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stardustloki · 28 days ago

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To be Remembered

You are replaceable.

This is the first lesson that CT-4729 ever remembers learning.

They are all going to die, even if they make it off Kamino, and what will be left? What will there be to remember them by? What marks will there be to prove they ever existed?

Teen, No Archive Warnings, Original Clone Character(s), Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Remembrance, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Read it on ao3 here or below the cut.

You are replaceable.

This is the first lesson that CT-4729 ever remembers learning.

Clones are not important, they have been bred to die, and when they do another number will step up and take their place.

Some of his brothers like the fact that they are ‘the same’, clinging to their similarities as if that makes them special, as if that will keep them safe. And perhaps this is true, ‘29 thinks as he watches ‘28 get taken away by a Kaminoan who has spotted his aversion to bright lights and loud noises, an aversion that has no place on a battlefield. ‘28 doesn’t return.

‘31 dies in a training accident. There is a fault in ‘26’s genetic structure.

Each night ‘29 holds them in his heart, tries to remember them, but the memories become fuzzy, overwritten by watching the same identical faces day after day after day, until he cannot be sure of what was real and what was imagined.

A sense of panic starts to settle into his bones, like an itch that can’t be scratched. They are all going to die, even if they make it off Kamino, and what will be left? What will there be to remember them by? What marks will there be to prove they ever existed?

‘29 is not important. He knows this, he is told this every day, but there is an ache inside of him that longs to be, that longs to matter beyond his worth as a cog in the machine that will be the GAR.

It is this more than anything that has him taking out his training knife and scratching his number into the wall above his bed. He knows it’s a stupid idea, even as he makes the first mark, but he can’t stop. This bed is his, it is where he sleeps, it belongs to him (even as nothing is meant to belong to them, everything should be interchangeable). Carving his number seems to prove it.

I was here, he thinks, finding himself calmer and less desperate as he stares at the jagged lines, barely recognisable as Aurebesh. I was here and I won’t be forgotten.

It is an aberration, a defect, and when a maintenance droid informs the Kaminoans they are not pleased by his attempts to be an individual. They summon one of the trainers, who seems to take a great deal of pleasure in hurting him, of reminding him of his place, before dragging him off by his hair as ‘29 struggles to keep his feet underneath him. There is nothing special about you, Clone, he says, you’re not important enough to matter to anyone, and when they decommission you no one will bother to remember you.

Despite the feeling of anguish that is crushing him, ‘29 cannot bring himself to regret his actions, not even as he curls into a ball in the isolation pod, waiting for the long-necks to kill him. Everyone dies, perhaps now he will be remembered too.

It is a surprise when they let him out. His batchmates tell him he was in there for three days, under blinding bright lights that left him shaky and delirious, unable to rest, sure he would go mad.

Still, he has been given a second chance, and he knows he must be smarter this time.

He carves notches into his armour, scratches a line into the bottom of his DC-15, digs a little indent into the underside of the table where he eats. Small things to show he was there.

His batchmates call him ‘Scratch’.

And Scratch will die, he knows this, but at least the little marks he leaves prove he had once been alive. That he had been a living breathing human being, and his life had meant something, even if it was never supposed to.

The itch under his skin eases a little.

Scratch is deployed, and he finds himself on a ship, far away from the surveillance of the Kaminoans.

He carves his name onto the wall beside every bunk he calls his own, his name joins others etched into bar tables at 79s, he makes scratches on rocks and fence-posts, and on crates of ammo.

A few months in, he wins a holo-recorder in a sabaac game. Its owner, Brew - who has a wide smile and intricate patterns shaved into his close cropped hair - dies a week later due to an anti-tank missile. But Scratch has a picture of him, and a video of him losing badly at cards two days after he’d lost the holo-recorder. He is gone, but not forgotten.

Scratch takes pictures of everything - his brothers, their antics, the planets they visit, the people they meet, the food, the bad karaoke nights, the art on the LAAT/i's - and as he does the terror that had gripped him for so long seems to fade. He makes a blog on the holonet, and starts creating an archive of everything that wouldn’t give their position away to the Separatists.

He stands over the bodies of dead shinies and wonders, is there anyone left who remembers them, is there anyone that knows their names?

The months draw on and his archive lengthens, but then so too do his doubts. Most of the brothers who started this war with him are gone, replaced by an ever turning carousel of new faces. The Clones are the only ones who would ever care for his memories, and before long every last one of them will be dead - the war cannot end in Republic victory with casualty numbers this high.

“Thank you,” Tis says to him, tears streaming down their face as they watch a vid of their now-dead vod’ika pulling stupid faces into the holorecorder. “Thank you for remembering him.”

Scratch sighs. Perhaps this is all for nothing, perhaps it won’t matter in the end, but it matters now, and that has to count for something.

He shuts his eyes, opens them again, and takes a breath as he watches the Separatist-held planet of Parto come into view. He clutches the stone he’d picked up from Orisc in his hand, as he brushes his thumb over the scratches he’d etched into it, he allows their rough edges to sooth him.

Whatever would happen, Scratch knew he had lived.

Two hundred years later, the sun shines high over the fields of Parto. The debris of battle, the corpses, the landmines, all gone, replaced by carefully tilled plots of burmillet. Nothing about these fields would tell you a war had ever taken place here, nothing would tell you the scale of the slaughter, when even the jagged craters, the vestiges of the explosions that had claimed Clones and Droids alike, have been smoothed over to make harvesting the grain easier.

Almost nothing.

Ti Yar, eight years old and with the gait of a child who hasn’t quite figured out what to do with all four limbs yet, comes tromping through the tall burmillet, brushing the stems out of his way - an explorer chopping through the undergrowth to reach his destination.

Despite his imaginings, he remains surprised when he stumbles over something on the field, his ankle twisting slightly as his foot falls off something solid. Scowling, he looks down to see the cause of his interrupted game. His eyes widen.

It’s a stone, sure, but way better than the red-grey rocks that litter their soil. This one is a deep blue-back, with lighter streaks in it that almost seem to glow in the light of the sun, like crystals set in marble. Ti doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know which planet it was from (though he has a sneaking suspicion ‘not this one’ might be the correct answer), but what he does know, as he gazes at the smooth rock with open-mouthed astonishment, is that he has found his treasure.

His fingertips brush over the rock’s surface as he starts to examine it in greater detail, and his thumb presses down on a section at the back that seems almost sharp. He turns it over.

There are notches carved in the stone, jagged letters in aurebesh:

Scratch

CT-4729

12.8.4345.7.87643.

He frowns at the last part. A holonet address, perhaps?

After Ti arrives home, the stone clutched firmly in his hand, he logs on to the holonet and meticulously types the address in.

It does take him to a holonet site, the design of which seems weird and old, and takes so long to load that Ti almost gives up. The caption at the top declares that the owner of the blog is called Scratch, which is kinda a weird name, but then again everyone who comes from another planet has a weird name.

There are lots of pictures and videos, all of Scratch and his brothers. They all look pretty similar (then again all humans do) but they cut their hair in funny ways to set themselves apart. He knows they’re soldiers, because they all wear bright white armour with different green patterns on it, and sometimes Scratch has posted training videos.

He stays up, scrolling through the blog, for long after he should have gone to bed, hiding his datapad under his pillow when his parents come to check on him. There’s something exciting about this, about the feeling that he’s found something that no-one else knows about. He’s learnt now that there was an entire army of ‘Clones’ on this planet, but he’s never heard about this before from anyone. He wonders if his grandparents know about it.

He watches vids of Scratch laughing, playing pranks on his brothers, singing songs that contain words he’s pretty sure none of his family would want him to hear. They talk funny, like in old holonet dramas or the recordings played in the history lessons he tries not to fall asleep in, but he likes them all the same, and finds himself grinning along with them. Another strange thing is the pictures on the walls beside some of their beds, of beings without all their clothes on. Ti doesn’t get it, and prefers the walls that have ancient ship designs pasted to them, but he supposes that people in the past did weird stuff.

Late the next morning, his parents help him research the ‘Clone Wars’.

He’s heard about the fall of the Republic at school, about how it became an Empire, about how it hurt people and destroyed Alder… something, and that there was a Jedi hero called... Luka Skywalker, but that was old stuff, stuff that happened way before anyone he knew was even born, and it has never seemed to matter.

This does.

This stuff, Scratch’s smile as he gives Ti a tour of the ship’s mess-hall, this is real. This matters.

There is a part of Ti that wonders why Scratch lost the stone, hopes that he’d just dropped it out of his pocket, or left it for someone like Ti to find. Maybe he did this on every planet?

His parents have searched the holonet for him, and have found no other records of CT-4729.

But there’s another part of him that knows what happened, a part that he finds hard to face. If he scrolls up to the top of Scratch’s blog, the very last holo-image is one of Parto, taken through a transparisteel window. If he focuses hard enough, Ti can see a pale reflection of Scratch outlined on top of the red plains below.

Ti looks down at the stone and grips it tightly in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the smoothed and weathered aurebesh lettering, and wonders if he and his family are the only people alive that remember him.

Next week, at the village school, they are asked to create a three-minute presentation about an important historical figure.

Before, Ti would have reluctantly thrown something together that would maybe have lasted half that time. Now, he puts more effort than he has into anything he’s ever done for school in his life, and tells the class about the creation of the Clones and the fall of the Old (but not the Oldest) Republic, and about what Scratch’s favourite ration bar was.

As kindly as possible, the teacher stops him after he hits the 10 minute mark.

And Ti grows and changes, but the stone on his bedroom shelf, sat beside a holo of Scratch and his brothers remains.

30 years later, Dr Ti Yar the renowned historian, stands before a crowd inside the National Museum of Parto, ready to open a new exhibition.

If you were to walk past him, and turn the corner to look inside, you would see hundreds of flickering holos, the ones captured by Scratch along with others that have been donated or found in archives around the galaxy. The captions beside them tell the story of the Clones, and dotted around the room are surviving sets of armour and other objects from the war that Ti has picked up over the years.

In a glass case in the centre, the blue-grey stone stands. Beneath it lies a plaque, etched into it are the words;

In Memory of Scratch. CC-4729. 31 - 19 BBY. You are eternal.

#whumptober2024 #n.11 #“Leave no trace behind like you don't even exist.”#sw #tcw #original clone trooper #original clone characters #angst #bittersweet ending #implied/referenced character death

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evilwriter37 · 3 months ago

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Fevers and Taunting

Augusnippets Day 21

Delirium/Hallucinations

Rated: teen

Warnings: implied/referenced character death

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Viggo lay in bed, eyes closed, a cold wet wash cloth over his forehead. The Dragon Riders were trying to bring his fever down. At least, he thought it was the Dragon Riders. That was who he’d been staying with when this illness had struck.

It was rare that Viggo got sick. It had only happened a handful of times in his life. Worse than that, it was rare for him to get sick this badly.

He wanted to sleep. He’d tried, but everything in his body hurt.

“Well, don’t you look miserable.”

Viggo’s eyes popped open at the voice, a voice that he shouldn’t be hearing, that no one should be hearing.

Because Ryker Grimborn was dead. Viggo had made absolutely sure of that.

He lifted his head and searched the room. And, seeing nothing, he laid his head back down.

“You deserve this, you know.”

Viggo groaned at the sound of Ryker’s voice. He didn’t understand. Why was he hearing this? He was too sick to respond though, too sick to cry out for help.

But he didn’t really need help, did he? It wasn’t possible that Ryker was haunting him. Maybe it was the fever?

I’m going to die with my brother taunting me.

Viggo rolled onto his side so that his left ear was facing up. He couldn’t hear well out of that one due to his burns. Maybe Ryker’s voice would be muffled.

“I hope you die like I did.”

“Sh-shut it, Ryker,” Viggo rasped. He held a hand to his burning forehead. The wash cloth had slipped off of it. He groaned again, keeping his eyes closed, hoping sleep would be his salvation from this.

#augusnippets #augusnippets day 21 #whump #angst #sickfic #implied/referenced character death #viggo grimborn #viggo grimborn whump #viggo grimborn lives #httyd #httyd rtte #rtte #how to train your dragon #race to the edge #fanfiction #writing

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admrlthundrbolt · 8 months ago

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Alone Together (Nandor the Relentless x Chubby Reader)

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Moving to a new home to take care of your grandfather was one thing. But finding out that the neighbors are Vampires. Well nothing could prepare you for that. If only you noticed just how much attention Nandor gave you.

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

Hi guys. I'm back at it again. I watched the newest season of What We do in the Shadows recently. Which reminded me of how much of a himbo Nador is. Including how quickly he falls in love. So it wasn't hard for him to become my muse.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy.

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Standing in the kitchen your gaze wandered to the window. The veiw was one you still hadn't gotten used to. Traveling halfway across the country can do that to you.

Turning back to the oatmeal that was bubbling away on the stove top, you stirred it. Spooning some into a couple of bowls, you set off for the living room.

“Here you go Papa.” Placing the bowl on a serving tray in front of him. You sat on the nearby couch, not yet eating.

He tore his eyes from the TV, playing old black and white reruns. Then frowned down at his breakfast. Placing his spoon in the oatmeal he scooped up a bit and let it fall back into the bowl. “Now I'm not one to complain.” You had to fight to keep the smile off of your face. “But honestly would it hurt to have something with a little more flavor?”

You let the smile slid onto your face as he finished. Heading to the kitchen you grabbed a jar of honey and started back. Only to give it a second thought, snatching up a tablespoon too. “I get where your coming from, really I do. But it's the doctor's orders, gotta watch your cholesterol.” Standing next to him you held out the jar. “I'll make you a deal. You can have a serving of this, if we watch something in color.” Noding he reaches for the jar. “That isn't the news.”

He deflated a bit at that, but still agreed. Then perked up suddenly and said. “Speaking of news, could you go grab the paper.”

“Sure, but I'm not leaving the honey.” Walking away, you chuckled at the mumbled obscenities that left his mouth.

Going out to grab the paper, you decided to check the mailbox as well. “Junk, junk, Bill, Nandor The Relentless?” It was an odd thing to see in a letter. Equally as bizarre was the ornate nature of the peice of mail. As you looked over the envelope, you realized that it wasn't your address. Glancing at the number's on the other nearby mailboxes, it seemed to match a neighbor's. It was the home that you had seen a nervous looking younger man. He was usually working on the yard or house. It was an older Gothic manor of a home, so the upkeep was probably brutal.

Heading back in you dropped the mail next to your grandfather's breakfast. Then turned and made for the front door again. “Going to give the neighbor's some of their mail we got.”

He nodded half heartedly as he stuck his nose in the newspaper. “OK, while your there see if they have something tastier for breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving your hand around, you beelined towards the mysterious letter owner. Not seeing anyone in the front yard, you made your way up to the front door and knocked. Glancing around the house as you waited, you couldn't help but admire the odd architecture. As you were about to knock again, thinking the home owner may not have heard you, the door swung open. It was the anxious guy and a camera crew? Raising a brow you held up the letter. “Hi, I live over there.” You pointed out your grandfather's house. “We got one of a piece of your mail, Mr. Nandor.” Holding it towards him, you smiled.

He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, until you moved the letter towards him. “Oh, thank you. I'm actually Guillermo, Nandor is my Master.” He seemed to flinch at his words and quickly changed the subject. “Isn't that Mr. Wilson's house. I didn't know he had moved.”

Shaking the odd feeling from your mind, you shook your head. “No, he's still there. He's my grandfather, after my grandmother passed. Well, I offered to move in and help out. It seems to be a good decision for both of us.”

He noticed how the smile slipped from your face as you explained. “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother's passing. I'm glad that Mr. Wilson has someone to count on.”

Your smile had returned at the statement. “That's if I can keep up with the old man. I'm (Y/N) by the way.” You held your hand out and was impressed with the grip his handshake had. “Speaking of, I should probably get back to the house. Before he sends out the search parties that is." Turning back towards your home, you threw a quick comment over your shoulder. “Hope to see you around."

This left a flustered Guillermo to rush back inside. Pushing the crew away from his flush expression, he made for his master's room. Placing the letter down on a nearby dresser. He left for his own room. To definitely not think about how great it would be to have someone outside of the vampire house.

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

Nandor was restless. Something was causing his slumber to constantly be interupted. That something happened to be a scent. The moment it entered his room he couldn't settle down. But his internal clock knew it was nowhere near sundown. So he tossed and turned, enduring the distraction.

“Morning Master.” Came the timid voice of Guillermo.

Before he could approach the coffin, Nandor burst from it. His glowing eyes searched the room. Taking deep breaths, he felt like a hound seeking out his prey. Following his nose he found a letter addressed to himself. Tearing it open, he rummaged for the source of the smell. Only to find that the letter itself was covered in the odor.

“Master?” The familiar glanced nervously at the documentary crew.

His nervous call, made the vampire finally notice that the familiar was in the room.

Gathering his composer, he turned to the other man. “Ah Guillermo, I was just inspecting this letter. Could you tell me why it smells this way.”

He was about to laugh off the notion, it was just a piece of mail. That was until he remembered how it got to the house, you. You had hand delivered the letter. He cringed at the thought of his master sinking his fangs into you. The new neighbor that was taking care of their newly widowed grandfather. So as his master glared expectantly down at him. He decided a half truth would be the best way to keep you safe. “It was delivered this morning. Maybe the post office has a new mailman.”

He towered over his familiar and a smile broke out on his face. “Yes, that must be it. A new person has started working at the postal building.” He placed the letter in his coffin. Trying and failing to be subtle about it. “Keep an eye out for this postal person. They may be more interesting than they lead on.”

“OK Master. Did you have anything planned for today.” Glancing at the crew He hoped the subject change would distract the vampire. At least enough to keep your name from spilling out of his mouth.

“Yes. I would like to look at horses. So I will need you to set up the light box.” With a flourish of his cape, he walked out of the room. A very relieved human following after.

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

Taking a long swig from your water bottle, you wiped the sweat from your brow. The feeling of your muscles burning was a pleasant sensation. It was nice having a bit more free time. But the thought of sitting around all day was not the way you wanted to live.

You were thankful for all of the gyms that were a stones throw away from home. It honestly seemed like you couldn't go a couple of blocks without passing a gym. But hey, you weren't going to complain about a convenience.

Finishing out your set, you cleaned the machine. The warmth built up in your limbs made you decide it was time for a cool down. Seeing a few treadmills free, you went to grab a spot. Only to shift paths to the bikes as you spot a familiar face.

Sitting down next to him, you felt bad at how much you seemed to startle him. “Sorry buddy, didn't mean to spook you.” Starting to pedal the exercise bike, you hoped he didn't mind you setting up next to him.

He shook his head. “No, you're fine. Didn't expect to see you here is all.”

“I get that.” A stale silence lingered between the two if you. Thinking that a subject change would ease the tension, you said. “So did Nandor get their letter?”

His shoulders tensed a bit at the mention of his Master. Glancing at you, he saw the gentle expression on your face. He was reminded that you were a regular person. That just seemed as lonely as he felt sometimes. So he nodded and gave you a quick smile. “He did, he got a little excited about it too. You know how older people can be about letters though.”

You nodded. “Oh don't I know it. Everytime my Grandfather gets a personal letter in the mail you would think it was his birthday.”

This confirmed your suspension of Guillermo being in a similar situation as yourself. You had heard from another neighbor that there were a group of people that lived in the house with him. And seeing him do all of the yard work. Well it wasn't like some elderly people could handle those type of tasks. It made you like him even more, knowing that you could have a kinship through caring for others.

So you cycled next to each other and made plans to meet up at the gym more often. You loved the idea of having a workout buddy. While he was relieved that he could spend some time with you, away from the house of course.

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Finishing up another workout, you bid Guillermo a goodnight. No matter how many times you offered him a ride home he always declined. Even as the year settled into winter he still insisted. Something about how a brisk walk was how he preferred to end a workout.

Shaking your head at how odd he could act, you didn't notice the item in your path. Catching yourself on a nearby wall, you looked down. It was a worn out dark wallet. You picked it up to take to the front desk. Only to stop as you notice that Guillermo's license was in it. Walking to the front, you glanced either way down the sidewalk. His curly locks were nowhere in sight. With a shrug, you headed back towards the locker room. It wouldn't be a problem to drop it off to him. Plus it would be nice to meet the Nandor you've heard so much about. But had never had the opportunity to be introduced.

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

Hearing the front door open Nandor narrowed his brow. “Guillermo, come to the library. I wish to to purchase a item and need the plastic card.” The quick patter of footsteps followed the command.

“Coming Master.” Then a pause in his step and the sound of rustling. “Um, do you happen to know where my wallet is?”

Rolling his eyes, the Vampire rose from his seat. Making his way over to the familiar, he scoffed. “Of course not. If I did than I would not have asked you for the card.” Sending a look at the camera, he said. “Fucking guy.”

As the younger man went to tear his room apart, a knock rang through the house. “Could you please get that Master.” Then realizing that that could be seen as a demand he added. “So I can find the credit card for you.”

Throwing a hand over his shoulder, he headed to the entrance. “Very well, but don't expect this to become a regular thing.”

Swinging the door open he paused. He was sure that if he still needed breath to live, it would have caught. You were a beacon of beauty. A vision of soft splendor that he could loose himself in. Then your scent hit him and an indescribable hunger welled within him. A baser urge rose from within himself and he lunged towards you. Not sure what his inner instincts were forcing upon him.

Before you could get a word out, however, your muscle memory took over. Which caused the hand holding the wallet to strike out. Causing Nandor to halt in his movement.

“For fucks sake!” His hands cupped his nose and he was surprised to feel liquid. Pulling a hands back, he couldn't help but admire the blood coating his fingers. Glancing up at you he was taken aback at the compassionate expression on your face.

You quickly took his face into your hands and fussed over him. “I'm so sorry, it was just instinct. I can't believe I hurt you." Tugging a few tissues from you bag. You gently pressed them to his nose.

Even though he knew his vampiric powers had already healed him. He let you take care of him. Your touch was warm and gentle. Your soft hands flitted over his face in a pleasant manner that he could indulge in for hours.

The nose bleed had seemed to stop. Taking a step back,you gave him a nervous smile. “I really am sorry about all this. I just wanted to return Guillermo's wallet.” This caused the mystery man to step towards you.

“Why are you interested in seeking an audience with my familiar?” He had a disgruntled tone.

Brows furrowing at his statement, you repeated yourself. “I wanted to return his wallet. He dropped it at the gym and I thought I would give it to him. I mean it's not like it was out of my way or anything." You gestured to your home and sent him a hopefully pleasant grin.

Narrowing his eyes at the house. He wonder what else his familiar could be keeping from him. “I see, let me call for him.” Facing into the house, he said. “Guillermo, there is a visitor at the door.” Side eyeing the crew, he waited.

You both waited for him to return. Nandor took the time to admire you for a moment longer. While you were excited, yet confused, to learn about your friend's housemates. This honestly wasn't the situation you thought he was living in. Still it seemed that he helped the people he stayed with.

He jogged to the front, but slowed his stride at the sight in front of him. Two of the people he never wanted to meet, standing beside each other. His heart began racing. You being here was as surprising as you not being dead. The way his Master reacted to your scent. He belived if the vampire ever got downwind of you, it would be your end. Instead he was gazing down at you in wonder.

“Hey, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.” You sheepishly shifted your gazed to Nandor, then quickly back to him. “I just wanted to make sure you got this.” Holding the wallet out to him, you were happy to see the relief that spread across his face.

Taking it from your hand, he embraced you. “I can't believe you found it. Thank you (Y/N).” Shifting back, he was surprised to see the angry look on his Master's face.

“It's nothing really. You must have dropped it and when I happened to find it outside of the locker rooms. Well, I didn't think it would be a problem to drop it off. Not like it's a long trip or anything.” Grinning you pat his back.

Nandor stepped a bit closer to you. It seemed his familiar had grown close to what should be HIS. He had only known you a few moments. But he felt a possessiveness clawing at his insides. “Yes, she was just telling me about your time together at the gym. It has made my interest in the location grow. I should like to join you at your next session.”

Guillermo's eyes pleaded for you to say no. Knowing you though, there was no way that you would reject someone without a reason.

“Sure, the more the merrier.” Noticing how dark the sky had gotten, you stepped towards the door. “Text me the details Guillermo, I've got to get to my grandfather.”

Both men waved as you left. Each dreading you departure for very different reasons.

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

The next gym trip was an interesting one. You didn't expect Nandor to show up in only a pair of tight ornate pants. But if that was what put him in the mood for a good burn, then who were you to judge. It also didn't hurt that it made it that much easier to observe him. His muscles twitching and veins pulsing. All while he lifted over five time your body weight. Well it didn't take long for the more steamy thoughts of what his muscle could help with.

He was thoroughly enjoying his time with you. It was a nice change to have a workout partner. Watching as you pushed your body and strengthen yourself. It was enough to make him go wild. How could something be so soft yet ferice? If only he didn't have to share you.

“That's great Guillermo, just one more press.” You loved to encourage him. IT always seemed to help him push to new heights.

Noticing the vampire sneer from the corner of his eye, he shook his head. “No. I can't keep going.��

Your smile faultered. He was shaking and his breath was pretty labored. Sliding behind him, you positioned your hands under the barbell. “OK. If you want to burnout, I've got you.” Nodding down at him, you prepared for the worst.

He felt guilty for worrying you. Until he saw his Master holding back a hiss. So he moved the weights and focused on you instead. The only person whose treated him like a human. No, a friend, in a long time. Taking all his frustration out on his muscles.

That is if his sweaty palms didn't slip from the barbell. You caught it, but a sickening pop came from your shoulder. Crying out, you lurched backwards to keep the weight from falling on him.

The vampire sprung into action. One hand pulling the equipment from you. He cradled you against him with the other. Touching your shoulder, he was relieved to see that it only seemed strained. Though his frown deepen at the way your breath hitched. He whipped towards the other man. “You idiot, were you trying to kill her. You know how fragile humans are.”

He barely paid the vampire any mind. “I'm so sorry (Y/N). Are you ok? What am I saying, of course your not.” He began to pace.

You placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Hey, it's OK. I think it's only strained.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I'll just have to stick to legs for a bit.”

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

Even after offering to take you to Urgent Care and paying. You still insisted that you were fine. That an ice pack and some sleep would do the trick. That didn't stop the men from escorting you home.

Guillermo rushed into their house, trying his best to ignore his Master. It did little good.

“You are a reckless idiot. How could you let her get injured. You should have let those weights crush you.” He followed him through the house. Pushong passed the crew, irritated. Watching as he rifled amongst his things, the Vampire grew enraged. “Are you even listening to me!”

Swinging around to face the taller man, he was red with anger. “How could I not. Look i know I screwed up. That's why I'm getting my heating pad. Alternating between heat and cold should help her recover faster.” Then he quickly walked to the front door.

Nandor enjoyed the thought of you healing faster. But frown at Guillermo being the one to cause it. “Then we will take it to her together.”

The familiar came to a sudden stop. “No, I'm going to see MY friend. If all of this is my fault, then I should be the one to take care of it.”

Glaring down at the shorter man, he could feel his nail digging into his palms. “That is why I should go. To make sure you don't kill them.”

His face became a blank mask to shroud his emotions. As calmly as he could manage he said. “Actually Master, I think you have a much better chance of taking their life. Now if you don't mind, I have something to see to. Including not worrying about being invited inside her home.” He left swiftly.

A fact that Nandor was both angry and relieved by. Huffing he went to confide in the only man in the house that was successful in love.

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

Swaying through the air as a bat. He couldn't help but curse at having taken Laszlo's advice. How could he be stupid enough to believe that drinking from intoxicated humans would help. Now he was over thinking what you and his betrayal of a familiar were doing.

Veering away from his own home, he transformed back on your lawn. Stumbling to the front door, he didn't notice the light beginning to spill over the horizon. He called out to you, loudly wailing.

Making your way to the entrance, you were confused why someone would be here so early. That someone being a distraught Nandor was a surprise. Rubbing a hand across your face, you tried to focus on the situation.

He admired how your pajamas fit you. Taking a moment to try to commit the sight to memory. He attempted to throw himself into your embraced. But was halted by the very curse that Guillermo had thrown in his face. “Why must we be torn from each other?”

Staring at the man in bewilderment, you stepped forward. “Nandor, what are you talking about?”

He fell forward and wrapped his strong arms around you. Feeling your soft body fit against him pleasantly. “We are so different. You a human and me a vampire. You care for people, while I only think of them as food. Guillermo is right, I'm not good enough.”

Frowning at his drunken rambling, you heaved him towards your door. “I'm not sure what your getting on about. But why don't I get you some water and on the couch. Come on, let's get inside.”

He wiggled out of your arms, as much as he didn't want to. “No, you should be near me. I'm a monster that could kill you at any moment.” He turned to head home, but shrieked as the first rays of light hit his skin.

Shock ran through you. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. You let instinct take over as you yanked him inside. Flinging the door shut, you went to check over his burns. After seeing they were only minor wounds, you smiled. “OK, so that wasn't just the booze talking.”

“No, I would not lie to you, you are to precious. Even now you have saved a monster like me." He took your hands into his own and leaned forward.

You met his lips in a tender kiss. Pressing your forehead against his own, you took in a shuddering breath.

“Is everything OK? I thought I heard…. oh for christ's sake!” There stood a disheveled Guillermo, a frown tugging at his lips. When he brought you the heating pad earlier he seemed so upset. You decided to invited him to stay over. But with the situation at hand, you didn't consider calling out to him for help. “You couldn't even wait another day to make a move. This is so like you, taking without considering others feelings.”

“Hey that's not fair. She obviously likes me.” Almost falling over himself to stand up and face the other man. “Why must you stand in the way of love?”

The familiar stepped forward and shoved a finger into his chest. “Because you're a killer that falls in love every other month.”

You had stood to the side stunned. You didn't realise the impact you had made on their lives until now. As you thought about it, you knew that you felt the same. It would hurt your heart to not have these men in your life.

Stepping between them, you took a breath to steady yourself. “I'd like a say in this. Being that I am the subject of the fight after all.” Placing a hand on each of their chest, you smiled reassuringly. “I'm a big girl. If I want to be friends with someone. Or date someone, it's my choice in the end.” You gave each of them a pointed look that caused their masculine ego to deflate.

Guillermo was the first to speak. “What if you break up? You won't want anything to do with things that remind you of Nandor…. Including me.”

The desperation in his voice broke your heart. You brought him into a tight hug. “You can't predict what the future might bring. But I can promise you that I don't veiw you as an extension of Nandor. So the chances of me not wanting to be around you aren't happening.”

He sniffled as you seperated. “Thanks, that's reassuring to hear.”

Turning to the Vampire, you patted his chest. “Nandor, I like you, a lot. But let's take things slow. It's obvious that there's still something that we need to learn about one another.”

He gave you a wide grin. “As long as it is time I get to spend with. Then I am happy.”

Guiding everyone to the couch, you made sure they both were comfortable. A simle settled on your face. Settling on top of Nandor and pulling Guillermo onto yourself. A calm washed over your heart. Things may get rocky, but you guys could figure it out together in time.

#what we do in the shadows #chubby reader #nandor the relentless #chubby reader x nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #vampire #familiar #moving #implied/referenced character death #love at first sight #mutual pining #fights #minor injury #romance #fluff

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snowdice · 6 days ago

Text

Little Kestrel (Epilogue) [Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb, sexual coercion of minors implied, a minor offering sexual favors, fire, minor character death

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted (and possibly some future content), look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29Part 30Part 31Part 32Part 33Part 34Part 35Part 36Part 37Part 38Part 39Part 40Part 41Part 42Part 43Part 44Part 45Part 46Part 47Part 48Part 49Part 50Part 51Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59

“Do you think they’ll light your trees on fire this year?” an amused (but slightly concerned) voice asked from behind Jeffers. Jeffers ran a finger over the empty thumb of his slightly dirty gardening gloves while watching the two boys. They were currently leaning over an unlit lantern and various “supplies.” In truth, he’d stopped his own work to watch the two boys out of the very concern the king had just vocalized.

“Virgil helped me fertilize that tree a week ago,” Jeffers replied. “So, I would hope he exercises some caution.”

“Virgil likes fire though,” Thomas pointed out.

Jeffers sighed. “That he does.” He tilted his head towards Thomas. “You did confiscate the fire knife again after last week, yes?”

“I did,” Thomas confirmed, “but that means very little. Even burying that thing with a corpse did not dissuade him.”

As he spoke, a sudden spark of light flew from where the boys were working. A whining sound and then pop sounded as the spark exploded into 10 pieces, raining down colorful light. Luckily, the sparks burned up before hitting the ground (or the tree).

“Boys, if you set anything on fire, you will be grounded from the festival,” Thomas called in a booming voice. Both boys jumped. Jeffers imagined Logan hadn’t even known he was there. (Virgil certainly had, but he’d still jumped. “For the second year in a row in Logan’s case.”

“They’re not flammable!” was the claim from Logan.

“I don’t believe you,” Thomas called back.

The boys ignored this, turning back to their experiment.

“We should have kept them grounded,” Thomas muttered.

Despite Thomas’s original decision to ground Patton and Logan until their 50s (and Helen’s push to keep them grounded until Thomas, Helen, and Jeffers himself were all dead and couldn’t enforce it anymore), the boys had only been truly grounded for two months after Thomas had found out the truth of Virgil’s origins. (Though there were still jokes they were still technically grounded.) That did, however, mean that Patton and Logan had been grounded from most of the Lantern Festival the year before.

Logan, at least, seemed to be trying to make up for lost time this year (explosively). Jeffers did worry about where Patton was slightly, but honestly Patton without Logan or Virgil tended to be much less destructive in his hijinx. The worst he was probably doing was stealing sweets out from under Helen’s nose. Which was why both Jeffers and Thomas were currently here watching these two.

There were more sparks from the boy’s experiment. The grass caught fire at their feet. Virgil hastily stomped it out.

“I’ll watch them if you want to get food to bribe Virgil away,” Jeffers offered.

Thomas shook his head. “No need,” he said, and began walking towards them. “I thought you said that was ‘not flammable,’” he called as he walked towards them.

“Well, they’re technically not,” was Logan’s reply. “…The grass is though.”

Jeffers rolled his eyes for the benefit of no one as he turned away. He decided he was going to go get food to bribe Virgil away from destruction.

Since it was spring, he didn’t have as much food readily available, but he did already have a small crop of a new breed of radishes he could harvest to taste test. The vegetable garden was a good walk away, but he figured Thomas would be good enough supervision for the moment.

~~~

“Give,” Thomas demanded upon stopping a couple of feet in front of the children. Logan frowned but packed up and handed him the travel sized potion set without argument. (Thomas regretted giving that thing to him. Yes, it had made logical sense after the attempted poisoning. No, it had never been used for anything as practical as an antidote.) Thomas turned to Virgil. “You too,” he said. “Give.”

“I don’t have anything,” Virgil said with no hint of deception in his expression. Which, of course, meant he was lying to Thomas’s face.

“Nuh uh,” Thomas said. “Give it.”

They had a staring contest for a few moments before Virgil finally sighed. To Thomas’s surprise, he did not take out the fire knife. Instead, Virgil reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of what looked like rocks. He put them in Thomas’s outstretched hand.

Thomas had no idea what they were by sight, but considering the theme of their lantern decoration attempts (that is explosives and fire) he could hazard a guess.

“Am I holding explosives in my hand?” Thomas asked.

“They won’t explode unless they come into contact with vinegar,” Logan said.

“So, they are explosive,” Thomas said. “Just not currently active ones.”

“…I suppose,” Logan said.

Thomas opened Logan’s potion kit to get one of its sterile empty containers and put the explosive rocks into it. Then, he zipped the potion kit back up, with a mental note to himself to make sure to take the explosive rocks out of it before giving it back. He pointed at the lantern on the ground. “Paint it like normal people, please.”

Virgil leaned over towards Logan and spoke out of the side of his mouth. “King of Boring more like.”

“I can hear you,” Thomas pointed out, but Virgil, of course, had intended to be heard.

He grinned up innocently in response and Thomas just shook his head before lowering himself to the ground next to the scorched patch of grass.

In addition to their nontraditional decorating supplies, they did also have the usual supply of paints, ribbons, and colorful pieces of paper with them. They brought these out now and began work on making a few more lanterns to decorate. (As Logan and Virgil had only bothered to make one and it was now scorched on the inside.)

Patton and Helen arrived as they were finishing setting up their 6th (unburnt) lantern. The fact that Helen was not in the kitchen must mean all of the food for the festivities was officially finished and likely being handed out by other members of the staff. She’d been working almost nonstop for the past week to make sure everything was ready.

Both of them were carrying a basket full of enough food to provide snacks and dinner for their group for the rest of the night.

Most people did not go back inside during the Lantern Festival from midafternoon until all of the lanterns had been released into the night sky and disappeared, so, they had to have food for the entire night. Most of the food Helen had prepared was traditional for the festival (though there was a nonzero chance Helen had slipped some chicken alfredo into one of the baskets.)

Virgil had gotten to try a lot of the traditional dishes last year, but Thomas still couldn’t help but smile thinking about all of the sweet breads and meat stuffed pies the boy was going to shove into his face tonight.

One of Thomas’s personal favorites was a soft muffin-like pastry. When broken apart, a golden filling reminiscent of the lit lanterns was revealed. The dessert was usually eaten a bit before the lanterns were released and was shared between two people. Thomas had shared the treat with Virgil the year before and the boy had been entranced by the sparkling filling.

It had been a nice moment, one where Virgil’s leeriness towards him (that had never quite gone away after Thomas knew about his past) had faded for a moment, and the boy had just been a 14-year-old. It had warmed Thomas’ heart to see it.

God, but in those moments when his walls dropped, did he always remind Thomas of Aedan.

Now, Virgil was 15, and while Thomas could always see traces of his past in the ways he acted sometimes, things were better now. Thomas saw more of those moments where Virgil felt safe every day.

Like right now, when Logan pulled out a book detailing common Lantern Festival symbols and their meanings, Virgil only took a moment to glance at their surroundings with a cautious eye before bending over the book to take a closer look.

He had gotten much better at reading after Thomas got him a real tutor, but he still mouthed a few of the words to himself as he read the page.

He seemed to make a decision about one of his drawings because he sat back and grabbed some of the paints. Patton spoke happily to him, complimenting his color choices enthusiastically for “that one.”

Jeffers returned from wherever he’d gone off to a few minutes later. He’d brought himself a chair from his shed to sit on instead of sitting on the ground with the rest of them. Despite all the active work he did in the gardens all day, apparently sitting on the ground hurt his back.

He’d also brought a handful of something which he slipped to Virgil.

“Are these the new radishes?” Virgil asked, a hint of excitement to his tone.

Jeffers grunted an affirmation. “Thought you could be the first to try them.”

Virgil was more than happy to do so of course. (It was food, and it was gardening.) Thomas watched him chew happily; his eyes were brighter than the lanterns they would release in a few hours.

He was unsurprised when, amongst the traditional painted symbols representing safety, family, and home, a radish also appeared on Virgil’s lantern that night.

Perhaps it was a strange thing to put on a lantern symbolizing your wishes for the next year, but when the golden lantern floated into the sky hours later, Thomas thought it was perfect.

~~~

Thanks for reading and to everyone who voted and interacted as I live wrote this story over the past few years! Don't forget to check out the Little Kestrel Stats Page to see how your votes affected the end of the story. (There were 27 possible endings!)

If you'd like to impact my writing in the future, watch the Study Break Stories Tag. I hope to be returning to Folds in Paper before the end of the year.

For more in the Birds of Different Feathers Series, see my Birds of Different Feathers Master Post.

For more from me, see my Masterpost.

Thanks!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #character thomas sanders #fire #explosives #little kestrel #birds of different feathers #minor character death #implied/referenced child abuse #assassination attempt

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vamphorica · 16 days ago

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kinktober day xxiii: worship

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Worship, Church Sex, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Catholic Prayers, Kissing, Altar Sex, Top Mello | Mihael Keehl, Bottom Matt | Mail Jeevas, Canon Compliant

Series: Part 23 of Death Note Kinktober 2024 | @dnkinktober

Summary: When Mello goes missing again, Matt goes to church.

────────────────────────────

When Mello doesn’t return to the flat for several days, Matt drives down to the Catholic church about an hour away. It is said to be favoured by the Mafia, with the security it provides ensuring that it can remain open for twenty four hours every day. Matt is reassured at the very least that regardless of Mello’s proclivity to mania, his tendency to drink a little too fast and sometimes snort one too many lines of coke, that shit doesn’t fly in the house of God. By the time Matt collects him, Mello is usually cold hard sober.

He pulls up outside of the building, grinding his cigarette butt into the ashtray on his dash as he acknowledges the bright red neon cross glowing above the doorway. At three in the morning, it haloes in the dark, a stark reminder of God. Matt has inherited the Wammy’s atheistic outlook of the world, all that is unexplainable now presumed to be understandable at a later date. He envies Mello’s ability to remain in close proximity with the discomfort of ignorance. To believe that everything happens for a reason greater than himself. It is pleasantly naive. Matt gets out of the car and slams the door behind him.

“Mello here?” Matt asks the two mafiosos who guard the doors.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Friend of his.” Matt digs deep into his jean pockets and pulls out a purple chocolate wrapper. British imported chocolate was hardly uncommon if you knew where to find it, but no one was as picky about brand consistency as Mello and as the two men look at one another momentarily, Matt knows they have little to challenge him on.

“He arrived yesterday. He’s the only one in there right now.”

Matt gives a brief nod and walks into the foyer. Leaflets and posters neatly line the walls, declaring solutions to societal woes through God’s omnibenevolence. Matt considers whether Mello looks at this selection of material, decrying homosexuality as a sin and drug use as an abominable act, and feels himself to be lesser. Perhaps he seeks refuge in the exclusionary nature that organised religion encourages; a reminder of the House in its intolerance of anything deemed inadequate.

The church is rather underwhelming for one that is so obviously revered by the local crime syndicate. Large, stained glass windows dominate the walls, the darkness of the early morning muting their colours, the saints condemned to a fate of mundanity until the sun rises. The pews hide in the shadows cast towards the back of the chapel, dusty hymn books and bibles remain neglected. It is the altar which is afforded the blessing of light, a variety of candles carefully positioned to carve out an invitation to prayer at the foot of the platform, before a model crucifixion.

This is where Matt always finds Mello kneeling, with his head bowed in such a manner as to let his hair veil his face. His ungloved hands are clasped together before his chest, almost earnest. Slowly, Matt approaches him from behind listening for his hushed voice in the silence. He had interrupted Mello during prayer one too many times to know such a risk was never worth the blonde’s subsequent irritation. As Matt arrives close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder, Mello’s silence is unmistakable.

“Hey, time to go.”

Mello looks up at Matt, his eyes red as if he has been crying, or as if he’s high. There is still something hauntingly beautiful about him, even in this erratic state, and Matt feels an urge to run his fingers through his soft golden hair, before guiding him out of the church and back into the car. To make him promise that they’ll leave this city and forget about the Kira case to find another purpose in life. An ambition that doesn't rip him to shreds like this.

“Matt… My guardian angel.” Mello whispers, nearly too quiet for Matt to hear.

“You alright?” Matt asks in response – Mello was typically vexed by Matt by the time he would come to fetch him, as if his arrival broke some kind of fantasy of divine salvation he had erected in his head. Matt never expects the softer language or the affection to return for a few days as Mello confronts lingering hangovers and whatever religious revelations he endured during his periodic hysteria. Even then, such affections are small, quiet things whispered in the bedroom. Matt has never known Mello to speak to him in such a way in public.

Mello takes Matt’s hand as a means to pull himself up onto his feet, “I am now that you are here.” His breath smells like booze, and Matt wonders if the men on the door had been covering for him.

“Come on, man, we need to get you cleaned up.” Matt sighs. He never judges Mello, as often as Mello would take the opportunity to act morally offended by the redhead’s crack pipes and needles. However, there is something increasingly exasperating about how Matt so often chases Mello, as if it is a given that he will be there to take him home. Matt swallows his fear to enter those dark spaces Mello frequents to pull him out every time. Matt can never say Mello returns the favour.

Damn right, I am your guardian angel.

“No… Let’s stay.” Mello pulls Matt’s sleeve. It is a small gesture, but one that was reminiscent of something more. That silent pull of a sleeve in the dark. Two boys in a dormitory.

A kiss.

Matt feels Mello’s lips on his, soft and full. An apology, or at least an appeal to their relationship. A declaration of love in a sacred space. Matt takes Mello’s face in his hands and gently eases him away from his own.

“Here, Mels?”

“Where else can I worship you?” God, he really is fucked. Matt shook his head. Mello is bound to regret this. Matt opens his mouth to object but Mello cuts him off, “I thank God for you everyday, Matt.”

Matt blushes, despite himself. His frustration at this stupid bastard for scaring him so often aside, he cannot deny how his heart aches when hearing such a sentiment from Mello. Matt is not well acquainted with God, but there is something about the manner in which Mello’s devotion flows out of him, Matt can taste something close to a miracle on his lips.

Matt’s eyes dart to the entrance, to which Mello smirks, “They know not to come inside.”

Fuck it. Matt leans back in and the two press their bodies close as they fall into the deepness of the kiss. They stumble up onto the platform until Matt feels himself being pressed up against the altar table. He plants a hand behind him, in an attempt not to fall upon it.

Mello has other ideas. He disengages before shoving Matt onto the table so that he lies flat along the surface, his face contorting slightly on impact. Even Matt feels they are engaging in a rather overt expression of blasphemy here, but as Mello crawls on top of him, his hair hanging down and framing his face, Matt understands what is meant by omnibenevolence. Unconditional love is the best way Matt can describe how he feels about Mello.

“Thank you, Lord, for the blessings you have bestowed onto me.” Mello begins unbuckling his belt, and Matt swallows, his dick tight against his underwear in anticipation of what the blonde intends to do to him here. He finds his own hands peeling his jeans down beneath Mello as they both expose themselves hurriedly. Spiritual consequences be damned.

“You have provided me with more than I could imagine, more than I ever deserve, in Mail Jeevas.” Matt doesn’t know whether it is Mello pressing his erection against his own or the way in which he says his real name that sends a shockwave of sensitivity up his spine, causing him to moan quietly. His hands grab Mello’s hips as he spreads his legs, arching his back as a means to push himself closer to Mello’s body.

Mello spits on his palm and begins to rub his own cock, his other hand gently caressing Matt’s face, “Lord, I am a sinner, and yet you have extended your mercy and grace by bringing an angel into my life.” Matt closes his eyes and hums gently against Mello’s thumb stroking his cheek, smiling when the blonde plants a kiss there.

“We praise you and give you glory.” Mello moves his hand down to grab Matt’s thigh, and with his other hand, directs his dick against the rim of Matt’s ass, thrusting his hips so it goes in all at once. Matt gasps, his nails digging into Mello’s hips as he processes the sharp sting of being entered.

“Amen.”

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tildeathiwillwrite · 4 months ago

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June of Doom Day 27

"Or what?" / Defiance / Display / Last Resort

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv @42questionsandaloafofbread

CW: choking, swearing, captivity whump, power suppression cuffs, scream, weapon, electrocution, unconsciousness, assumed death, shock, referenced injuries

A/N: Just as June is coming to a close, so too is this whump story! I got one, maybe two parts left to go that might bleed into July a little bit.

----------

They couldn’t breathe.

Leader’s hand was tight around their throat, painfully so, and their other clamped firmly around the power suppression cuffs around Hero’s wrists.

They couldn’t breathe.

Hero’s mouth opened and closed, their abdomen spasming as their body tried and failed to draw in air.

They couldn’t breathe.

“P… please… can’t… can’t….”

They couldn’t breathe.

Leader smirked, their fingers constricting even further.

They couldn’t breathe.

“I realize now,” Leader whispered, their lips inches from Hero’s ear, “you were never cut out for this line of work.”

They couldn’t breathe.

Darkness encroached the edge of their vision.

They couldn’t breathe.

“It was only a matter of time, before—”

Boom!

An explosion rocked the building to its foundations, throwing Leader off balance. They cursed, releasing Hero and whirling around, hand on their comm. “Techie, what’s happening?”

Hero sank to the floor, gasping for air, hands probing at the bruises on their neck left by Leader’s vise-like grip.

“Techie?! Shit!” Leader glanced over their shoulder at Hero, almost as an afterthought. “I’ll deal with you later,” they spat, yanking off one of their gloves as they sprinted out the cell door, slamming it shut behind them.

Hero’s heartbeat pounded in their ears as they sat there, back against the wall. Techie? What’s going on? Are we under attack?

Who would try to break in here in such an obvious way?

It didn't matter.

This is my only chance.

Hero slowly rose to their feet, leaning heavily against the wall as their vision tunneled, the cell spinning around them. They breathed deeply, listening intently to Leader’s shouts and fading footsteps. As soon as they were out of earshot, Hero would try to get out of the cuffs, and then—!

Leader screamed.

Hero froze, eyes wide.

They’d never heard that sound before. Leader had always seemed so untouchable, so invulnerable. They were never afraid, always in control of every situation. The scream of pain was long, filled with agony, echoing eerily down the hallway.

It cut off abruptly.

Thud.

The hallway fell silent.

Too silent.

Hero’s breathing came in quick, panicked gasps. Who had taken down Leader? Who had caused them to scream in such a way? Not Villain, surely not. Antihero? But how did they know—

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Hero stiffened and rushed to the cell door, despite the slight tinge of fear that whoever had attacked Leader so successfully might not be an ally. But they didn’t care. Anyone was better than Leader.

When the cell door opened and a familiar face stepped inside, Hero gaped. “Techie?!”

Techie smiled ruefully. They carried a massive weapon, almost as big as they were, fashioned of shiny metal and buttons and lights, vibrating with a low, ominous buzz. “Hey.”

“You… I thought… thought you wouldn’t… did you cause the explosion!?”

Techie actually chuckled, setting the weapon down on the floor and gesturing to Hero’s wrists. “Let me unlock those.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” The power suppression cuffs fell from Hero’s wrists, and they gasped softly as their powers flooded back, like blood through a numb limb. “I needed something to distract the others,” Techie continued, retrieving their weapon. For such a large object, they carried it as if it were made of paper maché. “I’ve decided that I’m done. Done watching them hurt innocents, harm desperate people, kill those who didn’t deserve it.”

Hero rubbed at the welts left behind by the cuffs on their wrists. “And Leader… was that….”

“Yes.”

“Are they…?”

“I don’t know.”

Hero stared at Techie, shocked by their hard expression. They swallowed nervously. “Where’s Villain?”

Techie nodded their head down the hallway and stepped back, allowing Hero to leave the cell. They glanced in the direction Leader had gone.

Leader's body lay motionless on the ground at the far end of the corridor, at the foot of the staircase leading to the upper floors. Hero could almost imagine Techie standing at the top of the stairs, their gun-like weapon in hand, as Leader appeared at the bottom.

“What about—?”

Techie shook their head. “Please… it's hard enough just thinking about it.”

“Right….”

“Villain needs medical attention,” Techie said, turning and walking in the opposite direction of the staircase. “They had a serious concussion, and Leader certainly made it worse, and—shit!”

“Hey!” Shapeshifter's voice called from behind them. “Stop right there!”

Techie turned on the spot, their weapon humming loudly as it powered up. “Shitshitshit!” They muttered as Shapeshifter closed the distance between them, transforming into a mountain lion and speeding up.

Fwoom!

Hero jumped back as a huge burst of energy, not unlike Pyrokinetic’s fireballs, exploded out of the business end of Techie's weapon. It almost filled the hallway and crackled with electricity, slamming into Shapeshifter. The mountain lion yowled in pain, collapsing to the floor, unmoving.

For a moment, everything was silent. Hero glanced at Techie, who looked like they were about to vomit. Their hands trembled. “I…” they whispered, “this… was only a last resort… I… I can't…”

Hero took a deep breath and turned away. “Villain?”

“Right…” Techie murmured absently, “this way.”

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samanddean76 · 9 days ago

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Title: One Way Or Another

Author: SamandDean76 | Artist: Bluefire986

Ship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Word Count: 14,976 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Tags: Alternate Universe, Stanford Era, Alpha/Beta/omega Dynamics, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Transformation, Collars, Dean Winchester Whump, True Mates, Revenge, Or Justice, Alpha John Winchester, Omega Mary Winchester, background John/Mary, Alpha Zachariah, background Zachariah/Mary (past rape), Alpha Dick Roman, Alcoholic John Winchester, Minor Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Written for the Wincest Big Bang 2024, Original Art by Bluefire986

Summary: Dean woke up in the hospital, bruised, battered, and a newly turned Omega. His life had been left in shambles, and his only hope was that Sam would leave Stanford and come back to mate the brother that he hadn’t seen in four years. Not since the day of Sam and John’s last big fight.

Sam received the dire news and promptly put his life on hold, so that he could help Dean, the big brother who had done everything to protect him growing up. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he allowed Dean to be put up for auction where he would be sold to the highest bidder.

Together the boys work to unravel the mystery surrounding the disappearance of their father, Dean’s assault, and the long-buried secrets that their pack was desperate to keep hidden away. Knowing that the only way they could live their lives was if the truth was brought out into the blinding light of day.

I am so proud to finally be able to present my Wincest Big Bang story to everyone! @bluefire986 created some wonderful art for the story, that helped to enrich the journey that I sent the boys on. @jld71 was the beta who kept me on track. And my Muse went wild so that I might be able to create an A/B/O alternate universe where challenges are plentiful, and rewards are many. I hope you enjoy it!

Story on AO3

Art on AO3 | LiveJournal

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straight-to-the-pain · 2 years ago

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Lying to someone’s friends and loved ones about how they died, telling them that they were brave, that they accepted their fate with dignity, with bold, unflinching last words, because they don’t really need to know how their friend cowered and begged and sobbed for their life, on their knees, a gunshot to the back of the head putting a final end to their pain and fear :’)

#whump #tropes and prompts #death #implied/referenced torture #my stuff

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mugloversonly · 5 months ago

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Silver over Gold

Ch 3: Kintsugi - Final

Ch.1 Ch.2 AO3

Summary:

Steve and Eddie finally talk.

Steve stood outside Eddie’s door horrified by what he heard on the other side. Eddie was sobbing and his inner omega was whining weakly. “Eddie? Baby can I come in?” He pleaded.

“Alpha?” Eddie cried softly. “Door’s locked.” His voice was fading into a whisper. “I’m sorry alpha.”

Steve didn’t think twice about ripping the door of the hinges; he'd fix it later, he just hoped Wayne would understand. His omega needed him and his alpha would stop at nothing to help him (for once he was in total agreement). The smashing of the door echoed through the whole trailer but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He was curled up on his side in the corner of the room with his head tucked against his knees, shaking violently. Steve rushed over to him and gently swept his hair out of his face. He gasped when he saw his beautiful omega. “Oh, Eddie.” He whispered. He was paler than usual, practically translucent. His lively chocolate eyes were red rimmed and puffy, empty as they stared up at him. Steve wasn’t even sure if Eddie could see him right now.

“I’m sorry alpha.” Eddie whispered. Steve stared at him hoping for some awareness in his eyes but there still wasn’t anything. He must be speaking unconsciously.

“Sh,” Steve cooed. “I’m right here, omega. Your alpha is right here. I'm not going anywhere.” He ran his hands up and down Eddie’s arms and kissed him on the forehead. His skin was freezing to the touch and if Steve didn’t know better he’d think he just came out of Lover’s Lake.

He took him into his arms, laid them back in Eddie’s nest, and removed their shirts for skin contact, pulling the blanket over them for good measure . Steve made sure to hold the omega’s nose directly onto his scent gland. He didn’t know much about rejection sickness, but from what he learned in school one way to cure it was through comforting touch and scents. Eddie barely moved and didn’t acknowledge Steve at all. Steve was having a hard time staying calm but the whines and howling of his omega were helping him to stay focused.

H is shivering finally subsided and Eddie fell into a light haze. He pulled back from Steve and his eyes were a bit clearer. “Stevie?” He asked. At Steve’s nod he threw himself back. He didn’t deserve to be held like this. He was a bad omega. His alpha didn’t love him and it was all his fault. Steve didn’t let him get far before he was yanking him right back in. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry Steve. I should’ ve trusted you . I'm a bad omega.” He sobbed but Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.

“You're not a bad omega Eddie. You're my omega.” Steve said. He felt more than heard Eddie’s gasp and watched as his wet eyes widened. He reached up and pulled Steve’s hand off his mouth.

“I’m still your omega?” He whispered hopeful yet terrified.

“Yes, darling.” Steve replied caressing his cheek. Eddie put his hand over Steve’s and held it there.

“You still want to be my alpha? After everything I put you through?” Steve looked deep into Eddie’s eyes and kissed him on the nose.

“You didn’t put me through anything. I will always be your alpha. Even if you decided you wanted nothing to do with me, I will be here waiting. There is nothing you could do that would drive me away. I will never leave you.” He promised. “Let me apologize now.”

“No, Steve you don’t owe me anything.” Eddie said clutching his shirt. “I was the one in the wrong.”

“No you weren’t. I was scared. I didn’t stop to consider that I was stringing you along.” He bowed his head as tears finally spilled over. “I love you, Eddie. I never want you to doubt that. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I’m sorry the first time I said it was in an argument.” He grabbed Eddie’s face and tilted it until their lips were barely a millimeter apart. “I would never lie to you. I know why you would think that. Wayne told me. Just know, that the most important person in my life, is right here in my arms. Okay?”

“Except Robin?” He knew it was shitty, but he needed to know.

“No my lovely omega. Even more important than Robin.” He kissed him then. A quick press of lips, there and gone in mere moments. “Robin is my best friend and I won’t stop loving her or change how she and I are with each other. But you’re my future mate, and nothing is more important than you feeling secure in us.” Eddie surged forward and kissed him hard practically shoving his tongue down his throat.

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Robin or anything like that, Stevie. It’s just…” Eddie knew he had to let Steve hear some of this from him. “The pups constantly tell me how you two were made for each other and how it’s only a matter of time for you two to mate.” Eddie looked down. “I guess, with you wanting to keep it a secret and when I ask about courting you brush it off, mix that with Dustin asking me to find out if you’re secretly dating Robin and I thought it was only a matter of time before you stopped what we had and went with her. And when I saw you two together, I thought it finally happened and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me first.” His voice broke on that last word.

“Wait a second...the pups have been saying what?!” Steve yelled out startling the omega and causing him to whimper. “Sorry.” He took a few calming breaths before asking again. “The pups have been telling you that Robin and I are secretly together?”

“Basically.” Eddie admitted.

“No wonder you didn’t believe me.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t worry my love I’ll set the record straight as soon as I can.” He snuggled Eddie closer and kissed his hair.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with Steve. Not for my sake.” He understood that it may be hard for Steve since he had only dated female omegas before. But his alpha just rolled his eyes.

“I’ll put an ad in the newspaper try me.” He laughed. “It’ll say something like: I, Steven Anthony Harrington am courting and plan to mate with the beautiful” he leaned over and nuzzled against Eddie’s scent gland causing the omega to giggle. “Wonderful, remarkable, one of a kind, Edward Wayne Munson.” He nipped lightly at his neck. “I will don’t tempt me.”

Light finally returned to Eddie’s eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered. Steve knew he was thanking him for much more but Steve didn’t want him to feel grateful that Steve treated him like a worthy partner.

“No thanks necessary. I’m not going to hide any more okay? In fact, close your eyes.” he said. When Eddie did so, he reached into his pocket to pull something out that he fastened around Eddie’s pale throat and kissed him softly. “Open.”

Eddie opened his eyes and gasped. It was the most unique courting gift he’d ever received. Pure silver because he mentioned to Steve once that it was his favorite precious metal. The pendant was a perfect copy of his warlock with small rubies creating the red lightening. As he took a closer look, he realized the neck of the guitar was actually Steve’s nail bat. It was the perfect combination of them.

His chest no longer felt tight and his nose tickled as his blood orange scent began pouring out of his scent gland. It was faint, but it was there. Steve beamed and pushed his nose to the source and took a big inhale. “Thank you, Alpha. I accept your request to court.” Eddie said in the traditional manner. He pulled away. “I’ll give you something I scented in return once it gets back to normal.” Eddie promised. Steve nodded and pulled him into another kiss. This one was more heated and while Eddie did feel better and the sickness was receding, he wasn’t ready to go very far. He leaned back slightly but stayed close so the alpha knew he was okay. “Is it alright, if we take it slow?” He couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Whatever you need.” Steve said tilting his head up. “What ever you want. It’s yours.” He said more like an oath than a promise.

“I threw away your yellow sweater. I’m sorry. I know it was your favorite.” He admitted ashamed. Steve slid away and for a second Eddie thought he was leaving, but before he could let out a single noise of protest he was getting hit in the face with soft cotton. In his hands was the best thing he'd ever seen.

“Wayne said he saw you throw it away and figured you were just upset.” Eddie smiled.

“He knows me so well.”

“I’d hope so, he is your dad and all.” Steve said. “Speaking of, I’d like to formally ask him to court you. I know you already said yes, but it’s traditional to ask an omega’s parent.” Eddie beamed.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I love you so much. I want to court you and mate with you. I want to see you round with my pups.” Steve replied and laid down pulling Eddie with him. “I want us to smell like one another so there’s no mistaking who we belong to.”

“How long have you had this necklace by the way?” Eddie asked the pendant clutched in his hand.

“Since right after spring break.” He admitted. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows he sheepishly said “I told you, I’ve wanted to court you for a long time.”

The two talked a bit more about their insecurities and about Eddie’s past trauma with alphas. When the alpha that hurt him came up again, Steve growled. “Give me a name.” The fire in his eyes would have scared Eddie if it was directed at him. But at the moment, it may have made him a bit slick. He’d never had an alpha want to protect him like this.

“If I tell you, can you promise you won’t do anything crazy?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Steve said. “I promised no lies.” He defended at Eddie’s snort.

“You did, you did. Okay, just promise you’ll be careful.” Steve agreed to that and motioned for Eddie to continue. “It was Tommy Hagan my first senior year.” He admitted. The scent of burning woods filled the his nostrils.

“When?” Steve growled. Had he still been friends with Tommy?

“We started courting in August. The heat we spent together was in November.”

“You were the omega he couldn’t shut up about?” Steve asked. Eddie shrugged.

“I guess. Weird that he couldn’t shut up about me when he cheated on me with Carol.” Eddie said meekly. The faint blood orange Eddie was finally emitting was turning sour and he was trying to pump out calming omega pheromones to calm Steve, but it didn’t seem to be working well due to the dull nature of it.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve said as he willed himself to calm down. “It’s not important right now.” He stood and pulled Eddie to his feet.

“What is important is getting you checked out by a doctor. Let’s let Wayne know and we can go okay?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded and the two got dressed with some difficulty since they refused to let go of each other. Steve wore his yellow sweater so it would smell like him again and Eddie pulled on his favorite band tee. On their way out of the trailer they wrote a note for Wayne and Steve walked Eddie to the passenger side. He opened the door and kept a firm hand in Eddie’s until he was seated. Eddie watched on amused as Steve practically sprinted around the car so they could spend the least amount apart as possible.

~ ~~

At the hospital, the Doctor that saw him last time was able to see him again. “Eddie, this one could have killed you if your alpha hadn’t come when he did. To help you get back on your feet it’ll be good for the two of you to spend the next 48 to 72 hours together. Now for cases like yours we have a new type of medication that can stop rejection sickness from getting worse once it starts. I’m giving you a prescription for that. And I want you to go back to taking the preventive ones for a while.” He looked between the two men knowingly. “I’d say until you’ve mated. After that, you should be okay to stop them. But, keep the emergency one on you at all times. It could be the difference between life and death.” He said before leaving them with a nurse. She gave Eddie some fluids in an IV that were supposed to help him return to normal and then they were on their way.

“So, what now?” Eddie asked. Steve took his hand again.

“Let me take you out on the town? Then we can go back to the trailer and cuddle?” He asked. Eddie blushed and his blood orange scent finally filled the car in full force.

"I'd like that."

@v3lv3tf0x @lexirosewrites Final part!

That's a wrap on this one. But I do have plans to write some Robin POV and what Steve does the next time he sees Tommy.

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