#i actually cackled damn near maniacally when i saw this

[arcielee]

This is the Tumblr hug 🫂💖 Please pass it on to 5 mutuals to brighten someone's day!

I had a chuckle.

[yfmconfessions2]

THE puff anon is back once again💪 AND IM HERE TO DROP SHIT!!!

Puffs glasses are so thick. Like he cant see shit without them. And if anyone takes them away he will start throwing hands with everything but the person. He once hit a wall so hard it practically cracked and he could barely use his hand for a week and Axel (who stole his glasses) was terrified to come near him for that week.

He actually likes kids but only the ones that can behave and dont cry their eyes out every two minutes. If they do, he starts going insane and will NOT hesitate to fight a literal child.

Puff and the band were wanted by the police so many times that atp they can call the cops their friends.

Pulls the dumbest pranks known to man and finds them hilarious. Like he gave Benatar a glass of water that was literally filled with kilograms of salt, and proceeded to laugh so hard he cried when Benatar struggled to get the salty taste out of his mouth for 10 minutes.

ALSO when Puff laughs like really REALLY hard his laugh goes silent, and then it turns into maniac cackles. If anyone ever heard him laughing that hard at night they ran away immediately.

Hates bugs with a burning passion. If theres at least one spider near him he will slap it with anything he has until it turns into a liquid.

Puff LOVES spicy food but his stomach cant handle it. He will devour 10 spicy noodles at once and then cry in the bathroom for half of the night. But does he care? Absolutely not. He can and WILL do it again.

I bet he once saw Benatar crying and he wasnt the reason of that so he went "Geez pull your shit together pussy." And walked away, a few seconds later Puff came back with a tissue and just sat down next to him, acting as if he didnt give a damn.

He plays video games every chance he gets. That man will rot in his room for 20 hours a day playing Call of Duty, proceed to tell 30 people to kill themselves and then go out of his room and look like he came back from the death

He cant aim for shit. Literally cant. Game wise AND real life wise. He wanted to throw a rock into a wall once out of pure rage but hit a random person that was far away instead. He was never seen in that spot ever again.

Puff's either desperate for a relationship or doesnt give a damn. He will go and literally beg a girl in a random club to be with him and the next day he breaks up bc "Lol nah, ur not pretty i was drunk." And then regrets it so he wants to find a new chick again.

He has a love-hate relationship with horror movies. Like once in a while the whole band has a movie night and Puff always says they should watch a horror movie bc all of them are scared and he isnt. Axel, Benatar and Dee Jay just look at each other and just smirk. When they turn on the movie and the first jumpscare appears Puff literally screams like a small girl, and then just says that he felt something sharp. Hes just a pussy BUT WILL HE ADMIT IT? Never.

Never read a whole book in his entire life.

His favorite ice cream is salted caramel and lemon.

Talking bout lemons, he loves sour shit. Like he can devour a whole lemon without cringing while everyone looks at him like: 😨

AAAAAND THATS ALL I GOT FOR NOW! I HOPE U ENJOY READING THOSE BC THERES A BIT OF THEM LMFOAAO

HI PUFF ANON 🤩🤩🤩

YOU SHOULD MAKE A WEEKLY MAGAZINE THAT COMES IN THE MAIL I WOULD SUBSCRIBE IMMEDIATELY

i love these thx snookie 🥰

[wonderland-but-unoriginal]

The words felt heavy on my mind as I stared at them incredulously. "What do you mean? Of course no one has died for me to kill you, just as I don't want to end your life. How could I?" I expect some snide comment about killing the person I used to be, or there being a trillion timelines where I kill them; basically your typical time controlling villain stuff.

What I don't expect is the laugh that I get back. Not a cackle, not a maniacal giggle, but a laugh. As if something was truly funny, as if my vow to never take a life was some sort of sick joke, as if I was the one who should be ridiculed. "No one has died for you to kill me? You don't want to kill me? Listen to yourself! Lying blatantly to my face, and worse yet you look like you believe it. But I guess no one other than government workers and you matters, do they?" They put two fingers up and two fingers down in that familiar pose, and soon enough I was hit with a sense of vertigo. The landscape shifted and changed, and a cityscape greets me, the smell of gasoline, probably from some car, and general smog hits me.

"When did you take me?" I tried to keep myself balanced as I watch the beginnings of a skyscraper fall. 'I recognize this place,' I thought. 'This is the Times attack. The square...' "Why did you take me back here?"

"You'll see." The hoarse voice rang out as Remordi disappeared from my sight. I was alone with the screams of the people as they ran.

I remembered this day vividly. It had been over a year, but the details came to mind easily. It was a Saturday in summer. Remordi had damaged one of the supporting beams of the building, knocking a worker out of the way and lighting a huge fire. The rest of the structure soon came crashing down. I rushed over, and it was on that day I became known as Ingen. A hero.

I watched the scene play out, having just been dropped off in the time when Remordi, in their midnight and beaten up clothes, knocked the worker out, so right now the flames were spreading. They were spreading fast. It was so hard to breathe, every breath felt like I was breathing through rubber coated in glitter. Scratchy and impossible. Still, I flew up and watched the past me fly down from somewhere, quickly trying to evacuate people and put out the fire. But the water never worked for some reason, the building completely collapses anyway, and a bunch of randos die for no reason. "I'm already aware of how this happens! Let me go already, Remordi."

"You still aren't seeing." I could hear their disapproval loud and clear, and I almost felt ashamed.

I stamped my foot, annoyed. "Seeing what? Because I see the death and destruction real clear. What do you want me to see?"

"The truth." Again I'm filled with a sense of vertigo as the scene goes back. 'Great, real helpful. Totally narrows everything down.'

So again, I watched the scene, gasoline bothering my nose once more. 'Someone really needs to get their damn car checked.' They took me a little earlier this time. I watched them fly down and push the worker, and the same chaos ensued. 'Pointless, this all is.'

"Did you see anything?" Remordi asked me, as if some how I would get an epiphany and see something amazing.

"No, but maybe I would if-"

I didn't get to finish because they had restarted it. Again. This time even earlier. Yet again, I just saw them fall- Fall? Dammit, the moment had passed and I didn't get to see it clearly. 'What was that though?' The scene plays as it always does.

Remordi begins again, their muffled voice again starting, "Did you see-"

"Shut up and restart me again." I demanded.

They did, even earlier this time. 'Good. I have a chance to actually see this time.'

This time I look at the sky, look at what exactly was happening.

Remordi was right near the end of a crane on a building... and got. Hit. They fell down, hitting the construction worker who promptly passed out and knocking a poor secured beam loose. I quickly flew closer, and lo and behold, his cigarette falls, causing the fire. 'But why is the smell of gasoline so strong here...?'

The scene plays out, and I'm prepared for when I hear Remordi's voice. "Did you see anything?"

"Yes." I nodded, hoping they could see me. "You were hit by a crane into the building causing the so-called attack. It was an accident. Is that what you wanted me to see?"

"You're so close." They almost sounded proud, and I hated how it kind of made me happy. "Watch again."

"Ugh." The dizziness hit me and faded again, and I flew up to see the details of what happened, earlier again. 'No... that can't be. Can it?'

Indeed it was. Before heroe-ing became my full time job, I was but a humble crane operator and construction worker. Turns out having super strength is handy for carrying materials. I sat in the very crane in front of me, just doing my job on the top of a building. 'I forgot I was at work that day... Oh gods, don't tell me...' I watched with wide eyes as my crane hits Remordi, who was seemingly trying to approach me.

The scene played out again, and I watched the cigarette fall with interest. 'What caught fire here, again?' I watched it splash in something before it became too dangerous to stay. I flew out, feeling there was something I was missing. 'I... caused the accident. I'm the one who knocked into them. I did this. Oh gods, I did this.'

"Did you-"

"One more time. Please." I hated how much it sounded like I was begging and how I was now asking to be sent back.

Still, I watch the scene maybe 5 minutes before the accident happens, but instead of going to the crane, I headed over to where the cigarette will eventually fall. I had put fingers down to the ground and they had come back up moist. It smelled horribly of gasoline.

Someone had spilled gasoline and no one noticed.

That's what had caused the fire. The fire that eneded up killing so many people, the chaos that took weeks to repair, all caused by me. Innocents, children, people just trying to live their lives, gone.

It was all pure accident, accident made worse by my actions and lack of awareness. If only I could've fixed this! But, wait, Remordi controls time, don't they..?

"Did you see something?" They sounded much grimmer this time, and the landscape fades, going back to the bright white it was originally, almost as if they knew I had realized the full story.

I spoke much more quietly this time. "It was an accident I caused. I hit you with the crane, which happened to cause the fire and building collapse. You were innocent."

I heard them snort, as if something was funny. I didn't think I'd ever understand them. "Far from innocent. Just less of a fool and more remorseful. Now, I have a parting gift." Remordi appeared once more, their mask gone, revealing a disfigured face. They looked sorrowful, as if they were about to do something tragic. Still, I trusted them when they put their hands on my shoulders. 'My shoulders... when did I get so covered in ash? People would think my clothes are black and torn up.' "Take this, and be gone."

My whole vision flashed white, and suddenly I was in the sky. I knew this was different than before, I felt different. So, caution gone to the wind, I flew forward. I was right there, I could reach myself in time, stop it from happening, everything would be okay, I'd be a hero.

Turns out, getting hit by a crane hurts like hell.

Also turns out I'm an impatient, destructive, and foolish idiot.

A year comes and passes, and news headline after news headline comes out about the attack. As it turns out, 768 people physically died in that attack. 768 lives lost due to my own idiocy. I know now what I have to do.

I have to kill the old me for them to see the truth.

Gods, Fate really loves Irony, doesn't she?

When everything is all set up, I wait patiently for Ingen to ask the question. I was so arrogant, wasn't I? So blind, so stupid, so willing to throw away lives. I need to fix that.

“How many people have died to achieve this world domination of yours?” “769.” “…What?” “769 people died to achieve my plans. I counted them, and had each of their names etched on my throne so I never forget what my victory cost the world. Now tell me, how many have you killed to see me dead?”

[theunquenchablethirst]

Joyride (Jerome X Reader)

Smut, NSFW, 18+, porn without plot, honestly just hot, nasty filth 

Do not read unless you are a deviant!

Reader is walking home down a street she knows just like the back of her hand, but today there's an unfamiliar car parked up. Paying it no mind she continues past it, but soon discovers today is not going to be any regular day when a sinister voice calls to her from the mysterious car behind her.

Vaginal fingering, blowjobs, rough sex, semi-public sex, car sex, bondage, chocking, spanking, dom/sub undertones, dub-con, strong language, murder, kidnap

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Masterlist

I walked that street nearly every day, to and from Gotham High. I had for years. This would be my last year as I was 18 and about to graduate.

Everything seemed as normal as ever. The pretzel cart, the lady that walked her little dog, the kids playing jump rope. A fairly quiet street. I didn't know it then, but that day would be anything, but normal.

I was approaching the end of the street where I would cross the road. There was a car parked up I hadn't seen before. Big, black with tinted windows. I didn't pay it much attention and wasn't hesitant to carry on my walk past it. I reached the end of the street and stood waiting for the traffic to quiet so I could cross over, then behind me I heard the familiar sound of a car window winding down.

"Hey, princess." A sinister voice called.

I turned to look and peering out of the black car window was him. The most dangerous, most wanted man in Gotham city. Jerome Valeska.

I'd only seen him on the news and in papers before, but even then, he had scared me. He'd brought the city to its knees and left a trail of bodies and madness wherever he went. And now he was right in front of me.  

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked with his signature smile plastered on his scarred face, voice dripping with menace.

I froze still. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but his stare glued me to my spot.

"Come on, doll. I'll be nice."

I took a step back, weighing the risk of making a run for it. He sucked his teeth and looked down for something.

"I'd offer you candy, but uh..." He pulled a gun up to the window and pointed it at me.

"... Something tells me I won't need to." His smile somehow grew bigger as he locked his eyes on mine.

My heart was beating so loud I thought the whole city would be able to hear it. I had no choice. Knees weak, I nervously walked around to the passenger side door and opened it. I sat in the seat next to him, but pressed myself as close to the window as I could. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, even if it was only by a few inches.  

"Ah, safety first. Seatbelt." He said dropping his smile and cocking his head.

Not caring weather or not he was joking, I pulled down the belt and buckled myself in. I did not want to make him angry. He grinned eerily and panic rose in my chest as his eyes burned holes in me.  

He reached a gloved hand out to my face. I flinched as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and stroked his knuckles down my jaw line and neck. His hand moved lower still down my arm, only stopping when he got to my shaking hand. I was grasping my bag so tightly my knuckles had turned white. He tugged at it a few times wanting me to let go. I released the bag and he pulled it off my lap and into his.

"Let's see what we got here."

He started to rummage through my possessions pulling each one out, mostly dubbing them boring and dumping them out of the window.

"Pain killers, boring. Pencil case, extra boring. Ooh, Jolly Ranchers! Don't mind if I do!"

He popped a sweet in his mouth, threw the rest over his shoulder into the back seat and got back to snooping.

"Keys, boring. Oh! A diary! I'll save that for later! A can of mace...."

He paused then let out a loud cackle as he held the mace.

"Oh, princess! Bet you wish you'd switched this out for a gun right about now!" He continued to giggle as he dived a hand back in.

"Aha! Phone!" He dropped my bag back in my lap and opened up my flip phone.

"You won't be needing this." He smirked and snapped it, letting the two halves fall and disappear under the driver's seat. Dread began to settle in as it dawned upon me that I now had no way to call for help and my mace was lying in the street. Not that it would've been much use against him anyway.

"Ok! Let's get this party started!" His giggled as he turned the key in the ignition. He turned towards me and revved the engine.

"Vroom, vroom." He mocked.

I sat there clutching my bag, waiting for the car to start moving. He fiddled with the gear stick and then slammed his foot down on the pedal as if there was a deadly bug that needed to be squashed. The tyres screeched like they were taking a layer of tarmac with them and he took off like a boy racer.  

I let out a scream as the sudden, fast pace sent a shockwave right through me. I sent my hands searching for something, anything to hold on to. There was a turn coming up, but I noticed it too late and I was flung into the side of the door like a ragdoll. All the time the loudest noise in my ear was maniacal laughter coming from Jerome in driver's seat. He was driving like he stole it, but then again, it was entirely possible he did.

"More?" He looked at me with a mischievously.

I shook my head, breathlessly, praying to any god that was listening that he actually cared about my answer.

"I think more." He sharply turned into an empty car park and spun around and around and around. I was pressed right up against him as I clung to the bottom of my seat. He laughed and banged his hand on the wheel, continuing to spin us around.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I screamed forgetting myself.  

"Oh, I love 'em with fire!" He laughed again.  

Then all of a sudden, he stopped. I jolted forwards like a crash dummy so hard I thought I would hit the windshield. He'd been right about the seatbelt. I stared straight ahead and tried to catch my breath, when I heard angry shouting. An employee of the restaurant that owned the car park was making his way over to us with a red face.

Jerome stuck his head out of the window.

"What's that, pal?"  

I heard more shouting.

"Ok." Jerome reached for the gun and shot the employee straight in the head. I gasped at the sound and he fell down like a sack of bricks.

"Problem solved." Jerome grinned and pocketed the gun.

I felt my stomach turn. I'd just seen a murder right in front of me. That poor man. Jerome started the car again and left the car park, where he'd left a dead body and certainly tyre tracks.

"Some fun, eh kid?" He smiled at me. I couldn't find any words to reply. He sighed.

"I hate awkward silences." He reached down and turned on the radio. He flicked through a few channels until he found one playing music he seemed to like. An old rock station.

"Now this is better!" He looked at me with a satisfied smile, but dropped it when I still didn't reply.

"How do I get you to talk? Do I gotta drop a quarter in ya?" He turned another corner onto a straight, quiet road.

"I know." He smirked with a menacing look in his eyes.  

He pushed the pedal down, once again picking up speed. He was driving like there was money on it, but I'd at least managed to brace myself this time. He slowed a little as he got in place to drive side by side with the only other car on the road. He chuckled darkly to himself and then I realized why. Fear took my senses when I saw in the not too far distance, heading straight at us was a giant truck. The driver in the car next to us began to honk the horn and flash obscene hand gestures as the truck grew closer, but Jerome simply turned the radio up and began singing along with the words.

"Jerome..." I said tugging at his arm.

Nothing. And the truck was now honking at us to move.  

"Jerome!"  

The truck was too close for comfort. The sense that I was about to be flattened because of the idiot at the wheel filled my body.

"Jerome, move the damn car!" I shook his arm fiercely and slammed my fists in my chair.

He finally burst out cackling maniacally with an outrageous smile.

He slammed down the pedal and pulled forward in front of the car beside us, missing the truck by a hair. He laughed and howled like it was the funniest thing he'd ever experienced, whilst I sighed the biggest sigh of my life and slid low down my seat. He pulled over and parked.

"Nothing like a little near-death experience to get the blood flowing, eh doll?"  

I had melted into my seat and wasn't really paying attention.

"So, how'd you like me so far?"

"Is that a serious question?" I replied breathlessly. I didn't know where I got the confidence for it, but the words were coming out.

He just giggled.

"Ok, how about I behave... For a while."

"How about you let me go?"

He lifted a long finger at me.

"Tut tut, doll face. Don't make me wiggle my finger at you."

I shuffled backwards in my seat, propping myself upright again.

"So, you know my name? Are you stalking me?" He put his hand on his chest in mock fear.

"Everyone in Gotham knows your name. You're Jerome Valeska. You've terrorised the city and murdered dozens of people. The Gotham Gazette makes sure we don't miss these things."  

"The Gotham Gazette, huh? Note to self, send a gift basket their way." He chuckled to himself then looked at me.

“So, what’s yours?”

I told him my name. I was reluctant, but I was already here in the car with him.

“Hm, cute.” He replied.

I didn’t know why, but him calling me cute made me blush a little. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“You look fun.” He smiled.

“What do you mean?” I asked the question, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer.

He pulled my diary out of the door pocket.

“Let’s get to know you, shall we?”  

“That’s private.” I said sheepishly. I really didn’t want him reading what was in there, but I knew I couldn’t stop him.

“Not anymore.” Jerome flicked through the pages, skimming them for interesting thoughts and secrets. It didn’t look like he was finding anything juicy, until he stopped at one page and read it in its entirety.

“I got asked out by a guy in my maths class. He’s nice, but really boring. Just like everyone else in my life. Even if I wanted to go out with him, my dad wouldn’t allow it. He says men are the devil and the only one I can trust is him. Yeah right, Mr it’s 5’oclock somewhere. Even if I took that seriously, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. The only guys in my life are complete clichés. So very predictable, so very dull. I’m so bored of this same old-same old. I want something exciting, an adventure. I need some thrills in this beige goddamn existence!”

He repeated back to me the words I had written just a week prior. He turned to me with a predatory look in his eyes. He let the diary fall from his hands carelessly and I knew then that I would be his prey. He took his gloves off and reached a hand towards my knee. He stroked and squeezed my leg and then journeyed up higher, fingers crawling underneath the hem of my skirt.

“Be careful what you wish for, doll face.” He smirked, darkly.

My breath caught in my chest and I felt a warmth in my core.

"I thought you said you were gonna behave." I peeped.

"I did, didn't I? I guess I lied."  

He pulled my skirt up and ran a finger along my panty covered slit. He was turning me on. I wanted him. He was everything I had been looking for, but it was wrong. I couldn’t give in to this.

"Please... Stop..." I pleaded pathetically.

"Mmm, I don't think I will."  

He softly rubbed my folds through the white cotton. My breath got heavier and I felt the heath build.

"It would be so easy for me to push these little things out of the way and slide my fingers inside you, right now. Wouldn't it?"

"Please... Don't..."

He giggled darkly.

"Oh, princess. You're just too cute."  

He smiled as he moved the material to the side exposing my entrance. He slid his fingers up and down my slit, my juices covering the tips. I squirmed at his touch and tried to scooch back in my seat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, doll, but you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't really want me inside you." He cooed. His words crashed into me like rocks. He could read my body just as well as my diary. I couldn't hide my desire from him and I didn’t want too.  

He continued to rub for a few more seconds before plunging a finger deep inside me. I let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion and he smirked, seemingly satisfied with my response. He worked me with his finger, pulling out before sliding it back in and deciding to add another. He slowly pulsed his fingers inside me, palming over my clit as he slid in and out, again and again. The swell of warmth in me grew as I rocked my hips.

He pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving me disappointed and empty. I looked at him as he examined the juices coating him. He smiled at me and raised them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Mmm. You're so sweet." He said as he lowered them, his voice now deeper and slightly raspy.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, then did mine. He pushed the bag off my lap down to where my feet were and reached his arm around my waist, pulling me backwards, closer to him. He leaned me against him as one hand travelled up from my waist and wrapped around my throat. His other came down, pulled up my skirt and parted my thighs. He pushed my panties to the side once again and introduced his other hand to my wetness. His two fingers sliding in and out, but this time a little faster and much deeper. I let a yelp escape my mouth and his hand squeezed harder around my throat. His hot breath in the crook of my neck gave me goosebumps and sent chills down my spine.  

He explored my walls entirely, hitting all the right spots, hot pleasure pulsing through my muscles as they clenched around his talented digits. He palmed my clit applying a gentle amount of pressure and rubbing in circles. I bit my lip in an attempt muffle my moans.

"Nuh uh. Let me hear you, baby girl." He taunted in my ear.

Two fingers from the hand around my throat pulled my mouth open and played with my tongue.  

"You got something to say, princess?" He pushed his fingers deeper into me until his knuckles stopped him from going any further and pumped them, his thumb circling my clit in sweet slow motions. A loud moan escaped my throat and he smiled evilly.

"That's better." He snarled as he put his full hand back around my throat.  

My legs started to stiffen and I felt my climax build as I tightened around his fingers.

"You wanna cum, baby?"  

He worked his fingers inside my walls and his thumb on my clit, slightly increasing the pressure. His breath came closer to my ear and I felt him take it gently in his teeth. I yelped at the shock of his bite.  

"Mm. So cute."

I rocked my hips against his hand. My release was close, it just needed a little push.

"Cum for me, princess. Cum on my fingers."

As if on his command, the dam burst and my climax washed over me. My legs shook and I moaned as I rode it out. He pulled his fingers out of me slid them in my mouth so I could taste my own juices.

“See, gorgeous. I can play nice.” He buried his face in my hair and took in my scent. He hummed to himself and I felt his grip on my throat tighten. He pulled me forwards and pushed me towards the back seat.

“My turn.” He grinned as he sat up.

I climbed into the back, closely followed by Jerome. I sat down and he straddled me, towering over me with his red hair brushing against the car ceiling. I saw the outline of his hard member pushing against the inside of his trousers. It was right in front of my face and my mouth watered for it. I suppose he caught me looking because he started to palm himself and lifted my chin up so I was looking at him.

“Do you have something sweet for me?” He leaned down closer to me, his grip on my face tightening.

I swallowed and felt the lump in my throat. He crashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was hard and forceful, just like he was. His tongue pushed into my mouth and fought for dominance over mine. It was an easy win for him. He tasted sweet, like the Jolly Ranchers. I assumed that wasn’t the first candy he’d eaten that day. He pulled away from me and smiled, studying my face with hooded eyes.

“Yummy.” He whispered.  

He rose back up and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it from out of its loops, held it in front of him and snapped it quickly. I flinched at the loud sound of the leather.

“Hands.” He ordered in a serious, intimidating tone that aroused me all the more.

I held my hands up to him and he looped the belt in and around my wrists, tightly bonding them together.

“No hands for this. I wanna see how that pretty little mouth works.” He smirked lifting my chin again, tugging my bottom lip with his thumb.

He palmed himself a little more and then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, letting them fall around his knees. I could see through his boxers that he was fully erect already. He slid them down and they joined his trousers. Jerome was big. I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to take it all, especially without the use of my hands. He balled my hair in his hand and gripped hard. I gasped at the sudden pain.

“Come on, princess. You know what to do.” He pulled me forwards and plunged into my open mouth. He let out a hiss of pleasure.

He raked his free hand through my loose hair before clenching it in his fist. He used his grip on my head to move me up and down his shaft, prompting me to start. I swirled my tongue around him and started sucking. He hissed again through gritted teeth and pushed in further. My tongue climbed up and down his shaft, licking the sticky coating of precum from him and teasing the head. I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed up and down, letting my saliva cover him.

“Oh, yeah... Fuck, pretty girl.” He groaned in his throat and bucked his hips forwards with force.

He hit the back of my throat and I gagged. The noise seemed to please him so he did it again and again and again. My lips touched his base as he assaulted my throat, gripping tighter on my hair with each thrust. I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face and eyes begging for breath, but it just pushed him further.

He let out a primal growl and pushed my head right into the back of the seat. He held me steady and started to thrust into my face fast and hard. My throat was aching and my jaw was locking. His breath was shallow and erratic. I could tell he was close. I sucked harder for him and my throat clenched tightly.  

“Fuuuuck...” He groaned finally coming to a stop.  

I felt him throb and twitch in my mouth as his climax shot straight down my throat for me to swallow. He was still for a few seconds, then he pulled out with a pleasing pop. He looked down at me catching his breath with a smile.

“Don’t have to tell you twice, huh?” He laughed and lowered his head to kiss me.

He didn’t seem to care he’d just cum in my mouth and kissed just as rough as the first time. This time biting my lip as he pulled away. He slid his hand back up into my hair and balled it again.

“As great as that was princess, I’m still harder than Chinese algebra. So...” Jerome climbed off my lap and shoved me down onto my front.

“All fours.” He commanded.

I positioned myself on my knees and elbows, which was difficult considering my wrists were tied. I felt him roll my skirt up and part my legs. I swallowed. After having him go so rough on my mouth, I was nervous about how he was going to be with this.

“I gotta say, this is some view back here. Shame I don’t have a camera.” He said caressing my thighs.

He hooked his fingers under the band of my underwear and slid them down around my knees. I felt so exposed and my face started to heat up and turn red with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I was allowing myself to be this vulnerable for a criminal lunatic.

He started to rub my entrance with two fingers. Warmth welling in my core, any thoughts of reservation vanished from my mind. I felt a fast, harsh sting as he brought a hand down to spank me. I gasped at the smack and he stroked the spot where it landed, where there was sure to be a red handprint.  

“Now I really wish I had a camera.” He giggled darkly.  

I squirmed at his touch and tried to close my thighs, desperate for friction, but he kept them spread by sliding his knee between them.

“Oh no, gorgeous. I need you open wide.” He smirked.

I whimpered needily, wanting nothing more than to take him inside me.

“You want something, baby girl? Speak up.” He taunted evilly, sliding his fingers along my slit. He raised his hand back up and then... another spank.

All I could do was whimper. I didn’t want to say what I wanted from him.

“I can’t hear you....” He sing-songed. “What do you want?”  

He circled a finger over my clit teasingly. He was purposefully not giving me enough. Just baiting me. He brought his hand down again for another swift spank. I was sure there was a bruise forming.

“I want you...” I whispered.

“What’s that?” He mocked, sliding his fingers in the slickness of my entrance.

“I want you! I want you to fuck me!” I snapped. I couldn’t take the teasing and taunting any longer. I just needed him.

He chuckled menacingly.

“You want me to fuck you? You wanna take me?”

“Yes! Yes! God, yes!”

He laughed at my neediness. I felt pathetic.

“Sure thing, doll.”

He lined himself up so he could enter me and pushed forwards, grasping hard onto my hips. I moaned loudly as he filled me for the first time, making a low, throaty groan. He reached deep into me and set me on fire in places that I didn't even know were there.  

He kept a quick rough pace, digging his fingertips into my flesh tighter to keep me still and steady. I knew he was leaving marks, but I couldn’t have cared in the slightest in that moment. His thrusts made me whine and whimper for him, to have more of him. He growled like he was letting out some kind of inner beast.

He let go of one of my hips and slid his hand up my back and into my hair. Once he had a good fistful, he pulled it like a leash, tugging my head up and back. I gasped at the sharp pain, but the sound only seemed to feed more into his sadistic wanting and he pounded harder into me. The feel of how deep he was inside me banished all the pain and replaced it with pure pleasure and I bit down hard on my lip to stifle wanton cries. I felt another rough tug on my hair.

“Don’t you dare, little girl. Let me hear it. I wanna hear everything.” He demanded through short, quick breaths.

He pulled back on my hair again and I released a squeal of half pain and half pure elation. I could feel myself tightening around him. I was getting ready to burst.

“I... I’m...I’m gonna...” I panted.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.”  

He gripped the back of my scalp and pulled me backwards, slamming me down onto my back and climbing on top of me.

“I wanna see it this time.”

He had acted so fast, I barely had time to register what he was doing and he was back inside me almost as soon as he had pulled out.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing, his teeth leaving delicious hickeys and bitemarks. When he came back up for breath, he wrapped his hand around my throat and pushed my bonded arms above my head, which I was grateful for as they were getting squashed between us. He crashed his lips onto mine for a rough kiss. His tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, which I gladly allowed.

With his other hand he caressed and stroked his hand down my thigh and under my calf. He then pulled it up and pushed it back so far it almost reached my shoulder. He adjusted himself to straddle my lower thigh and picked up a faster, harder pace. With my leg like this he was able to plunge deeper. He was forceful and powerful and I relished in every thrust. I cried out completely taken by my lust for him, closing my eyes to savour it all. I felt the sting of a slap on my cheek and flashed them back open.

“Right here, princess. Eyes right here.” He said, his voice low and raspy.  

His pupils were completely dilated, leaving only the thinnest ring of green around them. He seemed to be an apex predator that was in the midst of ravaging its prey and I was only too willing to be led to the slaughter.  

“Exciting enough for ya, sweetheart?” He smirked with a fiendish giggle.

“Uh huh...” I nodded dazedly.  

His laugh continued through the onslaught of fierce, deep thrusts pounding intensely into my lower regions. I tensed around his pulsing erection as I felt my climax creep back up on me. I let out loud erotic moans, as he built up more and more of that blissful warmth in my core.

“That’s right. Cum for me.” He grunted through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on my throat.

His pounding got faster and rougher, hitting my sweet spots exactly right. I was right on the edge of what I could tell was going to be a fantastic release. I got louder and louder as I came closer and teetered the brink.

“Yeah.. I... I’m.. Yeah... I’m gonna...”

“Go on, princess. Cum. Cum for me.”  

My orgasm shattered through me like a rock through glass. My body convulsed as my moans turned into lustful screams. The ferocity of it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The sheer ecstasy took me higher than I’d ever been before. I was on a cloud and I could have stayed there forever. Jerome followed shortly after, growling like a beast as he exploded inside me. He collapsed breathlessly on top of me as I gently floated down from that little piece of heaven.  

“Oh, baby girl. I’m keeping you!” Jerome dropped a kiss on my lips and lifted himself up.  

I came to my senses and started to register the severity of what I had done. Or had it happened to me?  

“What does that mean?” I asked, nervous of his answer.  

He pulled up his underwear and trousers and tidied himself up, even taking time to straighten his tie.

“It means, baby doll, that this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.”  

He laughed his signature maniacal cackle and hopped back in the driver's seat.

“Hey! Are you gonna untie me?” I called to him starting to get very worried.

“I don’t know, doll. I kinda like you like that.” He laughed.

He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.  

“Hold on, doll!” He cackled again, before speeding off again.

What have I gotten myself into?

[deeneee]

Better [Leon x Reader]

Note: So, ummmm, it has been awhile or whatever. . . .but wow, um, here is a new chapter!!!!!! :) Saw the resident evil series on Netflix and damn did Leon look good. So guess, what's coming up next???? I am pretty damn sure yall know?? 😏 hint: it was a sneak peek

Master List

Previous

Ever since that incident with the pink carnations, you could not get Leon out of your mind. It was almost driving you crazy, but you did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was on your mind. You looked over at the pink carnation that lay on top of your dresser. You laid the flower on top of a tissue and you could see that it was getting dry and stale. It had been at least four days since then, and he still has not contacted you. You assumed it was a mission, so you didn't bother trying to contact him. A sigh escapes your lips and you sit down on your bed, falling back on it. "Don't think about that handsome, cute guy and instead start thinking about the work you're gonna get when you get back to work," you muttered to yourself, eyes closed. In all honesty, you shouldn't even be thinking about Leon romantically. You were breaching your own rule at this point. It was something to flirt and think he's handsome, but it was a whole other thing to actually develop feelings. "Maybe I should ignore him for awhile." And so you did. You began to ignore Leon Kennedy through tons of paper work and missions. 

He eventually did contact you, but you forgot about it and didn't contact him back for at least 3 weeks. It wasn't that you didn't want to talk to him, it was more of you were so busy you couldn't get back to him. On your days off, you spent it catching up on sleep or watching movies. In all honesty, you forgot about Leon Kennedy. 

It was a busy day in the office, desks full of paperwork, and busy bodies running around. It was almost as if this was a newspaper firm or something because all you're doing is typing and writing and sending, and god, were you getting tired of this job. I should really retire soon and have a normal life. I work to kill bioweapons and here I am writing dumb reports and essays. "[Name], hey, someone is down at the lobby asking for you," one of your coworkers said as they walked past you. You looked up and nodded, standing up from your chair, and stretching. 

"Alright, I will take this chance to have a break then," you muttered as you walked towards the elevator. Once you made it to the lobby, you walked up to Kira, who was the receptionist. "Who's asking for me?" you asked and she pointed behind you. You turned around and you blinked, meeting familiar blue eyes. 

"Are you that blind that you couldn't see me near the desk or?" he teased. You chuckled and ran a hand through your hair. 

"Ah, sorry, Leon. I've been so busy lately that I can't really comprehend anything right now." 

"Ah, I see. So, you haven't been ignoring me on purpose then?" Your eyes widened and you let out a small laugh. "If it was on purpose, I'm hurt." The blonde smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

"Gosh, don't tell me you missed me that much," you joked. 

"I did miss you," he answered and you stopped smiling to look at him in surprise. "I tried to contact you multiple times for three weeks and you never responded. I was worried you disappeared." He scratched the back of his head and then cleared his throat. "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore." Your chest began to ache and you clenched your clammy hands to your sides.

"No, I just been really busy. I wasn't trying to ignore you. I--How about we go talk somewhere else?" You suggested. Leon opened his mouth and then closed it again, a guilty smile appearing on his lips. 

"Ah, I actually have a date to get to," he answered. You could feel your heart shatter. You immediately brought up a smile and nodded. 

"O-oh, okay! Yeah, go on and head to your date! I still have work that needs to be done." Leon snorted and you barely heard what he had said, only noticing the feeling of your heart falling down to your stomach at the thought of Leon with another woman. 

"Why do you look like you're going to cry?" Leon's question snaps you out of your daze and you look up at him, realizing that his figure is blurry. You try to blink the tears away, but some manage to escape, and you let out a sigh. "What's wrong?" Leon immediately comes closer to look at your face and you swat his hands away. Oh god, how embarrassing! 

"It's nothing. I got to get back to work, so I'll see you later," you turn around, but Leon grabs a hold of your shirt, pulling you back. You swiveled around and locked eyes with Leon, a couple of tears already sliding down your cheeks. “Leon, I just have allergies—“ you started but then exhaled as your chest began to ache. 

“. . .I’ll ditch the date. How about we go hang out?” Leon suggested. You blinked and brought a hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“Leon—I. . .no, it’s alright. I’m okay, I promise,” you assured. He still hadn’t let go of your shirt and you promptly bit the inside of your cheek. You were beginning to feel nervous. If he knew you began to cry because you couldn’t bear the thought of him with another woman, you’d probably die from embarrassment. 

“Alright.” He let go of your shirt and nodded to himself. Disappointment swept into your heart and you hoped he didn’t see the bitterness on your face. God, why should I be disappointed?? I’m the one who said I was okay!!! “As if I’d believe you,” he scoffed. This time, he grabbed your hand, and intertwined them together. “We are going out.” You watched his back in awe as he pulled you out of your workplace and onto the sidewalk. 

“Wait—“

”No objections. We are going,” he looked over his shoulder and gave you a small smile. 

“Okay, but, I have work—“

”Work can wait. I’m sure they can manage without you.” Skipping work wasn’t supposed to happen, but maybe a break wouldn’t be so bad. 

——-

“So, we are at the lake. . .fishing?” You questioned. Leon nodded and handed you a green rod with a blue spinning reel. You looked down at your suit and heels and then at the lake. You weren’t really dressed appropriate for fishing, but it was a great thing it was cloudy today. 

“We sure are. Fishing is always fun!” Leon chirped and began to instruct you on how to cast. You nodded along and did exactly as he said, but it took a couple of tries. Once you managed to make a decent cast, you grinned. “Great cast,” he proudly crossed his arms and you could feel your chest warm.

"Thanks, but what are we fishing for?" you asked, looking at your fishing line and reeling in slowly. 

"Fishing for baby bass," he answered. You noticed your slack line became straight and on instinct, you pulled your rod to the side and reeled fast; only for the fish to come flying on to the ground behind you. 

"Holy shit!" you cried, and reeled the fish back, "I am so sorry, little fish!" You quickly tried your best to hold the small bass by its lips, but it kept squirming on the ground. In the background, you could hear Leon's maniac laughing and you huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry---I just," he cackled, holding his torso, "that was the best hook set I have ever seen!" 

Eventually, Leon helped you and you even took a picture with the poor fish. It was definitely a fun time and it even took your mind off of work. Spending time with Leon was always fun, you smiled as you looked over at him. Now, the both of you were in his car, on the way to your home. It was quiet in the car and the atmosphere was relaxed. "Thanks, Leon. For taking me out," you said, nodding at him. Then, it dawned on you and your eyes turned wide. "Leon! Your date!" Leon merely shrugged his shoulders and you bit your lip, brows furrowed. "I feel so bad," you whispered to yourself. Being stood up is not a great feeling and you began to think about the woman that was probably heart broken right now.

"Actually, I lied about the date." It was quiet for a moment and your heart thumped. "I only said that to see your reaction, and I did not expect for you to cry." You could hear your heart beating out of your ears and everything seemed to pass by in slow motion. 

He knew. 

He definitely knew. 

"I know that you like me." You could only stare at him, hands on your laps, and mouth shut. His eyes stayed on the road ahead of him. 

"Its better for us to stay as friends." 

[rynnrose]

CASTLETON [PART FOURTEEN]

You honestly can’t remember the last time you were this excited for something. Sure, it was nice to see your friends at the end of the summer, and you’d even been looking forward to attending your last Welcoming Feast, but none of those things could compare to this. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to focus on anything other than war and destruction that you’ve almost forgotten the rush of adrenaline that overwhelms you before every game. After a year of little more than pain, suffering, and quite literally fighting for your life, you welcome the sensation with open arms.

The match isn’t set to start for another ten minutes, and already you can hear the chanting in the stands. Nearly every student in the school has come out to see you play, if Hooch is to be believed, and you can’t wait to give them a show. The first Quidditch game of the year is always an ordeal, particularly whenever your house is involved. Part of you wishes that you’d been pitted against Gryffindor — they always give you a run for your money, though you’d rather die than tell them that — but given the hostility between the snakes and lions, you suppose competing against them would only make things worse. Still, you hope things calm down soon; you owe Ginny and Jungkook a good game.

You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this until you started practicing again. It was easy to get lost in the drama at Hogwarts, particularly in the past few years. Even you and your friends weren’t immune, no matter how badly you tried to stay out of the conflict. Between Harry and the DA and Umbridge and Voldy, there’s been precious little time to focus on the things you actually love — and by god, how you love Quidditch.

It’s been five years since you joined the team, and you still get butterflies every time you step out onto the pitch. Growing up among Muggles obviously hadn’t given you much opportunity to familiarize yourself with broom riding, but you’d fallen head over heels for it the moment you walked into your first flying class. It was the only subject you’d never struggled in, simply because it came so naturally to you. Hooch singled you out as a potential player as soon as she saw you take to the sky. The majority of your first year was spent cooped up in the library reading about rules and regulations, famous players, and even the origins of the sport. You were obsessed with the idea of being on the team. Naturally, when you were accepted second year, you were overjoyed.

It was your enthusiasm for the game that got Hobi and Yoongi involved. They’d spent so much time listening to you rant about it that they finally caved in and decided to try out third year — and funnily enough, discovered that they had quite the knack for it as well. None of you were particularly sporty, but you excelled where Quidditch was concerned. You and Hobi were Slytherin’s star Beaters, quicker than lightning when it came to keeping the Bludgers off of your team (and knocking them towards the rival players). Yoongi fit quite nicely into the Seeker position, what with his lithe frame and keen eyes. The three of you were the most skilled players on the team by the time fifth year rolled around; perhaps you’re a bit biased, but you’d wager that you’re the best in the entire school.

Being promoted to captain came as a bit of a shock, but you like to think you’ve done rather well in the time since you were given the position. Your teammates have never performed better, and though you’re all absolutely exhausted when practice ends, you know that you stand one hell of a chance of winning the cup this year. As much as they like to tease you, Hobi and Yoongi have attributed their improvement to you over and over again, citing your patience and determination as the driving force behind the entire team. You’ll never admit it, but their praise is perhaps the only thing that has kept you sane since the promotion.

Well...perhaps not the only thing.

You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from combing the stands for Taehyung as you made your way to the locker room. As much as you’ve tried to brush off your excitement, you can’t help but grin at the thought of him watching you play. Something about that boy — and you’re no closer to figuring it out now than you were the day you met him — gets you flustered like no one else in the world. Fortunately, you’re quite certain you have the same effect on him.

You haven’t spoken a word of this to your friends, of course; they’ve done a good enough job of teasing you on their own without adding fuel to the fire. They have the best of intentions (you think), but not a day has gone by since you met Taehyung wherein they haven’t taunted you mercilessly over the blue-haired boy. It’s the first time your love life has ever been a topic of conversation among your group, and while you used to hate that no one had ever seriously caught your interest, you’re suddenly grateful that you never had to put up with this before. One more smirk from Hobi and you’re quite certain you’re going to punch him in the jaw.

It seems a bit hypocritical of him to tease you about your “boyfriend” when you still know next to nothing about his own. All he’s told you is the basics, insignificant details that could apply to about three hundred guys in your year: brown hair, brown eyes, bright smile, glasses. You have your suspicions, of course — you’re nothing if not perceptive — but without any confirmation from him, you’re left to fumble in the dark trying to connect the dots. For all your complaining, though, you understand why he’s kept it under wraps. Anyone caught fraternizing with a Slytherin right now is just asking for trouble; he doesn’t want his lover anywhere near the whole situation, and you suppose you can understand that.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from taunting him when he strolls over and leans against the locker at your side.

“Is your secret boyfriend gonna make an appearance today?”

Your words have him narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but if you were anyone else, you might have cowered under his gaze. Hobi can embody Slytherin intimidation when he needs to, particularly where you and the boys are concerned. Most students would freeze in place if he looked at them the way he’s looking at you now. All you can do is chuckle.

“He might,” he relents with a barely-suppressed smile. Your own lips quirk upward when you notice the small glimmer of happiness in his irises. “What about yours? Can we expect a blue-haired supporter on the Hufflepuff side of the pitch?”

You scoff and shove him away from you with a sneer. He cackles maniacally, already having far too much fun at your expense. It’s not the first time he’s taken pleasure in your anger, though you know he would sooner dive to the bottom of the Black Lake than risk actually upsetting you. The man’s quite literally risked his life for you before; you sincerely doubt he would go out of his way to genuinely hurt you. Still, he seems to have a great deal of fun at your expense. You’d be offended if you didn’t do the exact same thing to him.

“If you must know, yes,” you tell him. “I...I asked him to come watch.”

His eyes widen at that. You just know he’s got some kind of sarcastic comment rising in the back of his throat, but you raise your hand to silence him before he can even get a word out. The last thing you need right now is to worry about Taehyung (even if he’s come to occupy your thoughts more and more the past few days). You can deal with your best friend’s taunts most days, but not now, when you’ve got a game to win in a few minutes.

He sighs and raises his hands in surrender, though it’s not hard to guess what’s going through that oversized head of his. It seems that you and Taehyung are all he talks about these days. You don’t know what his fascination is, but you sincerely hope he finds a new topic of conversation soon. You might hex him if he doesn’t.

Before he can speak again, you cup your mouth with your hands and call out to the rest of the locker room occupants. “Alright, people! Gather up!”

Your teammates cease their playful shoving and turn their attention to you. The seven of you migrate to the center of the room with ease, just as you’ve done a thousand times before. Light laughter echoes off the walls as you huddle up and toss your arms around each other, Hobi to your left and Yoongi to your right. Slytherins try to avoid sentimentalism when they can help it — you typically have far more important things to worry about — but there are some traditions even you pay homage to. You suspect the other houses would be shocked to learn that you take the time to psych each other up before each game. They’ve never been particularly open-minded when it comes to you.

“Okay,” you begin in the most sincere voice you can muster, “this is it. The past year has been nothing but chaos and despair, but we’re finally back. The Hufflepuffs probably think we’ve gone rusty. Are you gonna prove them right?”

The whole team calls out in unison, brows furrowed in concentration. “No!”

“Are you gonna let them beat us?”

“No!”

“Hell no. We’ve been waiting for this day since the end of fifth year. You guys have put your hearts and souls into this team, and I’ll be damned if I let us lose after all the work we’ve done. It doesn’t matter if the whole school’s rooting against us. You guys have yourselves, you have each other, and you have me. Forget about the Gryffindors, the Ravenclaws, even the Hufflepuffs. We’re Slytherins, and we don’t lose. On three.”

The lot of you outstretch your hands, grinning like idiots when they land on top of each other in the middle of the circle. Your smile is the largest of them all. You can’t deny how much you’ve missed this, the overwhelming sense of camaraderie among your fellow players. It isn’t often that you allow yourself to dedicate yourself so entirely to something (aside from your pranks, of course), but when you’re in, you’re all in. You and Yoongi playfully bump each other’s shoulders when your hands meet. You start the countdown with a smirk.

“One, two, three!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The horn sounds as soon as the chant ends, signaling the beginning of the match. You and your teammates grab your brooms and make for the pitch entrance, practically bouncing with excitement. Hobi and Yoongi flank you on either side. You don’t need to look at them to know that they’re smiling just as widely as you. The three of you (and Jungkook) had spent most of the summer practicing in Yoongi’s backyard, but to be here now, preparing to step out onto the field and play your last first match ever, is almost surreal. You’ll never say it out loud, but you’re glad to have them by your side.

The team steps out onto the field together, grinning ear to ear despite the cacophony of boos you’re met with. Three of the four houses are jeering and shouting at you, though this is not at all unusual. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are being a bit more subtle about it, but Gryffindor has spared no expense in taunting you. Even from here you can see their homemade signs, most of which bear crude drawings of badgers eating snakes and other unpleasant depictions of your house symbol. You suspect that McGonagall attempted to confiscate them before the game began, but even she isn’t vigilant enough to stop them all. Honestly, they would have found a way to taunt you no matter what.

The majority of the positive feedback comes from the Slytherin section, where your housemates are clapping and cheering as loud as they can to try and drown out the noise. It’s nothing compared to the shouts from the other sections, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless. You aren’t particularly close with most of your fellow Slytherins, but you smile and wave to them anyway, eager to prove that their faith is not misplaced. Oliver waves at you from the top row, lazily wiggling his green flag. You chuckle as you wave back.

Your support from the other houses is minimal, but it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. Jungkook is among your loudest fans, shouting at the top of his lungs and blowing obnoxiously into his horn as soon as his eyes land on you. He’s decked out in green from head to toe, even going so far as to wear the emerald beret you bought for him during your trip to Paris the previous summer. The man’s even painted his face green and silver, much to the chagrin of his housemates, who stare at him as if he’s grown another head. You’d expect nothing less from him; for all his playful jabs, he’s always been your most vocal supporter.

Ginny sits not too far from him, eagerly waving at you with a green foam finger. You haven’t the slightest clue where she got it — Hogwarts doesn’t even sell foam fingers — but you have a sneaking suspicion that her father’s got something to do with it. Her smile is so wide you’re sure her face is going to crack, but she doesn’t seem to care. The sight of her fiery red hair standing out amidst the crowd makes you think of Fred and George, and your smile falters for a brief moment. It’s the first time you’ve played without them cheering you on, jumping up and down and shouting until their lungs gave out. Truth be told, you’re still a bit torn up over Fred’s loss. You try your best not to think about it.

Of course, your newest supporter sticks out among the rest. In the very front row of the Hufflepuff section is Taehyung, waving eagerly at you with the brightest of smiles. His vibrant hair makes him rather easy to spot, but that’s not what has you letting out a delirious chuckle when your eyes finally land on him. Despite your assurance that it was no problem for him to cheer for his own house, he’s sporting a dark green shirt and waving a Slytherin flag above his head. The sight of him in your house colors has you grinning like an absolute fool, even as Hobi suggestively wiggles his eyebrows. That boy just continues to surprise you.

It takes you a moment to realize that he hasn’t come alone. A rather excitable boy waves at you from his side, bundled up in a Ravenclaw scarf even though his team isn’t playing and it’s well over eighty degrees outside. Another Hufflepuff stands behind Taehyung, shooting you a smile so bright that you’re quite certain you might melt if you stare at it for too long. Kim Namjoon sits a few feet away from them, nose buried in a book as he goes out of his way to avoid your gaze. You’d expect nothing less from him, and honestly, you’re glad you don’t have to deal with his judgemental stare. The last thing you need right now is to concern yourself with him.

With one last wave to Taehyung, you tighten your grip on your broom and make your way to the center of the pitch. Madam Hooch is already there, as is the Hufflepuff captain, who offers you a polite smile. You know remarkably little about Hannah Abbott, save for the fact that she took over after Cedric Diggory’s untimely demise a few years ago. She’s been nice enough the few times you’ve spoken to her, though always a bit reserved, as if purposefully distancing herself from you. You don’t blame her in the slightest; your reputation has a way of putting people off.

“Alright, ladies,” Hooch calls. “It’s time. Shake hands, and we’ll begin the match.”

Hannah is the first to outstretch her hand. The players behind her look at you almost fearfully, as if they expect you to reach out and bite it off. Fortunately for them, you do no such thing. Your palm presses easily against Hannah’s, and to your surprise, she doesn’t flinch away. The two of you shake hands and smile politely, all too aware of the eager eyes watching your every move. You almost feel bad for her. Not everyone is as accustomed to being stared at as you.

With one last nod to your rival, you take a few steps back and mount your broom. Your players follow suit, each grinning ear to ear in anticipation. The stadium goes silent as your team and the Hufflepuffs stare at one another. You can feel the goosebumps crawling along your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’ve missed this feeling more than words can describe. No matter how chaotic and complicated your life might be, you can always count on the sheer exhilaration of the game to perk you up. For the first time all year, you don’t feel as if you’re just gliding through your life. You’re here, you’re alive, and you couldn’t be more excited if you tried.

The sound of Hooch’s whistle is the last thing you hear before you take to the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And in it goes! That’s another ten points for Slytherin, putting the score at 130 to 90!”

You’re fairly certain that the smirk is simply stuck to your face at this point. It’s only been twenty minutes since the match began, and already you can taste your impending victory. The Hufflepuffs have been giving you a good fight, posing a far more difficult challenge than expected, but they’re no match for the well-oiled machine that is your team.

Benjamin, your Keeper, has been running himself ragged defending the Slytherin goal posts. For every shot they make, he fends off three more. That they’ve managed to make it to ninety points is an impressive feat, even if they’re still coming in second place. He’s blocking shots that you would have considered sure things, and never once does he waver, even when the Hufflepuff fans start shouting obscenities at him. You’ve spent the past month whacking Bludgers towards the hoops to help him train, and it seems as though your work has paid off.

Your Chasers — Emilia, Anthony, and Leo — have been at the top of their game since the match began. They’re speeding through the air so fast that you can barely keep up with them, let alone the opposing team. Emilia and Leo are acting as support for Anthony, who has singlehandedly landed 100 of your 130 points. As soon as the Quaffle lands in his grasp, he’s gone, little more than an emerald blur as he takes off towards the posts. Emilia and Leo flank him on either side, occasionally tossing the ball back and forth between them to confuse the Hufflepuff Chasers. They are a team in their own right.

You and Hobi have, as usual, spent the entirety of the game trying to knock the Chasers off course. The pair of you have made them drop the Quaffle so many times you’re beginning to lose count. Your aim is so precise that the Bludgers find their mark each time, much to Hannah’s chagrin. Hobi is the calmer of the two of you, more interested in blocking shots than actually trying to hit anyone. You, however, are relentless. You have no interest in hurting anyone, especially not the Hufflepuffs, but you’ve gotten your fair share of near-misses. One particularly strong whack of your bat nearly took off Arabella Matthews’ head at the beginning of the game. Were you anyone else, you wouldn’t dare risk hitting a Bludger so close to someone; but you’re you, and you know that you’re skilled enough to keep the other players out of harm’s way.

And Yoongi — Yoongi is about to catch the Snitch.

You’re so focused on the Chasers speeding past you that it takes you a moment to notice it, but notice it you do. He’s been staying out of the action the entire time, opting to circle around the field in search of your golden ticket to victory. Aside from warning you of an incoming Bludger at one point, you haven’t given each other a spare glance since the game started. Now, though, as he takes off in a nosedive towards the ever-elusive ball, you can’t take your eyes off of him. Both you and Hobi cheer for him as he follows it towards the Ravenclaw stands, and even from across the field you can hear Jungkook shouting words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this Yoongi!” Your words are frantic, rushed, tumbling out of your mouth before you can even process them. You pay them no mind. Even the Bludgers have been forgotten. All you can do is watch Yoongi follow the Snitch, mere feet away from him. Your heart is beating with such ferocity that you can feel it slamming against your ribs, but you truly don’t care. The sun in your eyes, the chanting of the crowd, Hobi’s elated presence at your side — it all fades away. The only thing you care about is your friend.

The Hufflepuff Seeker has yet to notice his opponent’s disappearance in the sky, which only makes your grin widen. His housemates are screaming at him, gesturing frantically towards Yoongi and urging him to follow, but it’s too late. The entire arena watches with bated breath as Yoongi leans forward on his broom, thrusts his arm forward as far as it will go, stretches his fingers to the brink of snapping, grits his teeth, and —

“AND THAT’S IT! MIN YOONGI HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!”

You and Hobi scream and throw your arms up victoriously, smiling like idiots all the while. You’re drenched in sweat and fairly certain your arms are about to fall off out of sheer exhaustion, but you couldn’t care less. A familiar warmth swells in your chest as you watch the Slytherins erupt in applause, a sensation you haven’t felt since you were fifteen years old. It only grows more intense when your eyes land on Jungkook, who is jumping up and down while he shouts Yoongi’s name. When you see Taehyung, though, you’re fairly certain you’re going to melt from the inside out — because he’s smiling up at you with the most adoring expression you’ve ever seen on another human being, and it makes you go weak in the knees.

Your teammates hurry to the ground, eager to embrace Yoongi and congratulate him for the victory, but you don’t follow. You’re proud of Yoongi, make no mistake — he’s come a long way from the scrawny little boy you met on the common room couch in first year — but you have other things to attend to. You swear your broom moves of it’s own accord as you speed towards the stands. Hobi is giving you an odd look from the corner of his eye, one you pointedly ignore. You have no time for his questions right now.

Jungkook is racing towards you the moment your feet hit the stands, but for once, he’s not the one you’re there for. He’s confused, that much you’re sure of, because he knows that you know he’s sitting with the Gryffindors, but you’ve landed in the Hufflepuff section. Part of you feels guilty for not immediately running to meet up with him, but you brush it off. You know he’ll forgive you for momentarily moving him to the back burner, especially when he sees what you’re about to do.

It’s a bad idea, and you know that. But when you finally meet Taehyung’s glimmering eyes, you know there’s no point in trying to stop yourself. He opens his mouth to congratulate you, to tell you how amazing you were out there, but you don’t give him the chance. Before he can even get the first syllable out, you’ve thrown your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into the most bone-crushing hug you’ve given in years.

He freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of affection. It’s caught you off guard too, to be honest — of all the things you’re known for around here, tenderness is not one of them. You don’t even hug your friends that often, and you’ve known them since you had braces. It hasn’t even been two months since you met Taehyung, and yet here you are, arms wrapped firmly around his back with your head resting atop his shoulder. It’s stupid, and you know it’s stupid, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself even if you wanted to...which, to be honest, you didn’t. You try not to think about what that might mean.

Mercifully, he returns the gesture when the shock wears off. He wraps his arms gently around your waist, hesitantly, as if he’s expecting you to come to your senses and pull away at any second. It isn’t until a few moments have passed that he actually tightens his grip, though it still doesn’t rival the hold you’ve got on him. You’re hugging him so tightly you’re shocked he can still breathe properly. He doesn’t seem to mind. Rather than push you away or question this rather abrupt attempt at kindness, he simply pulls you close and rocks you back and forth. You make no move to leave his grip.

You’re fully aware of how odd this is. The two of you only cemented your friendship a couple weeks ago, and you’ve certainly never done anything quite this affectionate before. You’ve playfully pushed his shoulder, sure, and he smiles at you every time you look at him, but neither of you have ever made a move to hug one another. It makes absolutely no sense for you to spring this on him; but dear god, the urge to throw yourself at him was so overwhelming it actually caught you off guard. Of all the post-game activities you’ve taken part in over the years — swimming in the lake, sneaking out to the Three Broomsticks with your teammates, downing an entire bottle of firewhiskey in one sitting — you’ve never done anything quite as bizarre as this.

But as he rests his head on your shoulder blade, you realize that you don’t regret it one bit.

The two of you don’t pull away until someone clears their throat behind you. It’s so loud and intrusive that you don’t even need to look to know who it is, though you turn on your heel nonetheless. Sure enough, Hobi is standing right there, arms folded and an insufferably smug grin on his face. Yoongi and Jungkook flank him on either side, looking at you with such teasing smirks that you have to restrain yourself from smacking them. None of them seem at all fazed by the death glare you shoot them.

“Well, who do we have here?” Hobi inquires with a playful lilt in his voice. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, silently taunting you, and you’ve never wanted to punch someone more in your entire life. He knows this, you’re sure, which only makes his grin grow wider as he looks at Taehyung. “Don’t be rude, Y/N. Introduce us to your...friend.”

If Taehyung wasn’t standing right next to you, you would push Hobi over the edge of the stands without a second thought. As it is, you simply grit your teeth and gesture towards your blue-haired companion, silently hoping that your friends don’t scare him away. “Guys, this is Taehyung. Tae, these are my friends: Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook.”

The boys wave at him as you call out their names, each with a sickeningly smug grin. Whether Taehyung doesn’t recognize the satisfaction written across their faces or simply elects to ignore it, you don’t know, but he offers them a kind wave and a bright smile nonetheless.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

Hobi’s smirk only grows. “Funny. I was about to say the exact same thing.”

You’re only a second away from turning your best friend into a toad when another familiar (and exceedingly annoying) voice calls out to you.

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you. Behaving yourself, I hope?”

It’s your turn to smirk now, entirely too pleased with yourself as you turn on your heel to greet Namjoon. Taehyung’s other friends are behind him, each grinning and waving at you in greeting. The head boy, however, does no such thing. The smile he flashes at you is painfully fake, so much so that you wonder why he bothers wearing it at all. The unfamiliar Ravenclaw boy behind him elbows his side, and he coughs to conceal his groan of pain. Whoever this guy is, you just know you’re going to like him.

“Aw, you know me, Namjoon. I’m always on my best behavior.” He doesn’t buy your words for a second, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Who are your friends?”

He moves to introduce them, but the Ravenclaw boy shoves him out of the way and outstretches his hand towards you. You shake it with a quick laugh. “Park Jimin, at your service,” he introduces almost valiantly. “You must be this Y/N I’ve heard so much about.”

“Guilty.”

Namjoon sighs and gestures towards their Hufflepuff companion, who you could have sworn you caught staring at Hobi for a moment. “This is Kim Seokjin. Jin, this is — .”

“Y/N!” The boy offers you the most blinding smile you’ve ever seen as he surges forward to shake your hand. It actually takes you a moment to collect yourself, entirely caught off guard by the wildly positive energy this guy is radiating. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Taehyung talks about you all the time.”

His comment has your brows flying towards your hairline. A quick glance at Taehyung shows him frantically shaking his head, silently urging Jin to shut up, but it’s too late; you’re already smiling at him. His cheeks darken under your gaze, and you can’t stop yourself from chuckling. It’s nice to know that you make him as nervous as he makes you, if only because it means that you aren’t imagining things. It’s flattering, having someone like him think so highly of you. You only hope he hasn’t talked you up too much; you’d hate to disappoint him.

It’s abundantly clear that Hobi’s about to say something embarrassing when he laughs beneath his breath and opens his mouth again, but you don’t even let him get the first syllable out. Your hand claps over his mouth with such force that you might as well have slapped him. On any other day, you would have felt bad for using such force; now, you kind of wish you’d hit him harder. Rather than let him fight you off and tell Taehyung something else he doesn’t need to know, you push him back and call out to Tae over your shoulder.

“Well, it’s been nice talking you to Tae, but we should probably be getting back to the locker room now! Bye!”

It takes only a second for you to realize that you’ve got another traitor in your midst.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook shouts with an evil grin, “don’t tell me you aren’t gonna invite them to the after party!”

I need new friends.

You chuckle and awkwardly rub the back of your head, purposefully avoiding Taehyung’s eyes as you speak. “Right! Right, uh, the after party. Um, it’s in the common room tonight. Nine o’clock. You’re all more than welcome! Er, if you wanna come, I mean. No pressure or anything.”

Taehyung smiles and nods, but says nothing else. You suspect he wants to talk it over with his friends, which is more than fine with you, since it gives you more time to escape. You’re almost certain he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him a chance. Without so much as a second glance, you grab Jungkook and Hobi by their ears and drag them off towards the locker room, offering only a small wave to Tae.

The boys wince and try to push you away, but your grip is iron-clad. Yoongi can’t stop himself from laughing when you crouch down and whisper in their ears.

“I’m gonna kill you both.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: TAEYN ARE SO ADORABLE I CANNOT STAND THESE PEOPLE. I hope you’re all as infuriated by this slow-burn as I am. Next update coming tomorrow! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist💕 — Rynn

tag list: @wannabestark @deepseavibez @taeshuworld @lele-bb @hxseok-honee @burningupp-replies @livorna @lovelytaes-blog @theclawofaraven

[my-happy-little-bean]

Figment of My Mind

pairing: none~ warnings: mild swearing, body horror, death (though it is implied that it is imaginary), bloody imagery, mentions of poison, mentions of thunder storms, mentions of fire/allusions to burn-out, slightly unsympathetic!patton / morally grey!patton, unsympathetic!janus, remus, & virgil words: 3334

summary: Roman tries to make the right choice, but falls into something much more than just “wrong”. 

Or: the one where Roman chose neither the wedding or the callback.

a/n - hello, it is i, bean; posting some rough, angsty horror at like 1 am because that’s !! just !! where we’re at right now! working on everything but the thing we’re supposed to be working on! 

i was heavily inspired by the song “figment of my mind” by bruno major (someone pleeeease make an animatic with this song it’s great), so that’s what the lyrics are! it was also written to make @wisepuma23​ and @thesocialbookwormishere​ proud lol – they’re such talented beans, and i wanted to hop on their angsty train to horror town lol. 

i’m sorry if this isn’t the happiest journey, but i really enjoyed writing something! it reminds me of that angst i wrote for patton when “can lying be good” came out – ah, the good ol’ days of bean angst lol. 

enjoy!

[read on ao3~]

–– 

“i traveled into deep space to see what i could find a purple angel led me to the universe inside.

welcome to the real world not the dream you left behind.  that was all a figment of your mind.”

–– 

When Roman left his room, the stars in the sky were only still forming.

It was late at night. Thomas (and by extension, Patton) had already gone to bed in tears. They have been doing that all week.

Logan had confided in him a few days back, confessing that he wasn’t sure why Patton was crying. Patton had nothing to lose with the verdict Roman made. In fact, he still won in some ways. He had theorized to empty, static-filled ears that perhaps Patton’s tears were just a reflection of Thomas’ emotions; a normal reaction everyone dramaticized to illogical extents.

Then he theorized idly that maybe Patton was crying because he felt like he was wrong the whole time.

(Roman didn’t leave his room for two days straight after hearing that.)

They didn’t have much left for Roman nowadays, and neither did Thomas. The days crept closer to dreaded April 13th and no one made a sound. Nothing was being done, nothing was being made. It was as if everyone was haunted by Roman’s decision; as if the sound of the gavel was echoing everywhere he stepped. 

And then, as April 12th ended– when Roman finally thought it was all over–

he realized that neutrality in a war was the enemy.

(In a moment of hypocrisy, Patton yelled at him, “Dishonourable.”)

So that was why he was here, sneaking out through the hidden door of his room and into the Imagination. He moved swiftly across the fields of nighttime fog and dew-covered grass to the giant, steel gates guarding The Dark Side.

Or, the other side. 

(It hurt less to think of himself like an ‘other’ rather than...well, that.)

He stood before the towering gates. It made sense that he felt like he was crossing paths into the dark forest Disney movies warned him about. A streak of lightning cracked across the sky like splintering glass, and every three minutes, a maniacal cackle shook the ground at beneath feet. 

Leave it to Remus to be so dramatic. 

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he thought wearily, gripping the hilt of his sword just in case. Would he even let you near him?

And then, a bitter thought: There has to be some family who will. 

Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed his shoulder. Lightening screamed with him as he turned on his heel and whipped his sword tall in front of him. 

“Show yourself, vil–”

Then, his vision cleared. 

It was suddenly raining in the Imagination, and Virgil stood in it, drenched.

“Virgil,” he hissed, slowly lowering his sword. “I could have killed you.”

“Can’t die.” The words came out as a low rumble, one that shook the earth beneath them in a different way. “Not real, remember?” 

“But you– but we’re–”

Virgil shook his head, waving a hand in front of him with a smug smile.

“Relax, Princey.” The old nickname pressed itself into Roman’s arm like a curse crawling on doomed lands. “Just some dark, 3 am humour.”

It wasn’t much reassurance, but Roman didn’t care. He was already clinging onto it tightly, never wanting to let it go.

“What are you doing here, J.D-lightful?” 

“Trying to figure out what the fuck you’re up to.” Virgil leaned forward, almost cockily. “What are you doing here?”

A pause. Roman forced his stare down at the rotten dirt below him. 

“I’m going to fix everything,” he muttered. 

Virgil skipped the first obvious question. “And you think Remus is going to help with that?” 

“I think something there will.” Roman pressed his feet into the ground with a snarl. He gripped onto the hilt of his sword even tighter. “If I go now, Remus will never even need to know.” 

Roman noticed how Virgil grit his teeth and clutched the sleeves of his gridded hoodie as if it’d swallow him whole and make him disappear completely. 

“What do you even need in there?” 

Roman turned his back on him as another crack of lightning shattered the glassy sky above them.

“Remus controls intrusive and destructive thoughts,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And what is the only destructive thought plaguing all of us right now?” 

The answer hung between them, dead as the grass impaled by the ends of the metal gates.

“What if Thomas had gone?” 

“So you made a decision then.” Virgil’s voice, despite its venom, held an edge of worry. “A bit too late to figure out what the right choice was, no?”

Roman huffed, standing tall despite the fact that his words made him shrivel. 

“If you’re just going to stand there and be completely unhelpful,” Roman growled, walking towards the gate and grabbing the handle, “I’m just going to take my leave now–” 

“Wait.”

Roman stiffened at the layered tone of Virgil’s voice. He spun around to face him against his will, being forced to look at the hooded side. 

Virgil suddenly stuck his hand out, and Roman saw a glimpse of dark eyeshadow painted in thick layers over itself under his eyes.

“If you cross, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” 

Roman blinked. “What?” 

“You– do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” 

“Not the point of an adventure, is it, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil groaned. “I should let the damn thing eat you alive, Jesus Christ…” 

“Seriously, what are you talking about?” 

Virgil waved his hand, still outstretched. 

“Let me take you.” Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky. Roman felt as if it was going to fall on him at any second. “If you can survive with me, you’ll probably leave with what you really wanted.” 

Roman stared at his hand, as if the offer in it grew legs and was crawling up that inky checkered sleeve. Virgil’s words seemed to swarm in his head, and he didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but something told him that he needed to listen.

Virgil’s hand floated between them like a paranoid ghost.

And so, with a deep breath, Roman took it. 

–– 

“we flew amongst the patterns, impossible designs they’d been there the whole time hidden by my eyes

if i’d had a body it surely would've cried but tears were a figment of my mind”

–– 

Roman felt himself fall apart when he touched Virgil; as if Virgil was passing sharp sparks between their palms, and those sparks were finding cracks in skin Roman didn’t even know existed.

It felt as if his entire world flipped vertically, the ground defying the laws of reality and throwing him, somehow, onto the floor at the other side of the gate. 

Roman couldn’t even feel Virgil’s hand anymore. Instead, he just felt lightning stab his chest and blur his vision, a swirl of purple, yellow, and green swimming in front of him.

Then, it all stopped in an audition room. 

Virgil was nowhere to be seen, but Roman could feel him everywhere. He made himself believe that it was just because Thomas always felt this way before an audition.

Maybe it was the monotone filter of it all. Everything in the room—the camera, the table, two chairs, the walls—were various shades of black and white. 

And he was standing, stuck, in front of the empty chair. He still felt dizzy from whatever hellish trip Virgil had sent him on. He wanted to stumble on his feet just to make it feel more real, but he was rooted on the ground, completely still.

Then, lightning struck the two chairs and when the smoke cleared,  Deceit and Patton were staring at him, 

their eyes crossed out in yellow, drawn-on dashes. 

“SING.” 

Roman felt himself reel back at Patton’s voice, and a piano– out of sight, out of mind– began to play. The moral side had leaned over the table and slammed his fists into its surface, dark cracks in the wood blossoming from the contact. The noise was so loud, yet useless in muffling the haunted ivory keys, which played a hollow echo of Roman’s favourite audition song.

Fuck. 

Deceit said nothing, but he did smile at Roman in that kind– no, deceitful way he always did.

Did Deceit always have that line near his lip?

Roman shook his head. Forget Deceit. This audition wasn’t what he wanted. This was Thomas’ dream. This is what they had to choose. Mary Lee and Lee would surely understand, and so would Patton. He was selfless all the time, he deserved this. Deceit was right. 

In fact, Patton, in a fabricated moment of clarity, could possibly understand that now. Perhaps his command was actually encouragement; encouragement Roman missed oh-so much. 

Roman cleared his throat, straightening himself up. He could suddenly feel the ghost of Thomas mirror his movement in a lag. 

The role didn’t even need Thomas to sing, but Roman did as he was told anyway. Maybe he had to play along to hold this decision in his hands and save everyone. 

He smiled bravely.

“When you come home to me, I’ll wear a sweeter smile, and hope that for a while you’ll–” 

“FAIL.” 

Roman blinked. But he was perfectly in tune with– 

“FAIL!” Patton screamed at him again, lunging forward over the table, which split in two. The sound of the piano above them began to eerily croak.

“Patton, I–” 

“YOU FAILED!” Patton pointed at him as the accusation slipped his lips. Yellow poison leaked from the corners of his snarl and the piano went out of tune into a mess of sharps and flats. 

Deceit sat still. 

“DISHONOURABLE.” “WRONG.” 

The words suddenly began to layer over each other in what felt like an infinite descending tone.

“YOU SIDED WITH THE VILLAIN AND–” 

“HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GET AWAY WITH–” “WHAT KIND OF HERO–”

Roman finally tore his feet from the ground in shock. When he looked down at what initially bounded him, he saw yellow snapdragons coated with blood from his ankles, which was now pierced with thorns. The red and the yellow was so sharp– too sharp– in the midst of the black and white of the audition room.

On the broken piles of flowers he stepped away from laid the ghost of Thomas; on his knees and shaking.

“–FAILS?”

He felt tears slip down his cheeks and freeze into sharp crystals digging into his skin. In front of him was a broken dream, a broken man, the wrong choice–

And in the corner of his eye, Roman watched as Deceit grinned;  the line extending his smile cracking. 

Out through the cracks leaked blood. 

–– 

“i was shown a few things I'd been getting wrong she told me i’m a good man and have been all along

by the way I heard her say, ‘there’s no such thing as time it’s all a figment of your mind’."

–– 

Roman’s scream ended when he was flipped upside down,  now standing at an altar with a bouquet of yellow carnations.

The tears from the audition room were no longer piercing his skin, but they lingered as static in the form of a sticky residue. He was very certain that he was going to kill Virgil once he got home. This black and white world was somehow too bright, too daunting. 

And he left him alone in it.

Roman focused his vision on the new sight in front of him, holding his bouquet tightly like some kind of chilling reminder. 

A bride and a groom were walking away from the altar, their backs facing him. People were in the crowd, throwing the same yellow carnations into the air. It was a happy sight, despite the monochrome tinge. Violins sang brightly in what felt like the perfect photograph. 

Perhaps this was the choice Virgil was talking about; the one he’d leave with; the one he really wanted. Yes, he could want this. Maybe he even needed this.

Because at the end of the aisle was Patton, black and white with a sharp grin. 

Another layer of violins was placed on top of the pre-existing ones. 

“kiddo, i’m so proud of you!”

Roman’s breath hitched, holding the bouquet tighter. Mary Lee and Lee were already gone, yet everyone kept throwing their flowers. 

“you’re so good.  so good.”

“my hero.”

Roman broke into a wide grin. This decision felt so close. Patton’s voice felt like a rush of summer air in the midst of a cold, winter night. The words felt like they were close– so close– to carrying Roman on his back closer towards this decision; like they were already spinning the hands of the clock back and–

Patton suddenly became blurry in his vision, and a green figure appeared beside him, 

holding a dead Thomas by the neck.

Shit.

A familiar cackle cut through the illusionary Shepard tone created by the violins, which once played a sickly sweet melody in his ears. Roman looked at Remus, horrified, and then at Thomas. 

Thomas was wearing his wedding outfit — Roman recognized it because he helped choose it, of course. And it was beautiful. 

But at its seams were falling ashes; crispy burnt ends to such a beautiful suit. 

And Thomas was white as a sheet, slowly crackling away in embers where he hung.

Remus’ grin was made of bloodied pearls, his white streak cracking and spreading in patches to other parts of his hair. He threw the Thomas corpse– was he really dead?– onto the ground and pulled back his morning star by both hands, ready to strike–

Then Patton stepped between Remus and Thomas, holding his hands over his face to catch the spikes of the morning star before it could finish its swing down. The violins shrieked with Patton and Roman watched as his hands began to bleed upon contact. The flowers were still being thrown, as if to celebrate this horrible victory.

Patton, struggling against Remus' persistent force, let out a heartbreaking sob.

“...how are we still being hurt?”

“why is he getting worse?” 

“he shouldn’t be here, thomas is good–”

“–because you chose this –”

Roman’s heart broke when Patton stiffly met his eyes.

“what more are you going to do to stop this?”

Roman started to run towards the horrid sight, almost against his will. The violins hung above him, the chords pulling him back by his wrists, still attached to the bouquet of yellow carnations.

And he was screaming; screaming Patton’s name and crying as the petals of all the flying flowers slashed sharply at his face. The aisle seemed to make itself infinite, as of stringing Roman along on a treadmill moving too fast. 

He could see the outline of Remus amidst the slowly-paling flower flurry; bright green with a thick red puddle pooling around his feet. He saw the outline of his grin, blood dripping from each tooth.

Patton’s voice was barely a whisper, yet was loud enough for it to echo all around Roman’s head.

“you’re not doing enough.” 

“he has to be stopped.”

“stop this, hero, stop–”

And when Roman finally reached the end of the aisle,  Thomas was nothing but ashes on the floor. 

Patton stepped towards Roman, who slowly backed away. No no no no no–

Then, Patton grabbed the bouquet he was holding.

Roman gasped and looked down. Patton was bleeding red, palms cracked with scars and holes from Remus’ weapon. 

He at least tried to save Thomas, Roman suddenly realized. What did I do? 

Patton’s hand pierced the thorny stems of the carnations and his blood mixed with dripping green venom. 

His tearful eyes met Roman’s.

“...what did you do?”

The air around Roman thinned. He looked over Patton’s shoulders and saw Remus, grinning and holding up his bloodied morning star. 

It was on fire, and it caught onto the white cracks in his hair.

––

“waking with eyes closed from technicolor dreams crystal kaleidoscopes were singing blue and green

realer than real in front of me if only you could see what i could see”

––

Roman was fa(i/l)ling. 

He was stuck in a spinning kaleidoscope; and circling him were shattered fragments of the horrible decision he made– the decisions he could make. 

The memory of Deceit’s blood-soaked smile in the audition room. 

The sight of Remus grinning with fire crackling embers in his hair. 

The thought of Patton, glitching into two with his hands holding his head, being torn apart.

The view from below the towering gate (the lightning shattering the glassy sky)

and Virgil, standing in front of him with white cracks in his eyeshadow, pulling his hand back from Roman

to wrap himself in his old hoodie.  

The violins had stopped and the piano had paused. What did this mean? Roman tried to hold himself around his feeble body — if he even had one right now. 

No. He shuddered if he even could– no he was real. He was here, he was real,  and he was failing. 

Anxiety crawled through the cracks in his vision. He was straining his eyes trying to look at each fragment of his mistake. What did he need to do, what did he want to do, what was right, what was–

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

NO! Anything but this, he wanted to plead. This wasn’t it, he was supposed to be good– he couldn’t fail– what has he done?!

Suddenly, each fragment snapped and cracked in front of him, the kaleidoscope shattering piece by piece. 

And reflected in each broken shard was Roman.

Paranoia’s voice echoed in his ears: 

“Then why did you leave with this?”

––

“i slowly found my body, color began to fade i heard a piano playing a knowing serenade

this world feels backwards to my open eyes ‘cause it's all a figment of my mind.”

––

“–atton, if you touch him, you run the risk of–”

“–ET ME GO! ROMAN! ROMAN, WAKE UP, PLE–”

“–fucking stupid, how could he be so–”

Roman gasped, feeling himself seize up and face darkness. His head suddenly ached and he rubbed the spot he hit as he heard a low grumble from his left.

“Roman!” Patton. Roman shuddered. Patton’s sobs made him want to keep his eyes closed even more. “Roman, open your eyes, you’re home.” 

“Patton, you mustn’t alarm him.” That was Logan. “And Virgil, are you okay? See, this is why I told you not to stand so close...”

A part of him was reassured to hear logic return to him. The nightmare must be over then, right?

He blindly grabbed to his left, as if to apologize to the side he hit, and felt stitches crossing in small x’s on fabric. A sigh of relief; there was Virgil. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Virgil’s voice sounded so distant, yet so clear. “You could’ve gotten hurt, going there alone–”

“Now what did we say about alarming him.”

“Roman.” Patton’s voice stung the most, an echo of the hell he just fell through. “Roman, open your eyes. It’s me– it’s us.”

And so Roman obliged, like he always did with Patton. 

…

When Roman opened his eyes, he saw that he was back in his room, lying on his bed, staring at a blurry, white ceiling. As he sat up, Patton’s sobs grew louder and Logan’s breath hitched. 

Virgil stayed quiet.

“What is it?” he asked groggily. Patton dissolved into more tears. Roman watched as Logan, sliced in half by navy blue and grey shards, held Patton close. 

“Guys?” he asked again. He looked at Virgil and frowned. Some patches were grey, why were they–

Roman gasped, pushing past his family and turning his back on their grief. He made his way to the mirror in the corner of his room, tearing the hair in front of his eyes aside. 

And staring back at him in his cracked mirror were irises split in half. 

Black and amber.

-

click here for a new and improved masterlist of all my writing if you’re interested ^v^

[nega-aria]

Gyro and Mark visiting a cemetery at night

Ok, I suck super hard at keeping things short, so these may go slower than I expected, but I’m having a lot of fun with this so thanks for the request!

“You First”

Rating: SFW

Characters: Mark Beaks, Gyro Gearloose, Falcon Graves, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera

Ship: semi Beaksloose but not very shippy

Warnings: mild swearing

“You go first.”

“Like hell I’m going in there first! What happened to youproving how oooh so much better you are than me?”

“Pfft, don’t gotta prove facts, bitch.”

“That’s literally how they become facts.”

“Look just go already!” Mark yelled, his voice quivering andshrill in the cool night air as he finally turned to face Gyro. “Unless you’drather go back to the party and tell everyone you were too chicken.”

Damn that party, and damn that smirk on Mark’s face. Gyroscowled at the outstretched arm that was extended towards the gate, hiding hisown nerves behind a demeaning attitude. “For the love of Mewton, you are such ababy!” Gyro scoffed, pushing Mark aside roughly enough to completely relocatehim. The frustration fueled anger lasted long enough for Gyro to throw themetal gates open dramatically, but he cringed in that entryway when the ironrods gave way to the inky abyss before them.

The obvious click of a phone camera went unnoticed as Gyrostarted wide eyed at the scene before him. Trees twisted in seemingly unnaturalways, their shadows casting an army of demented branches, muddled up into aportrait of madness. The hints of moon that could be seen in the cloudy skydisplayed as nothing but an ominous slice of light: a mere tease in theterrifying darkness. It was like a set, something unreal plucked out of themost cliché of horror movies, but it was real and that was enough to make tiredtropes truly terrifying.

“See, just a depository for dead people erected solely to appeasethe irrational religious beliefs of society,” Gyro stated matter-of-factly,crossing his arms over his chest casually as though his heart wasn’t literallyabout to leap right out of it.

Mark rolled his eyes at the pompous display. “Whatever yousay, professor,” he mumbled. He jumped sharply when a soft rustling in the darkthat answered him instead of Gyro. “Did you hear that?” Mark squeaked.  

“What, you scared or something?” Gyro taunted. Quitefrankly, it made him feel better about his own fear to bother Mark about his.

Mark’s feathers puffed on cue. Gyro knew they would, thesmug bastard, but that didn’t stop Mark from going on the defensive. “Of thislame spooksville? As if!”

Gyro didn’t say anything, not so much as a hint of laughter,but he might as well have been cackling manically. He didn’t even look back ashe began a slow trek into the foreboding landscape, and that crude brush-offinfuriated Mark more than a real retort ever could. He didn’t retaliate –that wasexactly what Gyro wanted, after all—but his silent seething provided more thanenough satisfaction.

They occupied themselves with investigating the tombstones,argument pushed aside to allow frayed nerves to settle on something less agitating.Just to the far wall and back and this stupid bet would be satisfied.

The age of those markers shifted like fluid with each stepfurther into the cemetery, as if stepping back through time itself so smoothlythat one couldn’t even tell they were no longer in the right century. The olderthe graves got the more ominous they looked and the more it felt as if theiroccupants would simply rise from the ground and drag any trespassers with themto hell. The rows of crumbling stone were no longer organized and well caredfor. Any people who might wish to visit long were ago buried alongside theirkin, leaving nothing behind but markers of stone and iron to indicate they wereever there at all. A mossy pile of decaying rock was all that was left to markthe final resting place of many poor souls, while others still boasted toweringmonuments, guardians with their angelic features twisted by time into abstract monstrosities.

Mark swallowed at the terrified knot in his throat, but nomatter how hard he tried it proved too tremendous to gulp down. He clung to hisphone with trembling fingers, pointing its flashlight ahead of his every steplike a cross to banish evil. A boring bunch of rocks didn’t make for the bestdistraction, but Mark did his best with what he had.

“What do you suppose this dude’s story is?” Mark asked,pointing down at the grave near his feet.

“Sorry, I left my Ouija board at home,” Gyro said with anexaggerated roll of his eyes.

He scoffed at Mark when an investigation of his silencerevealed the other man to be currently predisposed with yet more social medianonsense, using a tube of red lipstick (that Gyro truly did not want to know whyhe had) to turn the dearly departed’s surname from “Buttshide” into “here liesButts”.

Gyro had never felt second hand shame so intensely in hislife. He could swear the entire graveyard was judging him from bringing such aloser into their domain. “What are you, five?”

“Yeah, wellll I wish you were five!” Mark snapped back. “Youwere actually fun when you were five! Was before you had that ginormous stickup your butt,” he concluded, turning his beak skyward in a very snottypunctuation.

In an instant the snooty demeanor was dropped to allow Markhis oh-so important task of documenting the journey via selfie timeline. It madeGyro scowl harder as he watched the parrot demean himself even further bygiving bunny ears to a headstone. “I loathe you, you know that right?” he said,but those words were not demonstrated in what came next.

A soft snap echoed in the dark. A twig rustled by an animalmost likely, but the logic of that couldn’t quite stick; in that fog filledevening, it was most certainly the breaking of bones, some animal gnawing inthe night, perhaps even a creature of such unknown horror that they couldn’teven fathom its likeness even in the most heinous of nightmares, but it was mostdefinitely something wicked.

Be it stick or monster, it had Gyro in full flight responsemode, cringing close to Mark as the other man did the same to him. “What wasthat?” Gyro squeaked.

“Totally not a horrendous monster,” Mark whimpered. “I mean,that would be super lame, right?”

Gyro actually tried to be comforted by Mark’s absurdlyinadequate attempt at a dismissive laugh, but it proved quite foolish to eventry. “It’d be preposterous.”

The night mocked him with a far more disturbing sound, likedeath itself clawing at a grave. They stood shoulder to shoulder, wanting torun but too terrified to move.

“Gyro?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Is it bad that I reallywanna hold your hand right now?”

Yet another eerie sound pierced the night, and Gyro’sfingers answered for him, quivering digits entwining tightly with Mark’s. Hegripped tighter when a dark shadow darted through the misty graves, but Marktook it one step further by clinging to Gyro’s entire arm when that same inkyfigure got closer and its hideous noises along with it.  

“What the hell isthat thing?!” Mark hissed in a panicked whisper.

“N-nothing, because it’s not real!”

That entity swept closer, moved faster, and growled louder. Theywere being surrounded, voices whispering from all directions and death droolingdown their necks, famished for their flesh. A typically effeminate scream burstfree as Gyro launched himself into the embrace of the man beside him, holdingon as if his life truly depended on it.

“WHAT?!” Mark asked, the pure terror seething from his voiceas he frantically scanned their surroundings with wide, petrified eyes.  

“It touched my butt!!”

“Oh, great a horny ghost! Just what we need. We can get laidbefore we die!”

Gyro did not appreciate the sarcasm. “Hey, don’t get pissyat me just because my ass is so fine that the even the afterlife can’t resistit!”

“THAT pathetic thing? It’s already living in the afterlife!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t know! I’m nervous, okay?!”

Another sound, this time louder and more sinister than allthe others, had Mark crying pathetically. “Gyro, if we die I just want you toknow that I never hated you as much as I said!” he wailed as he cowered intothe other man. “I just wanted you to think I was cool!”

“That’s stupid,” Gyro replied in the calmest tone he couldmuster, “We’re not gonna die…and I’m physically incapable of thinking you’recool.”

All at once the graveyard grew silent. Mark and Gyrostiffened in the eerie quiet, both feeling the presence behind them but neitherdaring to face it. They could hear it drooling, feel its breath, sense itsfamished growls, but it couldn’t really be there… could it?

It was Mark that actually looked first, turning slowly ashis eyes widened and his entire body quivered. It was large and menacing, andin that inky darkness it was easily eight feet tall and capable of breakingthem both in half. Blood red eyes pieced through the night and wet fangsglistened. Mark could swear he saw it lick its drooling maw, but he wasn’tabout to stick around and find out what that meant. He took off before he evennoticed that Gyro had thrown himself into his arms, but the hitchhiker didn’teven phase his stride, and they clung to each other, screaming in unison theentire way out of the cemetery. Gyro had to give Mark one thing, he was prettysure he’d win the fleeing for your life contest.

Behind them the monster cackled, maniacal laugher quickly devolvinginto elated gasps for air that struggled to allow enough room to actuallybreath.

“I can’t take it,” Falcon wheezed as he watched them, flee. “They’retoo adorable.”

Falcon pulled the mask from his face, slipping from theoversized ratty mass of fur that he normally wouldn’t let anywhere near him ashe dropped himself to the ground beside the smaller man who had been assistinghis deception. He lit a cigarette, leaning against the large gravestone behindhim and still chuckling lightly as he released the fumes into the cold night. Callit foolish self-indulgence, but when this opportunity had presented itself,Falcon couldn’t resist, and he was sure he had never laughed so hard in hislife.

“Dr. Gearloose is gonna killme when he finds out about this. You know he will find out about this right?!This was a terrible idea!!” Fenton answered, his tone growing more franticuntil he was waving his arms hysterically by the end of it.

Falcon chuckled at his partner in crime. He would likely beforever grateful that Fenton had been steamed enough at his boss to even offertechnical assistance and tipsy enough to actually go through with it. “No itwasn’t,” he answered simply.  “This was bloodybrilliant.”

Immediately outside the gate both Gyro and Mark were pantingfor air, the latter asking himself how Gyro was so out of breath when he hadbeen doing all the running.

Gyro was oblivious to the annoyed look as he smoothed hisjacket and cleared his throat. “Now, when everyone else asks-”

“Oh, dude we were total badasses. Hashtag crushed it.”

“Very good.”

The wind let forth a gust, laughing at the irony as it movedthe heavy iron gate behind them just enough to make both Gyro and Mark shriekin fear and back a good distance away.

Mark gulped nervously. “…Gyro?” The other bird looked hisway uncertainly. “Will you hold my hand on the way back?”

Gyro sighed. “You do realize this is supremely pathetic.”

“…does that mean yes?”

The second sigh was even more pronounced. “Yes.”

They instantly linked fingers, both holding tighter thanthey would like to admit as they braved the dark walk back to the party. Patheticit may be, but it sure did make them both feel better.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter Two

Author’s Notes: Holy crap, you guys are so kind! Im glad you all are enjoying this story so far! Just be warned, I’m kind of changing the timeline to days instead of hours in this. So they have time to rest and do shit. Its important to the plot ;)

Chapter 2

Upon entering the van, you realized right away that it was in fact a mobile home of sorts. On one end rested a leather couch, the area sized to be a small living space. It smelled of cigarettes and metal, yet also with a slight hint of something unmistakably feminine. A perfume or something. It felt cozy, albeit a bit messy. At that moment it was also pretty cramped. Nero moved to the front to sit by Nico while they discussed their course of action, V taking up a chair behind the driver's seat at a small table. His bird found its perch on an old jukebox off to the side, still looking pretty ruffled from his argument earlier. Did the bird and cat have names? You wanted to ask, but mister pretty boy goth was engaged in speaking to the other two about their plan of attack.

The panther settled down near V’s feet, still close enough to touch. You stared back at their piercing red eyes with silent longing. It looked so soft, and you were going stir crazy while waiting for the others to remember you were there. Gathering your courage and accepting the loss of an appendage, you slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, watching the creature’s pelt ripple warily now that you were closer. Upon further inspection, you realized the cat was a dark blue as well, although much more subtle. It growled lightly at you, ears flicking when kept looking at it hesitantly.  

V was still talking to Nero, discussing the Qlipoth roots they had to destroy. You already had the gist of what needed to be done, so you didn’t really have to listen in. You had always been easily distracted—how you had survived this long with a success rate that high you would never begin to understand. You came here to fix a problem and instead you were trying to win over a big cat, one that looked ready to bite you. You wouldn’t say you were stupid per se, but impulse control was definitely not at the top of your list of skills. Your emotions and desires often got the better of you, that was something very apparent even when you were just a human.

While the others continued to talk, you quietly summoned your Void power, murmuring a quiet incantation as you centered the ability on your palm.  

“From the Void into being.”

From that point energy glowed and weaved, creating the organic object you imagined. One of your many abilities, it was meant to be used when you had zero access to food. With the power you had, you could create something from the nothingness of the Void. That something usually just organic material like meats, fruits. If you absorbed something from a world you could easily replicate it. After going to so many worlds there were hundreds of things you could make, though the energy it took to do that depending on the item was too taxing. And it was only organic materials. Only medicines made from organic plants, only food and things of that nature. And here you were, expending energy to create fresh, raw red meat for this panther.  

Responsible, thy name is Y/N.

After you were finished, it occurred to you that the three had gone quiet. You blinked, and turned to see all of them staring at you. V looking curious and lightly bemused, the other two outright shocked.

“...Uh.” You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“Holy shit,” Nico whistled lightly, looking pretty excited all things considered, “How the hell did ya do that...?!”

You looked at the meat in your palm—it was even cold to the touch. Fresh, real and just as real as meat cut from an actual cow. You supposed it would be really fucking strange to people who didn’t have such an ability.

“It’s one of my skills,” You replied, holding out a piece of meat for Nero to take, “Here, touch it. It's real raw meat. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest eating it raw but...You could cook it if you had the time.”

Nero pinched the scrap between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose to sniff. You found yourself smiling at his reaction, patiently waiting as he and Nico both mulled over the meat like it was the most fascinating thing they’d seen all day. You remember being that entranced the first time you tried it, you still remembered the first item you ever made—A chocolate bar. You could still make one now if you wanted, but wasting energy was a bad idea and your dumb ass had already expended some.

“How does it work?” Nero finally questioned, handing the meat back to you and wiping a hand on his jacket.  

You fought a laugh, offering back a rueful smile, “I don’t know the specifics myself. I just know if I absorb an organic material, I can take it and remake it as many times as I want from my energy.”

He made an impressed expression, leaning on the inside door of the van, “That’s pretty damn neat.”

Before you could reply, you hear Nico let out a low hum, one full of mischief.

“Ohhh damn there, Nero. You already warming up to the new girl? Do I need to tell Kyrie?” She tsked, shaking her head as if filled with disappointment.

“Knock it off, Nico,” Nero frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and protesting indignantly, “Are you gonna say that any time I’m friendly to girls?”

“You ain’t friendly to me, pretty boy.”

“Give me somethin’ to be friendly about, you maniac.”

“Who’s Kyrie?” You interjected quickly, trying to diffuse a rising argument peeking over the horizon. And by peeking you meant inches from exploding in this small space you all were in. The pair looked at you when you questioned, and you instantly noticed Nero’s expression soften a little, just a slight difference compared to his cocky expressions you were growing to accept as normal. Clearly this person was special to him, no doubting that.

“Kyrie is his fiancé,” Nico answered for him, jabbing Nero lightly in the shoulder, “Focus, lover boy. She takes care of some kids at an orphanage in Fortuna. A total sweetheart—how she ended up with this punk none of us know.”  

She jabbed a thumb at Nero again, making him huff and release a little peeved “Hey!”

So, he wasn’t a twink?! This revelation both made sense and was vaguely disappointing. Was there a straight equivalent to a twink?

Regardless, you did have a task in mind when you summoned the meat. It occurred to you that V had said nothing during this entire exchange, and you glanced over to see him with a book opened in his hand, eyes scanning the page. Completely indifferent it would seem, which was pretty disappointing. If you were going to lose a hand to his pet cat, you at least wanted him to watch it happen, damn it. Still, you turned to look at the creature while Nero and Nico started to bicker a little bit again, completely distracted—you preferred it that way.

The cat looked at you again, nose twitching as you gingerly held out a piece of meat. A quick glance at the bird confirmed he was watching you like you were out of your god damn mind. That was pretty pleasing if you had to say so. You glanced at V again, and if you weren’t mistaken you thought he took a quick glance at you before delving back into his book.

You took in his appearance for a second--he was definitely an odd one. Long black pants, black sandals, black everything. Yet he carried himself with the energy of an old century poet longing for some lost love. Other than the fact that these two demons worked for him, he seemed pretty normal. The concept of familiars was not lost on you, many places you had seen touched on such things. Witches and warlocks often kept demons as companions and helpers, but you didn’t know if those things existed in this place.

Either way, you didn’t want to bother the goth in his musing. You instead turned to look at the bird on the jukebox, holding some meat out to him too.

“Hey, mister bird,” You quipped, “Do you and the cat have names?”

He looked surprised to be addressed by you again, and even more surprised that you seemed to be offering him food. You saw a gleam of interest in his eyes, but his feathers ruffled, stubborn and prideful as he tilted his head up.

“What’s it to you, princess?” He sneered lightly, clawed feet tapping on the glass top of the jukebox, “And no offense, I don’t wanna eat your weird magic meat!”

You sighed. That nickname again.  

“My name is Y/N,” You frowned in disappointment, “Come on I’m trying to be friendly here.”

He cackled a little, shaking out his tail feathers as the panther sniffed the air, still too wary to walk forward and take any food. You glanced at V again, expecting him to still be reading. You were instead startled when you found his dark green eyes meeting yours, a wry smile tilting his lips as you were caught in your expedition to win over his pet cat. If he was watching he might as well help you at the very least. Though you had to take pause—it had been a while since you found yourself dazed after staring at someone’s face. The guy definitely had the looks to make up for his bad fashion sense.

“Do they have names?” You asked him instead, since the bird was not cooperating at all.  

He closed his book with one hand, the soft thud very satisfying to hear.  

“They do,” He replied simply, much to the bird’s obvious annoyance, “The one you’re very determined to feed is Shadow. And the one you called ‘ten piece’ is Griffon.”

“V!” The bird, now dubbed Griffon, squawked indignantly.

He simply tilted his head, giving him an unapologetic look from underneath some long lashes. Boy, he had a smolder going on. It seemed like V was very passive and confident. His mannerisms were very strange, quiet yet carrying a sense of purpose and energy. You found yourself very fascinated in him—he was fairly mysterious to you. And you liked a good mystery. He also seemed fine with you trying to bribe his pet demons, which was always a plus in your book.

You looked at Shadow, holding out a piece of meat again as the cat twitched its nose at you.

“Come on, Shadow,” You said softly, desperately trying not to use the soft baby voice you generally used for cats. This was a demon and you were sure it was smarter than the average house cat and you didn’t want to insult it, “I swear it’s normal meat. I just wanna be friends.”

You heard Griffon snort loudly, head tilted toward you as he said mockingly, “How could you insult me at first chance but wanna be friends with the overgrown house cat?!”  

Oh jeez, he almost sounded offended. Griffon seemed pretty complicated—you had no doubts he hid behind a wall of insults and jibes to hide loneliness. You had seen it before.

“Don’t call me ‘princess’ and I won't call you ‘ten piece’,” You said with a genuine smile, offering some meat to him again while you felt V’s gaze burning into you from your right side, “Deal?”

He paused, and you swore you could hear the wheels in his head turning. You were a pretty patient person, and you could tell he was battling between pride and a million other things in that moment. You thought you heard a low chuckle from their goth master, your gaze briefly landing on him—he was leaning his head on one hand leisurely, watching to see how your little quest played out. Nico and Nero were arguing about Nero paying for his metal arms, but you couldn’t be bothered with that at that moment.

Suddenly you heard the scrape of claws, beak swooping down to quickly snatch the meat from your left hand. You smiled, incredibly pleased as you watched Griffon quickly slurp down the food you had produced as he took up his perch again. Then from your right you felt the brief brush of soft fur on your palm, a low growl sounding from Shadow as they too snatched some meat and slinked back away from you, curling around V’s legs as they chewed. You cheered internally, wiping your hands as you released a slow breath. You were easy to please it would seem—and pleased you were.

You heard V chuckle again, the man sitting forward and resting his hands on his cane as he grinned at you, eyebrow raised.

“Well now,” he remarked, tone so low and smooth it could have put you to sleep, “Don’t you look as smug as a peacock.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch and drawing your knees up to your chest, “It’s the little victories.”

“Oh?” He hummed in reply, fingers tapping on that cane, “An optimist are you?”

You snorted, “Maybe. I just find being happy about every little thing makes life a lot better.”

Before V could reply, Nico sat down behind you, her feet brushing against your side as she lit up what appeared to be a cigarette. You tilted her head back to look at her, wincing a little when you were met with a cloud of tobacco smoke. The sudden urge to stand and leave was pretty overwhelming, smoking was definitely not your favorite thing, as much as you liked Nico as a person. You saw V mimic your discomfort, waving a hand through the smoke to clear it away from his face.

“So, uh, Y/N,” Nico commented, blowing another cloud of smoke as she addressed you, “What other kind of funky shit can you do?”

You couldn’t really tell her your range of abilities. Not then at least, maybe later when you knew who was worth trusting. You had your limits like most creatures, but you drew energy from a strange and mysterious source—technically there was a lot you could do, but your body had limits. The power of the Void was heavy and chaotic, deeply hard to wield and a heavy burden at times. Too much at once could damage you, and you had an amount of energy you could use before you started to overextend. You’d be useless if you did so, and it damaged you physically so you avoided such things at all costs. You knew your limits; you weren’t meant to be a magic fix-all for these scenarios. Merely a guiding hand with enough energy to put the steps of fixing it into motion. Thus, why you had the foresight.

So you decided on the safest answer.

“I can provide energy and heal wounds depending on their severity,” You said, tapping your nails on your knees, “Plus I can use the energy to fight, and you already saw the creating aspect. I have a limit though, and passing that limit is dangerous for me.”

Nico let out a thoughtful noise, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and fascination.

“So like, what are ya then?” She puffed more ash, making a perfect “o” shape with her mouth, “You seem human. Are ya half anythin’? Maybe ya got a demon daddy somewhere down the line.”

You shrugged at that, offering an apologetic smile as you replied, “Nothing that exciting. I get my powers from a deity of sorts—someone down the line probably made a deal for magic and I get the sloppy seconds from that.” Kind of a lie, kind of not. They didn’t need to know you were the one who made the deal.

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool!” Nico blinked, staring at you like you had grown horns, “Never heard of anythin’ like that before.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but was interrupted by V slowly rising to his feet. He was still waving away the smoke, brushing past you toward the door of the van as his companions followed him.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” He said simply, offering Nero a half smile, “And If I don’t see you along the way...I’ll see you at the bottom of the Qliphoth.”

You felt a slight twinge of disappointment. You knew they were talking of splitting up earlier, but you were kind of hoping you could spend more time with the animals he kept with him. And, well...with him. He was a lot calmer and more collected than Nero, who’s heavy energy was a bit much for you if you were truly honest. As for Nico...the smoking was just too much. Brought back too many bad memories. The sensation of smoke in your face was definitely not welcome.  

You opened your mouth, unable to figure out how to ask if you could go with him. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

“V, take Y/N with you,” Nero put a hand on V’s shoulder, stopping him half out the door, “You could use the help.”

You saw V visibly pause, hesitation now showing in his frame as a couple seconds passed by.

“I assure you, I have the help I need,” He said simply, gesturing with his cane to Griffon and Shadow.

Nero crossed his arms, letting out an annoyed huff, “You’re pretty frail as it is, V. I don’t think your little bird friend can wrap a bandage and shit. You could use the healing energy and extra fire power as back up.”

There was another lengthy pause. Despite your mission here, you felt kind of guilty. You didn’t want to burden anyone or force your presence here—you had gotten the needed information, but this...You bit your lip, exchanging a glace with Nico as the silence stretched a bit longer than you liked. In theory you could have gone off on your own, did your own fighting. It would have been easier without hiding your powers, but these people made your foresight burn. They were a part of everything, at the very forefront of the conflict you were trying to fix. Whether with Nero or V, you'd still be getting the job done...but this was based on preference now.  

You nervously stood, brushing off dirt as you stepped up to address the two men.

“I don’t want to be forced on anyone,” You murmured, meeting Nero’s concerned gaze as you continued, “I’ll try to be useful where I can, but if V is uncomfortable, I—”

“Her presence is fine by me,” V interrupted you, despite how low and docile his tone was. Both you and Nero looked at him, but he met your gaze with one filled with calm curiosity, “I do have my moments of exhaustion. Nero is right, I could use a backup when that happens.”

Was that relief? Sure was. You tried not to let it show on your face.

Nero, however, released an obviously relieved sigh, “Perfect. I’m sure we’ll meet up somewhere along the way. Until then, Y/N, watch his back.”

Griffon let out an annoyed huff, raising a clawed foot at Nero’s face, “What are me and furball here for then? You don’t trust us, pretty boy?”

“Yep,” Nero replied simply, brushing past with an obviously fake smile and a pat on your shoulder, “Be safe, you two. Nico, I’ll call if I need anything.”

As you said that you felt a hand press a small piece of paper into your palm, your head turning to see Nico standing to your right now. You looked at the paper, seeing a phone number hastily scribbled there, along with Nico’s name.

“That’s my number,” She told you, tapping the paper twice, “Ya need anythin’ you find a phone and call, ya hear?”

You nodded, absorbing the paper into your palm after memorizing the number, “Thank you, Nico.” You would definitely call at some point, to see her if anything. Nico seemed friendly enough under the rough persona she projected. You liked that about her. It had been a while since you had any real friends, or friendly people to interact with. You had no idea how long you’d be there, but you were eager to savor every moment of it that you could get. So you patted Nico’s shoulder once and offered a kind smile, turning to meet V’s gaze again.

He gestured with his cane, that half smile still on his lips.

“Shall we?”

You nodded, following him and his companions out of Nico’s van. The door closed behind you, the sun still shining outside. You put up a hand to shield your eyes, but enjoyed the warmth regardless. It would have been a beautiful summer day if not for all the chaos in the world. You gave the van behind you a passing glance as you followed V away, unsure about how you felt about the whole situation. What the hell were you supposed to talk about? Would he even want to talk? Silence made you very nervous, but you didn’t want to be annoying either. You found yourself clasping your hands behind your back, taking small looks at V’s back when he walked. His shoulders were pretty broad for a guy so wiry. He had very slight muscle definition, and upon further inspection he did seem...frail.

Was he sickly? You frowned a little at the thought. He did walk with a cane, though you couldn’t tell if he had a limp or anything. His gate seemed steady, eyes fixed forward and...driven. He seemed very driven.

Or you assumed he was focused. He surprised you enough that you jumped when he spoke.

“There was always the option of staying behind,” He commented lightly, tilting that dark gaze to you with his typical wry smile. He never seemed to lose that little crooked smirk, like he was always in a state of constantly bemused. The only time he was without it was when he was reading that book.

“You seem very convinced that I wanted to stay behind,” You replied, jogging lightly to reach his side, “What’s that all about?”

He let out a light, thoughtful sound, tone light as he replied, “Merely an observation. You seemed to enjoy Nico’s company.”

You hummed quietly in response, taking in the buildings as you and V entered a part of the city still standing, albeit pretty damaged nonetheless. It looked like it would have been a nice city before the disaster. Gothic architecture with high windows, beautiful shops and what looked to be a market place in a city square. Or at least...they were beautiful once before. Now destroyed, bodies littering the streets frozen in their dying moments. You felt your heart sink as you passed them, seeing a child's form still holding a red balloon as ashes drifted from what remained of her.

Focus, the goth boy started a conversation.

“Nico is nice,” You replied after some thought, trying to shake off the images around you, “Nero is too. All three of you have been kind to me. But what can I say? I like animals and poetry.” You sighed softly, rubbing your arm as you added, “I also can’t stand cigarettes.”

He chuckled at that, tapping the book tucked away in his vest with light fingers. You took the time to observe that he had nice hands, elegant and beautiful.  

“That’s very understandable, although I am glad you find enjoyment in my musings,” He said, turning his head away once more, “It's going to be a long journey, so I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot of it.”

You smiled lightly, running your fingers along a building as you passed by, “Can I ask about that? What’s up with the whole poetry thing?”

You saw him pause, both Griffon and Shadow stopping with him as he turned to look at you with a pondering expression.  

“...Strange,” He replied after a few moments, that half smirk coming back again, “You are the first person who asked me.”

Nero and Nico never once thought to ask? You blinked, wondering just why the hell no one had thought it was strange he just reads poetry at all times. Which, mind you, normalcy wasn’t your strong suit either, and you didn’t have a problem with his poetry reading. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that they wouldn’t ask. From what you saw of Nero’s fighting style...he was pretty god damn extra. And Nico was not normal in the slightest. Everyone in the group was a bit quirky and odd in their own way, and you found that comforting.

“I was just curious,” You replied, scratching the back of your head, “Which, mind you, if it’s a private thing you don’t have to tell me.”

He let out a low hum, giving his cane a light twirl again.

“I find poetry clears the mind and brings focus in clarity in moments where there is none,” He still told you his reasoning, giving you a smoldering glance from under those lashes, “One could also argue a flare for the dramatic.”

Translation: He was just as extra as Nero, just in different ways.

You fought a laugh, clasping your hands behind your back as you replied, “Noted.”  

He hummed in response, starting forward again with a tap of that cane. Griffon soared behind you, landing his talons on your shoulders with a solid “oof” from you both as you stumbled a little to accommodate his weight. He wasn't light by any stretch of the word, he was a big bird. He just barely managed to settle, resting half his weight on your head as he trilled quietly and huffed.

“So, what’s your deal, Y/N?” His voice was loud in your ear, sharp talons scratching you ever so slightly, “Got all those fancy powers and shit, just wandering around a broken city? What were you doing there?”

Griffon was asking the questions you had hoped to avoid. You let out a low murmur of thought, inhaling softly through your nose as you formulated your response.

“I’m...kind of a drifter,” You decided to reply, grasping onto his clawed feet to help steady him as you walked, “I like traveling from place to place, and I like helping people. I had been looking in the ruins for anyone who may have needed help, and to see if I could figure out what was going on. In a way, it worked out." It wasn't a lie. You told yourself that.

You heard him let out a quiet “huh”, shaking out his feathers a little as his beak rested on your head. You smiled, enjoying that Griffon seemed more comfortable in your company now.  

“So, you have the gist of the situation right? Got any more questions?” He asked, tapping your head with his beak.

You winced a little, “From what I gathered...Urizen is a bad boy who did bad things and he needs a spanking in that big tree in the sky,” You pointed at the Qliphoth as you spoke, looking up at the towering behemoth with a disgusted gaze, “A guy named Dante may or may not be up there and need saving. Is that everything or am I missing something?”

Griffon snickered lightly, “Nah, that sounds about right.”

“Great. Then no, I don’t have any more questions.” That was a lie, you had several, but they were all more about personal things than the mission itself. You didn’t want to seem nosy and pry in on their business.  

You saw V smirk at you again from the corner of your eye, but by the time you turned to look he had turned away again. You frowned lightly, wishing you could even slightly begin to figure him out. He was full of mystery and intrigue, mild mannered and polite. But he also seemed easily amused, and pretty extra if you were being completely honest. He was a hard guy to read; mind you, you had only known him a few hours. You had plenty of time to figure it out, right?

You entered a small entry way tunnel of sorts, footfalls echoing as you both approached what looked to be an open back alley in the city. Griffon launched himself from your shoulders, causing you to stumble again and huff. You rubbed the skin there, feeling scratches through the think fabric of your shirt. You didn’t mind Griffon perching, but damn. His claws really did hurt. V looked at you again as Griffon glided ahead of you both, and you were sure you saw his gaze linger on the shoulders you had just rubbed. Upon further inspection you realized there was slight red on the fabric of your shirt from where griffon scratched you.

“Griffon,” He spoke, eyes meeting yours before he glanced at the bird, “Gentler.”

“Whoops, Oops, my bad,” Griffon trilled as he rounded back, seeing what V meant as he swept past you, “Girlie’s got fragile skin.”

You rolled your eyes, “I have normal skin, birdie,” You smiled again, looking at V as you said, “And don’t worry. I’m just happy he doesn’t outright dislike me.” You said that last part quieter, leaning toward V so only he could hear.

V chuckled, “Griffon is a simple creature. A mere bribe of food and he’s already on your side,” He tapped his cane along the concrete walls of the tunnel, the sound echoing hollowly in the space ahead of you, “As for you, Y/N...you don’t' really seem bothered by demons like Nero and the others.”

He was right, you weren’t. Sure, Demons were the enemy in this case and this scenario. But his companions were loyal to him, and in your travels, you had met plenty of kind demons and people who were labeled with bad stigmas. Making assumptions was bad, and you didn’t like doing that. Besides, neither of his creatures had threatened or wronged you—Griffon's taunting seemed harmless enough, and he was done with nicknames for the most part. As for Shadow, you were determined to get close enough to this cat to pet it, that's all you wanted. But V didn't need to know about that strange obsession of yours.

“I don’t make assumptions about people,” you replied, looking down at Shadow as it slinked along beside its master, “Kindness can exist in all manner of things, and your companions haven’t been outright unkind to me either. So why should I be unkind to them?” Empathy always came first before fighting—you much preferred making friends compared to outright hating literally everyone you met. Hell, some of the conflicts you had faced were resolved with just a little kindness and empathy. People would be surprised what you could accomplish if you just tried to help people.

V gave you a respectful nod at your response, a breeze traveling through the tunnel and sending his hair drifting slightly. You looked away, trying not to think about how nice that looked.  

Continuing forward, you and the group came out into the alleyway back into the sunlight. You looked around, seeing more debris and graffiti everywhere you looked. The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up a little, foresight warning you something bad was about to occur if you kept walking. You held out a hand and grabbed V’s shoulder before you walked further, eyes scanning the area warily as that gentle breeze blew through again. Something was definitely here; you could tell that much. V looked at you, then looked around as well, gripping his cane tighter as Shadow growled and stepped forward, teeth bared and saliva dripping from its maw.

As soon as the cat entered the clearing, Demons began to appear, bubbling up from the ground and materializing into existence. The exit behind you was closed by tumbling rubble, and all other escapes blocked by...a shield of sorts? You stared in shock and confusion, sending what looked like red, magic veins and magic blocking any way out. This was a trap of sorts then. You and V exchanged a glance, and you were surprised to see he was incredibly calm, slightly bemused even. He walked forward slightly, your hand dropping from his shoulder as you warily waited to see what he would do.

Griffon swooped overhead, cackling as he said to V, “Oooh, genius says ‘be careful’! Yeah no shit, Shirley! Ain’t that right, V?” he swooped past your head, causing your hair to blow in that direction as he squawked, “I mean I know you’ve got girl wonder here now and all but you ARE still fragile, V! Wouldn’t take much to wipe you out in a sticky situation!”

You activated your Void power as he spoke, stepping up beside V as the sensation burned through the veins of your hands. You and V exchanged a look, you offering a light smile as you told him, “I’ve got your back.”

He inclined his head, giving you a small nod and twirling that silver cane.

“Excellent.”

Griffon made a noise of pain at your words, swooping by again as he continued, “Yeah well I’m just sayin’ running away is okay. It’s always okay to run away if you two aren’t up to it!”

You rose a brow, knowing damn well running away wasn’t really an option with how these demons were looking. In theory, you could use your Void powers to grab them all and yeet yourselves upward, over the shields and to somewhere safe. But these demons seemed easy enough. Squishy, one might say. The basic bitch of demons. You scrunched up your nose as one screeched at you, sending the stench of his breath your way. Yeah, that was definitely not your favorite thing.

On your left, V pulled out his book, opening it with one hand as he looked out at the demons with a half smile.

“He who desires but act not, breeds pestilence,” He read in that smooth tone, voice lilting and almost relaxing in the situation. He closed the book with a gentle thud, eyes tilting forward again as he inclined his head at the demons, “So it is written.”

You heard Griffon sigh, tone slightly exasperated as he landed on V’s outstretched arm, “Okay, Shakespeare, just remember this,” He shook out his feathers, a low growl in his tone as he continued, "You and I like to exist, so get rid of those demons quick, 'cause killin' them ain't my shtick!"  

You stifled a laugh, watching as he flew forward toward the demons, wings glowing with a bright blue mixed within the dark feathers.

“I got your back, ‘cause dyin’ is whack!” He finished his little improvised poem with a hefty cackle, Shadow stepping forward as well to punctuate it with a roar at the approaching creatures.

A second later, the battle began.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/42882122#workskin

Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic

[chisie12]

Dance of Silver - Chapter 7: Raging Flames

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142107/chapters/41760599

I also can’t bother redoing the full formatting on tumblr... It crashed. 

~*~

Schlick —

……

… d

         r

               i

                     p

                          .

                            .

                            .

                            .

                            .

                            .

                            .

                            Drip.

                            D r i p.

                            D  r  i  p.

A twisted scowl curved upon her beautiful features. She held onto her left arm with her right hand whose fingers still gripped onto the dagger as a thick stream of blood oozed out of the wound; a clean cut across her wrist of some inches down to her forearm. The breeze stilled as though horrified at her action. The forest trees froze and the birdsong died.

“You want my blood so much, didn’t you? Come and get it.”

An almost animalistic growl clawed at the back of her throat, a crazed fire in her vivid blue eyes.

She stood in the middle of a forest where roots grew relentlessly above ground and the grass tickled her knees. Miles away from Zurich, up by the green mountains with the afternoon winter sun still awake, Angela Ziegler waited for a few more breaths.

The blood continuously dripped and pooled into a puddle by her feet, creating a dirty, dark muddy colour as the sweet wine seeped into the soil.

“Haah…”

Angela then decisively stopped the bleeding, washed the wound with alcohol and wrapped up her arm with the bandage from her pouch before walking away from the blood pool. She unclipped the strap on her hip and brandished her weapon. Call it a play of the light, but even the Caduceus Blaster looked ominous in the shadows.

She knew, after hours of tinkering with the Caduceus Staff, that she could heal herself — although slowly — when she activated it; A very slow healing over time.

But that did nothing for her fury, her rage. Her emotions exploded from the deep caverns, erupted like an active volcano and vampires — damn, fucking vampires.

Crazed hungry snarls echoed throughout the forest. Idiots, she sneered as the sounds gradually neared until it was upon her when the sounds of whistling winds screeched like an ambushing eagle. Confusion gasped at the sudden onslaughts of arrows and as the group of vampires jumped back to avoid the trap, their feet triggered the tripwire concealed beneath the tall grass and another barrage of arrows immediately shot towards their heads, forcing the hunger-crazed vampires to dodge yet again.

“What the —”

As the vampires were about to retaliate against the traps and destroy everything within their vicinity, they couldn’t help but pause, frozen in their actions and stood as still as statues. Angela watched with a mocking sneer as they visibly gulped the lump in their throats, a trace of fear evident in their eyes.

That’s right.

Her traps? The arrows? They weren’t ordinary. Strong silver wire weaved through the air like an intricate spider web, strung from the arrow butts to the other end on the trees and ground. Mere silver wire might not be able to stop them in their tracks, but the metal shined with a pure light under the sunlight that peeked through the cracks in the leaves. The holy water shined, sleeking down the wires, but to the vampires, it looked like it was mocking them, just simple, pure, unadulterated mockery.

Swoosh!

A lithe shadow dashed in front of them and they instinctively scowled at the newcomer, only for greed and hunger to flash across their eyes as their gazes trained onto the bloodied bandage on her left arm. Noticing their gazes, Angela smirked and brought her arm up to her lips.

“You want this?” Her tongue licked at the blood, a mere few centimeters away from the bandage itself. Her eyes never left theirs, sneering inwardly as they brightened. Their muscles tensed, seemingly as though they would rip apart the wires regardless of the consequences. She lazily lifted up her right arm, point her blaster towards an unlucky victim.

“The hell are you —”

With her tongue still near her bloody arm and indifference in her dead blue eyes, the sounds of something popping cut him off before the male vampire’s head burned and sizzled like a candle wax melting under the flame. Angela clicked her tongue unhappily.

“I really hate the sound of this gun.”

Pew pew. Really? That sounds like bubbles being shot from the gun instead of actual bullets!

An uneasy silence fell like a heavy cloud. The damsel they thought was in no way in distress — definitely not an easy fodder. Was this the end for them?

Seeing their unreconciliation, Angela sneered and felt the anger surging out in heavy tides. If it weren’t for them — for vampires — then he wouldn’t be simply lying there, unmoving. He wouldn’t be in the state that he was currently in, lying like a damned vegetable when he was supposed to be out there — barking like a dog!

...not that she’d ever tell him that.

“To hell with this!” A burly vampire exclaimed. He brought his heavy arms down onto the wires, bracing himself for the inevitable pain and suffering that he’ll surely face.

A horrifying screech escaped his lips when his arms came in contact with the silver wire, and this was because not only did the holy water immediately burn and dissolve the edges of his skin, his arms had been totally dismembered by the harmless-looking wires!

“Hahahaha!”

The other vampires remained frozen, undaring to even move an inch while the armless vampire groaned and huffed in pain, fear evident in his bright red eyes. They stared wide-eyed at Angela whose head tilted back in a peal of near maniacal laughter. Her chest shook with every sound and they resisted the urge to flinch when she grinned an ear-splitting grin.

“I-Is she — Zurich Monster?”

No one knew who said that, but the silence that pervaded the forest, grew solemn, quieter than the dead in the cemetery. The vampires took a good look at Angela, scrutinising her gleaming blonde hair and vivid blue eyes, the black staff on her back and the equally black gun in her hand.

“Wow, you lot sure are the dumbest one so far.” Angela rolled her eyes as she fiddled with her blaster. “And here I thought the wires would have given it away, but I guess there must always be an idiot that volunteers himself to be the rat.”

The injured vampire paled and he involuntarily took a step back, only to howl in agony as the holy water on the wires behind him burned into his skin, the charcoal-like smell permeating the air, and rather than grimacing, Angela cackled in satisfaction. Burn. Yes, burn!!

Feel the pain! Suffer!

“You deserved it!” She snarled.

“W-Why are you doing this!” One of the female vampires shuddered in fear, flinching when the holy water grazed her skin.

“Why? Why?” Angela sauntered closer to her. Her demonic expression fell away, replaced by her graceful one as her hand fearlessly reached through the silver wire. She brushed the fingertip of her right index from the vampire’s cheek, a simple feathery touch, down to her chin before haughtily lifting it up and stared straight into those bloody eyes. “Why?” She repeated yet again with a little lift in her voice, the tone sweet like honey and pleasing to the ears.

“Oompf —”

The vampire shivered frightenedly when Angela roughly clutched at her jaw and bared her canines. Fingernails mercilessly dug into the skin and the vampire clearly saw the rage boiling in those blue orbs. The other vampires tensed and were about to move when the wires suddenly tightened and snaked around them as though they were alive, eliciting screams of terror amidst the sizzling burns. The only one spared from the torture was the female vampire that Angela was talking to.

She watched as Angela ‘Zurich Monster’ Ziegler clenched her left fist and her eyes caught sight of the hidden wires connected to the fingers.

Angela cursed under her breath, tightening the wires around her writhing victims. She gave the female vampire a side glance before her tone grew cold. The surrounding temperatures dropped at the chilliness and the vampire regretted, regretted so badly that she allowed herself to be enticed and attracted by the sweet, unique scent of fresh blood; one that she never had before. “Why, you ask?” Angela pulled her forward by the grip on her jaw, sneering even more when she struggled against the burns from the silver wires that her face was pressed against. Cold laughter brought shivers down the vampire’s spine. “Because of you, your kind, my brother is currently lying in bed in a coma. He may be dead. He may be alive. But he’s not moving. And it’s all your fault —”

“We don’t even know —” As soon as another vampire voiced out in retaliation, he was forced to bite his words, eyes wide in horror and disbelief painting his paler-than-usual countenance. “Y-You —”

Heartless. She was more heartless than them, and they were the so-called monsters.

His body didn’t look like it was riddled with bullets, but rather burnt and melted like hydrofluoric acid being poured onto him. Laughter as cold as ice, tinged with madness rang through the forest. The shadows darkened as the sun hid behind the clouds. Screams filled the air. Bodies were torn and melted; limbs slowly disconnected with a squelch. Fear, despair, regret covered the sky. Angela watched on as her laughter died down, from a chilling craze to a despondent breath. The fires dimmed in her eyes, replaced by a sheen of sadness when the last vampire died. With a wave of her arm, the silver wires disconnected and mechanically retracted into her sleeve.

Click.

Her body dropped onto the blood covered ground while the lighter drew an arc and landed. Flames engulfed the pile of dead bodies with a resounding cry.

Her only consolation was her own cries being drowned out by the fire.

…

Four days.

Literally. Four days.

Jesse… why aren’t you waking up?

The gunslinger still hasn’t woken up — her father hadn’t called her. He only had three more days to live, but he wasn’t waking up. Why? Why, why, why?

Didn’t you have dreams! Why aren’t you chasing them instead of lying like a vegetable!

It’s lonely without you. It feels so lonely. Where’s my partner? I can’t keep hunting without you!

…

A dark silhouette perched atop a tall branch that overlooked the scene below. He felt a pain in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt for years since he met her. He tugged the scarf higher to cover his nose as the sweet-smelling breeze wafted over, causing his crimson eyes to gleam a little brighter. He could hear her sobs, sensed her agony as she clawed at her aching heart.

He had been planning to leave Zurich, leave the country and hide away somewhere else where ‘Father’ couldn’t find him once more — at least not for a long while. He was on his way when that sweetness caught his attention. He half thought he had gone crazy from missing her, from thinking about her too much, when the scent hit him twice as hard a moment later.

Blood. Fresh, blood.

She was here.

Then like an actual madman, he ran, zipped through the trees like a moth to a flame.

He was here moments before the horde of vampires did, and he merely watched. She looked alright, in one piece, but her beauty looked a little cold this time, an icy beauty, even if he disregarded the fact that it was winter.

Sigh…

He leapt down.

…

A heavy pressure weighed on her chest. Her eyes burned red with hot tears. So much death. She killed them. They were still lives!

“Waaahhh!”

The pressure choked her and she could only cry out to the skies to relieve it. No matter how many she killed, Jesse wouldn’t wake up.

A shadow suddenly loomed overhead. Out of instincts, she steadied herself with a hand and leapt back to instantly distance her from the ambusher, and readied her blaster. Yet, oddly, the person just stood there unmoving, simply watching her with a pained gaze. Her mouth fell open in shock and her grip around the weapon loosened.

“Genji…?”

“Angela…”

For the second time that day, Angela slumped onto the ground with all will to fight leaving her body as a fresh bout of tears attacked her eyes. The sight of the green haired vampire blurred with a layer of water, rippling like a disturbed lake.

Why was he here now? Didn’t he leave? Disappear? Why was he here!

Genji took a wary step forward. She was so close to him and the smell of her blood still pervaded his senses. It made him lust for more, a burning need in deep in his body, but he willed it down. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — possibly drink her blood now.

When he heard her voice questioning him, his frown deepened. Yes, just why was he here? Why…

And a crazy idea popped into his mind.

He carefully and slowly kneeled on the ground one knee at a time, and unwrapped the scarf around his neck, gritting his teeth at the strong assault on his nose. With a strong will and a focus on her tears, Genji gingerly wrapped the scarf around her neck.

“Huh?”

“You’re not alone.” His voice was rasped with emotion and Angela wiped at her tears with the back of her hands.  

You’re not alone.

Genji’s words repeated in her head. But… but — she was — she felt —

Hopeless.

Useless.

Sensitive.

Her cries quietened, leaving her with soft sobs.

She gazed into his crimson eyes and relief washed over unknowingly. His eyes… they were the same as she remembered. Full of life; emotions — like any other human. But his breathing was laboured, a staggered rise and fall of his chest. A strained smile on his pale, scarred face that offered, at the very least, some kind of comfort.

“You’re not hopeless. Not useless. But I’ll have to admit, you are sensitive,” his lips quirked into a lopsided smile, a little less restrained now that he found her finding him not repulsive. He couldn’t see a trace of anger in the lake her beautiful orbs mirrored. He heard her breath hitch at the last comment and he took another step forward, a step to close the distance between them until their elbows were only inches away from touching, until he could smell her scent — not her blood, but her own calming scent of sweetness that reminded him of the chocolates they ate. Until her heavy pants fanned his chest as she looked up to lock his gaze, and he tilted his head down in response.

“But being sensitive isn’t a bad thing. It never was,” his hands twitched as he willed them to stay by his side, the tingling sensation of her hair on his skin, the slight warmth emanated from her body leaving only but a memory. “Otherwise I’d never have become friends with you, the weird vampire hunter that wanted to save vampires.”

A wet chuckle involuntarily escaped. “But it’s true. You don’t deserve to be hunted.”

“Even so,” his hands lifted, elbows bent as he wanted to wipe the tears away, but he paused as he tried to control his breathing. The blood, the heavy iron scent danced in his nostrils, but the salt in those tears, they hurt more than the pain his hunger brought. “Thank you.”

She jumped slightly. “For what?”

“Letting me feel like a human again.”

His voice was husky, laced with an emotion she could only see as restraint. His eyes glowed much brighter.

And then she found the strength to take inhale, to part her lips as her heart pounded low and deep with emotions that for once, weren’t clouding her vision.

“Genji, where were you —!”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden gale that whipped at her face.

One second he was there, and the next, he was gone, leaving behind only a scarf and a lingering touch upon the corner of her eyes. Two quick pecks to rid her face of the tears, lulling them away with the gentlest of touch, but a whole moon of warmth. The scarf lingered with his scent of trees — pine. Had he been sleeping in pine trees? With a wet laugh and a hiccup, she lifted the scarf to her eyes, using the cotton to soak up the tears that again streamed down unforgivingly as she sniffled and cried.

She didn’t know how long it had been but the winter chill had begun settling in her bones. Even the fire had died, the bonfire limited to only the corpses of vampires that were now all but ash in the wintry winds. Snowflakes fell, the blanket of snow covering her, an odd comfort in her mind as her eyes slowly drifted shut. Darkness took over her vision. She held his scarf closer, breathing in his scent as her nerves calmed and a scratchy dryness remained in her throat.

So white, a beautiful white scenery. Holiness descended.

Then an apple came into view. Red and crunchy, full of sweetness, round and big nestling in a tanned, calloused hand. Jesse. He grinned at her. His face was the same 21-year-old Jesse’s face, with that wide, face-splitting grin. A short beard on his jaw and she phantomly felt the rough tickles of the beard on her cheek when he’d playfully rub his chin on her face.

A wordless exchange.

Angela suddenly sucked a cold breath in as she jolted awake, like an electric bolt shocking her awake. Eyes flew open in terrified shock and her breath came out laboured.

No, she thought.

That scene… did not feel like a memory. The background behind him had been too white; too bright and holy — like Heaven. A lump rose in her throat.

In the end, I believe you’ll know what to do.

His words suddenly spoke in her mind and her face twisted while her body squeezed out the remaining liquid it had for a new round of heart-wrenching tears. Bringing the scarf closer, she curled up into a ball, as tight as she could, as small as she could when her heart thumped like a slow beat of the drum, each hit more painful than the one before. The few centimeters of snow shifted with her movements, catching into the gaps of her clothes and shoes, the cold chilly enough to tell her: This was the reality.

An apple…

Unease crept upon her and she shakily pulled out her cellphone, the nagging curiousity gnawing at her nerves. She quickly typed in a few keywords of what she saw and she scrolled through until she tapped on a link that resembled the closest to her experience.

“Haa…” She released the breath she hadn’t realise she held.

[If you had a dream where you were offering fruits to someone, then this dream represents mutual love you two feel for each other.

This person is very important for you and you know that he or she feels the same way for you too.]

Then a thought struck her mind. Tapping back on her cellphone, she quickly typed in another few keywords, bringing up the website with the symbolism of apples. All she remembered was the fact that apples symbolised peace in the Chinese culture.

Peace?

Peace?

Angela’s expression fell.

Jesse. Oh, God. Jesse!

In a panic, Angela scrambled to her feet and snow jumped away in equal panic like snow fairies running away and scoffing at the ruined tranquility. But she ran away as fast as she could, scrambling and tripping over her feet, causing the rage of the snow as it fell harder, turning everything into a sea of white.

Jesse.

She needed to go back. Back to him. But she was at least a day away, even with the train. Cursing a string of expletives, she blew on her bare hands to keep them warm. The adrenaline pumped through her veins, providing the most needed warmth in the chill. The skies were blazing with an orange glow, like the flames that burned the vampires, like the fire that had settled in her heart prior to being replaced by anxiety. Worry. Panic. Desperation. The skies were mocking her, leering at her and taking joy in her misery.

Please let him be alive. Please.

The cold winds bit at her tear stained face. Branches and roots scratched and pulled at her rushing steps. She listened to the connecting beepings of her call and nearly shouted when it got through.

“Angie? What’s wrong?”

“Daddy! Did something happen to Jesse?”

“No… nothing should have happened. We’re just waiting for Ana to return from her trip.”

Angela’s teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as worry shone in her gaze. Ana Amari was returning from Egypt last she remembered, but she didn’t know if the old veteran would make it in time. Angela knew she needed the Valkyrie to save Jesse, but… there were only three days left.

Can they make it?

And even if they did, why did she have that dream?

I fear… Angela shook her thoughts away and she was frustrated at the prickling sensation at her eyes again. Jesse… I miss you. Please wake up already. I’m sorry for arguing with you. I’m sorry I’m too nice to the vampires. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please… Please just wake up.

[the-ash0]

surviving paradise ch 24-ride

“Raditz, report. You need to put out more fire.” Vegeta swore both at the static that answered him, and the blast from a laser hitting just above his hiding place. He changed channels. “Nappa, can you hear me?” More static, hardly discernible from the racket around him. But he could see the damn brute at the far side of the city’s leftovers, flying through the flames like a maniac. “Can anyone hear me?” Seriously, what the fuck?

Nappa had emerged from the little incident with the worms stronger than ever. Stronger even than Vegeta, to the Prince's ire. Zenkai, some had whispered, awestruck. Regardless of his strength, he remained a useless brute. Without constant supervision and orders, he was just a disruptive influence on the battle, attacking positions of little strategic relevance and getting side-tracked by anything moving.

Vegeta cursed once more, and seriously considered making a beeline for Nappa and hope for the best. He was dissuaded from the idea when a magma ball the size of his head destroyed what was left of the overhanging wall above him. The teen ducked and shielded his face from the shrapnel. Vegeta might be powerful for a Saiyan of fourteen, but that didn't mean he couldn't get hurt. After he weighed his options, he ducked and rolled away to a better shielded location, hoping to at least confuse the enemy on his position.

Which was, of course, pointless with his current shadow not even bothering to keep his head down as it followed. The tall alien shook its braid at him and indicated the faulty scouter on Vegeta’s head with a sneer. “More shoddy equipment. I suppose you forgot to check this scouter too, little Prince?”

Oh yes, of course this was all his own fault as well. Like both moons mysteriously getting destroyed before landing, or the fact that the enemy had obviously been notified in advance about their arrival. Vegeta snarled as he slipped between two demolished walls, then turned to confront Zarbon. “I don’t suppose you’ll trade me for a working scouter?”

The long-braided elite shrugged, arms wide and head thrown  slightly to the side as he leered down; a beacon for the whole enemy army, from their heavy tank unit to heir hidden snipers, to see and point their weapons at. “I’m here to observe, not intervene.”

Of course, Zarbon didn't have to worry about getting injured by this level of firepower. But this overseeing that the elite was doing made it near impossible for Vegeta to get anything done. Frustration found its way to his tongue. “Fuck you too, pansy. Don't you ever get bored? Or maybe babysitting was just the job you dreamt of.”

Bullseye. The blank mask slipped to show a hint of the annoyance Zarbon must feel and probably had for a long time now. Oh; how rich. The creature didn't want to be here either. For all its tall tales spun in front of Frieza’s court, which Zarbon obviously did enjoy telling, the conceited long-braided fool didn't take any pleasure in actually being there to record it. That’s right— Zarbon was bored. Vegeta had hit the mark, and he had a good laugh for it. “All that talent, all that skill, but at the end of the day you’re just my little bodyguard to get me when I finally fuck it up, right Zarbon?”

The slender giant tisked, whipped his braid over a shoulder, and dodged a laser beam that would have done only cosmetic damage in one fluid motion. “I wouldn't be too sure I’d lend a hand even then.”

Oh, wouldn't you..? Vegeta sucked a breath, only now realising the meaning, the point of a babysitter. Zarbon wasn't there to record their failure. Or, perhaps he was, but that was hardly the main reason. The thought hit Vegeta, and it was an epiphany. “Zarbon, has a Saiyan ever died of space-worms?”

Zarbon gave him a puzzled look, but Vegeta was willing to test his theory with his life now, he was so sure. The prince straightened up; his eyes glued to Zarbon and scanned his reactions as he ignored the whistling bullets around him, recounting  “On our first mission, I was the only one that had enough fuel and provisions to make it back home alive.” Vegeta stood, quietly, and waited for it while a trickle of sweat ran slowly down his back. Zarbon looked away, unnerved.

Vegeta pushed on, feeling more sure. “The second mission was a mess, but not really dangerous. The space worms... really sick, but I guess the only one in any mortal danger was Nappa. This place, this mission. Actual danger. But that’s ok, because you’re here with me, aye Zarbon?”

Zarbon snarled at him and then moved, one long arm swooped down. The mighty fist impacted mere inches from Vegeta’s face, against a projectile which ricocheted to their far left leaving a shuddering explosion. A rain of shrapnel followed in a moment of relative silence as it rolled off the two soldiers’ ki-shields.

Yes, that missile had been about to bury itself into Vegeta face. Yes, that might have killed him. Yes, Zarbon had protected him. “You are my baby-sitter.”

And Vegeta recognised it now, the annoyance, the little twitch of the elite’s eye. The young Saiyan had hit paydirt. Yet of course, the large alien denied it all. “I’m just here to have a good story to tell at the local comedy club. And I’d bet it’d be even funnier if the punchline is a dead Prince of Saiyans.”

“Right, well, in that case give my regards to Frieza. I’m going to hell first.” With a nervous grin Vegeta tossed his faulty scouter at Zarbon's feet. “Also, this junk is straight from dispense and brand new.” Next he turned and jumped to the air, heading straight to the location he’d last seen Nappa. There was a curse, and another explosion. Vegeta didn’t look back at his new meat-shield, he just laughed boisterously.  

Maybe he was not going to die today. Maybe he could even keep his team alive. Although Nappa seemed to have gotten distracted once again and was nowhere to be found. Still, Vegeta saw one of his men under fire, and he dipped down to find Lekus. Not his first choice, but the elder would do.

“Try and keep up, babysitter.” he called out, then swooped down full throttle with little regard for his own safety. It was liberating. Vegeta could get used to this, especially the crescendo of curses that followed his every movement.

“Lekus,” he called out as soon as his boots touched soil. “I’ll be needing your scouter.”

The old man almost stood up straight, but crouched again quickly at the next near-miss. Vegeta sighed, sadly his immunity would not extend to the rest of his team. He walked over calmly to join Lekus where he hid. “Give it here, Lekus.”

“Damn, Prince. You know I’m fucked without my scouter right? Won't know what to do, where to go, where everyone is.”

“Right now, no one knows what to do. Give it here.” Vegeta held out one hand; he needed it more.

Lekus clicked his tongue, eyes running from his commander to the elite two steps behind him. After a moment he sighed, unfastened his red scouter, and offered it up. “Don’t say I didn't tell you so.”

With a grunt, Vegeta fastened the scouter on. When the earpiece to his ear, he finally heard the cacophony of voices, his whole team, panicking. Like he knew they would be. No matter, Vegeta could still fix it. “Shut the fuck up, losers,” he yelled over the noise, and cut  them off completely.

After a moment, Nion answered, obvious relief flooding his voice. “Prince! Why are you on Lekus’s channel?”

Because we got fucked. Again. “Listen up, here’s the plan.” Vegeta just rolled over Nion's question, because none of that mattered. After he pulled  up their positions, Vegeta quickly formed a plan. “I’m going to draw the tank’s fire. Nappa, get your ass back here, you’re attacking from the north to take them from the tail end.

“Nion, you take Papple and Jack and flank from the East, Twins, pick Raditz out of that pincer position he’s got himself locked in and follow him for a west flanker from the ground. We’ll surround them.”

When no one responded, Vegeta though they were already on it. All except Nappa, of course. “But that’s like a military operation. Working together.”

Vegeta did understand Nappa’s hesitance: It was not the warrior way. Warriors fought on their own, by themselves. “Well, today, we’re working together. If you don’t, then, if any of you by chance remain alive, I’ll kill you myself.”  

It took a moment, but Raditz picked up the slack. “I for one am not embarrassed to be saved right now. I’m seriously locked down here.”

“That’s right, boys. We’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way. Come, follow your elder.” Nion cackled, and Vegeta was a little surprised to get his vote of confidence. “Your Prince knows best.”

Good. Vegeta didn't understand what was so ‘old-fashioned’ about fighting in formation, but that was what they were going to do. Working as a team was something usually reserved for weakling enemies, true. But he for one was willing to resort to such tactics if it meant living to fight another day. Vegeta rose clear into the unprotected air, and taunted once more at his shadow. “Stay closer this time, baby-sitter. Or I might get killed.”

Nappa still continued to grumble.. “Coordinated effort. We’re like fucking Ginyu. Only worse at dancing.”

Vegeta did see Nappa move into position, so he let it slide and concentrated on drawing enemy fire while his elite one-man team took care of the incoming missiles. “Just destroy the bloody tanks, dumb-ass! You don't even have to do formation.”  dowm on the battlefield through the smoke, Vegeta noticed the twins had hopelessly veered off course. “Fucking twins, get your act together! You’d think at least the two of you could stick together.”

“There’s a reason Saiyans don't do formation,” one of them answered, and Vegeta used the channel number to identify this one as Coli. He still couldn’t tell their voices apart.  

“Just get to Raditz,” Vegeta commanded.

It took a while, but between Vegeta barking orders and Zarbon destroying most of the projectiles aimed at him, the Saiyans managed to turn the battle to their favour. Vegeta finally returned to the ground; his ears still rang from the explosions he’d been too close to for comfort since mid-day. He dimly noticed Raditz bleeding badly, and everyone else was covered in mud that ran through with copper streaks. The salvos overhead had stuttered out and his Saiyans limped across the battlefield, slaughtering the last stragglers in the evening light. Victory at last, long overdue.

High on an adrenaline rush that just barely masked his exhaustion, Vegeta laughed at Zarbon. “Guess you’re gonna be stuck with me for a little while longer, baby-sitter. Hope you’re not too bored yet.”

“Prince. It’s Lekus.” Raditz called over his scouter, to Vegeta's annoyance. The third-class was supposed to in deep space by now, half-way back to base to have that gut wound checked out asap. “I have his scouter, I know.”

“No, I mean he’s here at the pods. But he’s badly hurt.”

[kv-r18-fics]

Guilty Pleasure

Urges were always a strong instinct that could take over anyone. For Isaac Foster, his urges were always that need to kill. Ever since his escape in his pre-teen years, that urge never left him.

 Now he’s 18, legally an adult to society. Not like it mattered anyway, the man was a killer, a person who invokes a savage terror to society, and he relished every bit of it. For a while now, he’s lurked in the back alleys in the dead of night, it’s the best hunting grounds to dispatch victims without getting caught. He’s perfected his act of murder, learned which victims he could or couldn’t get away with killing, and where the best places to do it - especially when giving chase.

 Lately, he’s been catching different kinds of victims, they weren’t the usual drunks or typical bimbos looking to offer favors in exchange for cash, they were - different, so to say. The last couple of nights, Zack’s been catching people seemingly preoccupied with something, he couldn’t care to figure out what, all Zack cared about was that their guards were lowered - two birds with one stone, or simply, a knife. He could stab one person, then slit the other’s throat before they knew what was up. Isaac would utter a maniacal cackle after performing the deed.

 A man and a woman, Zack cocked a brow as he stared at their corpses, they really were busy to not even notice his lurking presence - what the hell were they doing anyway? A memory flickered in his mind, that old slasher flick that sparked his muse to start killing. Just before the slaughter, it showed a couple rather busy engaging in liplock, while pressing against one another. That’s what they were doing a moment ago, and Zack just recreated the slaughter scene in his own kind of way. That thought amused him, making a smirk creep across his face as he backed away from the corpses. The night is still young and there were more happy bastards that need a good slashing.

 Further in the night, Zack managed to chase down another random bitch walking down the back alleys, she tried to trip him up by tossing over trash cans along her way, but she wasn’t aware how inhumanly nimble he was. He was definitely having a good night, maybe he should remember to keep score.

 Isaac ventured into a more familiar territory, his territory, he internally dubbed. A location where he managed to find an abandoned spot to make his hideout during most of the day. Maybe a quick sweep in his territory before he turns in for the remainder of the night. He lurked around, hoping some vagabond tucked near some trash for a place to sleep, that can be his last kill for the night. Yet, he didn’t spot a single soul around, making the man hum a grunt of frustration. Ah well, three murders weren’t so bad, it was better than nothing.

 Just as he was about to turn around to return to his temporary residence, his ears picked up a faint sound - heavy breaths. A savage smile creeped across Zack’s face, as he clutched his knife in his grip. The man followed the sounds with no hesitation, he wants to find his new target and make those heavy breaths cease. Something seemed weird about it though, they didn’t sound like someone was trying to exhaustingly catch their breath, it sounded like they were pleased? This made the man curious, he quietly stalked down the alley, and could hear the sounds grow much louder - it’s two voices this time. Isaac held his own breath, while he pressed his body against a building, they’re just around the corner and he knows it. The prey locked on were a man and a woman, he can tell from those mix of breaths, those very strange breaths.

 It’s making his heart race for some reason, and he feels a churning within his stomach. The man quietly grumbled to himself, as he pat at his chest to try and calm that pace down. He inched his head towards the corner, just so he can peek at his targets.

 He sees one body - the man, though, he’s moving rather erratically. Maybe Zack can inch a little more for a better look. Slowly, he’s starting to see a better view of the man, his britches appear to be falling off his ass, making Zack sneer a little in displeasure - at least chasing him would give him a good laugh. Why is he moving so much though? He inched himself a little more until he saw a leg suddenly coil at the man’s hip, curiosity got the best of Zack and frustratingly peeked his entire head out to see what the fuck was going on.

 Now he got a better view, and the sight made Zack almost choke on his own breath. The strange movements, the man’s “wardrobe malfunction”, and those heavy breaths, Zack just stumbled upon a couple in the middle of having private sex. He doesn’t know to be shocked or disgusted - maybe he was feeling both at the same time, and his brain didn’t know which to express more. He can see how engaged they were in the activity, the man was holding the woman against the wall, as he wildly thrust inside of her, while she squirmed and moaned loudly in response. He can see it all, and Zack’s heart is pounding hard.

 They’re completely preoccupied, he can easily cut them up right now, and he knows it. Those latest victims he had been dispatching lately, they always seemed so busy with something - were they actually trying to engage in that act too? Or have all the others been doing the act, and he just never bothered to notice? Well, now he can notice it, his bi-colored eyes couldn’t stop spying on the horny couple.

 He can cut them up, he just needs to move.

 Soon, he watched the couple roughly change positions, with the man turning the woman around, making her prop herself against the wall, while he took her from behind. Isaac quietly sputtered before hiding himself back behind the building. God, they’re fucking loud, especially the woman - her voice is so filled with ecstasy, and it’s making his fucking blood boil.

 “...What the fuck?” Zack muttered to himself.

 He’s feeling strange, Zack’s suddenly noticing this odd stir between his legs. His crotch feels hot and...cramped? It’s never felt cramped before, it’s never made such a strange sensation before either. Hearing the woman’s moans is only agitating this sensation further. He can shut her up, he knows it.

 ‘F-Fuck it’s startin’ to hurt...god dammit...god fuckin’ dammit, why is my body acting this way? No way in hell I’ll be able to go after them - no way in hell if one of ‘em bolts for it,’ Zack swore to himself.

 He’s no longer in the condition to make the kill. For once, he had to spare his potential victims for the night to alleviate this strange sensation he feels.

 It was awkward heading back to his hideout, having to walk carefully to prevent uncomfortable rubbing was slow and embarrassing, but he managed to make it without detection. All Zack had in his hideout was a tattered blanket and a ripped up mattress to rest on. The man groaned from this feeling, he’s lost the opportunity to kill, all because of this strange sensation.

 Why did the woman’s moans bother him so much?

 Isaac dropped his knife beside the mattress as he tried to sit himself down, even doing that caused him discomfort. He wants relief from this annoying ache, and worked to open the fly of his trousers. It’s really snug at his pelvis, but the man shuffled to pull it down his hips, and leave himself in his underwear. He can finally see the source of his cramped sensation, there was a large lump in his boxers, something that’s never happened to him before.

 “Th’ fuck?” Zack muttered.

 He’s confused, but curious, and proceeded to pull down his boxers to investigate the source of the lump. Slowly, the article of clothing slides down and exposes the lower half of his body. He can see the mixing between his scars and natural body, and even the growing trail of hair heading to his pelvis, but as he pulled his boxers down a little further, he saw the source of the problem spring out.

 Zack was stunned, completely caught off guard from seeing this part of himself in a state he’s never been before - he has an erection.

 “It’s up? It can do that? Why the fuck is it even up?” Zack sputtered aloud, “What the fuck do I do?”

 He’s confused, he’s completely confused. Zack’s never really paid attention to the entirety of sexual acts being done, just tonight was the actual first time. It’s hot, and aching constantly, this situation is making him frustrated and uncomfortable. He can’t exactly push it back down, since it sprang up so easily after being pressed against his boxers.

 Zack growled to himself, and lightly tugged at his hair, “Christ...should I just...wait?”

 It sounded reasonable? That was often the cure for his ailments, if Zack was feeling shitty, a simple moment of rest often perked him back up - that could work, he can just wait it out, or sleep it off. Maybe this issue will go away.

 “Yeah...just wait…” Zack muttered to himself, “after that...I’m gonna cut up those fuckers into bits!”

 Just the thought of having people rile him up in an entirely different way angered him, it’s supposed to fuel his adrenaline to kill, not suddenly handicap him with this weird reaction between his legs. He shouldn’t have let those two get the better of him, he really shouldn’t. Zack growled to himself for not seizing the opportunity like he normally would, just something about the sight just made him pause and watch.

 “Come on...ya’ already ran into this shit before and didn’t give a damn...why is it makin’ ya antsy now?” Zack argued with himself, “fuck, I’m rilin’ myself up even more...I should just sleep…”

 Isaac carefully pulled his boxers back up, grumbling a little as he felt the piece of clothing become slightly snug against his problem. It’s still aching, and very hot.

 He did not have a very restful sleep that night.

 As the morning sun rose, Isaac was groggy and absolutely fucking miserable. His situation eventually resolved itself, but he’s feeling completely sore between his legs, like it didn’t want to give up without some sort of retaliation. He hates this, he hates it so fucking much, especially just letting this happen to his body - hell, having no control of his body whatsoever.

 “Fucking bastards…” Zack growled in frustration, “...I’m gonna hunt ‘em down and slice them up good.”

 God, it hurts.

 Zack hid away, refusing to leave the tattered mattress during most of the day, even if his stomach growled at him. He’s so used to pain, but having it ache in a sensitive area is just definitely too much for him.

 As evening approached, the soreness finally went away, enabling Zack to get up and leave to scavenge for food before going on the prowl. He wants to slice up twice more people this time, and make up what he missed out on.  If he ran into that horny couple again, he’s definitely going to stab them good.

 Isaac managed to score something filling to eat, he stumbled upon a back-alley buffet, the kind of restaurant that only people would know from word of mouth. The food smelled incredibly good, filling his nostrils instantly, and causing his stomach to growl louder,. He knows he can plunder himself a decent meal by scavenging in the back. Zack waited patiently until he watched some of the workers walk out to toss out the food that was past the hold time. What a waste, the food still looked perfect to eat, but Zack wasn’t picky, he’s used to rummaging through trash.

 The man waited for the workers to leave before diving in to take what was edible. They even threw out a plate too - what luck! Zack can easily stack as much food as he can before running off. He managed to steal some large pieces of chicken, some ribs, and even a couple slabs of beef - he definitely scored this time. Perhaps this night won’t be so bad, maybe he’ll be just as lucky when it comes to his murders.

 After slinking away and leisurely eating his meal, Zack took a short nap to rest off his full belly, and to gain as much energy as he needed for chasing down stupidly happy people. He’d even forgotten what made the start of his day so shitty in the first place. An hour flew by, Isaac sleepily opened his eyes, feeling refreshed after a moment of rest. The sun had already set, and the town grew quiet, making his hunting grounds ideal. He was finally in a good mood, especially the kind of mood to slit some throats. Zack slid out his knife from his pocket, and began to silently stalk the streets.

 One, then two people fell under his blade, hell, they even gave him one hell of a chase through the alleys. It gave Zack such a rush, like he hasn’t had this much fun in a while. After cutting down his third and fourth victim, Zack let out such a hearty laugh - he’s excited, this has been one hell of a good night. Less happier people on the streets, and more faces filled with absolute despair.

 “Fuck yeah, today’s really lookin’ up for me,” Zack mused to himself, “I wonder how many more bitches I can slaughter tonight.”

 He gazed at his bloody knife, feeling rather pleased with his body count, perhaps one more round of patrolling before he feels satisfied. After that, it’s back to his hideout, and maybe wait for a couple of days before killing again. Isaac scoped every possible place he would think people would roam. Most often stumbled from bars, but not a single drunk crossed his path. Perhaps he can check elsewhere, he often spotted a couple of tramps advertising nearby, he can try to lure one out - they’d follow anyone waving cash in front of them, or he assumes from what he’s seen.

 Isaac checked the usual stops they’d often hang out in, and even it was empty. Maybe he really did clean out the late night stragglers, he wouldn’t know if he should be disappointed or give himself a pat on the back.

 Well, he should be satisfied, he got four people tonight - one more would’ve been icing on the cake, but he’ll take it. Zack slipped his bloody knife into his back pocket as he lurked back into the alley. As he quietly passed by an intersection between two different alleys, Zack could see two figures within the corner of his eye. The man stopped himself from setting another foot forward, looks like his luck is turning around tonight. He smirked to himself as he turned to sneak up on the new figures, and reached his hand back to grab at the hilt of his knife. Step by step, he was ready to ambush the two and make them run for their lives, bringing the man the thrill of the chase yet again.

 As he approached closer, he saw it was two people, though, they were positioned strangely. Someone appeared to be on their knees, while the other casually leaned back. Isaac raised a brow as he quietly approached them a little further, thanking the shadows for hiding his presence during the moment of stalking. The figure was on their knees, and the one leaning back appeared to be holding something up, the bottom of their shirt perhaps? Not only that, he was hearing strange sounds, it wasn’t those loud moans like last night, but soft pants and something sliding against a slippery substance. As Isaac took a few more steps, the figures were slowly becoming easier to identify, the one leaning back was a man, it was easy to tell from the bulkier build, but what about the other. The man continued his advance, wanting to know exactly what he was getting himself in to before going in for the kill.

 A couple steps more, and the man suddenly stopped in his tracks. He can see them now, the other figure was a provocatively dressed woman - an obvious street hooker, and it seems she was in the middle of servicing a customer.

 The man with her was holding up the bottom of his shirt, while his pants were bunched at his ankles, as grunts and pants escaped his lips. The woman was leaning to kiss at the man’s hip, while her hand was running up and down her customer’s cock. Zack ran into yet another couple engaging in sexual acts. The man was completely hard, almost like Isaac was the other night, while the woman’s hand glided up and down the length of it, before stopping to let her palms gently massage the head.

 ‘Fuck...fuck, not again…’

 Soon, he watched the woman slide her tongue out and slowly glide against the head, coaxing a sharp moan from the man, and quickly plant his hands behind her head to take in more.

 Zack’s feeling that stir again, and heat slowly collecting between his legs. His mind went a complete blank, it’s just like last night. Zack’s just frozen, watching the couple engage in these lewd acts, and can’t bring himself to look away. Zack’s heart is pounding hard in his chest, his hands are shaking at the hilt, and slowly, his pants are growing cramped. The sensation of his britches becoming more snug is what snapped him back to reality, and backed away from the horny couple.

 ‘Christ, it’s happening again...fuck...why now? Why again? Shit...I need to hurry before it gets really stiff…’

 He has to back away from yet another kill - this is not Zack’s lucky night anymore.

 Zack snuck his way back to his hideout, but he was in no mood tonight, another horny couple just ruined it. The man grit his teeth and anger and let out a frustrated yell.

 “What the fuck?!” he screams, “why the fuck is this shit bothering me? This has never happened to me before, it shouldn’t even faze me!”

 Anyone who were happy or showed some kind of pleased excitement, Zack would’ve just sliced them up no problem, but he just keeps blanking out and staring at them - watching everything they were doing. He’s feeling so damn frustrated and pent up, like he wants to take it out on something, anything!

 “God damn it, my fuckin’ pants are squishin’ me again…” he growled.

 That unbearable ache, and constant heat dwelling between his legs, he doesn’t want to feel that soreness again - just once was fucking enough. He hates this so much, and he has no idea how to stop it. The man walked over to the mattress and sat himself down, while his fingers popped open his fly. He needs to end that smothering sensation within his crotch, he knows its standing up again. As Zack slid both pants and boxers down his hips, he can already see his cock spring right out, just like last time. He growled to himself, clearly agitated with his body acting this way. Isaac leaned against the wall near the mattress, as he stares down at this strange reaction, it’s achy, and swollen with a growing heat. It’s frustrating to leave it alone like last time, but it was also frustrating to have it in the first place.

 “Fucking why is it doing this?” Zack growled, “why?”

 With no given reason, the images of what he saw tonight flashed in his head - the man holding his shirt up, while the woman on her knees ran her hand up and down his erect member.

 “Knock it off!” Zack shouted to himself, even bringing his hands to smack at the sides of his head. “I don’t wanna see that again! I’m not some fuckin’ voyeur!”

 Just thinking about it made that stirring sensation return, and Zack felt an entirely different sensation within his dick. His bi-colored eyes returned to his erection, and saw it twitch on its own. Not only that, he feels this hot pulse within. His body is acting in so many strange ways, it feels so weird, and Zack doesn’t know what to do. It’s pulsing alot, acting very alive from the uncontrolled twitches. Leaving it alone makes things worse, so what other option was there?

 The longer Zack continues to stare at his physical problem, the more he keeps getting this strange instinct nagging in the back of his mind. The images returned in his mind, the man’s body was just like his, and the woman just leisurely touched at it, played with it.

 Touching it…

 Playing with it…

 Heat creeped across Zack’s face from the thought, but really, why would it be weird? He pretty much handles it every day when he needs to relieve himself or when he finally finds a decent place to wash his body. So this shouldn’t be any different.

 Isaac brings his hands up to his mouth, so he could tug off a part of his wrappings and allow himself to free his skin from the thin cloth. He can see his dark, scarred hands now, but it was still better than rubbing at his body with cloth. Zack directs his eyes back down to the lengthened appendage, staring at the differences about it. Standing upright definitely was what stood out, but he noticed that alot of the extra fold of skin had been pulled back, peeking the very tip of his cock out. He could see a flushed red color to it, so he lets curiosity guide his hand up for the first feel, and gently brushed a finger against it.

 “F-Fuck!”

 Zack flinched hard, not from pain, but something entirely different. It shocked all through him, and caused his stomach to stir. He can feel those pulses again, except it was much harder as his cock twitched again.

 “Christ...w-what was that?” Zack muttered to himself, “...I...I’ve never felt anything like this before…it’s so fucking weird…”

 It was so strange, but...he kind of wants to feel it again.

 Zack swallowed hard, his heart is pounding against his chest, as he brings one hand to grab at the base of his cock, keeping it in place to prevent it from bobbing about, due to the throbs. Now that he’s holding his appendage, it really did feel different to the touch, he can feel it squirm within his palm with every strong pulse coursing through the shaft. Zack brought his other hand back up, bringing his index finger back to the tip of his cock again. He sucked in a breath as he dragged his finger along it, feeling the heat underneath his fingertips, and then that sudden surge shooting all through him again.

 “Ngh!...”

 His hips bucked against the sensation, and his hand wants to recoil to make this sensation stop - just a little more. Zack’s legs are starting to tremble as he struggles to move his finger a little more against this new territory.

 ‘It’s too much…!’

 Zack had no choice but to draw his hand back to get his mind to stop spinning, his heart is racing so much, that it’s driving him to huff out soft pants. His legs are trembling, they’re completely trembling just from a simple touch. His body never did this before, he never felt this kind of sensation, and he doesn’t know how to react - it’s like Zack just loses all control as soon as this strange feeling hits him.

 Losing control - he hates the thought of it, but at the same time, this strange tingling within his body keeps luring him to try it again. A new kind of urge.

 Zack nibbled at his bottom lip, and inched his hand back up for yet another feel. He just needs to endure it again, and try to touch it a little longer, maybe it’ll be different. Like before, Zack brought his index finger back up to touch at the very tip, slowly pressing against it and began to roll his finger back and forth. Heat and tingling is swarming him yet again, but mostly between his legs. His body is shaking, and his hips buck against the touch. He has to endure, so Zack began to gesture his finger to start rolling in small circles.

 “H...H-ha...haaah…”

 Did he just…?

 Isaac froze in place, his face burning hot underneath his bandages, as he realized the noise that just escaped his lips - he just moaned. That same fucking lewd sound as those people who made his body act this way in the first place.

 “I just...I...I should stop…” Zack stuttered.

 Mentally, he’s freaking out, he never expected such a sound to just force itself out from his voicebox like that. He’s mostly embarrassed as well, it just made him sound completely vulnerable. That’s what this sensation is doing, it’s making a man like him vulnerable. Zack reluctantly withdrew his hand, but his mind screamed at him to do it again, even his body joined in that argument, nagging at him with hard throbs.

 ‘Fuck, but I can’t leave it alone...it’s gonna hurt twice as bad in the morning...I can sense it...shit...it’s kinda too late to turn back now…’ Zack thought to himself, watching his member squirm in his hand, ‘...maybe I can try to keep my damn mouth shut...that could work…’

 Zack shuffled himself against the mattress a little, sliding further down on it, while supporting himself against the wall. Then, he spread his legs slightly wide open. Even with his pants pulled down his hips, he still felt like he needed to keep his legs wide apart. Then, he brought his exploring hand back to where he played with, letting two fingers roll against the peeking head. A sharp gasp escapes Zack at first, but he quickly bit at his bottom lip to silence any other strange sounds. His stomach muscles twitched every so often, followed by his hips. This sensation he feels, no longer is it shooting right through him, it’s coursing and pooling between his legs. Isaac hummed out a couple choked grunts, and huffed heavily through his nostrils in his desperate attempt to keep silent. His fingers rolled back and forth, the tingling is constant this time, and so was a strong heat. It still feels so weird for his body to feel this way, even for his cock to have such a sensation, but he doesn’t want to stop for some reason. That sense of curiosity just keeps him to try it more.

 His body is trembling, and the strong tingling with every caress of his digits force the man to tilt his head upwards in a vain attempt to become vocal.

 ‘God...it feels so fucking weird!’ Zack thought to himself, before focusing his attention on what he was doing to himself.

 His fingers were petting at the head of his cock, but he felt like there was more to this than just this one spot to touch, the woman in the alleys were a little more proactive to this kind of thing. Zack gazed at every detail, the head is pretty much peeking out, perhaps he can bring the whole thing from hiding. He motioned his fingers to gently grap near the base of the head, and gently began to push down that thin fold of skin, watching the entirety of his cock become exposed. Even feeling it emerge like that drove his senses crazy.

 He’s never really explored himself like this before, just seeing his cock so exposed like this filled him with a sheepish curiosity, something that tells him - so, this is what it looks like?

 With new territory to be explored, Zack’s fingers returned to where they were prior, and began to caress new areas. The man hummed another grunt in the back of his throat, while his legs shook. His fingers rolled along the head, before rubbing at the sides, the edges, and even the underside. They touched so many different nerves on his body, that they filled his senses with a different kind of heat.

 He’s tingling all over, it’s swelling within the core of his being, and his thighs are growing hot with every exploration of his fingers. Heavy breaths continue to huff through his nostrils as he struggled to stifle his voice, followed by faint grunts. His legs are starting to squirm, dragging his boots against the mattress, while he tried to keep his legs spread apart.

 All Zack’s life, the only sensation he’s ever felt was unspeakable pain - such as his burns and the abuse he endured in the Orphanage. Even life on the streets was rough on him. Still, he was accustomed to that sensation. This, on the other hand, was entirely different. He couldn’t exactly wrap his mind around what this feeling was, but all he knew, was that it definitely contrasted pain. It’s making his body feel hot, but also fluttery - like he could just mentally float away in this strange feeling consuming him.

 Hot breaths begin to escape Zack’s lips, he’s burning up, between his and legs and from the growing body heat. He needs to try and relieve some of it, before it becomes too much to bear. Zack grasped around the head, letting his thumb press and rub at some nerves, while the hand holding the shaft moved up to tug at the zipper of his hoodie. Slowly the opposite sides of the hoodie came undone and dropped themselves at Zack’s sides, exposing the majority of his bandaged torso. The man breathed a sigh of relief, as his chest rose and fell rather quickly from stuttered gasps. Just caressing the cock head like this felt so…

 “Gh…”

 Isaac’s hand returned to its spot, as he watched every action his fingers took on his body. He grasped at the head yet again, and thought about the sensation he got from freeing the tip. Carefully, he gestured his hand back up, before sliding it down in a repetitive motion. He watched the head sink and emerge from that extra fold of skin, while he felt the sensation of a warm friction rubbing against him. He’s feeling that hot stir again, except, it’s pooling between his legs. It didn’t feel burdensome like before, but rather, it enticed him to keep this sensation growing.

 Suddenly, he noticed something strange touch his fingers. The man paused for a moment to slide the entire cock head out again, and slowly pulled his hand back. He can see a clear and sticky fluid cling to his digits.

 “Th’ fuck?”

 It strung along his fingers, while more continued to seep out from the very tip, this was another thing he never had his body do. What was this fluid, and why was it leaking out of him? It feels kind of gross to the touch, which caused the man to try to shake it off his digits. Should he even continue now? His body seemed to answer that with the throbs again, making his body ache for more stimulation. Isaac stared at his body, trying to figure out what to do at this point. Then the images flashed in his mind again, the sounds of something slippery, as the woman stroked the man in the alley. Hell, she even put her fucking mouth on it. Is this supposed to happen?

 Zack let out a loud growl of frustration, “To hell with it! I can’t fuckin’ ignore it anymore...I’m fiending to make this ache stop!”

 He grasped at the head again, using the entirety of his fingers and palm, and returned to his previous action. He can feel so much more now, how his cock is just gliding back and forth, and sensing the head rub against his palm and it sunk and resurfaced again. Isaac let out a hot puff of breath, as the ache ceased nagging him, rewarding his senses with that warm and tingling sensation again.

 This stimulation, it still feels so strange but Isaac was slowly come to accept it. He doesn’t exactly know how to feel about it - such a sensation feels weird, but he wants to keep feeling it.

 He’s getting the notion that he could use more room, and carefully pushed himself against the wall to scoot further down the mattress. Zack’s legs continued their squirms, and even his hips bucked up every now and then. His hand continued the same back and forth motion on the head, but the heat seemed to be stagnant. It’s no longer growing and exciting his senses like before.

 Agitation is growing within Zack, he wants that stirring within his stomach again, and tingling heat to continue knotting at his core.

 ‘Ah, come on...is this all? I’m not done yet, I know it!’ Zack internally grumbled, ‘Come on, give me that feeling again!’

 Zack was impatient, he huffed as he glanced at his hard member, and proceeded to move his hand a little quicker in agitation - like he was trying to kick start that sensation again. His hips bucked within his palm again, his impatience definitely found the solution.

 So, staying at one pace isn’t enough, to make this heat grow, you need to rub it even faster. Isaac still has much to learn about his own body.

 Giving in to this discovery, Zack motioned his hand to-and-fro at a gradually building pace. This made Zack tilt his head back a little and hum loudly in his throat, he can’t let another moan slip, he shouldn’t. Zack can hear that familiar sound of slipping, that strange liquid that’s leaking from him was somehow making his quicker strokes slide much more easily, which must be how the woman pumped the man’s cock the way she did. Just thinking about it made Zack shudder a little.

 Soon, Isaac was finding himself flat on the mattress, his hips squirming and his legs refusing to keep still. His hand slid back and forth near the head, while heavy breaths were being exhaled. His stomach tensed every now and then once a sensitive nerve was grazed, and his hips seemed to forcefully push against his hand whenever he did so. Somehow, doing that felt right, along with this inner instinct that even more of him could be felt. Isaac’s been stroking just the head, but how about the rest?

 Isaac spread his legs a little wider, as the hand keeping the shaft upright left its position. It’s all for Zack to roam now, while the other hand grasped at his sheet tightly. Keeping the pace, Zack’s strokes began to travel further down the shaft, before rising back up to the head.

 “H-Haah!”

 Another moan escaped, it’s getting so hard to prevent it. Zack wants to keep quiet, but he wants to fucking breathe as well. He’s stuck in a predicament, yet this stimulation overwhelming him helps to make his insecurities haze for the time being.

 Now Zack can really feel it, that stirring heat between his legs, just building and knotting within his body from every stroke of his hand. It’s not just the strokes, his hips began to move in tandem as well, and rolled along his touches to only heighten this feeling. Zack huffed another short moan, as he pressed his head against the mattress, his feet shuffled here and there, before his back would arch from a jolt of stimulation. Zack’s fingers clenched the sheets tightly, while his hand merely picked up the speed, feeling how hard and hot his cock had become. It was pulsing just as hard within his grip, and the sticky fluid continued to coat his grip. This movement was like he was travelling this stimulation from to bottom, depending on the nerves grazed, before letting it pool between his legs.

 “Hnn...a-ah…” Zack panted, his breaths slowly growing more hitched.

 His hand seemed to work automatically now, gliding up and down his pulsing erection from base to tip, circulating this heat and stimulation all through his body. Zack’s trapped by it, pinned onto the bed, while his legs shuffled against his will.

 The sensation that contrasts pain…

 It feels…

 “Mhh...haah…” Zack breathed, “ngh...f-fuck…”

 His hips buck hard a couple times, all control he has over his voice is gone, and his body is trembling. Still, his hand continues to pump at an ever increasing pace, like he’s compelled to feel more of this, to keep the speed going, otherwise it’s doing to go back to feeling stagnant. Isaac’s back arched once again, when he felt like he was rubbing a nerve just right. It made his stomach tense hard just for that moment, as Zack’s hand kept it’s relentless strokes, before he had to take a sharp breath and relax himself for another surge of that feeling.

 His thighs have been feeling hotter, and Zack has been sensing his muscles starting to tense up in some areas - mostly his stomach, but for some reason he’s sensing it between his legs as well, like he’s getting stiffer. When Zack blearily focused on his member, and noticed a small difference about it now. It was flushed from arousal, and had expanded a little than normal.

 ‘I-It’s gotten bigger?’

 Isaac slowed down for a minute to observe it, and watched how much more wildly it was throbbing from excitement.

 ‘Wait, wait, wait….the feeling is going away...I don’t want it to stop!��

 Zack’s hand quickly went back to work, trying to pick up the slack before the stimulation left his thighs.

 “Hhnn...ahh…”

 ‘Faster...need to go faster…’

 Zack’s hips curved to his strokes, as it tried to keep up with the increase in speed. While his hand slid back and forth on the pulsing shaft, his heavy breaths were showing more signs of strain, like grunts were starting to choke out with his muffled moans. His hips continued to gyrate in his grip, and his heels began to dig hard into the mattress. This sensation that’s collecting between his legs is starting to change as well, it wasn’t that sense of stagnation that irritated Zack prior - it was far more frustrating. What he was feeling right now was this sensation deep within himself, just teasing at him with a faint tingling and an ever growing warmth It was as if his body was telling him - if you want it, you better hurry up.

 ‘God dammit...come on...quit fucking playing me like this…!’ Zack swore to himself.

 He feels like he’s so close, he doesn’t know what, but instinct is poking at the back of his mind that he’s almost finished with this activity, Zack just needs to keep going in order to reach that peak.

 Something’s going to happen.

 Isaac’s feeling cramped within his own skin, not only that, there was an ache again, yet nothing compared to that similar ache that made Zack so frustrated and pained. It was similar to the hard throbs within his body, but it was hotter - almost soothing, just pulsing through his entire core. If one ache nagged him to tend to his erection, this one nagged at him to finish tending to it - his body needs to fucking decide.

 His breath his growing frantic, his chest rising and falling so quickly. Maybe he is panicking, Zack’s sensing something within his body that he has no fucking clue about.

 “Hnngh...ah...mmh…”

 Zack’s hips were matching the pace of his hand, rolling back and forth at the same desperate kind of pace. His heels pressed harder in the tattered bed he laid on, while he tilted his head back to expel his uncontrolled sighs.

 Something’s about to happen.

 That sensation he’s feeling within, it’s stirring more and more as the heat with his thighs was starting to swarm through him. His muscles are tensing up hard, and there came this strange sensation Zack’s never felt between hidden amongst this tingling that’s slowly possessing his body. It was a congested type of feeling, like something within himself wanted to come out. On top of that, he’s feeling a pressure of sorts, nestled right at the base of his spine. Zack doesn’t understand why he’s feeling it, then again, his thoughts are growing hazier the quicker he stroked himself.

 His mind is going blank, the only thing Isaac can focus on now is this nearness creeping up on him with every pump of the hand. It’s become so slippery from this strange substance on his digits, but at this point, that was the least of his concern.

 Isaac felt his toes extend inside his boots, his body was starting to seize, and this creeping sensation that constantly teased Zack suddenly coursed through him with no given warning. This made Zack’s hips arch, his fingers grip tightly at the sheet, and his abdominal muscles tense up hard.

 “Ngh!...Mmh!” Zack began to choke out. A moan wants to escape, he’s struggling so hard to keep it in, but as soon as he felt this overwhelming sensation take hold, Zack sucked in a sharp breath, and his voice could no longer be restrained, “A-Aaaah…!”

 That sensation Zack worked hard to keep feeling just increased a hundredfold, his body was frozen in place as this sense of physical euphoria took control. He could no longer think, and his world hazed into a white the moment he clenched his eyes shut. For the very first time, Zack got to experience physical pleasure.

 His stomach tensed again, and his dick throbbed hard within his hand. In the midst of Zack’s freed moan, his body responded in its own way. After a couple hard pulses, something suddenly erupted from the tip of his cock. It was a stream of a white liquid escaping him, and landed on Zack’s stomach. Yet, it wasn’t done, a hard grunt hummed in the back of Zack’s throat as his hips pushed against his palm, and his hand resumed in gentler strokes, coaxing another spurt of white to spill out, then another.

 Isaac became so lost in this strange high, it almost felt like an eternity, when in reality, it was only a few good seconds. During it all, the moans that escaped him were breathy and drawn out, with a faint tone that signalled a sense of satisfaction. After the last emission seeped out from Zack, his legs began to shake, and slowly lower his body back to laying flat on the bed. The man panted heavily, feeling the lingering throbs between his legs and within his palm, while his member lightly squirmed before becoming spent. Nothing more came out, and this pleasure that Zack just felt slowly left his body.

 “Haa...hnn…” Zack huffed out, his body still shaking.

 Zack blearily opened his eyes, staring up at the cracked concrete roof above his head. His body feels hot underneath his bandages, his stomach muscles feel a bit sore, but all he can sense is this huge wave of relief.

 Relief, followed by a strange sense of satisfaction, and exhaustion. Isaac actually feels exhaustion for the first time.

 “F-Fuck…” he sighed out. The impact of such a sensation taking over his body like that was still hard for him to process. Just from touch, he was able to cave. “...what the hell just happened?”

 His legs feel like rubber, so moving them to help him sit up was out of the question. Zack released the sheet under his grip to push his body up, as his other hand let go of his shaft, but he noticed something on his digits. It was something far stickier and warm than that strange clear fluid from earlier. As Zack sat up, he glanced at his hand and saw this strange milky-white goo stringing on his digits.

 “What the fuck?” Zack muttered, “the hell is this?”

 There was more, much more, as his bi-colored eyes spotted more of the substance splattered on his stomach, trailing down to the very source. He saw just a small amount trickle from the head of his cock as it was slowly easing from its erect state.

 “This gross shit fuckin’ came out of me?!”

 The man shouted out a few swears, trying to shake the thick, sticky liquid off his hands, and onto the concrete floor away from him. He’ll have to drag his bed to another location within the building, and perhaps find a new hideout. He’s disgusted that this was an end result to such an action, as he tore off the soiled bandages, and frantically wiped his body off clean. People actually do this, knowing the fact that they’ll get dirty? Gross, disgusting, vile, and a waste of energy.

 “I can’t believe I fuckin’ did it too...shit…” Zack growled to himself. “Gross, gross, gross…”

 As he began to rewrap his torso, his mind couldn’t shake the memory from his mind. Aside from the messy end result, it was the sensations that impacted him the most. It actually made Zack weak to something, lose every control of his body, and send his mind in some other reality - for once, Zack forgot the sensation of pain.

 Zack doesn’t want to be a liar, he doesn’t want to do this sort of thing anymore, but deep down, he can’t deny his internal thought - he actually enjoyed how it feels. What took place that night, this pleasure that he felt, it was only going to be Isaac’s sinful little secret.

[evermore118]

Scrawls

Pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

Summary: Flint’s been acting off, Oliver noticed. And everyone is far too excited that he’s going to find out his soulmate’s name. 

Words: 3,857

a/n: Set in the same soulmate au universe as a Deamus I wrote in case you wanted to read that too. 

Oliver wasn't entirely sure when it started but at some point in his fifth year, Flint started acting off. He seemed to avoid picking petty fights for the most part. All he'd really done that year was try to get his team's practice time even though he'd booked it for his team. It was just like Flint to use Snape's favouritism to get their practice time.

But that was it. He hadn't had much encounters with him since. And they wouldn't really as Flint was a year ahead of him. But any time they were near each other, Flint would avoid looking at him. He used to make a big show out of egging him on, trying to get to his short temper and riling him up. That was their relationship. Not pretending like he didn't exist. Maybe it was just his new way to piss him off.

There were more important things to worry about than Flint anyway. His seventeenth birthday was coming up and that'll mean his soulmates name will be someplace on his skin in their handwriting. He was excited but he wouldn't let it distract him from Quidditch.

Of course, he did have the natural curiosity of wondering who his soulmate could be. He’d thought about it plenty of times, eyeing person to person. Percy’s birthday had passed and Oliver had some blind panic it was him but Percy had told him it was some girl named Audrey, so he quickly forgot about it. His own birthday was still a couple of weeks away, and the nerves were kind of building up. He wondered if he already knew them, or if there would be some time until he met. It’d be weird asking each person he encountered with his soulmates name what the name etched onto their skin was. But maybe that was half the journey.

He did wonder what it’d mean if it was someone he already knew. If they were someone he was already close to or another name to him. If they’d already had their mark and hadn’t told them out of the rational fear who they thought their soulmate was, wasn’t actually who they thought it was. But the universe had some plan, and he’d find his soulmate surely.

But despite that, Quidditch was his main focus. They’d won against Slytherin in the first game. It was Flint’s own fault for replacing Higgs for the Malfoy kid simply for Nimbus 2001s, pip squeak didn’t even realise the Snitch was right next to his head while he was tormenting Harry. Flint had a go at Malfoy for that, likely regretting his decision. Oliver had tried to goad him for that but he was always met with a narrowed eyes and a cold glare. His cunning grey eyes were perfect for that. With the trollish appearance. The joke that Flint had troll blood was nothing new. Even remarks that stated pity for his soulmate. It was the most common jab at him but he deflected them easily. He wouldn’t expect Flint to give a damn about what he looked like or what people thought of him. Oliver would be lying if he said he didn’t find that at least a little admirable. Flint’s ability to not care about other’s opinions was the type of thing he wished he was able to have the capacity to do.

Uh, aside from that he was an insufferable git. But it was confusing how he’d seemed to forget that their relationship was jeers and arguments and spats, leading to eye rolls from their teams. It was routine, it was their normal. Taking that out just felt so out of place. Especially since Flint seemed to be normal in every other aspect. Barrelling down the corridor, not caring if he slammed into someone. Bludging in the corridors between classes, and probably when he was supposed to be in class. Cackling with his fellow Slytherins. Directing Trip Jinx’s at other students, usually Gryffindors. The same Flint he’d seen since his first year. Typical Slytherin bully archetype, the kind his father groaned about in his youth. Slytherin were definitely the sorts that cared about their housemates rather than everyone else. Oliver figured the ‘you’ll make your true friends’ spoke a lot of truth. He just didn’t understand why being a wanker seemed to be part of that.

Nevertheless, he just continued with his day as usual. He made his way to Potions with Percy, dodging first years rushing to class and half listening to Percy ramble about the essay he had to write for Astronomy. Oliver was too bust rehearsing plays in his head to listen completely. He knew Percy preferred someone to talk at rather than someone to listen, so it was a win-win for them. Oliver wasn’t the best listener in the world.

He heard laughter and his eyes drifted to where Flint was sitting with Shunpike. They were eating Every Flavour Beans, laughing when the other gaged at a gross flavour. He could recognise Flint’s laugh anywhere. Deep and a little maniacal. Like he was laughing at something that was a bad tasting bean.

He could see those stupid piercings glimmering. The stud in his brow, ring in his septum, and the multiple in his ears. It was just like Flint to get piercings while they were still at school. Not that they looked bad, they suited him.

He thought about sending a goad, try to stir him up a little. It was still weird to pass Flint without some sort of jab. He searched his mind for some sort of crude remark, something to get a response that was more than a glare.

“Oliver,” Percy’s voice cut in. He glanced at Shunpike giving him a questioning look. “Leave it.”

“Leave what?” he asked, raising his brow at him.

“Leave stirring Flint up for later, last thing you two need is to get into a brawl leading to detention.”

They’d already passed Flint and his Shunpike so there was no point in going back. A brawl could be saved for another time.

…

“We should do something for your birthday,” Alicia said, buttering her toast.

“Like what?” Oliver asked, getting some strawberries to put on his pancakes. Alicia, Katie, and Angelina were sat across from him, Percy on his side.

“We could go to the Three Broomsticks,” Katie said. “Have a get together and all.”

He shrugged, giving a small nod. They were making it a bigger deal than it was, sure this year was more meaningful than others but he didn’t want to put too much emphasis on it. He just wanted to get it over and done with, just find out his soulmates stupid name. His birthday wasn’t until that Monday anyway, and the Hogsmeade trip was only on the Saturday. Everyone else seemed far more excited about him getting his soulmate than he was. He wasn’t not curious but why did who the universe has decided was perfect for him so important?

He put up with it though, they meant well. He was the first on their squad to get their soulmate. They weren’t on the team when Charlie turned seventeen but he hadn’t gotten a mark, and he seemed to be okay with it. Charlie said something about not being interested in being with anyone anyway. Oliver had a shameless crush on him in his earlier years so that did break his heart a little, even though he knew it’d never happen in the first place.

Still, they were far too excited. It’s like they were expecting his soulmate to just appear in front of him when he turned seventeen.

When he had to get to class with Percy he felt something hit the back of his head. He glanced back and saw a crumpled bit of parchment on the floor, and afar he could see Flint snickering with is Shunpike. Oliver rolled his eyes and went to walk away but he heard Percy mutter, “Pick it up, you know he won’t.”

He huffed and picked up the stupid piece of scrunched parchment. He stretched it out see the note scrawled in absolute chicken scratch on it.

Wanker.

He looked back at Flint and saw the amused look on his face. He rolled his eye and shoved it into his pocket.

…

Oliver mostly in his own head while they all went out for his birthday. It was fun spending time with everyone at the three broomsticks but for some reason that’s when it really hit him he’d be finding out who his soulmate was soon. It was a little exciting, he guessed. Even if all he got was a name. He was a little curious if he already knew them. He was even more curious if his soulmate already knew.

He left the Three Broomsticks with Percy, trudging through the early December snow. Percy went into his typical mode of talking at Oliver while Oliver let himself get into his own head. He tried to think of the best ways for the team to practice while it was snowing.

At least he was until a snowball hit him in the back of the head.

He heard Flint’s familiar laugh and rolled his eyes, doing his best to ignore him. And he would’ve been successful if he hadn’t heard the crunching of snow. Despite Percy’s mutters to just ignore him, he turned to see Flint walking up to him. It was fucked he was a little happy he was paying attention to him and not ignoring him.

“What do you want Flint?” he grumbled. “Or did you just want to throw shit at me again?”

He gave him a grin, his crooked teeth clear. It wasn’t meant to be friendly, it was meant to stir him up. Oliver almost smiled. There was the normal between them. There was the goading he was used to. “What? I needed to get your attention somehow.” He rocked on his heels, his hands in his pockets. “What are you two Gryffindors up to anyway?”

“Just when to the Three Broomsticks for my birthday,” Oliver shrugged.

Something flashed in Flint’s eyes, the teasing smile wiping off his face. “It’s your birthday?”

“Monday,” he corrected.

“Some people meet up with friends Flint, some of us have them,” Percy said behind him. “Where’s Shunpike?”

Flint shrugged. “Studying.”

“And why aren’t you?” Oliver asked, raising his brow. It was just so damn typical of Flint to give little care to school.

“Gotta work on plays to make sure we win the cup, Wood.”

Yeah, that sounded like Flint. “Don’t even know how you can read your plays when five year olds have better hand writing than you.”

Flint frowned. His grey eyes weren’t piercing, they were unsure. “Whatever Wood, just make sure your plays are at least a little good enough for when we kick your arse.”

Before he could shoot anything back, Flint turned and left.

Well he guessed Flint was back to how he previously was.

“What’s with him?” Percy asked when he turned back to him, Percy looking curiously over his shoulder at the direction Flint had walked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say,” he said. “He’s been acting off.”

“Why do you care though?” Percy asked. “It’s weird but why does it matter if he’s acting weird?”

Because they’d had an argumentative relationship since he joined the team in his second year. Because it only got more intense when he became captain the previous year. Because Flint was a confrontational person but that seemed to shift at some point. Because this wasn’t the normal he was used to with him.

“I don’t know,” he settled on. “Unlike him.”

“Yeah but who cares.”

He nodded. Yeah, who cared?

…

Percy had already gone to sleep so Oliver was on his own as he waited for his soulmate’s name to appear. It was coming on to 12am and he was waiting for the prickle on his skin, as if that part of his body had fallen asleep.

It was weird how his mind ran through all the possible people it could be. So many names popped into his mind as he waited patiently. He thought of people who hadn’t turned seventeen yet, who could possibly be his soulmate. A piece of him did hope he was the first to know, to not have a soulmate who waited for him get his own. But that was a common theme. It could really be anyone. Probably someone who could handle his passion for Quidditch, even better, someone who was just as passionate. He couldn’t think of someone in his life that’d fit that mould.

He felt the skin on the inner side of his left forearm prickle. His heart raced, waiting for the prickle to cease, too scared to look until it was over. Even when it went away, he was too nervous to look, sweat prickling on his forehead.

He knew he had to though.

He took a deep breath and pulled up his sleeve to see the mark. It was clear in the dim light.

Even then he felt like he had to have misread it. He couldn’t be seeing what he thought. He gaped at his arm, staring at the familiar chicken scratch of a mark.

Marcus

…

Oliver tried to figure out what he was going to do. He had to confront Flint about this.

He knew. The bastard knew for god knew how long. And he hadn’t fucking told him.

At least his behaviour finally made sense. They were fucking soulmates.

The universe had a sick sense of humour.

When he was walking to class with Percy, Flint was in his usual spot with Shunpike. He had to stop himself from giving him a look, to indicate he knew. To tell him about the stupid mark he could practically feel burning on his skin.

But he kept his eyes forward, not letting them stray. As much as he wanted to. To just have the chance to yell his frustrations at him.

But as if the bastard read his mind he felt something land in his pocket. Something that definitely was a piece of parchment. He glanced over his shoulder slightly back at Flint. His wand was out but he seemed to be listening to something Shunpike was saying.

He turned away and took out the piece of parchment. Percy was rambling about something so he was distracted enough to read the note.

He carefully unfolded it and in the same scrawl on his arm was one simple line.

Meet me in the seventh floor’s left corridor at six  

He knew he knew.

…

The corridors weren’t as warm as the common room, Oliver almost went back to his room to lay under the sheets in its warmth, just not wanting to face him. But he had to. Of course he had to.

He wasn’t sure why he chose the seventh floor, he had to get up from the dungeons. Maybe it was because it was so out of the way.

He found him fidgeting in the corridor, clearly too nervous to even attempt to keep still. He cleared his throat to get his attention and he saw him jump. Flint’s grey eyes stared at him. Not cold. Not cunning. Not intimidating.

Scared. Soft. Unsure. That’s what he was getting from those all too familiar eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak but Flint got there first. “There’s uh… a room we can go to.”

Before Oliver could reply, Flint turned to go further down the corridor. Confused, he followed him, and stopped when he saw a doorway forming.

Room of Requirement. He’d heard rumours of it but it seemed too unreal to be true. Flint opened the door and Oliver hastily followed, not sure exactly what to expect.

What he saw was a love seat by a fireplace, a blanket placed over the back of the loveseat. It was ready for two people to cuddle and forget the world. Maybe that was what they needed.

When he closed the door behind him, he forced himself to look at Flint. Flint at the same nervous stance, fidgeting on his feet. The only virtue was the warmth of the fireplace but something in him was pushing him to pull Flint onto the love seat, wrap the blanket around the two of them and cuddle, not thinking of anything else in the world.

But maybe working things out should come first. If they did. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

The silence between them was deafening, the tension thick. He wanted to yell at him for not telling him but he couldn’t bring himself to. Flint just looked… soft, vulnerable, even a little guilty. So he let him break the silence.

“Happy birthday.” He spoke softly, clearly wanting to tread the waters lightly. But he didn’t want to stall, he wanted to get right to what they were here for.

“You knew.” He knew his tone was harsh but this was the closest to yelling he was going to get. He couldn’t bother to use the energy.

“Fine,” he huffed, finally addressing what they were there for. “I knew.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Flint took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did. “What did you expect me to say, Wood?”

“Something! Not avoid me and make it very fucking obvious something was off.”

“So you wanted me to go up to you and tell you ‘hey, I know you hate my guts and all but we’re soulmates’.”

He swallowed. “I don’t hate you.” Because it was true. He didn’t hate the guy. He was annoyed by him and he knew exactly how to stir him up but he didn’t hate him.

“Well, I don’t hate you ether,” Flint replied, clearly surprised by his response. “But still, us? It’s…” he trailed off.

He nodded. “Universe has a sick sense of humour.”

Flint snorted. “Yeah,” he replied. “Sure you would’ve liked a better soulmate.”

“You’re not… awful,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“You know I hear what people say about me,” he said. “Pitying my soulmate and all.”

“You don’t seem particularly hurt by it,” he replied, cocking his head to the side.

He shrugged. “I don’t really care what people think of me,” he said. “People can say what they want. I look bad with the piercings, I look like I have troll blood, I don’t care. I don’t care about the people who say it so why should I care what they think?”

He expected it from Flint, he really did. And he liked that about Flint a lot.

“Look, we don’t have to be together, I did just want to talk this out,” Flint said. “I uh… I get if you don’t really want to be with me.”

Oliver licked his lips. “I didn’t say that, it’s just real surprising I guess.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Me part or bloke part.”

He returned the smile. “Bloke part fine, I’m gay anyway.”

“Oh good,” he laughed lightly. “That saves a step.”

Oliver licked his lips. “Guess I need to wrap my head around it being you. You’ve had far more time to process than I have.”

Flint chewed his lip. “Bringing that up again, great,” he coughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, should’ve said that before. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know it’s a piss poor excuse but I had a difficult time processing it. Plus, you aren’t too bad on the eyes so I didn’t know how’d I got you.”

His cheeks tinted a little pink at the unexpected compliment. “Well, you’re not as bad looking as everyone says.”

He felt a little pride when he saw the smallest of smiles accompanied by pink cheeks on Flint’s face. “Well that’s nice to hear,” he cleared his throat. “Where was you soulmate mark? Mine’s on my collarbone.” He tugged the collar of his robe and in his hand writing he saw his name right over the bone.

“Mine’s on my forearm,” he said and pulled his sleeve up to show him the mark.

“Merlin my hand writing is bad,” Flint laughed when he leaned forward to it.

“Couldn’t be at least a little neat?” he teased, small smile on his lips when he pulled his sleeve down.

“Well sweetheart I’m dyslexic, we tend to not have the best hand writing in the world.”

He ignored the surprising pet name in exchange for the new information. “You’re dyslexic?”

“Yeah, my mums a muggle born and my aunt picked up on it.”

“Wait, you’re a half blood?”

An amused smile crossed his lips. “Yeah, pissed off my dad’s side of the family.”

“Seem to be learning a lot about you tonight,” Oliver said.

“Well, you don’t know a lot about me to begin with. And I don’t really know much about you.”

The love seat ended up being useful. They didn’t do anything physical really, just talked and let their knees press together, allowing themselves to actually get to know each other.

He’d loved cats ever since he was five.

His favourite subject was Potions since it was so hands on.

He wanted to play for Montrose and dreamed of playing for England.

His valued friendship above everything.

Oliver was coming to realise there was so little he knew about Flint but he was also someone he could listen to forever.

…

The Room of Requirement became a sort of meeting place for them. They got the cosy room each time, that particular night there was a bottle of champagne when he got to the room. Marcus was already there and smiled when he saw him.

“Did you sneak that in?” Oliver asked, sitting next to him on the love seat, nodding towards the champagne.

He shook his head. “No, it was here when I got here. Want some?”

He smiled and nodded and Marcus leaned forward to pour the two glasses sat on the table. He handed the glass to him and he smiled taking a sip.

It’d been a weird few weeks. They were taking it slow, trying to get used to the idea they’re apparently destined for each other before really jumping to snogging. They hadn’t told anyone they were soulmates yet. They weren’t really sure when they would.

That didn’t really matter. Because he could only focus on Marcus. Marcus playing with his hair. Marcus shuffling closer to press his lips to his neck. Oliver smiled and turned his head to him, nudging his nose against his.

Gently, their lips found their way between each other and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He let his fingers find their way to his hair as Marcus pulled him to his lap, holding him gently on the hips.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact Marcus’s tongue was in his mouth.

And nothing felt more right.

…

Percy and the team’s shocked faces when he told the was something Oliver will find amusing for probably the rest of his life.

[topfics]

Knight

Tyler Joseph X Reader

Request: could you do one where a creepy guy starts hitting on y/n and being really pervy and you get really scared and then Tyler or Josh sWOOPS IN AND SAVES THE DAY cause that would be amazing. thanks (I love your writing so much !!)

A/N: SO THIS CAN BE A BIT TRIGGERING SO BE WARNED. THIS IS NOT A SMUT. IT DOES HAVE SOME SEXUAL CONTENT HOWEVER. I’ll list the warnings down below!!! I apologize for the lack of content recently, I’ve been very discouraged about writing and I just haven’t really had much time to write either. I hope you guys enjoy this one, however. I promise I’ll try to be more consistent with my writing, but please bear with me if I’m not. You guys are the absolute best! Thank you for sticking with me.

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, language, some mild violence, uncomfortable situations

Tyler and Josh were celebrating the release of a new album and tour dates. You couldn’t be any more proud of them and everything they’ve achieved. The party was being held at a good friend’s house. It was a beautiful mansion complete with an outdoor pool, speakers inside and out, and it was equipped with a bar. There were several floors, and the house itself was very modern. You couldn’t help but smile at the place. The owners were not only rich, but they were humble about it as well.

You had a drink in your hand as you swayed to the music that was being played by the DJ. Tyler walks over to you and grabs you by the waist, swaying along with you to the music,

“Hello beautiful.” he whispers softly.

You smile and giggle, turning around giving him a quick peck.

“Hey, love.” you respond. “Congratulations. I know I’ve told you that a million times but I am so damn proud of you.”

Tyler gives you a great big smile, and hugs you tightly.

“Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. You’ve supported me through everything and I can’t thank you enough. I mean, I don’t even know how you deal with being apart from me for so long. I know I can barely handle it.”

You give him a cheeky grin.

“Well, I can take it because I know you’re living your dream and you are saving lots of lives… and I know you have a blast every time you perform. And it’s not like I never go with you on tour. I do. And I love every second of it.”

Tyler places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, taking your hands in his own.

“I love you, (Y/N). I hope you know that.”

“I do, Mr. Joseph. And I love you. With all my heart. Now, go talk with the others. I’m sure they’re dying to tell you how proud they are of you and Josh. I’m going to get some fresh air.” you smile and kiss him one more time before walking away, going to the front of the yard.

You take in a deep breath, trying to get some fresh air. There was such a crowd that your anxiety was starting to take action. You loved being around Tyler and his people, but it could easily become overwhelming.

You sat down on the bench outside on the front lawn, looking up at the night sky. It was clear, not a single cloud in sight. You were surprised at the lack of people in the front with you. Surely you couldn’t be the only one who got overwhelmed by the ginormous crowd within the household. You wave at some of your friends, smiling as you look back into the house, seeing Tyler. His face lit up whenever he talked with others. He was so happy, and you couldn’t help but smile at that fact.

A ragged old man sat beside you, and you moved over a little to make room for him, thinking nothing of it. You look down at your drink and take a sip, wincing at the sour taste that overcame your mouth. The man scoots closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Excuse me miss… but I think… you’re incredibly beautiful.” he stutters. His breath smelled of alcohol. You didn’t recognize him as someone you knew, or anyone Tyler knew. You smile gently and move away once more, kindly thanking the man for the compliment.

“You know… the ladies’ call me the Magic Man…” he continues, obviously not getting the hint that you were completely uninterested.

“That’s nice... “ you whisper, trying to not be rude to the person. “Why is that…?” you ask, immediately regretting it. You hoped if you asked him he would stop talking to you and walk away. You weren’t one to assume the worst about people, but you were getting bothered by this guy.

He gives you a smirk and scoots closer to you.

“Well, since you asked, let me show you.” he states. He stares at you with lust in his eyes. You felt uncomfortable and began to get up, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back down before you could leave. “Women tend to love the way I touch… the ability I have to make people feel good… scream in pure ecstasy… that is why they call me the Magic Man…”

He keeps one hand on your wrist, the other slithering over to your leg.

“Please stop... “ you say sternly. “If you don’t… I’ll scream.” you say.

He simply shakes his head at you and continues to move his hand up your thigh, dipping his hand under your dress. He rests his fingers on your core, and you inhale deeply, uncomfortable at the whole situation. You tried to pull his hand out from under your dress, but as ragged and old as he looked, he was pretty strong for someone of his stature.

“Can he make you come like I could, baby…?” he whispers in your ear. “Can he make you scream for more? Could he make you come multiple times in one night…? Pound you so hard that you can’t even walk the next morning…?”

He begins to rub up and down and you begin to squirm. You cry out for Tyler but he covers your mouth. He grabs your wrists and drags you away from the house, pulling you towards the backyard of another house. You try to kick him but to no avail. It was as if he had done this multiple times before.

You could hear your name being screamed behind you.

“(Y/N)?!” Tyler shouts. He looks around and starts to panic when he doesn’t see you in the front yard. Tyler always had a sixth sense for whenever you were in trouble. He frowns and starts to sprint when he sees you being dragged away by a stranger.

“HEY!” he screams. The man looks back at glares, looking at you with a questionable look in his eyes.

“That your boyfriend?” he spits out at you. “He ain’t gonna like what I’m about to do to his precious little girlfriend…” he smirks and begins to laugh maniacally.

Tyler begins to run faster than he has ever run in his life. He pants and starts to sweat, the adrenaline pumping through his body. He couldn’t believe what was actually happening. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He knew there would be creeps at the party, but he hoped that no one would cause a scene like this.

Tyler takes a different path, knowing the neighborhood quite well. He makes a sharp left followed by a right, tackling the man down to the ground when he saw him. He gets up and grabs your hand, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay, babe? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, but tears begin to fall from your face.

“He… didn’t hurt me… but he touched me… I tried to stop him…” you sob. “I’m so sorry Ty…”

Tyler frowns and holds your frail body against his, stroking your hair, gently shushing you to calm you down.

“Hey… it isn’t your fault, alright? We should’ve had better security. And I shouldn’t have left you alone.” he begins.

The man cackles and gets up from the lawn.

“How… fucking sweet. Would you look at this? A reunion.” he coughs and stumbles towards the two of you, causing Tyler to push you back behind him. “You should’ve seen her face… when I touched her. She turned a bright red…” he lifted his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Damn… she smells so sweet. I would’ve loved to… eat her out. I’m sure I would’ve done a better job than you ever fucking could.”

Tyler glares and turns to you.

“Go back to the house. Stay with Josh.” he says sternly.

“But Ty--” you start.

“GO! I’m going to deal with this guy.”

You frown and nod, running back to the house. You look around the house for Josh, and sprint when you see him.

“JOSH!” you shout. “Tyler… I think he’s about to beat someone up and I’m really worried this guy… he’s crazy and I don’t want him to get hurt…”

Josh frowns and nods, pulling you aside from the crowd.

“Okay, we’ll call the police and we’ll make sure nothing happens to him, alright?”

You nod your head and pace back and forth as Josh calls the police.

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

Tyler looked at the man, a fire burning within him. No one touches you like that without your permission. No one treats you the way he did. No one gets to talk to you like that. He clenched his fist and shoots daggers at him.

“I swear to God if you ever go near this house, or her again, you will regret it.”

The man laughs and grips his stomach.

Tyler starts to shake with rage.

“You think this is funny?” he begins to raise his voice.

“Oh yes. I think this is VERY funny. You’re Tyler Joseph aren’t you?” he laughs once more. “The one with what do you call it… a… a… blurryface…? Someone who has extreme anxiety…? And you… you are threatening me?” he bursts out in another fit of laughter. “This is quite hilarious. What do you think you could possibly do to me, huh? Didn’t you say once that you would run away from a fight…?”

Tyler shakes his head and runs towards the man, punching him right in the nose with as much strength as he could muster up. He immediately clutches his hand, shaking off the pain. If Tyler was being honest though, it felt good to punch the asshole in the face. He wanted to wipe off that smug grin off his face.

The old man falls to the ground, groaning in pain.

“You little bitch!” he screams.

“Tyler!” Josh yells. “Hey the cops are here. Just leave it to them, alright? (Y/N) already talked to them. They know who it is. This isn’t the first time this guy has done it.”

Tyler sighs in relief and nods, walking over to you when he sees you. He passes the cops and gives them a nod as they go past him. He holds you close to him, hugging you as tight as he could. You return the embrace and rest your head on his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

“Are you okay?” you mumble into his chest. You pull away slightly and look up at him.

He smiles and nods, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah… it felt really good to sock him in the face.” he laughs slightly.

You giggle and look at him, surprised.

“You… you punched him…?” you ask to your amusement.

“Yep. He was pissing me off. I would gladly do it again. He deserved it.”

The cops come back from the backyard with the man in custody. You, Tyler, and Josh all glare at him, deciding to all flip him off.

Josh looks at the two of you, giving you each a pat on the back.

“I’m gonna head back to the house, and let everyone know that everything’s okay. Ty, you still good to play that acoustic set tonight?”

Tyler looks at you, and you give him a nod in return.

“I think that’ll make my night ten times better if you played.” you admitted.

“Are you sure? You don’t just want to go home or anything?” he asks, concern filling his voice.

You shook your head and give him a reassuring smile.

“No, I want to see you play. I’m not gonna ruin this night for you guys. I’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll go get Mark and stay with him.”

Tyler gives you a questioning look before finally agreeing.

“Fine. But you and Mark are going to stay in the very front where I can see you, okay?”

You smile and nod, giving him a gentle kiss.

“Anything for you, my knight.” you smirk and take his hand, leading him back to the house. You find Mark and head to the area where the mic and speakers are set up.

Tyler grabs his ukulele and Josh takes his seat.

Tyler clears his throat and looks at you, giving you a big smile.

“So this first song we will play… is called Tear In My Heart. And this is dedicated to my lovely girlfriend.”

You smile and blow a kiss towards him, and they begin to perform. During the whole song, Tyler didn’t take his eyes off you once. You sang along with him, forgetting about the events that happened only a few moments before. You were thankful that Tyler had that ability. To make you forget about all the bad.

After the song ended, he grabs your hand and pulls you out, kissing you passionately.

“I love you, (Y/N). Forever and always.”

The party cheers and you laugh, wrapping your arms around Tyler.

“I love you too, Ty.” you whisper before kissing him once more.

[harrysbbby]

Blame- Bucky Barnes- Part 12

a/n: this will probably be the last update for a while but to make sure it’s not too long…. Reblog & tag a friend to help get a new part uploaded :)

Also, we’re nearing the end of this… so please send me requests as this story only has about another 3 or 4 parts to go!

part-1

part-2

part-3

part-4

part-5

part-6

part-7

part-8

part-9

part-10

part-11

You were taken to the Super Max prison in the middle of the ocean. Wanda had been straight-jacketed, and you had all been put in separate cells. You had gotten some medical attention for your eye, but you found out you had nearly lost complete sight in it. You weren’t sure if it was your lack of sleep, or your anxiousness caused by Steve and Bucky’s unknown whereabouts or status, or your loss of blood but you had become unstable in the medical room. You thrashed out on the doctors and they had to sedate you to calm you down. They took you back to your cell in handcuffs, not trusting you anymore.

You had no idea of time or day, but Tony had come to the prison and came into your block of cells.

Clint clapped sarcastically as he entered, “The futurist, gentlemen! The futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what’s best for you, whether your like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” Tony replied moving up to Clint’s cell and speaking to him through the glass, “I had no idea they’d put you in here, come on.”

“Yeah, well, you knew they’ll put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah. But, not some super max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint suggested. He stood up and moved towards the glass, talking directly to him, “Criminals, Tony. I think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right? It didn’t used to mean me, or Sam, or (Y/n) or Wanda. But, here we are.”

“'Cause you broke the law.” Tony counted

“Yeah.’ Clint sighed

“I didn’t make you.”

“The law. The law.” Clint began pacing back and forth.

“You read it, you broke it.”

“The law. The law,” Clint continued, “the law.”

“Alright, you’re all grown up. You got a wife and kids. I don’t understand why didn’t you think about them before you choose the wrong side?” Tony finished, moving away from his cell as Clint stood up angrily.

“You better watch your back on this guy. Chances are he’s going to break it.” He said as he banged his hands against the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” Scott said as Tony walked past

“Who are you?”

“Come on, man.” Scott exasperated.

Tony reached your cell and your back was turn towards him but you heard his footsteps and eyes burning into your back.

“An eye for an eye… that’s the saying, right, Tony?” you snapped as you turned around, revealing the grotesque flesh which held your severed eye. “I believe you owe me one.”

“You did this to yourself.” He said. You laughed,

“I did this to me? No, you did this to me. You did this to all of us when you initiated those damn Accords.” You huffed.

“Listen, about Barnes..” he tried to say before you cut him off angrily.

“No! Don’t you dare speak to me about him. Not after what you have done. Tony it wasn’t Steve who tore the Avengers apart, it was you.” You glared at him fuming, “Get out of my sight.” You said wiping around as to not look at him, “or so I should say if I had both my eyes.”

Tony walked over to Sam’s cell and you heard the start of their conversation.

“How’s Rhodes?”

“We’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… Fingers cross.” Tony replied, “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“Oh so what, you’re the good cop now?” Sam questioned before the rest of their conversation was too hushed to be heard.

Soon enough, Tony was leaving. You huffed back over to your hard metal bed, attempting to get some sleep. Your dreams were horrible nightmares of the battle, from what horrors actually happened, mixed with scenarios your brain imagined. One in particular that spooked you was the feeling of a metal hand on your neck and haunting eyes glaring into you. Without fail, it woke you up every time. You were terrified for Steve and Bucky and in the prison, you were almost certain you’d never hear from them again.

But low and behold, a few days later, Steve came walking through the doors of the super max prison. He walked up to Sam, who wore a smirk on his face.

“Oh welcome,” he said sarcastically. The keys Steve carried clanged as he worked to unlock Sam’s door.

“Well, thanks for having me,” he shot back, smiling up at him.

As he got to your cell he pointed at the eye-patch you had so kindly received from Secretary Ross, note the sarcasm

“How’s your eye?” he asked concerned. You just shrugged,

“Tingles every now and then but it’s not so bad.”

He eventually got all of you out of your cells. You helped Wanda out of her straight jacket. She groaned and stretched her arms,

“That thing was horrible,” she complained, moving her head side to side, a couple of cracks heard from her stiff neck

You all, meaning yourself, Sam, Scott, Clint and Wanda, followed Steve towards the jet he had waiting.

“How did you get in here?” Wanda asked, “there were so many guards.”

“I had some help,” Steve answered as the jet door opened, revealing T’Challa in his Blank Panther gear holding his helmet in his hand. He helped usher the rest of you into the jet as it set off for Wakanda. On the journey Steve explained how he had sent a letter to Tony, apologizing and telling him that if he truly needed us, we would all be there.

“T’Challa has kindly accepted to hide us in Wakanda until this blows over,” Steve clarified, “Bucky’s there waiting for..”

“Bucky?” you interrupted loudly, perking up the sound of his name, “Is he okay?”

Steve was taken-a-back by your outburst and blinked a few times before nodding. Sam’s cackle travelled through your ears from beside you,

“Smooth, (Y/N),” he threw his head back, eyes squinted shut, “you’re in deep”

“Oh shut up Sam! It’s not like that..” but before you could finish defending yourself Wanda rolled her eyes,

“Sure it isn’t,” She smiled.

“You’re all impossible,” you grumbled, slumping back in your seat. Steve laughed lightly,

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Bucky will be ecstatic to see you.”

 You arrived at the compound in Wakanda, all of you eager to get off the jet and be able to enjoy yourselves without the threat of guards or tazers every second of every day. You walked into the building with everyone else, it was large and immaculate.

“Thank you, T’Challa, for letting us stay here” You said, looking up at the high ceilings and out the windows that overlooked the Wakandan jungle.

“It’s my pleasure, (Y/N),” he spoke softly, “we are all victim’s here and if I can help one of you in the slightest….” he trailed off tilting his head. You smiled at him as you the corner into the large living area.

Into your view came the back of Bucky’s head. He sat on the couch, reading some kind of tablet, a confused look on his face, but of course none of you could see that. He was actually reading an article of the Top 10 Biggest Events of the 1900’s, trying to catch up on what he missed. The invention of the internet was very interesting to him that he nearly didn’t hear all the footsteps enter the room. But, he is a super soldier, so with his enhanced hearing he heard the mass of feet travelling his way. He swiveled in his place to see the entirety of Team Cap walking towards him and he smiled. He was so glad to see the people who were becoming his friends, slowly but surely. His heart fluttered when he saw you, but he was determined to keep his butterflies at bay.

He stood up and met you guys in the open area by the staircase. Steve came up to Bucky and clasp a hand on his shoulder before looking at him seriously,

“You all good, Buck?” he asked

“I’m fine, just catching up on some stuff,” he lifted up the tablet still poised in his hand, he looked up to sweep his eyes across the many people standing in front of him and he felt nervous. He didn’t know if he could trust himself not to lash out, so he began to cower back. However, before he could dainty arms wrapped around his neck and he could smell the faint scent of your shampoo.

Bucky tensed under you grip and for a millisecond you thought you had made a wrong decision but he loosened slightly and wrapped cautious arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry..” you stuttered as you stepped back, “that was overstepping the lin-“

“(Y/N),” he interrupted, “I don’t mind.”

You relaxed and smiled lightly. That’s when Bucky realized only one of your gorgeous (his choice of adjective) eyes were staring back at him.

“Your… your eye.” He stated sadly. You automatically moved to cover the eyepatch  but he grabbed your hand. You knew as soon as you were aware of the damage that you would be self-conscious about the wound- so ugly and gross- but Bucky seemed to make it worse. You actually really cared what he thought of you.

“I’m fine, Bucky, please..” but your plea didn’t help. He lifted up the patch to assess the damaged before placing it back on your eye, jaw clenched

“I’m going to kill Stark,”

“Oh puh-lease, you are not! If anyone gets the honours for this, I do!”

“C’mon,”

“No, absolutely not, I’m not letting you go to prison- for MURDER”

Everyone stood around as you and Bucky interacted. To the two of you it was almost as if you were the only two in the room. They were amazed at how your conversation flowed so easily in a matter of seconds. No one had seen either of you so bubbly in a long time. Sam stepped closer to Steve and whispered into his ear,

“What the hell are we going to do with these two?” he half joked, the other half a tone of annoyance at the thought of having to watch them do this, every day.

“Nothing, they’re perfect for each other.” He smiled watching his best friend smile at you genuinely. It looked painful but it was one of his first smiles since leaving the winter soldier behind.

“How about we show everyone to their rooms,” T’Challa suggested. You and Bucky had yet to stray from one another. Without looking away from you he spoke,

“I’ll show you yours, it’s across from me,” he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you with him up the stairs, happily chatting about the article he’d been reading.

“Oh my god,” Wanda said, motioning to T’Challa for him to lead the way, “it’s as if we don’t even exist” she rolled her eyes as your’s and Bucky’s laughter echoed down the hallway

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