyway I don’t think you quite understand how we’re operating down here.” He stood up and Mrs. Mayberry glared at him. “You see we take revenge on the living and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of a death frankly are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop.”

He bonked her on the nose.

Mayberry’s pointed tail twitched, her purple claws clenched. Her skirt was torn with holes and her feet were cloven hooves. This imp guy was worse than the demonic children she taught.

Mayberry extended her left claws. “Not all of them. That whore survived. Now they all call her a hero.”

She continued. “Between the talk shows and bullshit donations she made so much goddamn cash. Getting shot was the best thing to happen to her.”

Mayberry bashed her fists into the ground, creating cracks. “She’s not a hero!” Mayberry yelled, getting in close to Blitzo’s face.

“Yeah, okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Blitzo stuttered in a rapid nervous voice. He frantically pressed a red button under the desk multiple times. The red light flashed under the “Deranged Client” label on a dashboard. The other labels read, “More Coffee,” “Soiled My Pants,” “Horny Client,” “Client Giving Birth,” “Ghost,” and “Stolas.”

Blitzo later burst through the door, followed by Mrs. Mayberry. “Guys, I’d like you to meet, our newest client!”

The room suddenly burst into flames…Blitzo was furious. He quickly led Mrs. Mayberry outside where she hopped into a taxi to wait back home.

“Bye and don’t worry,” called Blitzo to her, “We’ll get that skank in less than 24 hours or your first kill is free!”

She could only hope that crazy imp and his team could do their job.

As it turned out, Mrs. Mayberry later found out that not only had I.M.P. killed Martha, they also killed her crazy Satanic family. Mrs. Mayberry was very impressed. She held a piece of cake and laughed with the I.M.P. members for a special celebration. Millie talked about how it was okay to kill someone if they tried to kill you back.

“That’s messed up,” mentioned Mrs. Mayberry. Then she smiled. “But I paid for it!”

Everyone laughed again. Mrs. Mayberry felt good among her new allies. She had embraced her past at last.

After the celebration, she got back into the taxi but instead of heading home, she headed further into town.

There was a red Ohio demon for her to thank.

Hell, Pentagram City

Martha

Sometime after Murder Family

Blood red sky. Thin clouds the color of smoke. A giant spinning pentagram hovering in the sky above buildings. A figure slowly got up from the street, stretching their arms and legs, looking around. They slowly got up and looked at their reflection in a window.

Martha’s eyes glowed fiery red as she stared at her new form. Magenta red colored skin and messy thick white hair extending down along her back. A curved piece of white hair covering her missing right eye, which was covered by a red X, like the X on Vaggie. Long slender fingers with sharp black nails. A row of sharp white teeth and pointed horns on her head. Her feet were now cloven hooves and she had a long pointed tail. Succubus bat wings extended from her back…she was now a succubus demon.

In addition, she was wearing the same clothes she had worn when she died: torn dark pants, a belt with a skull on it and matching skull earrings. She wore her torn up white bra with little red hearts on it. She also wore red heels fitted onto her feet that somehow didn’t make her lose balance. Her bracelets around her arm were red, with small glowing pentagrams on it. She wore red lipstick.

Not too far away, Martha saw bodies stirring from the sleep of death. There was a man slowing getting up with two kids.

“Ralphie?” she asked, peering closer. Her feet made soft clopping sounds as her heels made contact with the cracked asphalt.

Ralphie opened his large orange eyes. He had still retained his muscular build from when he was alive, even wearing similar jeans and a torn plaid shirt that was now red instead of orange. His skin was dark gray like a wolf’s and he, too, had a row of sharp teeth. He had beefy arms with fur on them, even having pointed wolf ears as well. Having wolf-like traits, he appeared very much like a hunter. A hunter for his mistress.

Standing up, he rammed his thick fist into a nearby demon, sending the creature into a nearby brick wall. He snatched up the critter’s rifle and tested it in his hands.

“Mama? Papa?” asked two little voices.

Ralphie looked down and gasped. “Kids! You’re alright!”

The formerly white boy was now a small beaver demon, still wearing his shirt, pants and beaver skin hat. His stripped beaver tail had small spikes on it. His sister was wearing her skirt and leggings but this time, she had light pink skin, her two orange pigtails now small living snakes on her head.

“Chuck! Ebony!” Martha cried, embracing her little creature children.

“I knew you’d always be my hero,” Chuck said, straightening his furry cap and backing up along with his sister. “You can live through anything!” His eyes glinted with mischief like a raccoon getting into trouble.

Chuck then paused. “Wait, where are we? Are we…dead? I don’t feel dead.”

“This must be an afterlife,” Ralphie said, scratching his hairy chin.

Martha took in the bustling city filled with demons, the area bathed in a crimson light. The essences of trapped sinners who had died, peered at the group in the forms of eyes from the walls. Her grin spread across her face and she spread out her arms.

“Not just any afterlife…this is Satan’s domain!”

“Hail Satan,” the kids chimed together after a moment.

“We’re in Hell?!” Ralphie exclaimed. “I…I can’t remember what happened. I was holding you two, I heard a loud thunderous boom…our whole house shook like a twister was ripping it apart. And then there was this flash of light, a searing heat and…”

He seized up at the recent painful memory. The kids hugged their father again, Martha running her hand through his matted gray fur on his head. The girl sniffled a bit.

He examined the wandering demons around him, with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t believe I’m still alive, I think. If this is Hell… I thought the creatures would look more red and horny.”

He looked at his wife who titled her head. “Um…besides you. I mean, where are the pitchforks and fire?”

Martha walked over to him, a small sway of her hips. “Ya think I’m horny, huh? I think I had some ideas about what I could do with my horns…someplace.” She gave him a wink and Ralphie smirked. The kids stuck out their tongues and made sounds of disgust.

“Well, first of all, we need to find a place to stay,” Ralphie said. “I have a feelin’ this city ain’t too friendly around newcomers. He held his gun and clicked it a few times.

“But where would we go?” Martha asked. “If our savior Satan were here, he could help us. And we obviously cannot go back to our original home.”

“Let’s take shelter in the woods,” Ralphie said. “We’ll find some game to hunt and continue our previous routine.”

“Let’s get going,” Martha said. She led the way, followed by her husband, who held his children’s hands. The boy’s beaver tail trailed along behind him.

“Look,” called a voice coming from a slender red goat woman with her friends. “Is that Martha?”

Martha spun around. “How’d you know my name?”

“Everyone knows who you are,” she said, a shine in her eyes. “You’re our hero!”

Martha put on her most charming smile. “You bet I am! Still a survivor even after that sick woman tried to kill me.”

“I remember you donating to the church back on Earth,” said the goat. “I wanted to meet you in person but instead I met Covid 19 beforehand. But now…here I am, in front of my idol!”

She let out a squee like a fangirl and eagerly shook Martha’s claw.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” said Martha.

“You’re new here, right? Hell can be pretty dangerous. I’ll give you some money and a place to live, how about that?”

“Oh thank you!” Martha beamed innocently, pleased to have allies even in Hell.

A few weeks later, the four family members were settled in a house very similar to their previous one, next to the woods by a lake of lava. Ralphie hunted demonic animals for their dinners and gave miniature guns to the kids. It was surprisingly simple to get weapons in Hell (sadly, angelic weapons were too expensive, even for them.)

Martha’s fame on Earth made her recognizable in Hell, by friend and foe alike. She and her family made it known that they were not to be messed with. Just one aim from their guns was enough to get other demons to back off. Martha was back in business, sometimes hosting a cooking show with Jeffery the serial killer. She became a fan favorite and a Satanic cult leader. Now instead of just her family supporting cannibalism and dark rituals, Martha had other allies on her side as well. The more allies she made, the more money came in. The family bought new clothes made from the skins of animals, demons and on rare cases, humans.

The two children relaxed on the couch, staring at an old TV, complete with knobs on the right side. A universal remote was between them, the buttons resembling a face. They were currently watching a show in black and white: “Buck Dynasty!” popped up in slanted white letters as old-time preppy music played. The scene cut to a moving forest where a lone stag was walking through the snow.

“There’s the fine specimen, a white-tailed deer calmly grazing over there,” a man’s voice whispered from a distance. He listed off some hunting tips such as using the wind and distance to eliminate scent. “The best way to stalk is by moving slowly and reducing unnecessary body motions.”

“The easiest times to hunt deer are the rut, or breeding time, which usually occurs during late summer or early fall.”

A diagram of a deer’s anatomy popped up on screen, showing the ideal places to shoot them. An arrow pointed to a spot behind the deer’s shoulder, one-fourth up from the belly.

The scope hovered near the shoulder area as the scene grew quiet. The man took a deep breath with focus, using the pad of his index finger to pull the trigger…

The stag stumbled and dropped to the white ground shortly after the loud blast was heard. The kids watched in amusement.

The man posed behind the fallen animal, grabbing the antlers and displaying a bright white smile. He had dark skin, short hair, glasses and wore a simple white vest with a bow tie. His pants and boots were dark.

“Deery me, that was a good one! I seem to remember Bambi’s mother suffering a similar fate many winters ago. Not a fawn experience for him, I’m sure.”

Audience laughter followed and the boy chuckled.

“Those jokes are so lame,” Ebony rolled her eyes.

The next clips showed the man hauling the carcass into a truck and field dressing it to preserve the meat.

“Get it to a processor soon, or if you’re skilled enough in skinning, get started sooner rather than later,” he said, a cigar briefly in his mouth. “I know I’ve made my share of mistakes when hunting, but practice makes polished. No, not perfect because let’s face it, no one’s perfect in this world. Once you’ve got that nice fresh venison, you can use it in many different dishes. I personally love adding it to jambalaya for Mardi Gras. Nothing like a tasty classic to excite your taste buds!”

“How does this show even exist?” the girl asked her father when he came in.

Ralphie just shrugged his shoulders. “Just one of those random classics that I enjoy from time to time.”

A colored commercial came on, advertising Vox’s Voot Floop cereal. A teal blue box showed blue circles of sugared cereal bits falling into a bowl as electronic music played in the background. Vox’s robotic voice came on: “The sugary sensation of the modern nation! Only $666! Box also comes with a free mini Vox figure inside. Collect all three V figures, today!”

“Mom, can we get that cereal too?” the boy asked. “I want that Vox figure.”

“Too damn expensive,” Martha called out.

“I can get it for ya Chuck,” Ralphie said.

“Thanks dad,” said Chuck.

The next ad showed a strip club and Valentino posing with two of his female clients, Dia and Summer. Angel Dust was pole dancing in the background; behind him was a glowing pink spider web with a heart in the center. Groovy electronic music played as the women’s hands stroked the pimp’s purplish skin. A box of cigarettes was shown on screen, surrounded by smoky pink hearts. “Feel the love and rush, with Valentin Vapors.” Valentino’s eyes twinkled under his pink heart sunglasses.

Another commercial came on, this one displaying a revolving dollhouse with a land made of candy in the background. Stitched up dolls in velvet fabric were shown being played with by smiling demon girls. A music-box tune played as one of the dolls held a lollipop in one hand and a little plastic knife in the other. The plastic heads of the dolls moved from side to side at the push of a button. The toy dolls sat at a table with a set of teacups in front of them and a multicolored toy castle nearby. “Velvet’s Tea Party!” was displayed in glittery pink letters on the screen. “Free shipping on your order when you like and subscribe to Lady Velvet’s profiles!”

“Oooh!” Ebony smiled in delight, pointing at the screen. “I want one of those Velvet dolls for Christmas!”

Martha smiled. “Maybe Krampus can get one for you…that is, if you behave.”

“I don’t want him to punish us,” Chuck said with a worried look.

“Ah, you’ll all be fine,” said their father. “Christmas is only a month or so away!”

For the next few minutes, the siblings fought over who would control the remote.

“I wanna watch Buck Dynasty!” Chuck said.

“No, it’s mine!” cried Ebony. “Fizztastic Circus is on and Robo Fizz is gonna do his grand act in Loo-Loo Land!”

“Mine!”

“It’s mine! Let go!”

Martha stepped in and turned off the television, the white circle shrinking into black.

“It’s time to go to bed, kids,” she said.

“Awww,” they groaned.

“None of that. You guys have school tomorrow.”

The next day, Ralphie took the children to school: Pentagram Penitentiary Place. Chuck and Ebony got their school supplies, got in the car and Ralphie took them to the brick building.

“Have a good day,” Ralphie smiled. “And make sure you behave yourselves.”

“Yes papa!” they called out, waving goodbye as the car drove off.

They headed into the classroom and took their seats across from each other. A purple colored demon with white hair and glasses stood at the front.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning Ms. Mayberry!” the students chimed.

After doing some addition, writing and reading, the demon children spread out in the room.

Ms. Mayberry led a song and dance. The children curled up on the floor, pretending to be asleep.

“Lots of little demons were sleeping on a rock

In the fiery pits of Hell”

The children slowly stood up.

“They lifted up their heads

And shook out their tails…”

The children shook their heads, butts and tails.

“And they said, ‘let’s go killing.’”

The music sped up as she sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing.” The demon kids screamed and danced and got into wild fights with their classmates. Ebony choked another demon girl and laughed in childish delight.

“Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

The music slowed down.

“Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

The children pretended to yawn and slowly went back onto the floor. They curled up into balls and pretended to sleep.

The music paused, then started up louder again at the next verse.

“And when they woke up

They were a little bit bored

So they took a shower.”

The children pretended to wash different parts of their bodies.

“And they washed their ears

And they washed their tummies.

And they brushed their teeth

And they washed their spines and tails

And they washed their toes.

And then they said, (the children stopped and spread out their hands and repeated what was next.)

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons! We don’t take showers!’”

The music sped up again as Ms. Mayberry sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing, yeah, let’s go killing.” The children ran around the room, bashing other’s heads, biting and causing a real ruckus.

“Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

The music slowed down and again, the children pretended to fall asleep on the floor.

“Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

Princess Charlie peered into the room for a visit, pleased to see the children laughing and having fun.

“And when they woke up,

They decided to spread kindness.”

The demon children stood up and danced together. They gave each other hugs and pretended to say nice things. “I love you.” “You’re a wonderful person.”

“Let’s bake cupcakes.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with happy tears as she watched the sight.

“And so they gave each other hugs

And they did chores

And they sang songs

And they gave each other gifts

And said nice things

And then they said,

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons!’”

Charlie’s face paled and her smile fell, mouth open in a gasp.

The class all declared: “’We don’t play nice! Let’s go killing!’”

Charlie covered her mouth as blood sprayed everywhere. She ducked as a chair smashed against the wall. The song continued on. She brushed tears from her eyes, left behind a Happy Hotel flier and left.

After class, Ebony found a lone picture of Ms. Mayberry in her human form lying on the desk. She slipped it into her backpack and followed her brother out the classroom door. She was thankful not to have to scrub toilets or run laps like many older kids.

Ralphie picked them up and they headed back home. Martha arrived through the front door not long after.

“How was work, honey?” Ralphie asked, licking his wife on the cheek.

“Marvelous!” she exclaimed. “I helped perform five sacrifices to Satan today. I was named in a magazine as “the next potential priestess of the Satanic temple.” The services went by smoothly and we even raised money for the homeless.” She was hiding the fact that she had been showing off her cleavage to another male cult member on her break.

“That’s marvelous,” Ralphie said. “Even in this hellhole, you still do great things.”

“Hey, look what we found!” Ebony said. She took out the picture of Ms. Mayberry and handed it over to Martha. “I think our teacher drew a human.”

The kids ran off.

Martha’s red eyes narrowed as she examined it closely.

“I know that woman…”

Martha had seen her…flashbacks of an angry Mrs. Mayberry shooting wildly at her after making out with Jarold. Then she thought back to her death and the imps that had been sent after her.

Martha spoke in a low voice, almost to herself. “That sick woman…of course she’d be down here in Hell. She’d do anything to get in my way, after my casual fling with her lover.”

She hovered a claw over the picture. “Could she have something to do with those filthy creatures sent to kill my family?”

Martha seethed and the picture in her hand burst into flames, ash falling to the floor. Her form glowed with an evil, red aura. Sooner or later, she was going to find those bastard imps and give them literal hell to pay.

And for Mrs. Mayberry? The old widow would be vilified by everyone in the city. Then she would die alone, alone and painfully without any lover or children to comfort her. Martha thought she would make a great offering to Satan.

The dark pink succubus let out a crazed determined laugh. “Not today, Satan, not today!”

Hell, Pentagram City

“Some Guy”

2021

The Buckeyes were playing at a large black coffin-shaped basketball stadium, more specifically the Rottenstein Stadium. The beefy red-skinned demon who had killed his cheating wife and died by the electric chair, used to play for the Ohio men’s basketball team in Columbus, Ohio on Earth. He had hired I.M.P. to kill the person who had alerted the police when he hid the body. Did they accomplish their mission? He didn’t know.

“Hey Mando, over here!” called a voice. The red buff demon caught the basketball from his scaly cyclops teammate just in time. He dribbled it down the black wooden court, wearing his white jersey with “Ohio” on it in red letters. His white sneakers squeaked as he dashed across the floor. The cheers of the crowd and the sports announcer discussing the game motivated him on. Only ten seconds left…

“Outta my way!” he roared as a bunch of hunched wolves in blue jerseys tried to close in. His rows of four sharp teeth were visible. Mando maneuvered the ball quickly between the palms of his hands, dodging the gray arms trying to reach for it. His bulky body did its job in knocking his opponents back. Seeing no clear path toward his teammates, he decided to keep going. With as much strength as he could muster, Mando leaped up and tossed the ball with both hands. The ball soared in a high arc toward the hanging hoop on a wooden casket…

And by a stroke of luck, it fell right through just as the buzzer sounded. Mando stood up and cheered with his teammates as the zombie coach blew the whistle nearby. The scoreboard read Buckeyes 99, Wolverines 96. A crowd of demons wearing red and white held up signs that read “Go Buckeyes!” “Bullseye for Buckeyes!” One mascot was dressed like an eye with antlers arching along the top. The wolverine team of werewolves howled in disappointment.

“Yeah!” Mando grinned as he spun the basketball with one of his fingers. “Down go the doggos!”

“Nice shot, man!” complimented the cyclops teammate. “At this rate, we’ll be able to face off against the Bee-zelbubs and the Dragons in no time.” Mando took several deep breaths and wiped his face with a nearby cloth. He gulped down an entire can of Monster energy drink before following his teammates to the locker rooms. After washing up, the large demon smashed a hole for himself through the wall near the stadium entrance and headed down the street. Streetlamps shaped like eyes at the top and held together with bones, flickered above him. He snatched a beer from an unsuspecting demon and guzzled some of it. He let out a loud burp, sending other demons scattering.

The red demon took out his Eye-Pod and listened to some rock music with rap lyrics. Another song had the vocals of Lilith backed up by her group of performers. He even bobbed his head to “Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow” and the I.M.P. Jingle. Although he wasn’t that much into musicals, he could see why so many in Hell loved them.

He saw a poster of I.M.P. and glared like a snorting bull. He hadn’t heard anything back from them yet ever since the time he appeared on their commercial. What was taking so long? He hadn’t even gotten his check yet because according to another I.M.P. billboard, it took several weeks to arrive by mail. (He did get a pile of meat and a small bag of money but it wasn’t the same.) Anger boiled up inside him, it took all his effort not to punch the nearest building or demon.

Wrath had been Mando’s main sin, no doubt. As soon as he leaned that his wife had been having sex with the local delivery man, he lost all control and beat her to death. Then, of course, a jogger had spotted him trying to hide the body in a park and alerted the police. He was sent to jail and then died by the electric chair. He hadn’t forgiven those in his life…not even himself. At least he somewhat had lived up to his father’s expectations for him to be a star athlete.

He stared in disgust at a magazine depicting a blonde demon wearing revealing black underwear barely covering her exposed butt and standing by a mailbox. “Your Special Delivery!” was written in bold letters at the top. Mando blew fire from his mouth and the magazine crumpled to ash. He sighed and continued on.

Why did his wife have to cheat on him behind his back? It was natural instinct to become jealous and illogical after finding out your lover was unfaithful. Apparently, she had said the delivery man was charming, generous with letters and “free of any anger issues.” She had emphasized that last part much to his disdain.

Mando lived a lonely life in an old apartment in the Ring of Wrath, the same district where Moxxie and Millie lived. The district was full of fire, poverty, angry people and fights on boats over the River Styx. He was glad he was not one of the unlucky wailing souls trapped beneath the water. Hell was like Chicago but with monsters and magic. His bedroom was small and cramped, with basketball posters on the walls and sets of lifting weights.

But Mando wasn’t ready to go home to annoying side neighbors and cigarette filled rooms. The exercise had made him hungry. He smiled and spotted a nearby café, the sign in the shape of a white bat up on the top. The top had an awning that looked like part of a torn up circus flap.

A guy with glasses and shaped like a purple serpent held the door open for the buff demon. His shoulders and belly got stuck on the way in. He first tried to stuff his way in, to no avail. He growled in anger, even as the purple guy said, “back up, sir.” Mando punched the glass doors, making them shatter, while also knocking the purple guy aside.

“Table for one!” Mando said, barging in and staring at the frightened blue fish server. A black neon cat holding a saxophone in a corner looked at the blue fish with concern but the blue server smiled, saying “I’ve got this one.”

“Right this way, sir,” the fish said, opening the door as wide as he could for the red demon to strut outside. He found a larger chair at a table to support his weight and sat down. The server placed a dish of deviled eggs onto the table as Mando glanced at the menu. He popped a few into his mouth as he admired the garden and pavilion. A black iron fence separated the area from the street. There were rose bushes nearby as well and a few ravens were pecking scraps of food from the grass.

Mando finished his plate and was about to leave.

Then, his eyes spotted a random beauty sitting at an adjacent table.

She was a purple demon with long white hair who was drinking a cup of tea. A clipboard with a piece of paper labeled “lesson plans” was in front of her. She was wearing a torn black shirt that reached the lower part of her legs and a reddish shirt with stitches on it. She had curved horns, a black bandanna and a red upside down cross on her skirt. Her large red eyes met his with a brief glare before turning away. A cigarette dangled from her mouth.

Mando took a deep breath and decided to say hello, just to give it a shot. He stood up from his chair and made his way over to the table. He sat down across from her, fiddling with his black spiked bracelets. The woman looked at him again, a look of confusion from her face.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, just wanted to say hi and stuff.”

“Well then, hi.”

There was an awkward silence that stretched out for a moment.

“Sorry, I guess I’ll just leave,” the red demon began but she said, “wait.”

The woman peered at him closely, fingers up to her chin. “You look familiar. I think I saw your face on that I.M.P. commercial.”

“You know about I.M.P.?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” she said. She held out her hand. “I’m Ms. Mayberry. Some still call me Mrs. Mayberry but that’s unnecessary since, you know, that time…”

She trailed off, her face briefly turning pink. “Sorry, getting off topic.” Their hands met for a handshake, Mayberry’s lavender hand small within the red demon’s palm.

“I don’t recall my human name. My peers call me Mando. Not sure why.”

More silence.

“So,” Mando said scratching his chin, “You were saying you know I.M.P.?”

Mayberry held her cigarette in one hand. “Yes. I found them after watching the ad. Walked up to their headquarters in Imp City and talked business with their leader.”

“Oh? You hired them too? How’d it go?”

The woman smiled with sharp teeth. “They did their job well. They traveled to the living world to kill my husband’s whore. Ended up killing her whole family.”

Mando grinned and chuckled. “My, my! You must’ve been satisfied after that.”

“I guess you could say that. I remember you saying you…killed your wife, right?”

Mando nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Yeah she was asking for it.”

Mrs. Mayberry briefly seethed, hiding her fear. “If you even think about…”

Mando backed up, holding out his hands, “No, no, no, I’m not gonna hurt you, ma’am. I might have a bad temper but I can still control it…sometimes.”

A red aura glowed around Mayberry and Mando gulped. The glow faded away.

“Anyway…yeah I hired I.M.P. to go after a person who saw me hiding her body. Haven’t heard back from them yet. I’d like to see that guy’s head in front of me if possible. What did you do next?”

“Well, I obviously hired I.M.P. to go kill Martha. And it worked out well, like I said.”

Mando beamed, his black eyes shining. “What a coincidence for us to have so much in common! This is wonderful!”

Mrs. Mayberry had to smile herself. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, yet. I do need some time to collect my thoughts.” She inhaled smoke from her cigarette and exhaled.

Mando leaned slightly back. “As do I. I completely understand.”

“Do you though? You’re not a school teacher who murdered her husband in front of your schoolchildren. And then took your own life.”

Mando visibly winced at that. “I…I’m so sorry. Then again, you’re not a former basketball player who died in an electric chair after being caught. I didn’t get to choose how I died.”

Mayberry’s face showed a hint of kindness. “That must’ve been hard as well. But strangely enough, I.M.P. brought us together.”

Mando laughed. “Yeah, who would’ve thought that would ever happen!”

After that, the two of them were content to just sit quietly drinking their drinks and eating various snacks. Their conversation became more light-hearted.

“Yeah I know I.M.P.s not perfect,” said Mando, “You should’ve seen Blitzo’s misspellings on the billboard. ‘Come to I Am Pee?!’ No wonder their business has been slow.”

Both of them laughed out loud.

“That imp can be annoying. He should come to my spelling classes,” Mayberry giggled.

“But I’m willing to give them another chance…for you.”

“You still don’t know me well,” Mayberry deadpanned.

“Heh. Sorry. Have a tendency to rush into things. Literally as well.” He rubbed his head.

Mayberry chuckled. “You must’ve gotten knocked in the head a lot, I imagine.”

“That’s what happens in sports. Oh, good news, I just won my recent game this morning.”

“Congrats!” Mayberry said. “Wish I was there to see it, but I have my job.”

“Where at?”

“Pentagram Penitentiary Place.”

“Ah, the boot camp school. Pretty strict over there, I heard.”

“It’s not too bad. The atmosphere helped me toughen up when I first applied. Even in Hell, it still brings me joy to sharpen the minds of the youth. Though I do wish there was less emphasis on murder all the time.”

“Says the one who murdered her husband and tried to kill his lover.”

“Oh shut it.”

Mayberry sighed as Mando smirked playfully. “I just wish things were…better, you know. Don’t you ever wish you could somehow magically change yourself and go off to a better place?”

“Mhmm,” Mando nodded. “But like they all say, ‘Hell’s a one way trip down.’ We’re stuck here forever. Might as well make the best of it.”

Mayberry thought back to when she collected the Happy Hotel flier that Charlie had left behind when she peered into the classroom. Redeeming demons shouldn’t be possible, yet Hell’s own princess firmly believed in it. Could it really be true?

Mando saw her pondering in thought and thought of something to brighten things up. “Hmm, maybe if you’d like, I could come by and coach the kids on some basketball moves when I’m not practicing or playing.”

This time, Mayberry’s eyes sparkled. “That would be wonderful, sir! The kids haven’t had a proper gym instructor in months. The last one got his head kicked off by wild teens. They’ll need someone to look up to.”

Mando grinned and pounded his fist into his palm. “You bet I can keep them in line. I’ve learned a few things from my coaches…they’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”

“Just…please don’t hurt them,” Mayberry pleaded.

“You have my word miss,” he said.

Mando couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face and features. It wasn’t a face of youthful beauty, but it radiated wisdom and strength.

Mayberry looked unsure. “It’s been a while since someone has looked at me like that.”

Mando chuckled in embarrassment after staring at her breasts under her shirt. “My bad.”

“No it’s…fine,” she trailed off, eyes looking off to the side. It was a look of lust, but not entirely. It was almost like the way her husband looked at her before…

She brushed the memory aside. There was no reason to trust this guy…at least not completely. He was just a friendly acquaintance. Even still, she revealed what was plaguing her mind.

“I worry sometimes that that Martha person, might be down here,” she said. “I don’t wanna have to deal with her again after what happened. I mean, we both died and did bad things…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando assured her. “From the looks of things, you know how to take care of yourself.”

Both of them got up from their seats. Mayberry stood up straighter, pleased with the reassurance. She kept telling herself to be strong, but hearing it from someone else made her feel…lighter, less weighed down by her thoughts. Mando stood up, towering over her.

Mando fished into his shirt and gave her a card with his name and number on it. The Ohio State logo was on one corner.

“No, no, I’m not ready for that yet…”

He still held it out in front of her. “You don’t have to do anything with it,” he said. “Just know that I’ll be around if you ever feel unsafe.”

Mayberry stood still, left eye twitching. It almost felt like she was betraying her husband by talking with another man. She had promised herself that she would remain faithful to him in life.

But now things were different. She was in Hell, a place where she could do what she wished. It was her second chance.

With shaking, hesitant fingers, she gripped onto the card and took it, putting it in her purse.

“It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Mayberry,” Mando said.

“Same to you,” she said.

“Want to meet up together next week?”

“I’ll do a rain-check,” Mayberry said.

“Be careful, the acid rains here aren’t too pleasant without umbrellas.”

Mayberry snickered a bit. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll go ahead and support I.M.P. with you,” he mentioned. “Those crazy killers need more recognition. You never know when you’ll need someone eliminated.”

“Agreed,” Mayberry said. “Using the grimoire to enter the living world is no small feat.”

“See you around!” he called, as he broke through the wrought iron fence, sending birds flapping and scattering.

Mayberry watched him stomp off before she exited through the cafe door. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The murder of crows swooped down and landed on another table partially shadowed among the rosebushes. There were several wilted rose heads on a plate and a mug of coffee. The birds landed on the shoulders of a figure behind a white newspaper. One gloved hand stroked the bird’s feathers. The paper lowered slightly to reveal two large glowing red eyes.

#martha #mrsmayberry #helluvaboss #murderfamily #hazbinhotel #imp

9 notes · View notes

alleiradayne · 5 years ago

Photo

LONG JACKET A DESTIEL-ISH SERIES

Over the last few years, I’ve seen some of the craziest shit hunting with the Winchesters and their angel, Castiel. But this story right here? This isn’t about monsters. This isn’t about the battle between good and evil, heaven and hell. I understand all that.

It’s people I don’t get. People are crazy. And we do crazy things when we’re in love.

PART VI - PLAID

Summary: The showdown. Warnings/Tags: Again, awkward flirting, mentions of rape, violence, sexual innuendo, blood, small description of sexual assault. Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Female!Reader Word Count: 6,875 (whoops)

Darkness encroached on the parking lot’s dim lamplight, the vast, endless nothing oppressive, suffocating. As we stood behind the Impala, that great void loomed, and yet, a tenuous sense of resolution settled in the pit of my stomach. Stuffed to the gills, Sam’s duffel bag—endearingly coined the Bag of Ouch—thumped into the open trunk.

“Isn’t that… a little overkill?”

“It would be if we’d ever actually fought a succubus before,” Sam said with a resigned sigh.

“You know,” I started as I squinted up at him. “Sometimes, I wonder what is wrong with you.”

He pointed to his head. “Don’t worry. I know there are too many screws loose. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want you going into this with any illusions of grandeur. We have no clue what we’re doing when it comes to these bastards. Books, hunter’s notes, the internet. Sure. But that’s why the bag is stuffed beyond full.”

When I looked from him to the bag and back, he shut the trunk. “So, we just have to try something and hope?”

“Essentially, yes. My bet is on decapitation,” he said. “No matter how fast you heal, you really can’t recover from that.”

“Bronze stake through the heart, Y/N,” Dean interrupted. “You know, if you don’t get a clear shot at…” he motioned to his throat with an execution gesture. “Plus, bronze doubles down on ancient metals. They’re not close enough to vampires or werewolves for silver to work. It’s—”

Castiel exited the motel then, and Dean’s teeth clicked shut mid-thought. Angular shadows played tricks on my eyes until Castiel stepped into the light, and I gasped. Blue, white, and gray plaid enveloped his shoulders, paired perfectly with his black jeans, black t-shirt, and Dean’s ill-fitting boots.

Beside me, Dean turned around, and his brow furrowed. “Is that—”

“No, this I bought myself,” Castiel explained. “I like blue. I think.”

Even in the near darkness, Dean’s cheeks reddened noticeably. “You should. Looks good on you.”

I imagined that, if angels could blush, Castiel would have. “Thank you.”

“Get a room.”

The back of my hand met Sam’s stomach as I scolded him. “Sh! Leave them alone.”

Dean’s eyes rolled so hard he gave Sam a run for his money. “What is it with you two? The man looks good in blue, and he should know that. Nothing even remotely suggestive.” He continued grumbling to himself as he rounded for the driver’s side of the Impala.

“Maybe that was too far,” I suggested as I glared at Sam.

He merely laughed as he turned for the car. “I disagree entirely, but I’ll back off. At least, until after this hunt.”

I turned to follow him, but then realized Castiel stood by himself. “You coming?”

Hand to his chest, he smoothed the plaid as he tugged it straight. “Do you agree?”

“With?” I asked.

“Dean. About blue plaid.”

Stuttered words stumbled from my mouth. Had he not seen the way Dean stared? Blushed? A brisk shake of my head cleared my thoughts. “First off, I think you should wear whatever makes you happy and comfortable. If that’s plaid, great. If not, that’s fine, too. Second, you can only control yourself. That’s something you probably already knew, but for some reason, humans take way too long to learn that. And third, blue looks great on you.”

He smiled then and followed me to the car. “This is much more difficult than I had anticipated.”

A bark of laughter burst from my chest. Before responding, I reached the rear passenger door and popped the handle. “Do you want my advice?”

“I abide by your expert wisdom, Y/N,” Castiel replied.

I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Talk to him.”

Behind schedule, I allowed Castiel no time to respond and sidled into the backseat of the Impala. Once Castiel seated himself, Dean backed out of the lot, and the Impala roared to life as he laid into the accelerator, heading towards the grocer.

“I hate this plan.”

Sam situated the bronze stake up the right sleeve of my newly acquired leather jacket. Dissatisfied and yet resigned to the situation, he moved on to the machete holster concealed beneath the jacket. “I really hate this plan.”

“Do you keep saying that to make me feel better or to convince me to bail?” I asked as I shot a nervous glance down the hill. There, sandwiched between the grocery store and a craft store, sat Madam Drina’s Visions, an eerie purple glow emitting from the partially curtained windows.

Sam grunted under his breath. “I think it makes me feel better,” he replied as he shifted the machete on my back. “Practice reaching for the handle. It’s a very weird holster. I hate wearing it.”

In one smooth motion, I reached behind my hip, grasped the handle, and pulled. The blade freed from the scabbard in a sharp ring of steel that sang between the stone buildings surrounding us. “Okay, I’ve never done that before. That was really fucking cool.”

“It sure as hell looked cool,” Sam laughed, “And it makes me feel better. Now, we’ll be right outside, so you give us the signal if you get the slightest hint shit’s going sideways. Please do not hesitate to call.”

I lowered the machete back behind my hip to re-sheath it. A solid clunk thudded through my chest as the hilt met the scabbard, the blade concealed once more. “Looks like I won’t be going in anytime soon.”

Down the hill, no more than a quarter-mile, the distant ring of Madam Drina’s door chimed through the silent night air. That sound caught Sam’s attention, and he turned to the source where we both watched a woman lean into the darkness of night from her shop’s door. She greeted a patron as he approached, and without delay, invited him inside.

Sam turned back to me and said, “We’ll give it an hour. If he doesn’t leave by midnight, we’ll send you in then.”

Before I could say anything else, Dean burst from the car and stomped to the trunk where he planted himself on the bumper. His folded arms and crossed ankles warned me enough, but my boldness won the battle against caution.

“Hey,” I started as I neared the trunk. “You okay?”

Sam slid into the Impala’s seat, and Dean waited for the door to shut before he responded. “No. I’m not.”

Okay, I hadn’t expected that at all. “Alright, that’s refreshing. Keep going. What’s got your goat?”

He scoffed half a laugh at that, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and shook his head. Though he remained tightly wound, his arms eventually unfolded, and he reached for the hem of his shirt. There he found a familiar threadbare corner, and he continued to worry at it as he had so many times before.

“You ever…”

Silence. Only the chirping of real, honest-to-god crickets broke the still night air. A thousand-mile stare settled in Dean’s gaze, and though the darkness shrouded us both, a familiar conflict roiled beneath the surface of his outward façade.

“Do I ever… what?” I asked. “Catch myself thinking about someone for hours on end? Imagining the things I would say to them under different circumstances? Wondering how they would feel or what they would say in return?”

His eyes snapped to me, glaring from the corner while his head remained still. Another shiver ran up my spine, but the sensation vanished as soon as it had come. Dean looked back up the road, staring straight ahead. The start of a few sentences stuttered on his lips, his tongue. Each time he swallowed his words, he remained silent longer. Until he finally said, “Yes.”

“Which one?”

He plucked a stray string from the hem of his shirt and tossed it out before him. A gentle breeze caught the tuft of frayed cotton and carried it off to the sidewalk where it landed and stilled. Dean, too, sat still as stone for what felt like hours, staring straight ahead at nothing. But the gears churned between his ears, so loud I swore I could hear him thinking. All too familiar, I knew the imaginary situations that played out in his mind, scenario after scenario. Endless torture, that. No good in ruminating, in worrying what response you might get. I wanted to tell him all those things, but how much of a hypocrite would that make me?

I wavered on the precipice of futility, that precarious knife’s edge where on one side, an infinite future spread as far as the eye could see and on the other stretched complete and utter nothingness. And yet, the longer I balanced on that deadly razor, my untimely end neared. Dean’s predicament had drawn out the worst of my subconscious. As I turned to regard Sam through the car, I swore a solemn oath, if only to myself, that I’d finally come clean.

I stood then to do what I should have done months ago, but the moment my boots touched the concrete, the bell above Madam Drina’s door twinkled again, and Dean startled. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him as he spoke, an insistent furrow to his brow.

“All of them,” he stated.

So lost in my head, I asked, “All of what?”

“What you said earlier,” he replied. “I’m constantly thinking about him, and I don’t know why. Besides you and Sam, Cas is my best friend, and I… I don’t know what to do.”

When I opened my mouth to reply, Sam exited the driver’s door, and Castiel followed not a beat later from the passenger’s side. I turned back to Dean and lowered my voice. “Just tell him.”

“What?!” he snarled under his breath.

“I’m serious,” I insisted in a thin hiss. “Tell him everything!”

When Sam rounded the end of the car, all rational thought fled. I’d made a promise to myself. And, in a way, to Dean, too. No way I’d go down as some plaster saint spouting hollow words in my final hours. Go big or go home.

Sam caught me. Barely, but that hardly mattered. When I had jumped, I knew I had leaped in faith, not in Sam’s ability to catch me—although I knew his arms were more than capable—but in his equal, mutual, maddening adoration for me. Like the heat of a summer’s noonday sun, his embrace smothered me. I soared too close to that roaring heat, and my plaster wings melted as I planted my lips on his.

Don’t let anyone ever tell you I can’t take my own advice.

“I am sorry, Dean.”

Castiel’s gruff apology ruined the moment. Almost. Sam squeezed me so tight to his chest and returned my kiss twofold despite our lack of privacy. But my eagerness to witness Dean and Castiel’s truth rivaled my endless exultation. I parted from Sam but remained in his arms as I looked over my shoulder.

Dean’s crooked eyebrow lowered as he turned from Sam and I to Castiel. “I know. But thanks,” he said as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you two finished?” He turned back to Sam and I. “Can we go kill this son of a bitch succubus and get the fuck out of here?”

Forgotten. For one glorious, blissfully unaware moment, I’d forgotten that a creature as vile as a succubus could exist.

The four of us looked down the hill towards the shop where Madam Drina waved goodbye to her patron as he walked down the block to the east. “That looks like our window,” Dean stated.

Two worlds collided with that simple phrase. The reality I had dreaded all day loomed like the specter of an urban legend. A sudden hyper-awareness seeped into my skin, my bones, my soul. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and gooseflesh spread across my arms. The ceaseless ticks of my watch counted the last beats of my heart as though finite, and I knew too few remained. Like so many grains of sand, time slipped through my fingers no matter how I clung to them.

Still in his arms, I looked up to Sam, but he said nothing. Those three little words balanced on the tip of my tongue. But as my lips parted, Sam stopped me.

“I know. Me, too.”

That would have to do.

A dreaded chill replaced Sam’s embrace as I headed down the street to Madam Drina’s Visions.

“Hello?”

I’d expected Madam Drina to meet me at the door as she had her previous client. When a few minutes passed with no sign of her, I grasped the handle and swung the door wide. As I spoke, her doorbell’s chime faded, then struck again as the door closed behind me.

Incense suffocated the cramped space. Thick strands of smoke rolled like massive coils of so many snakes, crawling and gliding ever so slowly through the room in an endless drift. Gaudy furniture pressed in from all sides like banks of a river to guide souls to the room’s center. There sat an intimate, circular plinth covered by several ornate silk scarves, and on its center rested a large crystal ball.

Overhead, similar swaths of silk stretched from the corners to the center of the room directly above the plinth. From the center of the ceiling, numerous large crystals hung from delicate silvery chains. Despite the swirling smoke, those crystals remained poised, still as stone. Azure and amethyst and amaranth lights illuminated the walls from floor to ceiling, reflected in glittering crystals and the sizeable transparent ball on the plinth, completing Madam Drina’s incredible soothsaying display.

“Hello?”

Not even a hint of an echo. Slow steps bore me downriver, and I called out once more. “Madam Drina?”

I had done my best to prepare my senses, steel my nerves, and harden my resolve. Few women rivaled Madam Drina’s beauty. But when she entered the room through a thick layer of silk scarves across the room, death breathed its icy breath down my spine, and I shivered from head to toe.

Pale as the moon, Madam Drina glowed in the lamplight. Dark curls of midnight hair hung from her headwrap, and large almond eyes widened when she spotted me. A petite nose ended in a delicate slope upwards, and beneath it stretched plump lips painted so very red to reveal a brilliant smile. She opened her arms, dark linens billowing from her wrists and elbows, and showed a tightly bound dress of sanguine silk, satin, and chiffon. Around her neck wrapped a woven leather choker, and at its center sat a ruby the size of my thumbnail. From that ruby, three delicate leather straps of varying lengths and bearing tiny red stone droplets plunged to her deep neckline and settled just above her admittedly impressive cleavage.

I could hardly take my eyes off her. And not just out of fear for my safety.

“Good evening, my dear,” she cooed, her voice velvety smooth and throaty with a hint of her breath. “I apologize for my tardiness. I had to... powder my nose.”

The first wave of her power rolled through my chest, and the room shimmered in a blurry rush, but the sickening sensation passed in a single breath. When my focus returned, I found Madam Drina glaring daggers at me. But in a blink, her anger disappeared, and she motioned to the table.

“Please, sit. What would you like to know?” She crossed the space and sat in a plush, overstuffed chair on the plinth’s opposite side. The layers of her dress parted as she spread her knees to either side of the pillar and slid her chair closer. “Come, dear. Tell me what you see here,” she beckoned as she pointed at the crystal ball with a black, claw-like fingernail. “I can tell you what it means.”

A nervous twitch of my hand checked the machete behind my hip. The cold bronze stake up my sleeve needed no such confirmation. As casually and confidently as I could, I strode to the empty chair and sat across from Madam Drina.

The second rush of power caressed my thighs, gentle as a lover’s touch. A heady aroma of oakmoss and elderberry flooded my nose, and once more, death breathed her icy chill down my neck. But again, the moment passed almost as if it had never happened. Disappointment twitched across Madam Drina’s intense gaze, her pale blue eyes flashing in frustration. And just as she had before, that display of emotion vanished, her calm countenance returned.

“You,” she drawled, “are better suited for cards.” A snap of her fingers vanished the crystal ball, clearing the plinth between us. I startled to feign surprise at such blatant use of magic, but I worried she saw through my ruse.

“Place your hand on the table,” she said as she smoothed the fabric. “Right here, my dear.”

Call it prescience, call it a sixth sense, hell, call it a woman’s intuition if that helps. Whatever it was, every fiber of my existence railed against the habit to lay my right hand on the table, and instead, I placed my left in the center with all the confidence I mustered.

Her long nails slipped beneath my palm and lifted my hand from the table. A scant inch from her nose, she examined my skin, fingers, and nails until she turned it over to scrutinize my palm. “Beautiful,” she purred, “so healthy. And strong.”

“You can tell that just by looking at my hand?” I asked.

The corners of her lips twitched, and she traced tantalizing trails along the lines of my palm with the pointed nail of her index finger. “That and much, much more.” She paused, her pale stare locked on mine. “But that is for another night. Cards. The cards will have the most insight for you tonight.”

Fight or flight. An opening squandered surely sealed my fate. Lost in thought, I noticed too late the creep of magic crawling along my arm, and when Madam Drina returned my hand to the covered plinth, death sang her siren’s call to me for the third time. That frigid touch of magic bound my hand to the table, frozen solid as a block of ice. A roiling surge in my stomach threatened to empty it there on the table, instinctual, primal. My final lucid moment chose flight.

As Madam Drina withdrew a deck of tarot cards from her waist wrap, I took my chance. Below the plinth, I slipped my right hand beneath the hem of my coat for my hip. There, the two-way radio’s textured button brushed beneath my fingers as I fumbled for my lifeline. But before I could press the button, Madam Drina held the deck out to me and spoke.

“Cut.”

As though a spun valve had released the pressure on my left hand, sensation returned to my fingers. I reached for the deck and stared Madam Drina directly in the eye. A rookie mistake, one I regretted immediately. Her piercing blue stare bored a hole straight into my soul, and my secrets laid bare. She knew. She saw straight through me, read me like an open book. Most of all, she knew that danger had found her that night. Too risky. I backed down from my radio and returned my right hand to my knee. With the left, I grabbed a large portion of the deck from her hand.

“Bold,” she commented as she placed the cards in her hand atop the cut. “But unsurprising.” The warmth of her touch covered mine on the table, only to seize in a flow of icy magic, chained once more. “I knew you would be an interesting read the moment I saw you.”

With ease, she moved my hand to the edge of the plinth. I tested my invisible restraint to no avail; that magical bond held fast. “Now,” she started, “I want you to think deeply about your being and how it has manifested itself thus far in the universe. Take your time. Connect with yourself. This may feel very new and even uncomfortable.”

To maintain pretenses, I did as she instructed. My gaze fell to the deck of cards where I drifted, unseeing. The room faded into an endless nothing, but within seconds, distant shapes formed in swirling clouds of dark smoke. As I neared them, they focused, solidified, and settled into my best friends. Castiel stood off to the side, his forlorn gaze staring across the nothingness at Dean, who stood beside Sam. And Sam’s appearance faded, opaque and wispy, where tendrils of smoke leached from him. Soon, he disappeared, and, though strange, I understood. I knew, without question, the meaning of that vision.

When Dean and Castiel remained, Dean gazed into the middle distance, and Castiel continued to stare at him.

“Ask your question.”

Madam Drina’s voice interrupted my thought, and in a wild, sliding rush, the room returned to focus around me. Her touch at my left hand, with her nimble fingers drawing delicate circles, elicited a well of sensations that itched beneath the surface, eager for release. But that ache was not alone. Death stalked in the shadows.

“You know what it is you seek, darling. Ask. Ask the universe your question, and the cards will tell you all you need to know.”

I heard myself speak before the thought had even formed in my mind. “How can I help my friend understand the truth?”

Madam Drina breathed in so deep, her chest swelled, and her eyes rolled back as they closed. “Ah, it is a man, no? A man you wish to… know the truth?”

“Yes,” I stated. “He deserves to know.”

“They all do,” she agreed as her gaze drifted to her hand atop mine. “They all should know the truth of a woman’s touch.”

Wait. What? “No, that’s… not—”

“Hush, dear,” she interrupted. “You have asked, and the cosmos will respond.” She lifted the first card from the top of the deck and turned it over. “Oh, how fascinating. You are not one to disappoint!”

A man hung from a tree by his ankle but rose above it against gravity. “The Hanged Man, inverted,” she said. “You are learning a new perspective on love. This man of whom you speak should know this, yes.”

But I knew The Hanged Man had many more meanings. Despite my question, I worried it related more to the situation at hand. I dodged sacrifice every second I lingered in Madam Drina’s presence.

She flipped the second card and hummed a knowing song. “The Seven of Pentacles, upright. You have long put work into this friendship. That is how you weather this storm. It will pay off with romance.”

The urge to contradict her nearly overcame my sensibility. Hard work, perseverance, and patience would see me through my encounter with such an abhorrent creature.

The third card flipped over, and Madam Drina hummed again as if she expected the result. “The Eight of Cups, inverted. You are learning the lessons of fear, sweetheart. Loneliness and loss are hard lessons, undoubtedly.”

Until that moment, I had held absolutely no faith in the power, ability, or knowing of tarot cards. But as I stared down that inverted Eight of Cups, my once unwavering disregard for tarot faltered. I feared not loneliness, but indecision. Inaction. Stagnation. I had to choose a path and commit to it before stalling at the crossroads got me killed.

Madam Drina grasped my left hand in hers and said, “You will see this through to your end, my dear. I know it.” She flipped over the fourth card and beamed with such pride I wondered if I had imagined her sense of danger earlier. “Strength, inverted!” she cried, almost a moan. “You shed your low self-esteem and insecurities, and are born again confident in love!”

No. What I relinquished in her presence was not insecurity, but fear. I stared Madam Drina dead in the eye again. I forced myself to meet her enraptured gaze of pure, unadulterated lust head-on and without fear any longer.

The fifth and final card flipped over with a snap of the cardstock. And that time, she cried out such a lascivious moan, I desperately wished to be anywhere else but in that room with her. “The Queen of Wands, upright,” she sighed. “You move forward with independence, confidence, and openness with your lover!”

In a brilliant flare of icy sorcery, Madam Drina lunged over the plinth and grasped me by the jaw. “You radiate power, sweetling. Do you not feel it?!” she breathed, oakmoss and elderberry filling my nose once more. “You should. You should experience the pleasures of such power. I can give that to you if you want. I can give you everything.”

Courage. The Queen of Wands symbolizes courage and individualism. To survive the encounter, I needed to believe in myself. Weak knees shook as I stood, the last of my willpower draining like water through a sieve. Madam Drina poured every ounce of her power into me, an unrelenting tidal wave. I wanted nothing more than to give in, surrender to her promises, and experience the culmination of that euphoria. And yet, the tiniest of voices, so thin and frail in the recess of my subconscious, forced its way to the fore of my mind and spoke of courage. Of righteous anger. Of life. Of love.

As Madam Drina pressed closer, her visage wavered, the mirage fading away to reveal her true form. Pale, purple skin stretched thin across her angular face, and endless black depths replaced the blue sapphires into which I stared. Long, curved horns smooth as obsidian protruded from her hairline where the skin crackled like broken earth to reveal tiny streams of violent purple energy flowing through her body.

“You will submit,” she ordered, “I own you now.”

Blood rushed past my ears with each furious beat of my heart, drowning out her words. The succubus continued to speak, continued to pour her delusions into my head. But I heard nothing, saw nothing. The last of my strength focused laser-like on the machete, and I reached behind my hip for the handle.

In a ring of metal and a flash of steel, I stripped the machete from its scabbard. The blade arched in a wild bid for her neck, and time stretched far too thin. Each second dragged, and the blade slid slowly, achingly, to its mark. Strike true, I begged. My life depended on it. God, please, let me strike true.

A sharp, earsplitting crack of thunder rang from the blade as it connected with the succubus’ long claws, her fingers against her neck blocking the machete. She smiled then, her long snakelike tongue darting out to lick her lips as she tore the weapon from my hand and tossed it to the floor beside her. “You will be such a pleasure to break.”

The bronze stake slipped from the sleeve of my jacket with a twitch of my wrist. Time raced to catch up, snapping back like a rubber band. I shoved the finely honed point to her chest, my entire body torqueing for all my strength, but in the final inch, the succubus screamed so loud, I collapsed to my knees. She flung me aside, and the stake flew from my hand to roll beneath a thick chest of drawers. I tumbled with it, crashing into the dense oak, and pain lanced like lightning through my entire body.

She screamed again, another furious screech that echoed impossibly through the shop. Windows rattled in their panes, and my hands snapped to my ears. The succubus stood then, and for the first time, I consumed her entire form. Heeled feet and slender ankles begged the eye up to the perfect curves of her sensuous hips that swayed as she strode to me and straddled my prone body. From the shiny golden gorget at her neck, delicate chains stretched along her pale skin, down her massive breasts, and capped small metal disks over her nipples. More delicate chains crossed along her soft stomach and wide hips, barely covering her sex with a flimsy gauze cloth that draped to the floor. Over her shoulder curled a wicked, seven-foot-long tail protruding from her spine at the top of her long, supple ass.

Lust, incarnate.

“You are inquisitive,” she purred. “I know what you are thinking. I know what they all think when they see my true form for the first time. You wonder.” She leaned over and reached for my throat. Adrenaline surged as I attempted to fight her off, but she pinned me to the floor with no effort at all. “You imagine. You fantasize,” she whispered into my ear. “I can give it all to you, and so much more.”

Her long, lithe fingers wrapped around my throat and gently squeezed. “This,” she started, “is what you crave. What you’ve wanted for years. To know endless pleasure by my hands of mastery. Agree, and I will give it to you. Fight, like you continue to do as you squirm your lithe little body beneath mine, and I will take it from you anyway.”

Darkness pressed in from all sides as my vision narrowed. Her grasp pressed ever so perfectly, and within seconds, I succumbed to the ceaseless nothing.

A thin shattering of glass and a sharp, shrill cry echoed through the emptiness like a distant memory. Light returned, and the room focused as I shook my head, but nowhere near fast enough. The succubus snatched me up from the floor like a child clutching a favored doll. Tiny diamonds of glass tumbled from my hair, my coat, and when she turned me about, I saw Sam and Castiel standing at the front of the shop, guns loaded for bare.

“Hand her over!” Sam barked. “Now!”

“Or what?” the succubus seethed. “You’ll shoot me? You’ll have to shoot her fir—”

“They might.” The thunk of the rifle at the back of the succubus’ head snapped my attention behind her. There, Dean glared at the end of his short barrel and said, “But I won’t.”

Another blinding flash of power roared through the room as everything happened at once. The succubus flung me from her arms, and I soared across the room to crash into Sam. We toppled together to the floor, and not a beat behind me, Dean and his shotgun followed. He rolled as he landed, but barreled into Castiel, who only just caught him.

An infuriating lilt of her humming pleasure caught us all off guard. “You brought men to defend you?” She howled with haunting laughter. “Maybe you are not so bright after all,” she simpered with a wave of her hand.

On pins and needles, I could only watch as Sam, Dean, and even Castiel reached for their heads, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. But just as I had resisted her magic, so did they. A few shakes of their heads and a breath later, Dean picked up his shotgun, Castiel aimed with his once more, and Sam helped me to my feet. As I stepped back, my heel kicked something hard, larger than the shards of glass strewn about the shop’s entry, but I dared not look down as the succubus advanced on us.

“Oh,” she mused as she took her sensuous rolling steps. “Your friends are strong, too. Stronger than you? Will I break all four of you? Together?”

“Back off, bitch.”

The crack of Dean’s shotgun exploded in the tiny shop, and my ears rang for several seconds before I heard more pealing laughter from the succubus. Rock salt lay scattered on the ground a foot before her as though it had hit an impenetrable wall. “You think you can just shoot me, Dean Winchester?”

Dean balked then, appearing shocked to hear his own name. “No. You don’t know me. Don’t even pretend like you do.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said as she stepped once more. In that second, her skin shimmered and shifted until it transformed into a dark suit, blue tie, and tan trench coat. “I know everything about you.”

Her eyes turned brilliant emerald green as they snapped to Castiel. “And you. The disgraced angel, Castiel, who once tempted the fate of the entire world by becoming God. The things I would love to do to—”

“Shut it,” Sam hissed as he raised his shotgun.

The succubus looked at the rock salt at her feet, then back to Sam. “What makes you think your gun will work after his didn’t?”

“I’m not packin’ rock salt, honey,” he stated. “Now back up.”

“My dear Sam, do not make me…” her voice clipped short as she hesitated, then her coat and suit shifted to match my own outfit. She turned to me, and her clothing twisted into Sam’s burnt orange jacket. “Well, aren’t I a lucky girl?” Her clothing vanished in a shiver befitting a burlesque dancer. “Four pining souls all desperate for pleasure. You’ve come to the right place. I think I’ll start with you.”

When the succubus pointed, Dean choked as though on cue. His shotgun dropped from his hands and clattered to the floor, and though it was within reach, I dared not move. Sam and Castiel raised their rifles to shoot, but a flippant wave of her free hand sent them flying into the opposite wall of the shop. They crashed into the ornate furniture in a hail of wood and metal, then collapsed beneath the rubble. Where Sam had slumped motionless, Castiel remained conscious, but he struggled to do even that.

“Cas, you hold on!” Dean choked. “Y/N, help him!”

With a subtle shift in her pointing hand, Dean rose to the tips of his boots, barely touching the floor. I alone remained standing, but mine was no longer the only life on the line. Once more, I stood at the crossroads and had to commit to a path.

I dropped to the floor for the rifle, and no sooner than my hands graced the stock, it sailed across the room. “Dean goes first,” the succubus declared. “Then once I’m through with him, I’ll break Sam. And then you.” She turned back to Dean. “While your big, dumb men watch.”

“Don’t you touch them!” Dean choked as he clawed at his neck. The tips of his boots scraped the floor where the succubus dangled him. “I’ll fucking kill you if you lay a single finger on any of them!”

One heeled foot stepped in front of the other as the succubus closed the space between her and Dean. “Your brother was supposed to be my king. Did you know that?” she breathed. “You could be my king, and I’ll serve you however you see fit. I’ll leave her alone. I’ll leave Sam alone. I’ll even leave dear, sweet Castiel alone.”

She looked to Castiel, who stumbled through the rubble to rouse Sam’s motionless body. “Look at him. Bumbling fool,” she hissed. “What do you see in him that you don’t see in me? I can give you so much more.”

Dean tried to choke out another retort, but her invisible grip at his throat tightened. When she reached him, she pressed her entire body against his, and a virulent wave of power roared to life around them, crackling like fire but dark as night. A violently lewd shiver coursed through her, running from shoulder to tail as she moaned, and Dean’s face turned a putrid shade of green I had never seen on a human before. “Aw, you don’t like being choked? Poor thing. You’re missing out. I can teach you to love it.” Her long forked tongue teased at Dean’s jaw, and she moaned again as he jerked his head away from her violently.

In one infinitesimal second, horrors unlike any I had experienced before flashed before my mind’s eye. In the next breath, those terrible visions faded in a haze of red, insatiable bloodlust. No coherent thought penetrated that curtain of rage, that raw, unbridled fury, and I committed for the third and final time that night.

Fast as lightning, I lunged. My machete lay where I had unknowingly kicked it not minutes earlier. In an odd twist of fate, it had come to rest in a place so perfect. I could not have picked it ahead of time, given a chance. In a move that put Neo to shame, I rolled through the wild dive for the machete and sprang to my feet, armed. Distracted so by her prey, the succubus turned too late to defend herself. And I wasn’t about to let her get the last word before I snuffed out the wick that was her pathetic existence.

“Choke on this, you sick son of a bitch.”

Steal sang through the air, harmony to the melody of my frenzied scream, and sliced through her skin, sinew, and bone like a hot knife through butter. A fine black mist of demon blood billowed from the strike, covering my face. As the succubus’s decapitated head and body dropped to the floor in a resounding thud, a thin arc of demon blood lanced across Dean’s chest, and he vomited.

He continued to wretch until Castiel rushed from the heap of broken furniture and wrapped one arm around Dean’s back as the other cupped his forehead. Dean gasped, plunged so suddenly beneath the icy waves of healing. But as quickly as Dean’s nausea had come on, it passed in the wake of Castiel’s touch, and he stood tall once more. When Dean nodded in reassurance, Castiel headed back for Sam as he stirred to life in the rubble.

Black runnels of thick blood ran in rivulets down the blade of my machete. White knuckles yet clutched the hilt, and a moment passed before reality, dancing at the edges of my consciousness, sank in. Those were my knuckles, stiff and shaking under straining muscles. A freak spasm snapped my fingers apart, and the blade thumped to the floor.

“Hey,” Dean started as he neared me. “Keep it together, Y/N. You did what you had to do. Look at me. Focus on me.”

Lingering bouts of rage trickled through my blood and rendered my mind near useless. Dean’s lips moved, but I hardly heard a sound, his voice muted. That suffocating rage dragged me down like a treacherous undertow. I did my best to read his lips. Did what you had to. Look. Focus. He pointed two fingers at me, at my eyes, then at himself.

I only noticed Castiel had returned with Sam in tow after Dean had turned to ensure they were alright. A short, muted conversation passed between them, but when Sam spotted me, he closed the remaining space between us and asked, “Do you want to leave?”

The silence shattered, and I heard his voice clear as a bell. But with that clarity came understanding. My stare had unwittingly fallen on the lifeless body, once virile and full of limitless power, sprawled on the floor, her head a few feet away. Even in death, the overt lust of the succubus imposed, branding my mind with an indelible memory I begged to forget.

And then she was gone, blocked by Sam’s broad shoulders and towering frame. “Cas and Dean can handle the body,” he said as he reached for me. I recoiled, an unbidden reaction that surprised even myself. A pained frown I never wished to see again knotted Sam’s brow. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry you went through this alone. It was a terrible plan—”

He choked on his words as I lunged into his arms again, and he remained quiet as he held me. In that moment of silence, I wanted nothing more than to scream, to take out every ounce of my furious hatred for that abomination on her corpse. But the longer I breathed in Sam’s embrace—free of any oakmoss or elderberry, thank Christ—that righteous rage subsided.

“Jesus. No wonder men just fall into their laps,” Dean commented.

I looked past Sam to find Dean and Castiel looming over the body of the succubus.

“I never understood why God created humans to be so…” Castiel paused as he neared the head. “So…”

“Simple?” Dean asked. “So easily fooled? So… basic?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes.”

Dean managed a chuckle at that. “I wish I knew, too.” He paused as he stared at her for one lingering moment. “I hate everything about this. Let’s torch the body outside of town and get the hell out of here.” He tossed a heavy burlap bag at Castiel.

“Why do you hate them so much?” Castiel asked as he caught the bag.

“Because,” Dean grunted, “it’s not fun if it’s not consensual. And if there’s one thing a succubus gets off on most, it’s an extreme lack of consent. And that is fucking gross.”

As Sam led me to the shop’s front door, I glimpsed the tiniest reassured smile on Castiel’s face. And then I understood.

The tarot cards had been right all along.

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

LONG JACKET MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester/reader

15 notes · View notes

zxanthe · 5 years ago

Text

dare

for @soulxmakaweek 2020, day 1!

also available on ao3 and ff.net

The desert night is cold, but a strange, heady warmth suffuses her veins and keeps it at bay. Her head swims pleasantly – she’s never had alcohol before, and she didn’t think she ever would, but she’s Maka Albarn and she doesn’t back down from a dare. The taste of artificial strawberries lingers on her tongue, acrid and too-sweet. She doesn’t get how anyone could actually like this stuff.

“Tsubaki,” says Liz, pulling Maka out of her reverie. “Truth or dare?”

The other girl bites her lip. “Dare,” she replies, in her soft melodious voice. Maka wishes distantly she had a voice like that.

“You always pick that one,” Liz scoffs. “All right, why don’t you…take two shots and then do twenty pull-ups.”

“Laaaame,” says Black Star from his position on the floor, and then burps loudly.

“Excuse you,” says Maka, at the same time that Patty bursts into giggles and then matches him with a burp of her own.

“Patricia,” says Kid reprovingly.

“Scuuuuze me,” she chirps, and then bumps Black Star’s upside-down fist.

“Could I maybe, um…not take the shots?” Tsubaki asks, a note of hope in her voice.

“A dare’s a dare.” Liz shrugs, not looking up from her examination of her cuticles.

“It would ruin the sanctity of the game,” Kid adds helpfully.

Tsubaki sighs.

“Hey, that’s not a shot,” says Black Star. “C’mon, Tsu, do it right.”

Tsubaki takes two deliberate mouthfuls. Afterwards she coughs and grimaces before striding towards a low-hanging sign and pulling herself up over and over, braids swinging.

“Can you do that many pullups?” Maka asks, turning to look at her weapon partner. He sits slouched on the lip of the wall beside her, staring out over the desert.

He turns at the sound of her voice. “Huh?”

She gestures with her chin towards Tsu, whose breathing has started to become a little labored. “That many pullups. Can you do them?”

Soul sits up a little straighter. “Sure. Yeah.”

“All right,” says Tsubaki. Her forehead gleams with sweat. “Twenty.” She strides back towards the group and folds, a little shakily, into a sitting position on Maka’s other side.

“That drink is disgusting,” she murmurs fervently. Maka reaches out and pats her sympathetically on one trembling shoulder.

“Your turn, sis,” says Liz, and elbows Patty gently. “Who d’you wanna pick?”

Patty taps a finger on her chin in thought, her wide blue eyes roaming around the group. They settle on Soul, and a positively evil grin distorts her features. Maka barely suppresses a shudder.

“Soul!” Patty sings out. “Truth or dare?”

Soul squints suspiciously. “…Dare,” he says, after a few moments’ hesitation.

Patty claps her hands in delight. Wrong answer. Soul shifts uncomfortably.

“I dare youuu,” Patty says, “to kiss Maka.”

The group’s focus sharpens. Heads turn, eyes darting from Patty to Soul and back again, with furtive looks at Maka. She can feel her face heating up a little at the attention. Soul’s eyes go wide and he proceeds to choke on his own spit. Maka pounds him hard on the back.

“What?” he asks, when he recovers. “That’s a stupid dare. Why would you ask me to do that?”

“You can take a drink first if you need to,” says Patty innocently.

Maka glares. “Hey, I’m not that ugly.”

“You don’t have – “ Tsubaki begins, at the same time that Kid starts speaking. “Patricia, that dare is hardly appropriate – “

Patty shooshes them both with waves of her hands. Her eyes dart between Soul and Maka. Soul’s cheeks have turned light pink. Not such a cool guy after all, huh. Maka smirks a little.

“What are you,” says Patty, looking Soul dead in the eye. “Chicken?”

Soul swallows visibly. At that, Patty starts clucking.

Star cackles, sitting up enough that he can make eye contact with Soul. “Oh my God. Oh my God, is this your first kiss? And with Maka? Dude. Duuuude.”

“Shut the hell up,” snaps Soul, and he’s definitely red. “Like you’ve ever kissed anyone, dumbass.”

“That’s so sweet,” says Liz, putting a hand to her chest. “So precious.”

“Stop these ridiculous noises at once,” Kid says, but his voice is drowned out because Black Star’s joined in, rooster-crowing with gusto. Maka rolls her eyes.

“Idiots,” she says, not bothering to hide her annoyance, and reaches over and grabs Soul’s chin to guide his lips to hers. He doesn’t protest. His eyes, usually so sleepy-looking, are wide open and very red, even in the dimness of the evening, and rimmed with girlishly long lashes the same color as his hair. His lips are chapped but warm.

Black Star and Patty are yelling enthusiastically. Someone wolf-whistles. “Mmkh,” says Soul, after only seven seconds, and tries to pull away. She buries her fingers in the soft, unstyled hairs at the nape of his neck and holds him in place with a frown. She’s going to make damn sure they win this dare. Soul puts his hands on her shoulders. “Mgnsn – WACHOO!”

Maka is left blinking, face covered in a fine spray of Soul’s spit. “Ew!” she cries, face flushing. Black Star and Patty are howling with laughter. Even Tsu’s cracking a smile, the traitor, though she at least has the decency to hide it behind her hand. Maka scrubs furiously at her face with the hem of her t-shirt.

“You stupid!” she snaps, rounding on Soul, on whose reddened face is writ some heinous combination of annoyance, embarrassment, and mild fear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna sneeze?”

“I tried, but you wouldn’t let me! It’s your fault, you dumb bookworm!”

“How is your sneeze my fault?!”

“Just stop, you’re drunk.”

“Oh, I’ll show you drunk,” she hisses, and snatches the bottle and manages to chug two mouthfuls before coughing violently.

They stay out until the second bottle is finished, and then halfway through the third that Patty pulls from the cheerful beach bag heaped at her sandaled feet. Truth or dare turns to never have I ever turns to them looking up at the sky and trying to count all the stars before subsiding into lazy drunken conversation. Even Kid had some, though it seems to have no effect. Stupid Shinigami genes. It’s only when Black Star falls asleep leaning against Tsubaki’s legs that the girl in question gets somewhat unsteadily to her feet and announces that they really ought to go home.

“I agree,” says Maka, and stands up also. Big mistake. The world seems to tilt violently, and she feels like she’s gonna hurl. The taste of shitty strawberry flavoring is strong on her tongue, mingling unpleasantly with that of alcohol. She manages to keep it all down, for now.

“Woah,” says a voice, and then there are arms around her. Soul. What a good weapon, she thinks distantly. Always has my back. “You OK there?”

“M’fine,” she slurs. She tries to take a step, and wobbles dangerously.

They say their goodbyes – Maka manages a fairly coordinated wave, of which she feels rather proud – and go their separate ways. She makes it until they round the first bend the street takes before throwing up with gusto against the side of a building.

“Oh my God, I told you to take it easy,” Soul grouses, but he holds her hair back just the same. Maka heaves again. Wet noises against cobblestone bricks. Her body shakes. She holds her position, arms braced against the wall, forehead pushed into them, until her head stops spinning. She’s cold, she realizes distantly.

“For a bookworm, you sure are dumb sometimes,” Soul mutters, and a moment later something warm gets thrown over her shoulders. She straightens. The world rocks. She feels the jacket start to slip off. “Woah, careful with that,” says her weapon, and catches it, hand splayed on the middle of her back. Even through the jacket she can feel the warmth of it, or maybe she’s just drunk. “Don’t get your gross throw-up on it, shit was expensive.”

She snorts. It is a weak approximation of her usual full-bodied disdain, and perhaps this is what makes Soul help her put her arms through the sleeves. He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and uses it to dab residual vomit from her face. Like a mother hen, she thinks distantly, and the thought in conjunction with her aloof, too-cool-for-school partner makes her giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Soul asks, and then shakes his head. “Actually, don’t tell me, it’s probably really stupid.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.

Soul looks at the handkerchief and wrinkles his nose before his eyes dart to hers. “You’re not gonna throw up anymore, are you?” he asks, deadly serious.

After a moment’s thought, Maka shakes her head.

“You better not be lying,” Soul grumbles, turning his back to her and bending his knees. Maka stares at him, uncomprehending. “What are you waiting for,” Soul says gruffly. “Hop on.”

“This is embarrassing,” she mumbles, cheek pressed against his back, arms looped haphazardly around his shoulders. “It’s th’meister that carries th’weapon, not the other way ‘round.”

He shifts her a little farther up on his body. “No shit, Sherlock. Try not to get so drunk you barf next time.”

“Mmm,” she says, and closes her eyes. Silence falls between them for a time. Maka nearly falls asleep, lulled by the rocking motion of Soul’s steps and his warmth, vibrant against her front.

“Y’know, it’s kinda crazy,” Soul sighs, “that we can go out and kill monsters, but we can’t go into a bar and get alcohol that doesn’t taste like artificially sweetened gasoline.”

“We’re like thirteen,” Maka mumbles. “Alcohol’s for adults.”

Soul doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “You Death Kids or whatever they call you locals are fuckin’ crazy.”

“You got it backwards. It’s S’the rest of the world that doesn’t make sense.”

When they get to the apartment, Soul makes her walk up the stairs. She does, groaning and stumbling, but Soul manages to shepherd her through the door and into her bedroom. He undoes the straps of her boots and yanks them off, and her socks too for good measure. By this point she’s too tired to form words, so she gropes half-blind in the moonlit dimness of her room until she finds his hand and grabs it, a soft questing pressure. She hopes he understands.

(He does. Soul doesn’t leave until she falls asleep.)

#soulxmakaweek #somaweek2020 #somaweek #soulxmaka #soma #soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #se by z #soul/maka #zxanthe writes sometimes

46 notes · View notes

allyvampirelass29 · 5 years ago

Text

To Love is To Hate

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

"Allyssa Manx...… Get in the car."

Charlie flung open the passenger door of the Wraith, his eyes like stoked embers, black, smoking coals, his voice as threatening as a blade's edge raised against his wife, and he arched an eyebrow, just daring her to defy him further.

"Charlie, no, please- Don't-" Ally begged, taking a terrified step back into the falling snow on the road, the flurried wind whipping her white nightgown around her legs that were red with cold. "I'm- I'm so sorry!!!! Please..... Forgive me!!!" She called out, trembling, the tears streaming down her frozen cheek.

"Oh you're sorry?" He shot back cruelly, his gloved fingers gripping the edge of the car door. "To which of her heinous sins, does this fallen angel confess? The Seduction, The Theft, or The Betrayal, itself?"

"Charles-"

"She seeks absolution, she cries out for mercy, and yet even in pursuit of her penance, cannot do what I have asked. I said..... GET IN MY CAR." Charlie demanded in a low growl, furiously throwing his other arm out gesturing her inside.

Ally felt her heart tremble, collapsing to her knees, deathly afraid of that wild fury that flashed in her lover's eyes, and she sobbed harder. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Hurt you? Hurt YOU?" He snickered cruelly, slowly dofting his chauffer's hat in her direction, with a mock bow. "What a performance, My Dear, Sweet Wife, when YOU have hurt ME something profound, with a deception most vile, playing the blushing bride, when all along you were the black widow!!!"

"No!" She screamed, shaking her head, fingers trembling.

"How CAN you deny it!?" Charlie snarled, balling his royal blue, flat-topped hat up in his gloved fists, before letting it fall from his fingers. "You LIED to me, you STOLE from me, you TRICKED me, aligning yourself with our mutual enemy, that vicious WRETCH Vic McQueen!!!!! Oh don't tell me...…. This was your plan all the time, wasn't it? From the beginning, you made play of love when you felt NOTHING!!!!"

Ally cried harder, sobbing from her fallen place in the snow, her dark hair falling in her eyes, as she cast her head down, ashamed. "How can you think that, Charles? How can you profane something as pure, as powerful and mad passionate as our love? The love fate decreed between us, authored in the stars before ever we existed!?"

"Pure!? This- This love is a poison, slowly killing me with its kiss of death, that I happily, foolishly, take from your lips. The draught drank, and I am done for, because even still I see you, I look at you, and I want you, My Murderess, even as you enact my demise, even as you have no love in your heart, for mine that dies with each breath for you!!!!"

"See, that's the kicker, you piece of SHIT, ain't nobody ever loved your sorry ass more than this girl, right here!!!!"

"Vic, NO!!!!" Ally cried, scrambling to her feet.

Charlie recoiled with the laughing sound of Vic McQueen's voice, and then froze cold as the blast shattered the Wraith's rear window.

"VIC, NOOOOOOOO!!!!! STOP!!!!!" Ally screamed out, stunned, horrified as Vic McQueen appeared with a vengeance on the snow covered road, her shotgun still aimed, and she discharged the empty shell, with a threatening click.

"Heya Charlie. You miss me?"

"VIC...…." Charlie was so livid he spat her name in a seethe, his teeth digging into his lip, making a pretense of perfect control, of haughty indifference, but all he wanted to do was make that girl BLEED. "How nice of you to join our nasty little marital spat, you of COURSE being the noxious weed in our Eden, you homewrecking, conspiring, hateful BITCH!!!"

"Yeah, what can I say, it sounded like a BLAST!!!" Charlie bristled as Vic pulled the trigger again, snow and gravel exploding just inches from his boots. "I may be a bitch, Charlie, but I'm the bitch with the shotgun, and if you don't want me to blast you to hell, you're going to let Harlequin Novel go, right freaking now."

"Vic, WAIT!!!!" Ally pleaded, looking faint.

"You DARE attempt to force my hand, Victoria!? Ally isn't going ANYWHERE. Not with you. She's not your friend. You may think you have bested me, turned her against me, created in my beloved, a backstabber, your own advantageous ally, but I am not the only one she has fooled. Isn't that right, Mrs. Manx?"

"Vic this WASN'T the plan!!!!" Ally pleaded, not sure which of them to shield from the other.

Charlie watched Vic's finger fidget on the trigger, knowing that his words had struck a chord, and all was as he'd suspected.

"Ally, GO, get the HELL out of here. I know this isn't how you wanted it, but it was never gonna end with that frickin' creepy bastard alive, and you KNOW it!!!"

"NO!!!!! You promised, Vic, you PROMISED!!!!" Ally pleaded with angry tears, feeling for the pen in her sleeve, and finding it was not there.

"You're free, ain't ya!?" Vic hissed, but Charlie could see she was distracted, and he waited carefully for his moment, all he needed was for her to look away, even once...….

"I don't want it, not like this!!! We had a DEAL, Vic!!! Dismantle this Nightmare World piece by piece, tear it asunder from his mind, but HE LIVES!!!! He stays mine!!!!"

That's it, My Dove, rage in a riotous display, distract her, divide her focus, yes....…." Charlie's mind coaxed, Ally seeming to obey, and with both of his obsessions turning on the other, neither noticed Charlie slowly ease himself down, and retrieve the pistol from his boot.

"Yeah, well, I'm changin' the deal, okay? You wanted outta here, I'm gettin' you out, along with the kids, whatever it takes!!! I'm not going to spare this sicko, just because you're lovesick over him, and have this crazed delusion of still getting your ever after once we've burnt his Christmas Hell to the ground!!!!"

Vic dropped the shotgun, with an anguished string of curses, and Ally let out another stunned scream, clapping her hand to her mouth, as the bullet grazed Vic's shoulder, staining her blue plaid button-up red with blood.

"CHARLIE NOOOOO!!!!!"

"If you girls are quite finished, I would like to save you both the trouble, and end this doomed partnership, as of, how did you say it, right freaking now? I can't have you both playing too nice, now, can I?"

Charlie smirked, pistol raised, his gloved finger drawing back the hammer once more, to shoot Vic in the chest, and end it, once and for all.

"Vic McQueen...…. I hereby exile you from Christmasland, and life itself. Burn in hell," Charlie simpered maliciously, and right when he was about to send her there, his beautiful brunette hurled herself in the line of fire, waving frantically.

"Charlie, NO, DON'T shoot!"

"Ally...…. Get OUT of my way." He rasped, watching Vic groan, holding her shoulder, and eye the felled shotgun.

"Charlie! Charlie, wait! Hold on!" Ally drew closer to him, and he felt himself hesitate.

"NO! My Darling, do not you see what she has done to us!? The lies she has infected you with, to twist you, even YOU, my pure, my innocent, my perfect beauty into something dark, something dangerous, raise you as weapon against your own true love!?! Who stands the true monster here!?"

"Still YOU, Jerkoff!!!"

Vic rushed for the shotgun, but Ally was closer, and quicker than Vic in her wounded state, and snatched it up to Charlie's rollicking delight.

"Good Girl!!!! My Clever Bride!!! Oh Ally, all is forgiven...…. If you shoot Victoria McQueen."

Ally looked at him greatly distressed, as Vic glowered over her shoulder, just daring either of them to try it.

"Charles! You dismay me! Do you think me capable of such evils as to take a life!? You accuse Victoria of transforming me into something deadly, but have you not done me this same turn, My Love?"

"Damn, she's got ya there, Manx!" Vic snorted, still holding her shoulder, blood squeezing through her fingers.

Charlie growled, pistol still aimed, his finger poised, but Ally clinging to the shotgun, was enough to give him pause.

"I'll go with you, Charlie, I'll get in the car, I'll never leave you again, I'll do anything you want, BE anything you want, just let her walk away from this! Don't be the soulless monster she thinks you are!!!!"

"Ally, HAVE you freaking LOST it!?" Vic yelled out, incredulous, her breath shallow, trying to determine if she could tackle Northanger Abbey down, before Manx got off a shot.

Charlie cocked his silky, raven head to the side, his pistol still cocked as well, one eye narrowed, everything in him screaming to release the bullet, and author Vic McQueen's long fought for demise, and yet he knew that once he'd done so, that sweet, darling, fragile creature that he'd come to love so much, the broken doll that he'd made a queen, would be lost to him for all of his eternity.

"On the contrary, Vic, I think Miss Ally has finally found it...……."

"Ally don't do this...… You're better than this, better than him, you just broke free, don't let him pull ya back in. Run. You don't have to watch me kill your Nightmare Man, all you have to do is RUN!!! Whatever happens after...…. it ain't your fault."

"Charlie...…. Can I come home?" Ally's whole body shook, still gripping the shotgun, her tears falling, and Charlie gritted his teeth, hating his answer."

"Yes, My Darling, I accept. Get in the car, and I won't kill her...….. not today, anyway."

"You can't!!! You delusional, ridiculous, damned crazy chick!!!"

Ally started towards Charlie, and then stopped, noticing the pistol was still pointed at Vic's chest.

"Charlie, please, put down the pistol, and I will come to you. We can go home, be as we were, and make play this ugliness, my own treachery included, did not transpire."

"You do love me, don't you?" He managed in a rasp, his thick brow quizzical, slowly lowering his gun, pushing the hammer forward, expertly uncocking it, pocketing it in his dark blue chauffeur's coat as she drew nearer. "Why else sacrifice yourself for my soul, give back the life you have risked so much to free from my grasp? It wasn't all a lie...…. was it?"

"It was none of it, a lie, Charles!" Ally insisted in heartsick, desperation, and he beckoned her forward, the aching truth evident in her soft, glimmering eyes. "I Love You, Charles T. Manx, and I surrender myself to your hands whether they mean for me affection or infliction. How gladly would I sacrifice my own freedom, if it meant the redemption of your once beautiful soul!!!!"

"GOD, shut-up already, you both make me sick," Vic muttered. You ditzy, doe-eyed STUPID girl, go ahead, run right back to the cat's claws, and see if I give a DAMN!!!! I'm DONE playin' hero to the doomed damsel that's so damned in love with her distress!!! Never shoulda teamed up with you, Ally, I see it now, you're WEAK and you WANT him to MESS you up, so fine. I give. I hope he makes you as miserable as he makes me!!!!"

"Now, now, don't fret on that account, Victoria. Misery is a privilege I reserve only for you, it's something sacred between us."

Charlie laughed with vicious mirth, tempted to seize Ally and wrest the shotgun from her hands, the moment she was close enough, yet for some ridiculous, inexplicable reason, he wanted to trust her. Trust that she was done scheming against him with Vic, and that she wouldn't blow a hole in his chest, point blank, instead of getting into the car.

She hurried to him, her loose, luxurious curls catching in the wintry wind, and he froze, warily, as she knelt down to pick up his fallen chauffeur's cap from the road, leaving the shotgun in its place. She lovingly placed it atop his rich black waves, returning the crown to her king, and he kicked the shotgun away, as she did so, still not trusting that she meant to come of her own conscious volition.

Door still open, he helped her into the passenger's side seat, and delicately kissed his queen's frigid cheek, before shutting the door tight. The second she was tucked away, safely inside, he shot a glance back to the road, still tempted to send a bullet screaming through Vic's beating heart. She was gone...... He'd had his chance to end this, to prove victor over Meddlesome Victoria, at last. He'd wasted it. Wasted it like a fool on love. But as he watched his recaptured dove settle back in the seat, knowing she'd not fly free of her cage ever again, he smiled smugly to himself with the revelation he'd made the better trade.

His eyes moved back to the spot where she'd stood, imagining the way the bullet had scraped across her shoulder, the blood staining her shirt red.

"Until next time, Victoria...….. I have taken back my love, and soon, very soon, you vexing vixen, I shall have you as my vengeance. Who says a man cannot have his wife, and play with his hate too? I'm not finished with either of you yet...… To love one is to hate the other, and oh what fun...… to see you both become loved and hated by me.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charlie manx x oc #vic mcqueen #christmasland #the wraith #paranormal romance #paradise for the lost

25 notes · View notes

keichanz · 5 years ago

Text

so, @artistefish.

remember your mummy au? well...i really hope you don’t mind, but i kinda sorta randomly got obsessed with it and i mean literally i was just sitting at my desk at work one day when out of fucking nowhere my brain was like “hey remember artiste’s mummy au, let’s get obsessed with that and make drabbles” and then this happened ;alkdsjflk;ahdf

don’t worry, i don’t plan on doing the entire movie; i know you said you wanted to write it as one of your future projects, and i don’t want to steal your thunder, so to speak. ^^; i plan on just writing some of my favorite scenes with my own flare, and most likely the ones you’ve sketched with links to them provided, and they won’t be long. drabble/ficlet length, with perhaps one or two longer oneshots since we all know i can’t control myself lol.

all of this is totally inspired by you, and i give you full credit of course! :) and i really don’t wanna step on your toes, so if you ‘d rather i not, please let me know! i will completely understand. ^_^

so anyway, moving on. you can thank @dangerouspompadour for this one because she guessed where my one liner was from lol.

i’ve rambled long enough; here’s the first one. inspired by the first two pictures of this post by the amazing artiste! :D the “you got promoted” bit was my own personal addition because i laughed way harder than i should have at that part lmao

[ i ] [ ii ]

Hamunaptra, 1923

The sun was hot, burning bright over the ancient Egyptian city where only the oldest of blood and strongest of will dared tread upon its olden sands. The sturdy stone structures, high and imposing, rose above the chaos of man disrupting the hidden city with their weapons and battle cries, the smell of gunfire and blood prominent amidst the odor of sweat and leather.

From behind a short stone wall, a line of soldiers garbed in white readied their firearms as they knelt upon the hot ground, sighting down the barrel toward the enemy. Astride dozens of valiant steeds, their opponent charged forth with weapons wielded before them, shouting the battle cry of their heritage, a wave of lethal force, determined to eradicate and slaughter.

Sitting atop his own mount, the general commanding the soldiers waiting for his instructing watched the seemingly endless wave of their enemy, the fear in his eyes and face unmistakable. His horse shifted uneasily beneath him, sensing his rider’s mounting distress, and without a second thought to the men risking their lives before him, the general swung his horse around and galloped away, fleeing from battle.

A little ways down the line two men watched their commanding officer gallop away with matching looks of something akin to exasperated disbelief.

“You just got promoted,” the smaller of the two men said, dressed similar to the other combatants waiting for their orders.

Garbed in the brown leather and tough-hide boots that signified his status as second in command, the other figure gave an inward snort of disgust and once more set his sights on the approaching army on horseback, sighting down his own firearm. Short, sweat-dampened sterling hair fell into twin pools of heated amber that burner brighter than the hot sun above them and he flicked them away with a careless toss of his head.

“Prenez vos positions!” he bellowed in the land’s native tongue and the men under his command tensed, anxiously waiting for the order to fire.

Beside him, his companion fidgeted and nervously licked his lips, his hands visibly shaking as he lifted his rifle.

“Steady!” Inuyasha Taisho roared above the din of thundering hoof beats and the increasingly louder screams of war. Hard amber eyes were unwavering as he glared at the approaching army, clawed hands tensing on his gun and finger hovering over the trigger.

“You’re with me on this one, right?” he rumbled loud enough for his companion to hear, his right hand man, his friend til the end.

“O-oh,” Byakuya returned through a tight throat, a noticeable strain to his voice, “you’re strength gives me strength.”

The look Inuyasha slanted him was dubious at best, but he didn’t have time to respond; the enemy was fast approaching and he shifted his attention to them again, jaw clenched, weapon poised, hands stable.

“Steady!” he shouted again, the thunder of dozens of hoof beats pounding against the ground reverberating in his skull and the twin furry ears atop his head flattened in an attempt to muffle the deafening sound.

Without warning, Byakuya froze, gave a curt shake of his head, then abruptly turned around and gave their general a run for his money with how fast he got the hell out of there, running away from the people wanting to shoot him dead.

“Wait! Wait for meee!” he shouted as he frantically ran after his escaping general, flailing his arms, desperate to save himself.

Inuyasha watched him go, somehow not at all surprised, and with a slight scowl on his face he looked forward once more and braced himself. Almost…almost…

“Steady!”

Restless shifting, heavy breathing, hearts pounding erratically like the savage drums of war.

“Fire!”

The simultaneous blast of gunfire was deafening, but the only thing Inuyasha could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears as he released shot after shot, his aim steady, true, and deadly.

note: artiste made a post asking what character would best portray Beni and it was decided that the weird demon ink guy, the one that drew monsters with ink imbued with the power of a shard, would be a good fit and at first i was going to use him. but then i started thinking and changed my mind because i sorta wanted someone that was more recognizable/familiar, and also Byakuya is basically Naraku’s servant/right hand man yes? and that’s what Beni becomes. he also works out because i don’t think that ink guy had a name (does he?? eeh too lazy to look up), and with Byak, it sounds a lot smoother and it flows well when Inuyasha goes “Well if it isn’t my little buddy Byakuya!” also Byak is one of my fave evil dudes and Beni is just that one guy you love to hate lmao he’s hilarious and i love his interactions with Rick ;sifjslafhl;

of course that’s just my personal interpretation; i don’t expect you use him too if you write this, artiste! ^_^

#inuyasha mummy au #inuyasha #byakuya #oneshot #keizfanficion #artistefish #HUEHUEHUEUE #GUYS YOU HAVE NO IDEA #IM FUCKIGN STOKED FOR THIS #ARTISTE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND APPROVE #<3

103 notes · View notes

angryinternetduck · 5 years ago

Text

Canyon Moon

3.2k words on a girl with a yellow guitar, a rabbit named Rabbit, and dreams of Switzerland. Harry Styles is still thinking back to the time under the canyon moon. Warnings: little teeny tiny bit of bad language if you squint.

In 2014, Harry Styles wrote a song. It was called Olivia. A bit on the nose, but she didn’t seem to mind. He sang it with his boy band. They liked it. It was a good song. He’d based it on a night he’d had in Arizona, in the United States, a few years before. It was after a small show he’d done with the boys, in Flagstaff. It was, unsurprisingly, with a girl named Olivia.

**********

She opened the show for them.

Kind of.

She was absolutely radiant - wonderful stage presence - with a sparkling smile and a musical laugh. Her guitar was yellow, and it had a little flower in the corner. She was lovely, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes.

They hadn’t talked much before the show, but she’d sent him a smile - that wasn’t even just to him; it’d been to the entire band, really - that had sent butterflies to his stomach and a shiver down his spine.

Which hadn’t exactly helped his pre-show jitters.

But, as always, everything had faded away onstage, and he hadn’t given it much thought until she’d been lounging around backstage afterwards and Louis was sleeping and Niall was in the loo and Liam and Zayn were doing God knows what and Harry was left on the sofa with empty air and a pretty girl.

So, naturally, with all his humour and slick confidence and smooth moves, he said, “Good show.” And she looked up, and she said, “Thanks. You too.” And then there was empty air again, and Harry was almost awkward, but then she stuck out her hand - her nails were painted yellow with little smilies on them - and said, “I’m Olivia.”

And Harry smiled, and he shook her hand, and he said, “Pleasure, Olivia. I’m Harry.”

“Well, Harry,” Olivia said, “any idea where we can get some food around here?”

Harry shook his head.

“Come with me then.” She winked. “We can go on an adventure.”

Harry grinned and followed her up to a counter with bowls set out, filled with various candies and nuts. There were two, side by side, filled with little, circular colored candies. “Skittles or M&Ms?” Harry asked.

“Hmmm…” She glanced from one bowl to the other and slid both of them closer to Harry. “I’m not a fan of M&MS,” she said, and Harry gasped dramatically, and she giggled. “Not a fan of milk chocolate. Skittles are fine, though.”

“Wow. Not a fan of M&MS. Not sure if we can be friends after that, Olivia.”

She pouted. “That’s a problem, because I think I need you to be my taste tester.”

“Taste tester, eh?” He sighed. “Well, I guess I can do that…” He picked one up and inspected it. It had a little M on it. It was an M&M. He tasted it anyway. “M&M,” he said, and he slid the bowl towards him. “Don’t worry,” he told the bowl. “I’ll protect you from the evil haters.”

Olivia laughed, and Harry had the sudden notion that her laugh sounded like music, and she said, “Why, thank you,” and slid the Skittles closer to her. “Don’t worry,” she said to the bowl, mocking Harry. “I’ll protect you from the evil milk chocolate.”

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, popping an M&M into his mouth.

“So,” Olivia sighed, grabbing a Skittle, “Where’re you guys from? Britain, I’m guessing?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. ‘re you an Arizona native?”

“Mhm. Been here all my life…” She grinned. “Like it so far?”

“Yeah. ‘s big. ‘n flat.”

She laughed, putting up a warning finger. “Careful there, London. That’s my hometown you’re talking about.” Harry smiled, held his hands up. “My bad, my bad. Just… haven’t gotten a chance to… see it much.”

She nodded. “Right, right.” She smiled, putting on mock innocence. “Say, Harry, what’re you doing this evening?” Harry shrugged, grinning. “I dunno, I guess it depends. I was kinda hoping to see more of this Arizona place, but nobody’s exactly offered…” He tilted his head, mocking curiosity. “Say, Liv, know of anybody?”

Her eyebrows jumped. “Liv, huh? Might as well take me to dinner first…”

Harry smiled and cleared his throat. “Maybe I will. Know any good spots?”

She grinned. “I just might. In fact -” She faltered, her gaze flicking behind him, and Harry frowned, glancing around. Niall had, apparently, finished in the loo, and was sauntering up to them with a smug smile on his face.

“Hello, Harry,” Niall said cheerfully, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Hey, Ni. Er, this is… Olivia,” Harry said. “And Olivia, this is… Niall.” Olivia smiled. “Hey, there,” she said, and Niall grinned. “A pleasure, Olivia. But, er - you’re not stealing Harry here from us, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but Olivia just smirked. “Rather I’d steal you, huh?”

Niall gave an incredulous scoff. “Well, well, well.” He glanced at Harry. “Sure know how to pick ‘em, dontcha, Harry?” Harry sighed, and Niall grinned and asked Olivia, “Where’re you off to, then?” Olivia smiled. “Ever been to the Grand Canyon?” she asked, and Harry’s brows jumped as Niall oohed.

“Haven’t, actually,” Niall said.

Olivia grabbed Harry’s hand and replied, “You should go sometime, Niall. Maybe Harry will tell you what it’s like,” and pulled Harry back towards the couch. “Are you guys actually doing anything?” she asked, grabbing her guitar.

Harry hesitated, glancing back at Niall, who was giving him a double thumbs up.

“Nah. Were you serious about the Grand Canyon?”

She grinned. “Absolutely.”

***

The next thing Harry knew, he was in a little Mini Cooper speeding off into the night.

The car was quite… peculiar, on first sight. That’s what Harry had said, anyway, only to be immediately chastened by Olivia, “She is not peculiar. She has character.” Olivia had forgiven Harry for the horrific insult only after profuse apologies and a sorrowful pat on the dashboard.

“She,” of course, meant the car. Her name was Carla. Olivia was very strict on that matter. She gave him a slap across the wrist every time he slipped and called her it.

Carla was blue. Originally. Olivia’s brother had given Carla to her when she turned sixteen, Olivia explained, but only after a DIY paint job that had turned her from a dull blue to a bright shade of yellow that had rapidly deteriorated into a faded mustard sort of color with cracks of blue peeking through the second paint job.

They’d gotten her previously used, too, which meant she was a bit rusty. They tried to fix that up, which worked just about as well as the paint job, and though Olivia insisted she ran just fine, her passenger side door creaked and groaned when opened. And, Olivia admitted a bit sheepishly, the door of her boot - her trunk - stuck dreadfully and took “herculean strength” to pry open.

Nonetheless, Carla’s radio worked perfectly well and was cranked up, Olivia’s phone plugged into the speakers, and Harry watched in mild amusement as she yelled along to the music. Strangely, he couldn’t seem to recognize any of the songs - it was old hippie stuff, songs Harry would mock if not for Olivia’s charm and fierce pride for her car which he reckoned she’d also have for her music.

The ride was quick, and she was pulling into a car park within an hour.

***

Apparently, Olivia’s dad was a park ranger. She just waved at the ranger on duty, and he let them in, and Harry followed her along the path, a bit in awe, as she walked towards a little outcropping.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry breathed, sitting next to her on the metal rung of the railing.

Olivia nodded. Pulled a beer out of her backpack, and offered it to him.

“Bloody hell,” Harry laughed, taking it from her and taking a sip. “Is this even legal?”

She shrugged, popping the cap off another bottle. “I dunno.”

She lapsed into silence, something that Harry hadn’t thought possible from her, and Harry breathed a sigh, glancing around them. He’d never thought the sky could be so blue. It wasn’t a normal light sky blue, though, but an indigo shade, almost, that was star splattered and covered in wisps of colored clouds. They were pretty high up, balanced on the railing between an outlook and a few rocky platforms before a bottomless pit.

The moon was bright in the sky, and Harry glanced at his watch, realizing he had no idea what time it was. 3:00 am. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured. “Hm?” Olivia hummed, looking over at him. “It’s three am,” Harry told her.

She grinned. Clinked her bottle against his. “Wonderful,” she said.

“I’m going to be absolutely dead tomorrow,” Harry mused, finding that he really couldn’t care less. He took another sip of beer, and Olivia heaved a sigh. “So, Harry Styles,” she said. “What are your hopes and dreams?”

“To be as cool as you,” he replied, and she laughed, leaning into him and away. “You’ve got to set some realistic goals, there, Mr. Styles.” Harry grinned, shaking his head. “‘s a tough question,” he said. “What’re yours?”

She shrugged, going serious. “To get out of here, I guess.”

“Why?”

Another shrug. “Ever heard of a successful person from Flagstaff, Arizona?”

Harry bit back a smile. “I’ve never even heard of Flagstaff, Arizona.”

She scoffed, mocking hurt, and said, “Well, not all of us can be from big cities, superstar.”

“I’m from Cheshire,” Harry told her. “Not exactly a big city.”

“Why aren’t you still in Cheshire, huh?”

“‘cause of a TV show.”

Olivia laughed. “Jesus Christ.”

“And I wanted to get out.”

She nodded. “There you have it.” A quick pause, and then, “Ever have a pet?”

Harry blinked, startled by the topic change. “Er - yeah. Yeah, a dog, and a hamster.”

“What’re their names?”

Harry blushed slightly. “Max.”

Olivia glanced at him, a brow raised. “And?” she prodded.

He looked at his beer. “Hamster,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, and Harry looked up.

“Please tell me your hamster was named Max,” she said, sounding deadly serious.

“What?”

“Harry Styles,” she said slowly, “if you named your hamster ‘Hamster,’ I think I might push you off this cliff.” Harry smiled sheepishly. “My dog’s name was Max,” he admitted, and she burst out laughing, tipping so far forward Harry winced and hovered a hand behind her shoulder.

“Christ, Liv, be careful,” he murmured.

“Oh my God,” she said, breathless from laughter. “I love you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself. “Movin’ a little fast there, hm?”

She grinned. “I have a confession.”

“Bloody hell, speed of light.”

“I named my rabbit ‘Rabbit’,” she said.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “We’re meant for each other, Liv.”

“I know!” Another quick pause, and then, “Where’s the best place you’ve ever been?”

“Here,” Harry answered immediately, and then blushed, because it was true.

“Oh, please,” Olivia said, apparently not realizing he wasn’t joking. “Seriously. You’re a superstar, right? So, you’ve been, like, everywhere.” Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Where’s the best place you’ve been?”

“The Burrito Palace on Route 66, Styles,” she replied dryly. “I’ve never been out of the state.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Where would you want to go?” he asked. “If you could go anywhere, completely free of all costs.”

“Switzerland.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I like chocolate. And watches. And cold. It’s freakin’ hot here. I guess Paris,” she said, glancing at him with another shrug, “or London, or whatever, but London’s rainy and Paris… It’s so… It has such a reputation, you know? Like, I’m scared it’s not gonna live up to how amazing it is. Rather be impressed than disappointed, you know?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Where would you want to go?” she asked.

Harry paused. “The Burrito Palace on Route 66.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Olivia said.

“No, really,” Harry said back, “I haven’t had a proper burrito in ages.”

“You’ve gotta come back,” she told him, smiling just slightly, “so we can go.”

“Or you can come to me,” Harry said, “and we can get burritos in Switzerland.” He paused, thinking, and then added, “You’ve got to open for us again, Liv. Really. Can you imagine? You can be our opening act over tour, get some steam, and go out on your own.” He grinned, nudging her. “Then I can open for you.”

She sighed. “Can you imagine,” she murmured.

There was a beat of silence, and she looked up at him again.

“Do you ever want to go solo?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Nah. Not really.” He frowned. “I mean, I guess, but not… now. I can’t, anyway - there’s a contract, obviously, but maybe when it’s over or summat.” Olivia nodded. “Right,” she murmured.

And then she spun around, slipping off the railing and onto the platform. “I forgot about this,” she said, pulling a blanket out of the backpack. She sat down on it, legs crossed, and Harry sat next to her.

“How often do you do this?” he asked.

Olivia shrugged. “Often.” She grinned, elbowing him lightly, and added, “Not often with such a handsome guy, though.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you say to all the lads?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Swear to God, Styles, you’re the first.”

“Right, right.”

“How ‘bout you?” she asked after another beat of silence. “How often do you do this?”

Harry raised a brow. “What, how often do I go to the Grand Canyon? I live in -”

“No, no,” Olivia interrupted. “How often do you go out with pretty girls after shows?”

He grinned. “Never with one so humble.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Olivia laughed. “You know what I mean.”

Harry shrugged. “Pretty often. Never had as much fun as I am now, though.”

“Aww,” Olivia cooed. “You charmer.”

“That’s what they say.”

“Ever wish you weren’t famous?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. ‘course. Grass is always greener, you know?”

“Are you one of those picket fence people?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“Are you one of those people who, like, wants to get a nice brick house in the suburbs with white picket fences and a perfect garden with a nice wife named Jenny and have exactly one fluffy golden retriever and approximately 2.5 kids?”

Harry laughed, shrugging slightly. “I don’t know… I think…” He sighed, fading off, and then thought, and repeated, “I don’t know. Not really. I think I’d get bored, you know?” Olivia nodded. “I know,” she said, and Harry got the feeling that she really did, in fact, know.

“How ‘bout you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe. But… you’re right - it’d get boring, wouldn’t it? So I guess… in, like, fifty years or something I might like the picket fences.” She sighed. “I just feel like the world… it loves to wait, you know? Like, the world’s happy waiting. It’s - what, 4 billion years old? It can spare the wait. But we - I - can’t. We don’t live that long, you know? And I feel like the picket fences are… well, waiting. It’s waiting for the world to come and get you. It’s waiting for the world to come and open your picket fence and knock on your wooden door and come and take you to your adventure.”

Harry felt himself smile. He forgot to answer, and she glanced at him, a bit of a blush on her cheeks. “Sorry,” she said. “I got carried away.” Harry’s brows jumped. “No! No, no, no, I completely agree. You’re - you’re so right.”

She grinned. “I know,” she said, and then she shifted, lying on her back to gaze at the sky. “Can you see stars in LA?” she asked quietly. Harry looked up, craning his neck, and then gave up and lay down next to her.

The stars were breathtaking. He could practically see constellations, stars dotting the sky like flowers in a field of indigo-blue grass. The air was almost still, just breezy enough to keep it from being too hot, the moon bright and bold in the sky.

It was one of those things he didn’t think he’d believe if he didn’t see it for himself. He’d have called any picture of the sky photoshopped, any description of the feeling he was experiencing exaggerated or completely made up.

But there he was.

“No,” he answered Olivia. “No, you can’t see stars like this in LA.”

“Maybe you should stay here, then,” Olivia whispered.

Harry felt her head on his shoulder.

“We can look at stars and never get bored together,” she said, and she yawned.

“Together,” Harry echoed softly, but Olivia was already asleep.

**********

Two weeks.

Two more weeks of shows, and One Direction would officially be on hiatus.

Harry stared at the ceiling of his hotel room, watching the ceiling fan spin round, and thought about what he’d do for the rest of his life. The sleepless nights had begun in Melbourne, and he’d carried the semi-heavy feeling through Paris and Rome and now here he was, still sleepless, in England.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Arizona.

More specifically, a conversation he’d had in Arizona, about the future and picket fences and 2.5 children and getting bored. He thought about buying a house. He thought about buying a restaurant. He thought about going to Switzerland and becoming a recluse and seeing nobody but his mum and sister for the rest of time.

He also thought about continuing his career. He thought about writing songs, about picking up the guitar, about touring the world but this time on his own. He thought about the instrumental band he’d need for such touring, and he thought about the members of said band and whether or not a certain Arizonian would consider touring the world “boring.” He wondered if he’d get to Switzerland on this grand tour of his.

Harry sighed and turned onto his side and tried to fall asleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, a melody snuck into his head, and he got up and wrote a song.

**********

In 2015, Harry styles wrote a song. It was called Canyon Moon.

A bit on the nose, but only if you knew what you were looking for.

He didn’t sing it. Not yet. He saved it for an album he was working on.

He’d based it on a night he’d had in Arizona, in the United States, a few years before.

It was after a small show he’d done with the boys, in Flagstaff.

It was, unsurprisingly, about a magical night, spent under a canyon moon.

**********

la fin 💜

hope you liked it!!!!! if you liked it, a reblog and some feedback would be v much appreciated <3 thanks for reading!!!

if you want to read more about Olivia and Harry, click here!

and if you like what you see, you can find my masterlist here!

#i have... never been to arizona #much less the grand canyon #if you're from arizona #i'm so sorry #lmao pls forgive me #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #fanfiction #canyon moon #song!ifc #fine line #hs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x ofc #harry stylesxofc #harry styles drabble #fics

13 notes · View notes

thecrownedlioness-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Michael has several meetings that day to start scheduling out the day of the actual Apocalypse, which is a wildly complicated thing. It lasts well into the night, so they don't see each other.

Kitten wakes up the next morning excited to greet the day. She puts on her regular old denim shorts and her slouchy black shirt, and steps into her boots. Maybe she can spend the day just continuing to explore the building, to see if there are any departments she'd like to work in. She doesn’t want to just be arm-candy if she can help it!

But before she can even get out the door, there's a swift knock. She makes a confused face and goes to open it.

Two security guards are standing there. They look very unfriendly.

"Yeah?"

"Ms. Sanchez, we've been told to escort you to the board room immediately."

"What's the board room?"

"Please, come with us."

Kitten shrugs. It can only be Michael summoning her, so she follows willingly.

They take her to the elevator and, to her surprise, press the down button instead of up towards Michael’s office and executive suites. She shifts her weight uncomfortably, but says nothing; these guys don't look like they're in the mood to fall victim to her charms.

Finally, the elevator opens, and she finds herself in an extravagant underground portion of the Cooperative headquarters—the Cooperative headquarters itself, which she has never seen.

The security guards continue walking, and she follows with little clicks of her boots on the marble to a set of doors. When they open and let her inside, what Kitten sees nearly makes her urinate on herself in horror.

The doors close behind her and she's frozen to the spot.

Nearly three dozen people, dressed all in black, are sitting along a giant silver table. They are wearing silver masks, all of them. There is not a single human in that room that she'd be able to recognize, and they all turn to "stare" at her... at least that's what she thinks they're doing beneath their masks.

"Step forward, Ms. Sanchez," comes a voice from somewhere in the pack of wolves waiting to feast on her flesh.

She wrings her hands and does so, her golden eyes wide, in her denim shorts and her slouchy black shirt. She feels positively naked.

The underground headquarters is in a Neo-Gothic style, looking exactly how one would expect a secret society to look. Ancient, intimidating. One silver-masked hooded figure steps out from the pack, the designated spokesperson for this event. “Ms. Sanchez, we have heard rumors.”

"R-Rumors suck," is the first thing she blurts out.

The room is silent but she gets the feeling that a few are stifling laughter. “They do indeed. Would you help us to clear a few of them?”

"I'll do what I can!" she chirps, putting her hands behind her back so they won't see her winging them.

The spokesperson folded their hands together, “Perfect. A few of us are going to step forward and ask you questions. Please answer them to the best of your ability.” Their tone is condescending. “First—what is your relationship to Michael Langdon?”

She hesitates, then remembers exactly what Michael told her to say. Kitten lifts her chin. "I am with the King."

A few turn to each other to murmur. “With? Could you elaborate on that?”

She hesitates. She'll have to be clever here. "No."

"And why not, Ms. Sanchez? Is the nature of your relationship to Mr. Langdon shameful?”

She narrows her eyes, but she's trembling anxiously. "No. It's just that..." Kitten chews the inside of her cheek. "... we're together. I can't be any clearer."

They nod, “I see. Let’s move on then.” Another steps from the crowd, as if they are going to name each one of her sins. Though they won’t be as kind as Michael.

“Before you came here, were you either a stripper, prostitute? And bear in mind, I mean: did you take money for sex either for yourself or others?”

Kitten thinks hard about the question, tries to figure out any way out of it. But every ounce of her street-smart cleverness is no where near the capacity of their brutal, (literally) evil intelligence and ruthlessness. "N-Not usually money. Favors sometimes. Goods sometimes. Alliances..." She realizes she might be digging herself a deeper hole in trying to hedge. "Yes."

“Thank you.” It’s said with the slightest hint of disgust.

The next comes forward. “How long have you been a devoted Satanist? What work have you done in his infernal name?”

Kitten hesitates again. It's obvious to them that she's trying to figure out how to deflect, but the way they're asking their questions makes it impossible. "I'm not a devoted Satanist and if I'm honest I ain't got the slightest clue what it means to be one. I believe in Michael Langdon and I know how to say Ave Satanas. I did figure out the other day that nema is just amen backwards and to be honest I think that's a little hokey but that's y'all's business."

“I see.”

Another. “Is your relationship to Mr. Langdon sexual in nature and have you received or been offered anything because of it?”

"Why? Does Mr. Langdon seem like he needs a prostitute?"

The retort seems to offend everyone in the room. “Answer the question, Ms. Sanchez.”

She thinks about his offer to buy her new clothes so she can fit in better around here and swallows hard, getting confused and panicked. "Y-Yes to both?"

“Is Mr. Langdon aware of your past?” The implication being: if he doesn’t know, how disgusted would he be to find out? If he does know, what possessed him to choose you?

"He reads minds," she answers dryly.

“What makes you qualified to be here?”

"Because Mr. Langdon says so."

“Why does he say so? In what way have you proven your worthiness as the rest of us had to do? Or was it your sexual relationship that sweetened the deal?”

"I didn't spend millions paying my way in like all y’all, if that's what you're asking," she snaps.

“It’s not and you’re not so stupid to think it is.”

"He... he's never really said why. You'll have to ask him that."

Another steps out. Her sins are growing as her judges step forward. “Why should you be with Michael Langdon?”

"He's with me for the same reason anyone is with anyone. Because that's what he wants. I ain’t gonna speak for him.”

“Let’s switch gears.” Another member joins the group at the front. “Was your precious employer a drug-lord and kingpin of Miami and were you also sexually involved with him?”

She can't help but tremble in fear. Not for herself. For Michael. They'll all know how unworthy and disgusting she is and it'll reflect poorly on him for choosing her. "Yes."

“As I thought. You seem to enjoy putting yourself in the beds of men in power. Was your father also a kingpin... and were you sexually involved with him?”

Kitten wants to vomit, shaking her head, the panic setting in. "It... it wasn't like that!"

“You didn’t have sex with your father?”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she tries to keep the weakness out of her voice. "I did, but—"

“Your father hired many of his sons, did he not? Did you have sex with your half-brothers?”

"I... It's... I didn't... you don't understand!" She sways on her feet, her face pale as a sheet.

“I think we understand perfectly well, Ms. Sanchez,” the spokesperson says, “We understand your type.”

"And what type is that?" she asks, wishing like hell she had anything to lean on, to physically hold onto that might keep her from crumbling to the floor.

“A junkie whore,” one of them spits venomously. They’ve all gathered against her.

If she glanced behind them, she’d see a hint of golden hair suddenly appear among the sea of black.

“One last question,” Michael says, causing them all to gasp and stiffen, or back away from him entirely. The atmosphere is ominous. “Why wasn’t I invited to this party?” It’s obvious they chose a time when they thought he wasn’t going to be around for this nonsense.

"Sir," one of them says, pointing a condemning finger at her as she stands there about to be sick with humiliation. "This... I hesitate to even say woman... isn't worthy to be here, much less to be with the Antichrist."

"Do you know anything about her?” another says. “Have you even read her file?"

"Sir... if it's female company you need, there are many devoted Satanist women who would be honored by the opportunity to serve you. But resorting to a prostitute—”

Michael lifts his hand, poised in a flicking motion, his face indicating he’d have no issue killing them right then.

Everyone falls deadly silent, except for Kitten, who is sniffling pitifully.

He slowly puts his hand down and begins walking towards her, the crowd parting as if even touching him would kill them. He reaches up and cups her tearful face, his blue eyes kind and loving.

She blinks, and the tears that had been clinging to her lids finally streak down her smooth cheeks. Her golden eyes shimmer with fear and sadness. "I tried. I’m sorry."

He kisses her forehead, “You passed your tests a long time ago, my only. They’ve done nothing.” He puts his hands back behind his back, “Could you lift one of your hands for me?”

She slowly does as he asks, fingers shaking.

He turns back to the Cooperative, “Do all of you see her hand?” It’s not rhetorical.

"Yes, sir," they all quietly answer, practically in unison from behind their masks.

“Good. It is stained with the blood of hundreds of men. The difference in our ability to kill lies not in talent or ferocity—but in fractions of seconds.” He starts to prowl around them.

Kitten does not lower her hand. The Cooperative members glance at each other and then at her slight, trembling form incredulously.

“Do you require proof?” He demands, “Bring the strongest man from the Sanctuary and she will decimate him,” he stops and stares down one of the members, “Or would you like to volunteer yourself?”

None of them do, not even the young men with enough money for boxing and wrestling and fencing lessons in their free time—rich bastards—afraid that he will blow their heads up during the fight to make a point. It's not her they're afraid of. It's still him.

“I didn’t think so. But I think I’ll still make my point.” He looks at Kitten, “Choose one of them and break their wrist.”

Kitten's tearful eyes clear up and flash dangerously. "Which one of them called me a junkie whore?"

He looks over the crowd. “Amelia Harper.”

The woman begins to tremble, but walks forward anyway. “Please, Your Majesty, I was only thinking of you! You deserve someone better!”

“I defy you to name one better than her,” he says, “Kitten.”

Kitten steps over to the woman calmly. She reaches up with a speed no human eye could follow and rips off her silver mask, revealing her face, a pretty blonde wincing in shock that this whore would have the audacity—

"I'm not sorry," Kitten snarls.

She lashes out again, snatching the woman by her wrist and spinning around, twirling her at the same time. The redhead reaches back and grabs her by the back of her neck, and uses the momentum of both their bodies to flip her over her back and slam her right down onto the floor, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

The blonde lays there, shocked and gasping, and as an afterthought, Kitten reaches out and takes the woman's hand, turning it on its side and giving her whole arm a very precise, simple flick. There's a loud crack, and Amelia wails, grabbing her wrist once Kitten tosses her arm back. The Cooperative stands there, stunned.

Michael smiles. “I have deemed her worthy because she is worthy. If you have doubts, bring them to me yourself. Don’t hide behind your masks,” he offers his hand to Kitten, stepping over Amelia’s still whimpering form.

Kitten takes his hand, looking out over the little assembly. She knows this isn't over. They'll only despise her more after this, and see her as even more of a threat; they'll spread rumors that the Antichrist is affectionate towards an incest-loving prostitute. But this first altercation is over, and it's unclear who won.

“Return to your duties, ladies and gentlemen. You’ve wasted enough time.” He leads her out of the room, back into the hallway and towards the elevator.

2 notes · View notes

puttingfingerstokeys · 5 years ago

Text

a friend in need

this one like, makes no sense within the new kontinuity but like, here ya go--fuck it! Pretty much Shao Kahn is invading (as one does), Kronika is absolutely messing with the timelines, and this is definitely like 25 years in the future so you have Dad!Johnny and a Liu Kang who has just flirted with death by Raiden, who is now wielding Shinnok’s shitty amulet, which means Shinnok is also headless, but like fuck that guy amirite? This time, he doesn’t deliver the head to Revenant Kitana and Liu Kang because they aren’t revenants, there was no assault on the netherrealm. OH and as always, uh, tumblr doesn’t preserve italics so if it’s incoherent ... it’s ‘cause I’m a lazy piece of shit and I didn’t wanna go back through and dig ‘em up.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Faraday Cage (implied??)

Prevented Timeline

Energy crackled and radiated outward, sparking off pavement, trees, vehicles, people—anything with which it came in contact. Fires had erupted all over and people were fighting them as best they could, but with little hope of relief. At the center was an angry god, grieved at great loss, enraged beyond his own ability to control.

Earthrealm could not be protected by a weak, fatherly deity; Raiden understood that now, and it scared him. His own weakness scared him. His foolishness scared him. The “justice” of the Elder Gods scared him. He would end this fight and all fights, because they, for some reason, were not. He had to do this; there was no other way. Why did no one understand? He was singular in his purpose and not even the chosen of Earthrealm, Liu Kang, could stand in his way.

Raiden had taken his own advice, a frightful echo from a future as yet unknown, an Armageddon which killed them all, himself included. It had taken many trials and many more errors to realize his own, true meaning.

“He must win.”

Raiden had finally reached the conclusion that the “he” in question was not Liu Kang, earthrealm’s chosen, but Shao Kahn, the bloodthirsty outworld dictator. Reality shivered under the threat of the merging, however, and still the Elder Gods did not step in. How far would this have to go? Did they know that Shao Kahn’s army was, even now, trampling the tenuous pact between the realms? Did they care?

“Liu, over here!” It was Johnny Cage, older now, a father, and proud of his little girl, but right now, damn near shitting in his britches to see Raiden this way. He offered an arm and pulled Liu Kang to his feet. He and a few others were taking shelter behind a small building which shook with the march of outworld foot soldiers and presently began to flicker with a terrible energy.

Raiden had warned himself, somehow, that the merging of realms must begin, that this was the meaning of victory in his own prophetic words, for the Elder Gods to step in. Shao Kahn had begun his dark work, however, and still nothing moved, nothing in favor of the forces of light and justice, anyway. It seemed the Elder Gods had a different idea of what it meant to maintain balance.

“Your tournament is canceled, puny god! I have rescinded my generous invitation!” Shao Kahn called, raising his great hammer to the sky as Outworld merged with Earthrealm, tearing down buildings and reconstructing them in hideous amalgams. People fled and were trampled; people stood and were gored. He would line the streets with bodies before the day was out and only Raiden stood before him. Raiden, who had fought his own, dear Liu Kang, who had defied him nearly to death.

Had he died? Was Liu Kang dead? Raiden could not see him. He could not see anything past the haze of fury clouding his vision and judgment. I have killed him, again, as it was said I always will, as I always must. The thought was errant, not his own, and be brushed it aside, focusing on Shao Kahn and the present. It was his only choice.

“He… Johnny—you should have seen his eyes,” Liu Kang gasped, slumping to his rear-end near the wall. Jacqui Briggs stooped to examine him, checking for external injuries, and wishing for a better facility in which to check for internal. She was no expert, but godly lightning probably left a different mark.

“I see ‘em from here, Liu, and it’s… this is fucked,” grunted the Hollywood star, handing the binoculars over to his daughter, Cassie. She shook her head.

“He said we had to let Shao Kahn win, or else the Elder Gods would never step in,” gasped Liu Kang between labored breaths. Something was definitely wrong and if it was not treated soon, it could become permanent. “They… aren’t stepping in—I knew they didn’t care about us. I…” He groaned in agony and Jacqui pushed him back down.

“Hold still, Chosen One, your guts’ve been rearranged by a pissed off god—maybe take it easy.”

“If I ‘take it easy’, we all die,” Liu Kang snapped, jaw tight. Jacqui gave him a look that suggested she would take no lip, no matter how damn chosen he was. She could see from the way he held himself, the way his muscles tensed and tightened, that he was going to get much worse before he got better, especially if he pushed. They might not have a choice, soon enough, but while they did, there was no point risking it.

He met her gaze, burning with rage and sadness, with his own. They were matched in this way, both earthrealm natives with everything and more to lose, both people who had fought, tooth and nail, against this very thing. Sitting by idly and wishing things were otherwise was not something to which either Liu Kang or Jacqui Briggs were accustomed.

“Dad!” They looked up suddenly at Cassie’s shout, pulled from their moment of mutual grief. She was reaching out to an empty space where Johnny had just been standing. Before she could go after him, Jacqui was at her back, grasping her elbow, hard.

“No,” she hissed, “you’ll be fried—we don’t know if Raiden’s friendly anymore… if he ever was.” Cassie jerked her elbow away, but Jacqui held tight and shook her head. “I mean it, Cass. Your dad’s… gunna do what he’s gunna do, just like mine.”

With effort, she pulled Cassie back and away from the violent arcs of red lightning that were even now consuming trees and landscaping, cars, enemy soldiers, anything within the dome of the thunder god’s power—an area that was growing.

Raiden and Shao Kahn met somewhere in the middle, just beyond the portal the Outworld emperor had opened to begin the invasion and merging of Earthrealm to his blasted home. Still, the Elder gods did not stir.

Shao Kahn’s hammer swung mightily and met a fist that moved with swift violence. A thunderclap resounded, flattening the area and then cratering it. Neither hand nor head of hammer shattered, but that was of no consequence to Shao Kahn, who reached out and hauled Raiden forward by his collar.

The thunder god looked into the emperor’s animal eyes and neither hated nor pitied him. Raiden’s rage was beyond petty hatred for the man which had caused his beloved Earthrealm so much grief over the centuries. He would simply destroy Shao Kahn. It had become singularly simple in his eyes. He had been a fool. He would end this once and for all, for everyone, forever.

Perhaps it was the look, the nearly directionless fury which met his eyes that made Shao Kahn drop Raiden. Johnny Cage, who had worked himself much closer than was probably safe, watched from a ways off and still could not pinpoint what it was that had Shao Kahn backing away from the thunder god.

“It is forbidden for you to fight,” Shao Kahn warned, with more authority and sureness in his voice than it seemed he felt. Even his minions began to back away as Raiden’s arced, red lightning crashed violently into them, disintegrating here, vaporizing there, starting fires all over. Raiden’s chest heaved with the effort of either sustaining the onslaught, or holding it back, Johnny wasn’t sure.

On that heaving chest, Shinnok’s awful amulet pulsed with life and light, beckoning and promising strength. Raiden reached for it, but hesitated, seemingly doubting himself for the merest fraction of a second. It was in that span of time that Shao Kahn regained his courage and swung again. This time, he would have caught the god of thunder on the chin, had it not been for the quick footwork of Johnny Cage.

This time, boots met hammer and the clash was not so even. Shao Kahn drove Johnny back into a building. His back hit concrete and he was certain he felt something snap, but if he gave up now, Raiden was absolutely going to do something stupid. He didn’t understand Shinnok’s power, or even who and what Shinnok really was, or had been, as the case was, but he knew an evil piece of jewelry when he saw it.

“Time for a scene change,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and spitting blood. The tang of adrenaline was on his tongue and coursed through his veins, making him hyper focus upon this detail or that. Johnny fancied he could hear Cassie screaming somewhere in the distance, but right now, his focus was on the battle before him.

“You are too weak to use that amulet on me, or anyone, thunder god,” Shao Kahn mocked, manufacturing enough bravado to satisfy his immense ego. Raiden grimaced, as if considering whether or not the man was right. He ground his teeth and once more moved to grasp Shinnok’s amulet. Shao Kahn struck again, this time with a boot.

Raiden was forced to block this with a cross before his chest and to step back. He balled one fist and surrounded it with lightning, shaking his head. “You do not know my power,” he growled, “but rest assured, Shao Kahn, you will.” Raiden discharged the lightning at Shao Kahn, who used his hammer as a ground and laughed.

“Pathetic, and weak.” Each descriptor was punctuated with a sharp wag of his finger toward Raiden’s chest and the deadly amulet which sat thereupon.

“I am not weak—I am doing as I have always done. I am protecting Earthrealm.” His hand once more rose to the amulet. “Whatever that takes, I will do it.”

With that, he wound up a massive store of radiant, red energy and hurled it at Shao Kahn. The tyrant was hurled back mightily, taking out a score of his foot soldiers as he flew. Raiden continued forward, his pace slow, but deliberate. The troops of outworld were suddenly cowed by this display, as if their fellows being randomly vaporized had not been enough. Something had shifted, they sensed, and they began to back away.

“You are forbidden, Raiden!” This time, Shao Kahn’s voice was laced with fear; the confidence he had earlier displayed with his first remark of this kind had evidently deserted him in the face of what Raiden had become. Once more, the deity slowly reached for Shinnok’s amulet. It was as if a very small part of him still fought for his own innocence, whatever might have been left of it.

Meanwhile, Johnny had begun to close the distance between himself and the wrathful god. He could feel his hair standing on end with the force of the red lightning radiating outward from Raiden’s body. He was tense, the actor could see that from where he was, and… Are those tears? He shook off the thought as a stray bolt vaporized a fire hydrant less than a yard from him; it burst into a geyser of city water which soon began raining down upon everyone in the vicinity.

Johnny ducked behind a bike rack, realized that was probably a poor choice of cover, and scuttled along on the ground until he found a trash bin that looked as if it was made of plastic composite, rather than anything that might conduct those wicked red arcs of enraged power. His heart was hammering a thousand miles per hour and for a moment, he wondered if that was the first sign of an electricity-induced heart attack. Maybe he had been struck and did not realize it.Thinking about the ramifications of that hurt his head, so he stopped and decided to do what he did best.

“Now or never,” he told himself, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be vaporized like the fire hydrant. It would be guts, however, not water spraying about, if he was lucky. Speaking of the water, too much of it, and Johnny would be zapped for sure; he was already soaked to the bone. Oh like it’s any different than what I’m about to do, he hissed internally, covering his face to keep his sunglasses dry. He needed to be able to see for this one. Johnny simply told himself that god lightning was different than the regular stuff and, in a burst of foolish energy, tossed himself around the trash bin and ran, full tilt, toward Raiden’s position.

A wayward bolt struck his glasses, tossing them from his face and exploding stars before his eyes. Johnny stumbled and, somewhere in the distance—she sounded thousands of miles away—he thought he could hear Cassie’s voice calling his name. He prayed someone was holding her back, because if this went south, as he was almost sure it would, she would be about to fight a hurricane with a pair of pistols. Raiden was not going to be stopped, but Johnny felt that it was his duty to try. Liu’s shouldered too fuckin’ much already—my turn, he reasoned, forcing himself to keep going, running harder and faster than he had ever done in his life.

Raiden had stopped his inexorable stride and Shao Kahn looked on in bewilderment as the earthrealm action star closed the gap, running directly into that deadly lightning. He had been so sure Johnny’s miserable back had broken against that building. There was something to be said for the tenacity of a cornered, wounded animal.

The god turned his head, acknowledging Johnny with eyes as red as his lightning. Sure as shit, Johnny thought, noting that Raiden was, indeed, in tears, though they did not seem to be saline, as a human’s might be—they stood out, even upon his pale flesh, catching light and reflecting it like diamonds—or perhaps rubies, stained by the power of his rage.

“Stop it, man!” Johnny called, reaching a hand out. Raiden still did not move, but neither did he cease his bombardment. Shao Kahn’s forces were at a standstill, watching, for once uncertain of the correct path. Some were even edging toward the portal, back to outworld and relative safety. “Raiden—you listening to me? You don’t hafta—”

A bolt struck him square in the chest and he dropped to his knees, eyes wide, staring with pain and fear at the man—the god—who had struck him down. Raiden seemed to shift a little at that and then to turn. Johnny had caught his attention and would have held it but for Shao Kahn’s voice. “An earthrealm fraud has halted your march, Lord Raiden—what sort of god are you?!” He urged his forces forward, but no one stirred. Shao Kahn looked around and once more met Raiden’s eyes, which were again trained upon him. Raiden covered Shinnok’s dark amulet with his hand.

“No more.”

Cassie continued to scream. Johnny could hear her now. He was coming to, realizing that he was not, in fact, dead, nor even too terribly scorched. At the last moment, evidently, the magic of his strange heritage had leapt up to protect him, but he could feel in his bones that this would not happen again. He had one chance. For Cassie, he thought, all those kids—for Liu and Sonya, for Jax, and Earthrealm. His heart thudded and he started forward, first at a trot, the once more at a leaping gallop. For Raiden.

Before the god could respond, Johnny Cage had tossed his arms around that broad, pillar-like torso. He had never realized just how big Raiden actually was, and thought perhaps he had allowed himself to retain a human size when dealing directly with them. He had to have been at least seven feet tall and change, but Johnny held tight all the same. He could feel the surge of anger within his own body, as if it belonged to him, originated IN him—and it scared him.

“Christ,” he grunted, “is this what you’re feeling?”

It was then that the outworld dictator chose to rush them. With him leading the charge, his hordes felt renewed confidence and vigor and lunged forth as one, howling their triumph over earthrealm. Raiden seemed frozen in place, but only for a moment. He seemed suddenly to come back to himself, as if he had been far away, no longer in control of his limbs or actions—certainly of his lightning.

He wrapped one powerful arm around Johnny, who still held him, and with the other, lashed a wide, sweeping arc of blue-white lightning across the crowd, thus releasing his hold on the wicked amulet. Shao Kahn’s hammer protected him, but his troops were not so lucky. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh left hanging in the air when Shao Kahn opened his eyes and straightened.

“Send your champion to face me, then!” Shao Kahn shouted, beating his chest, his hubris undiminished. His tone was desperate, and he seemed far too eager, too frantic, to regain and retain control over this place. Johnny looked to Raiden, then back to Shao Kahn. He knew what this meant. He’d been at this long enough.

“So you’re declaring Mortal Kombat?” Johnny was going to be absolutely clear on this one, since… god contracts and all that—or something. He wasn’t wholly certain on this point, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Shao Kahn seemed actually to consider this. His troops were slaughtered or retreating, Raiden was placated for the time being, but who knew how long that could last? His konquest had begun unlawfully, but for the loophole of his not quite initiating a merging of realms. That would be his next step—because if there existed no earthrealm champions to defend her, then who would stop him?

“Yes, earthrealm clown,” Shao Kahn rumbled, slapping the handle of his great hammer on one rough palm.

“Mime, actually,” came another voice from across a few lanes of what would have been traffic. Emerging from the alley where they were taking shelter, Liu Kang led their friends, injured and whole, into the open. He was supported by a grimacing Jacqui Briggs, but it was clear from his expression that no was not an answer he would be hearing today. Raiden’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; he had not killed Liu Kang after all.

“Thank you, Liu—wait hang on…” Johnny narrowed his eyes at his friend, a younger version of Liu Kang, one he had not seen in years, that was, before all this fuckery came about. The Shaolin fighter did not respond and seemed, for a moment, not to be able to meet Johnny’s eyes. In fact, if Johnny wasn’t tripping completely, he could have sworn that the guy was blushing. Still got it, he thought, grinning.

Before he could continue, however, Cassie broke into a gait he very much recognized as one that signaled extreme displeasure. Her face held a look of grim determination as she stomped toward her father. Johnny knew he was in for it and backed away, hands up.

“Whoa, whoa, pumpkin, easy, huh?” He looked between Shao Kahn and his daughter and realized he would rather face the outworld tyrant. “C’mon—easy, what was your old man s’posed to do?”

“Not get fried by a pissed off god and leave me a fucking ORPHAN? MAYBE?” Her voice held an edge of hysterical panic he did not like. “Oh. Shit…” she stammered, stopping just as her path crossed Raiden’s. “I’m—sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” said the god, inclining his head toward her, “but you are not incorrect.”

Cassie was sheepish and mumbled another apology. Raiden seemed to understand her position, however, and addressed it no more. Instead, he turned his attention upon the waiting tyrant.

“When will this foolishness subside so that I can begin the konquest of your filthy realm, Raiden?!” Shao Kahn was growing impatient. “The earthrealmer has declared Mortal Kombat and I accept, on the terms that, when I win, the merge will begin and you, pitiful servant of the Elder Gods, will stand aside and bow to their will as you have always done!”

Johnny’s jaw tightened at this hateful commentary upon Raiden’s character, but for once in his life, he held his tongue. Now was not the time to bandy words with dictators and monsters; now was the time to make them eat those words with a garnish of ball-crushing whoop-ass.

“It is my destiny to fight Shao Kahn,” Liu Kang hissed, eyeing Johnny, his gaze flinty. The hardness in his voice and tone belied the real fear that they were thwarting destiny and tempting a fate no one was equipped to handle. His eyes snapped to Raiden, then, pleading. Raiden shook his head. Jacqui echoed the movement. Even now, protesting this, Liu leaned heavily upon her, in no condition to fight.

“Guess it’s not, Liu—stand back and watch.” Johnny would hear no more, turning toward his opponent and shouting. “I accept your terms, Shao Kahn—winner take all.” I mean, I’m not gunna take over outworld, but like… it sounds pretty good when I say it out loud, his fevered brain nattered.

He must win. Raiden’s own, incomprehensible words came back to him in a sickening echo he still wondered, even now, to whom his future self had been referring. He had been so sure it was Shao Kahn, but that sureness had nearly killed his chosen champion. He met Liu Kang’s furious gaze.

“By the rules of Mortal Kombat, the challenge must be taken up by the one who declared it. I am sorry, Liu Kang, but this fight indeed belongs to Johnny Cage.”

Johnny heard his name, but no more. He was focused, utterly and completely, upon Shao Kahn, who stood a few yards hence, leaning upon the head of his hammer and observing the company with such arrogance, it turned Johnny’s guts. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head upon broad shoulders.

“Okay big guy, you heard the god. Let’s fuckin’ go.” He dropped into a deep stance and beckoned Shao Kahn. The tyrant chuckled, the sound a raspy, hollow thing, mirthless and full of contempt and triumph for a victory he had not yet won.

Johnny made the first move, using his distance to gain speed and launch into a combination of forceful, heavy kicks which utilized his size and the length of his legs. Shao Kahn blocked these with little effort and jabbed in return, hoping to push Johnny off balance.

The years had made him wily and this was not the Johnny Cage that Shao Kahn remembered, so cocksure and arrogant, his insecurities showing upon his countenance like a glowing sign, pushed by his own self doubt to showboat and make light of his own skill. This Johnny was an old veteran of many ugly fights; he was vicious, clever, and quick.

Using the tyrant’s momentum against him, Johnny ducked around him and launched into a hard kick to the back of Shao Kahn’s head. This, the tyrant bore with an enraged snarl, a stumble, and a wide, arcing swing of the hammer. That swing, too, Johnny dodged, spitting in his opponent’s direction. “Gunna hafta do better’n that, slugger!”

“So your arrogance has not been tempered,” Shao Kahn commented. “Good, good. That will make your defeat all the more satisfying.” He laughed viciously and swung the hammer down, shaking the ground around them. Johnny found himself out of sorts for a moment, but it was long enough for Shao Kahn to catch him up in one hand, tossing the hammer aside and plying both powerful limbs to their grim task. He lifted Johnny over his head and began to bend. “Do you see your champion, Thunder God?”

Raiden, formerly watching with a mask of impassive disinterest, was suddenly assaulted by visions of Johnny Cage, broken nearly in two, over the shoulders of this selfsame tyrant. He could hear Shao Kahn’s triumphant laugh, the horrified scream of Sonya Blade, the heartbroken, barely-audible moan of Liu Kang. As he blinked, the entire scene flashed behind his eyes and, without thinking, he stretched forth one hand and fired a bolt of pure, blue-white lightning.

With a single shot, Raiden, god of thunder and protector of earthrealm, ended it all.

Shao Kahn was vapor, dust in the light breeze that had begun to pick up. Johnny picked himself up, heart hammering once more, and looked between the two. Shao Kahn had been mere moments from snapping him in half, powerful hands crushing him wherever they reached, his back beginning to feel the strain of the man’s prodigious strength when, all at once, it was over and he was on the ground.

Coughing and righting himself, Johnny’s only thought was for the thunder god and he rushed back to where Raiden stood, staring, shocked (there was a pun here someplace), at his own hand, as if he had never before seen it. The amulet, curiously, remained upon his chest, unused, bearing no mark of having been harnessed.

“I…” Raiden stammered as Johnny reached him. The others now turned their attention upon Johnny Cage and Raiden, who had sunk to the ground together, Johnny’s rough hands finding either side of Raiden’s face. They were murmuring—mostly Johnny, in point of fact—and no one was sure if they should get close. Liu Kang directed them away and gestured that they ought to start dealing with the portal, which was still open and the merging, which was, indeed, continuing its inexorable work. He hoped, silently, that the Elder Gods actually did decide to step in, because he was no sorcerer, nor was he a god and could not see himself becoming either in the near future.

“Hey,” Johnny hissed, “it’s okay—it’s gunna be fine… You finished it, y’know? It’s—”

“It is not over, Johnny Cage,” responded the god, eyes downcast. “I have upset the balance; the Elder Gods will be furious. The consequences—”

“Seriously,” Johnny interrupted, “fuck the Elder Gods—what’ve they done for us, huh?” Raiden’s eyes opened wide at these words of blasphemy and he reached out to grasp the lapels of Johnny’s vest.

“You know not of what you speak, Johnny Cage,” warned Raiden. Johnny hated that fearful look on Raiden’s face. It was foreign and wrong and did not belong there. Johnny scowled deeply.

“I know a thing or three about shit parents… Listen, this whole… fatherhood thing, y’know, it blows sometimes—no offense Cass; I love ya pumpkin—and it’s… like a never-ending cavalcade of horseshit, nonsense, and doubt.” He shook his head. “I had ONE. I can’t imagine being the… like, dad of a whole-ass world…realm… thingy.” Pursing his lips, Johnny searched for his next words, choosing them carefully. “We spend our whole damn lives worrying and wondering if we did all we could—if we fucked up somewhere along the way and if that… y’know, if it caused more pain than it should’ve, or… more than we knew at the time, or could ever know.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s gunna do that—it will do that. You’re going to hurt your kids and sometimes meaning well isn’t the be-all, end-all… the ends don’t always justify the means and all that shit… But the bottom line here is that a good parent does THAT, y’know, looks back and… worries… about the process. Getting there ain’t always half the fun, big guy—and frankly, whoever-the-fuck got you here, where you are right now? They’re not the good kind. Just sayin’.”

Raiden looked as if he had never been told that the Elder Gods were poor parents. He looked as if he had never considered them parents at all, which Johnny supposed made sense, since they weren’t exactly physical beings or whatever, but sometimes, one had to wonder at the “my ways are higher than your ways” explanation. He, still holding either side of Raiden’s face, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “We’re gunna be all right, man—I promise. I… we… no one’s gunna let anything happen to you—y’know or earthrealm, or whatever.” He had clearly run out of words, for the time being.

“Thank you, Johnny Cage,” whispered Raiden solemnly. “Your faith and fair words mean more to me than you can know.”

“Ah, one more thing, though.” Evidently, Johnny was not completely out of words. “Just… Just Johnny, please? Whenever I hear the whole thing, I kinda assume I’m in deep shit—y’know and y’really don’t wanna go there with a god—‘specially not the kind who can do… y’know, what you just did.”

Raiden regarded what he had just done very carefully, then regarded Johnny. This, he supposed, was a request he could grant, but it felt strange, not addressing him that way.

“If I am correct, then we are, all of us, in ‘deep shit’.”

“Lord Raiden,” Liu Kang called, hobbling toward them. “Forgive me, but that portal isn’t closing itself and I…”

Raiden shook his head and stood, grasping Johnny’s hands and pulling the man with him. “I will make this right,” he promised, stepping away from the mortals and lifting into the air. Once more, energy crackled all around, but it bore the tranquil, blue-white glow that they were accustomed to seeing. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Cassie approached her father slowly. He seemed dazed. She could have slapped him, but she wasn’t sure that wouldn't trigger some kind of heart attack. Johnny’s eyes were wide, fixed on the hovering thunder deity.

“You ah… okay, dad?”

“I don’t… I dunno, kid. I’m not sure. But he is… and right now, that’s kinda what we need.”

#CC #CW #Faraday Cage #mortal kombat #listen I am just fucking with this multiverse timeline thing so y'know #go wild

6 notes · View notes