#shadow and bone zoom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lust4nero · 8 days ago

Text

Will I Understand This Feeling Someday?

Vergil Sparda x F!Reader

word count - 2.1k

tags - fluff, slow burn, denial of feelings, vergil is bad at feelings, soft vergil, vergil needs a hug, protective vergil, reader is similar to the lady in red

“Are hearts confined in cages of bone because if nothing holds the heart back, the heart could wander too far into vulnerability?,” Vergil thought as he walked alongside the lady. “Will I understand this feeling someday?”

Vergil can escape from Nightmares but can he escape the grasps of tender affection towards the Lady in Red?

[this fic was inspired by this fanart by hejee on Twitter/X]

Nightmares followed Vergil into Fortuna City, literal and metaphorical ones. He had done everything to keep his tracks hidden and made sure his whereabouts were unknown, even creating a fake name so no one could recognize one of the sons of Sparda. Unfortunately for the white-haired demon, he ended up venturing into a city that houses a religious society who worshipped his father. Of course he’d be recognized, alerting foes of his presence in Fortuna. Vergil, who usually thought with his mind and not what his soul felt most familiar to, chose to seek secret refuge in a city that would immediately spot a son of the god they worshipped. Even he was confused, he never felt much for Fortuna, so why did something draw him near in that place? He had no time to think or ponder for the squeals of the Nightmares were closer than he’d like them to be. He pulls the hood over his hair, spiky strands of a cascade of moonlight curtained by the thick and dark cloth of his cloak’s hood. The accessory casted a penumbra over his face, concealing cold eyes of light blue tourmaline. He moved fast and quiet like a shadow, several steps ahead of his adversaries. In the corner of the peoples’ lines of vision, it was as if they witnessed a wisp of black and a small tinge of dark blue zoom past but they were too slow to fully comprehend what they saw, deducing it to a trick of the light.

“Vergil!”

He swore that he wouldn’t stop; he wouldn’t halt, so why did he? No voice commanded Vergil, not even his own father's but he heard and obeyed, even if this voice did not demand anything from him. He looked around frantically, looking for the source of the voice and swearing to send all the world’s curses towards its beholder.

“Vergil!” The voice repeats. He turns around, bracing himself to come into combat with the Nightmares. He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he kept though his guard is still up, ready to unsheath the Yamato. His ears pick up the sound of the clacking of heels approaching his position, causing him to turn to the direction of the source of the noise and unsheathing his sword.

“Vergil, it’s just me.” You softly say, taking a careful step back when the sun causes a flash of light to reflect off of the sharp blade. “I saw you running earlier. Something wrong?”

The red cloak. It’s the lady with the red cloak again.

Vergil grabs your wrist and drags you closer to him, the quick jostling movement causing the white hood that veiled your hair to fall down. He narrows his eyes, trying to get inside your mind and figure out why someone like you would call out for someone like him . Sure, you had helped him before and this is not your first or second time meeting but why did you call out his name like he’s been in your life longer than he has been? Why did his name sound as if it carried a deep meaning when it left your mouth? Surely he was overthinking things, the woman in front of him was too kind for this world; evil has not tainted your pure soul.

“Why do you call me? I do not owe you anything,” Vergil coldly says. “You have divided my attention from my goal.”

He knew he messed up his wording when the woman in front of him widened her eyes, your cheeks dusted with a gentle pink hue as you directed your gaze to the man’s hold on your right wrist. That sounded a lot more soft and mushier than he ought to make it sound.

“I just happened to see you from afar. It’s not hard to miss a dark coat sifting through a crowd,” you quietly respond. “What were you running from? I don’t see anyone behind you.”

“You wouldn’t know,” Vergil coldly remarks as he lets go of your wrist, an odd feeling lingering at the back of his mind. He hears a distant sound, a sound similar to fork scratching against a plate; they’re near, nearer than he’d want them to be. He spots a dark growth belonging to a body of some sort amidst the crowd, though taking a spirit-like form as people could pass by the figure. Vergil is all too familiar with the sight and takes the lady’s hand as he moves swiftly and expertly.

“Takes the lady’s hand?”

He realizes what he’s done; he brought you along with him. Normally, Vergil would have left you behind and halted conversation long ago but he wasted time to escape to engage in a talk with you, though he did not exactly dislike the fact. As he ran, he looked back to look at you if you were alright but why did he look back? He looked back and observed that despite being out of breath and your hair looking a lot messier than it did earlier, you were in perfect condition which came as a relief to him.

If Vergil only saw you as someone he’d exchange a few words with and as someone who nursed his wounds until he could leave before the cracks of the sun’s rays shone through the night sky, why was he relieved that you were fine and in one piece?

He spots a small gap between two mossy brick walls from afar, rechanging his course and squeezing himself and you into the wall. An odd guilt weighs on his heart when he hears a trifling groan from you, feeling bad that he handled such a fragile person carelessly.

“Vergil what’s–”

Vergil cups a hand around your mouth, raising an index finger to press it against his lips to shush yours. Your bodies are pressed against each other, Vergil’s body caging you in with your back to the brick wall; he leans in close to you with his shrouded head, the excess of the fabric of his cover hiding your face as your own veil had fallen down and laid on your shoulders. You two remained motionless in their covert sanctuary, the only evidence of your presence being the faint echo of their heartbeats as the white-haired half-demon waited for his adversaries to pass. Frosty blue connected with yours in a silent intensity, the demon hybrid’s gaze meeting your hesitant and confused ones as a wordless understanding was exchanged, that understanding being Vergil’s unintentional penchant for being a magnet of hell’s worst spawns. He withdraws his hand from your mouth when he could no longer hear the obnoxious scratchy sound that came with the presence of Nightmares yet still tells you to stay silent as he continues to listen for the sounds of death. When he really confirms that they’ve gone, he moves away from your body and apologizes for invading your personal space.

“Apologies,” his voice rumbles. “It was a spur of the moment decision. We would both be dead had I not done what I did.”

Well, that was his version of an apology. You simply gave him a polite smile as you nodded. You did not miss the way Vergil’s eyes seemed to glow as his gaze fell on your hair, strands dark as if they were threads woven straight from the night sky or the way he lost himself in the void of your pupils, unable to free himself from the spell it had cast on him. He could break out of that spell, he had the power to but he made the conscious choice to let himself go just this once. Did this mean that he only had eyes for you? Perhaps he’s gotten lost in your eyes trying to look for his answer.

“You certainly have a way of apologizing,” you say in a hushed voice. “But it’s fine. You did what you had to do.”

Vergil nods, adjusting the hood to reveal more of his face. He looks out for any harm and doesn’t sense or see anything planning to launch an ambush towards you and him so he deems the coast clear. “Would you like to step out of here?”

“Yes please.”

He goes first, keeping the lady in red close to him. Once you’re both out, you begin making their way towards nowhere. Well, wherever their feet take them. Vergil suddenly remembers that he could be tracked down by scent and they’d find him again. He stops walking and simply stands around, looking for anything to throw his scent off with.

“You okay?” you ask as you look around. “Have you sensed them again?”

“They’ll be able to track me down with their sense of smell,” he faintly pointed out. Lucky for him, you think fast; swiftly, you unclasped your own cloak from your shoulders and wrapped it around his shoulders, getting on your tiptoes to be able to properly put your cloak on him.

“You did not make me remove the one I already had on,” Vergil stiffly pointed out. “And you put it on wrong; the inside is out.”

“Had I removed your cloak first, people would recognize you by your clothing. If I place my cloak on top of the one you already have, I would be able to unclasp your cloak and slip it out without them seeing your garments,” you explained with a cunning grin. “And I know what I’m doing. I’m using my own scent to cover yours up since the inner part of the cloak is closest to my body that’s why that’s the one facing outwards.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow as you unclasped his own, the ghost of an amused smile playing on his lips. He watched you earnestly, scanning the details of your slender fingers that worked with his article of clothing. He kept his gaze trained on your hands– he kept his gaze trained anywhere else but your face for he knew that if he dared to do such a thing again, he’d add fuel to the fire that spread a spellbinding warmth throughout his body. You finished up, folding his cloak into a small square that he could carry around. You hand it to him and he takes it, the momentary brushes of their fingers setting something aflame between you and him. Vergil felt funny; it was a foreign feeling– a mixture of shock, happiness, and confusion, along with many other feelings that he did not have names for.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Vergil.” You gently scolded. “I’ve done so much for you. First I treated you then now I’m lending you a cloak of mine. Not to mention, you just left when I treated you and now you dragged me to some place.”

Vergil’s cheeks burned; why was he embarrassed that he owed the lady in red for taking care of him? Normally he’d be able to brush such claims off with a scoff but why did this cause immense shame in him?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said in a voice near whispering. “I will do my best not to inconvenience you.”

“I can see the shame burning in the apples of your cheeks,” you tease. “If you truly are sorry, Vergil, then at least get me a bowl of noodles with two boiled eggs.”

Vergil looks up again from having kept his head downcast, eyes narrowing in uncertainty.

“Noodles…?”

“Yes, noodles. It’s the least you could do. Your grip on my wrist was no joke earlier and I had to replenish bandaging cloth all by myself back in the infirmary because you used up so much despite having healed awfully fast.”

“Right. Where do you want your noodles then?”

Vergil was taken aback from the words that escaped his lips, his mouth moving faster than his mind did. The half-demon did not like being bound to anyone or owing anyone anything; he did not like the disadvantage it posed to him but this time, he was quite unsure and baffled as to why owing the lady a bowl of noodles did not bother him. It felt annoying when something as mundane as your laugh or the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled when you beamed widely, the heart he deemed cold fluttering like a hummingbird trying to break free from the cage that is his ribs.

NOTE - I wrote + posted this on ao3 a year ago and since I decided to make this account dedicated to Leon Kennedy smut and DMC, I think it'll be okay to crosspost a fic here :) also, people on Twitter are so miserable because why are people who don't like the anime shitting on people who enjoyed it??? like it's okay if you don't think it's good, we all have our own opinions on this, but don't attack people for disagreeing or not sharing the same opinion as you do like jeez, get a job or something idk -_- Personally, I think the show is great-- it's not perfect but I think it's loads of fun, everyone did a great job on it too <3 anyway, that's it and thank you for reading!!

#dividers by cafekitsune #[I forgot who made the blueberry divider but it's not mine!]#vergil sparda #vergil devil may cry #vergil dmc #vergil x reader #vergil x you #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry vergil #dmc #dmc x reader #leon kennedy x you

128 notes · View notes

kingcael · 7 months ago

Note

Follow up question about Downfall piece-

Can you take us through how you developed the composition? This question extends a bit to the Calamity piece (and other non-CR pieces).

How do you approach a very structured composition while maintaining the organic shapes that make up the forms?

and

How do you balance and maintain character personalities when (theoretically) you have so many choices dictated by composition?

For both the Calamity and Downfall pieces the key to the composition was firstly character relationship, and then character personality afterwards. Knowing the way the characters interact informs the placement of them in a multi person composition like this.

In the Calamity piece, it’s littered with all kinds of parallel and perpendicular lines in the composition to show both the unification of the Ring of Brass, and then the internal conflicts that arise. Laerryn and Loquatious’ relationship is one of my fav part of this one, with Loquatious emulating a fallen angel, a Fey in love with a mortal, and Laerryn looking forward with ambition while still reaching back to his heart.

In the Downfall piece there’s less obvious alignment since their relationships were much more tumultuous, but with a lot more interaction between them, the Arch Heart is the most detached as I felt his perceptions were the most isolated among the family. Trist holding both Ayden and the Emissary in a motherly way is one of my favourite parts. In this one I tried to make them more merged together, the Calamity piece has the characters more separate and realised, where the Downfall piece has them more fused together with less obvious edges.

In terms of this type of character and composition study, it really speaks to my natural inclination of art, I’ve been told before my subjects are static and frozen but my shadows are alive, and I’ve pretty much leaned into it, freezing the interactions into a single image to observe while have subtle nods to personalities of character. When doing a big piece with the characters frozen and representing themselves to the fullest degree, even the slightest change like a hand on a shoulder or the tilt of the head can inform a lot about the character while also strengthening the composition.

In bare bones composition terms I do love the triangle, especially for these big group shots, I also try to not have any characters head be exactly at the same height as another’s, unless they’re completely aligned in thoughts, which is why Trist and Ayden are so close. I also do a lot of eye tracking checks, like taking special care to notice what path my eyes take and if it remains consistent upon every viewing, zooming out is very good for this. I control the eye tracking in a fairly apparent way, face to arm to hand/object is usually the path, notably Nydas’ sword in the Calamity picture leads directly from his conflict with Zerxus to Laerryn, and her hand leads to Loquatious.

Haha I do go on

#cael does art #cr downfall #cr calamity #critical role spoilers

205 notes · View notes

ffleurist · 2 months ago

Text

🕸️ 027 . the goblin’s game

synopsis spider-man struggles to gain the upper hand—until you notice a critical weakness in the goblin’s glider. wc 1351

“kai— SPIDER-MAN! let me help you!” you shouted, his name slipping out before you could stop it.

he froze for a split second before whipping around, eyes burning behind the mask. “no, you’re not,” he shot back, voice tight with urgency. it wasn’t anger but fear. “i won’t let you get hurt.”

you stood your ground, unwavering. “then don’t. let me help.”

his fists tightened at his sides, tension rolling off him in waves. “you think this is a game? that you can just—”

a deafening explosion cut through his words. as the city trembles under the weight of destruction, the chaos around you was deafening. the screams, explosions and the distant wail of sirens. spider-man, no, kaiser was locked in battle with the enemy so-called green goblin. the clash of metal and webbing filled the air. you watched from a distance, your heart pounded while your mind raced. this is what truly lies behind all his scars.

amidst the destruction, you saw it, the twisted grin and the glint of amusement in goblin’s eyes as he dodged kaiser’s attack with almost too much ease. and suddenly, it clicked. the pieces were falling into place too fast. the strange green flickers was exactly what you’d been seeing in the shadows, the feeling of being watched and the unease that had settled in your bones for weeks, it had all been leading to this.

your breath caught as you stared at him, the twisted glow of his glider reflecting in his crazed eyes. he hadn’t just found you tonight. he’d been toying with you, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

those messages weren't a warning. it was an invitation.

“you’ve been messaging and following me in the shadows.” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

he let out a low, rasping laugh. “observant, aren’t you? i was starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

a shiver crawled down your spine. he hadn’t just lured you here but he had been orchestrating this from the very beginning.

spider-man landed beside you in an instant with his protective stance. you barely had time to process the weight of his presence before his gloved hand grasped your wrist.

“are you okay?” his voice was sharp, urgent. nothing like the teasing, cocky tone he usually carried.

you swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “he’s been watching me. the texts, the shadows… it was him all along.”

his head snapped toward the green goblin, his grip on you tightening. “you sick son of a bitch—”

goblin only chuckled, tilting his head as if amused. “oh, relax, spidey. i just wanted to get to know her a little better.” his grin widened, eyes glinting with something unhinged. “and now, i have her full attention. i must thank you for leading her to me.”

kaiser moved before you could react, stepping in front of you fully, his body a barrier between you and the monster who had been haunting you all this time. “you’re not touching her.”

but the goblin only sneered, tapping the edge of his glider. “oh, but i already have.”

kaiser’s breathing turned sharp, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “what the hell did you do?”

the goblin only chuckled, tilting his head mockingly. “come now, spider-man. you already know, don’t you?” his grin widened, eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “she took what was mine.”

barely having any time to react before a blast from the glider shot toward you. without thinking, kaiser shoved you out of the way, taking the brunt of the attack as he skidded backward, boots scraping against the pavement.

your ears rang from the impact, but you didn’t have time to recover as spider-man and the green goblin clashed once again. the goblin’s cackling echoed across the rooftops, his glider zooming through the air, evading every one of spider-man’s swift attacks. with each swing, kaiser’s body creaked under the pressure, but he didn’t stop. not when the stakes were this high.

goblin soared low, firing explosive pumpkin bombs in rapid succession. the man beneath the mask twisted and dodged, narrowly missing each blast, but the force of them rocked the buildings around them.

“is that all you’ve got, spidey?” the goblin taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “you’ve grown weak. just like your precious little world.”

narrowing his masked eyes as he swung back into position “you’re not gonna win this time, goblin. not this time.”

but goblin was relentless, his glider darting through the air like a predator, never giving spider-man a moment to breathe. with one final, forceful thrust, the goblin slashed through spider-man’s webs, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.

groaning, he struggled to his feet, his vision blurry as the goblin hovered just above him. “pathetic.” he muttered, raising a gloved hand. “you’re finished.”

suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the air. “not yet, you’re not.”

spider-man’s eyes snapped open just in time to see you running toward them, your face set with determination. with no hesitation, you grabbed a nearby metal pipe and threw it with precision toward the goblin’s glider. the impact sent it spiraling off course, but it didn’t crash, but only faltered for a second.

“damn you!” goblin hissed, clearly unprepared for your interference. he jerked to the side, gliding back in your direction. “you should’ve stayed out of this.”

but you didn’t back down. you didn’t even flinch as he aimed another blast at you, timing it perfectly. “you’re right. i should’ve.”

that was when you noticed it. something you’d missed in the chaos of the fight. a flicker in the goblin’s movements, a slight weakness in his posture as his glider dipped too far forward, forcing him to pull back.

you quickly pieced it together—the goblin’s glider wasn’t just a weapon—it was his lifeline. without it, he was vulnerable.

“spidey!” you shouted, barely able to catch your breath. “his glider! it’s not stable. you can take him down if you—”

before you could finish, he reacted instinctively. with a single, powerful swing of his webbing, he latched onto the glider, pulling it downward with a ferocity you hadn’t seen before. the goblin screamed in surprise as the glider’s stabilizers failed, sending it crashing into the ground with a loud thud. with his glider disabled, the goblin stumbled, unable to maintain his balance in the air. his eyes went wide as he scrambled to regain control, but it was too late as spider-man cosed the distance in a heartbeat, swinging a fist right into the goblin’s gut, knocking the shit out of him.

“you were saying something about pathetic?” spider-man growled, his voice cold and decisive.

goblin only wheezed, his gloved hand clutching his chest as he staggered backward, but spider-man wasn’t finished. with a swift motion, he webbed the goblin’s arms to his sides, rendering him completely immobilised.

you watched from a few feet away, heart pounding. the fight was over.

kaiser, still underneath that mask, turned to you, his breathing heavy, his mask hiding his exhaustion but there was a new, softer note in his tone as he spoke.

“nice thinking,” he said, stroking your head gently. “couldn’t have done it without you.”

you gave him a tight smile. “we make a good team.”

the goblin, despite being webbed up and momentarily disabled, was not finished yet. his furious eyes narrowed, and a dark glint of madness flickered within them. he’d been on the edge of defeat before, but he wasn’t going to let it end like this. with a quick, desperate move, he tore free of the webbing at his chest, revealing a hidden blade tucked inside his sleeve.

but before either you or spider-man could react, the goblin lashed out, the sharp blade glinting as it sliced through the air towards spider-man. the sound of the blade slicing through the wind was almost deafening.

“no!” you shouted, but it was too late.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : had to buy a new calculator damn but enjoy hehe 😝 livelaughlove kaiser

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @sof888a @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @saeglazer @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy @pan-kojiwa @pctterheadd @shumeow-h @deadlydollsstuff @renchai @nomyimi @beomn @heartmaddie @orphicarchive @sky-casino @8x9d @hanmastattoos @biscuitsx [tell me if i missed out anyone]

#blue lock smau #michael kaiser smau #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader smau #michael kaiser x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #spiderman michael kaiser #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚#saeslove #ffleurist

74 notes · View notes

leeny-leens · 2 months ago

Text

Draft: Untitled | BCJ x f!Reader

Five: Zoom Call

Warnings: blood (as a joke)

WC: ~1k

<< prev | m.list | next>>

there's SMAU part below the written part

Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, the most reoccurring one being curse words on repeat anytime Barty flashed you that sharp smirk of his, the one that stretched the corners of his mouth upwards in a way that had the skin strain against his lip piercings. The guy was unfairly hot, you thought, an epitome of sinful chaos incarnate. From the way his dark tousled hair fell over his eyes, streaks of acid green snaking through the mess, to the way his eyes glinted playfully when he cracked a joke or caught you staring a bit too hard at his face and piercings. The 3 o’clock shadow didn’t do much to help his case either, giving him a flair of rugged messiness that had your fingers itching to capture it on paper.

Still, you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand and not let yourself appear too distracted, especially when his piercing hazel eyes bored themselves into your soul, even through the screen. You were glad this was a zoom call and not an in person meeting, there was no way you would’ve survived a first meeting face to face with someone like him.

“-and in any case, hey, are you there?” His voice suddenly rang through your mind, and you scrambled out of your haze. “Sorry,” you muttered, rather embarrassed he’d caught you so absented minded. It certainly didn’t make for a good impression, that much is clear. Barty didn’t seem to mind at all however, rather he found humour in your scatter brained response. “Too distracted to pay attention?” He asked, his voice thick with that teasing lilt he’d made his trademark during the entire call. “Distracted by your ridiculous ideas,” you shot back, falling into the comfortable back-and-forth rhythm you’d built. It was an enigma really, how fast you both had warmed up to each other and fallen into a perfect mixture between friendly banter, familiarity and professional concentration.

“Come on, a segment where I’m soaked to the bone in blood would be amazing,” you didn’t dignify the statement with an answer, only threw him a dirty look you hoped was conveyed properly through the screen, and went back to jotting down the things you’d discussed.

He went back to his own notes, muttering dramatically about the censorship of his creative freedom as an artist, but when you looked up, the grin on his face betrayed the hurt he feigned. “We can consider it,” you finally relented, rolling your eyes at his over the top victory celebration. You gave your notes one last look over, just to make sure you didn’t miss anything, and realised with satisfaction that your two and a half hour meeting had been incredibly productive. Between Barty’s sharp memory and your penchant for details, the vision for this project came together slowly but surely. You’d talked over the things you’d already mentioned in your email exchange, but the majority of today’s meeting had been reserved to subtly feel out what kind of person you’d each be working with.

Underneath the jokes and easy going demeanour, you noticed an incredible work ethic in your partner, one that measured up well with your own. It was clear how much this song meant to him, and how passionate he was about bringing this vision to life. Your ideas seemingly bounced off each other, and the creative flow had been uninterrupted for longer than you could keep track time of. Now, there was not much left to discuss, at least for today’s meeting, and you stretched your arms above your head as the exhaustion caught up to you, courtesy of the constant focus you’d put out.

“Alright, is there anything else you’d like to discuss for today?” You asked the man on the other side of the screen. “Nope,” he replied, his cheek resting against his hand as he clicked through his laptop to presumably check for anything left to say. “Great, then I’ll draw up the contract per the discussed terms and-“

“No need,” he interrupted, “I’ll take care of the legal things, don’t worry about it.” When you stared at him with raised eyebrows, confusion and a hint of doubt overtaking your features, it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Gotta put my law degree to use somehow, you know?” He explained, causing your eyes to widen.

“You have a degree in law?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” His tone was tethering between mock offence and amusement, something that only further fuelled your confusion. “Do I not look like I could be college educated?” You knew he was only joking, but the statement made you realise how your confusion might have come across as offensive. “I- no I didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to stammer together an explanation, only for him to wave you off with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, not many know I used to study law before I got into making music,” he explained, “I dropped out before I could take the bar exam, but I did finish my bachelors.”

Each minute spent with this man unraveled more and more about him, yet it left you starving to know more. You couldn’t help it, not really, when he carried himself a certain way in public but sang about things that you could never express with your words alone. “Oh, is that why your first album is called Law and Disorder?” You asked, feeling proud at the connection you made when he gave you an approving nod.

“I think I made a great choice choosing you,” he mused after a few beats of silence, basking in the way you froze at his words. “I have a good feeling ‘bout this, let's give it our best yeah?” unable to do anything else, you didn't bother suppressing your own grin when you nodded. “Let's make this a masterpiece,” you added, a sense of exhilaration that you haven't felt in a long time coursing through you. Perhaps this project was the fresh air you oh so desperately needed in your career and life; and perhaps it would develop into something unforgettable.

Extra notes:

The call was awkward for a grand total of 30 seconds before Barty made the lamest joke in existence to break the tension

Barty claimed to be pretty free in his emails, but his appearance clearly tells a different story

he was going to shave before the call but ended up sleeping in due to the all nighter he pulled the night before and barely had enough time to shower and shave

he stared at YN as often as she stared at him, but no one needs to know that quite yet

on the topic of staring; most pictures of Barty are either blurry, dark, show his back or are taken from far away so up until he picked up the call YN had no real idea how he actually looked like

AN:

Yay first semi real meeting woohoo!! the plot is moving somewhere finally <3 I had to rewrite this chapter twice because the first time it was awkward and clunky and I hated it and while the second one isn't that much better I refuse to do it a third time

Taglist: @vun3r4b13xwrites @theynipulation @bubblegumcat229 @pookiebear16 @cruel-seduction @cursednevermore @starrynightviper @greenunoreversecard @idknunsadly

52 notes · View notes

thepenandthepistol · 5 months ago

Text

Fragile Machinery (Mumbo x reader)

This has been a long time coming. You've felt his death being sown through the land in every failed trap attempt and close call. With a single mistake, you are helpless in preventing it.

A/N: Honestly, did not know I had this fic in me. I was already kinda sad and pissed with some other stuff and watching Mumbo explode has made me a little sadder than it has the right to. Haven't watched everyone's pov so player positions are probably inaccurate. Reader and Mumbo aren't platonic or romantic in this, but are the secret third thing. Also reader is an avian. Again. (1270 words)

Art by @/YongyiMoon on Twitter and dividers by @saradika-graphics

You thought Mumbo was finally safe. For the last few weeks, you’ve followed him like a shadow, dark wings and hood obscuring your face like a damned shade. Most people haven’t chanced a hit at Mumbo, not after Jimmy’s stunt and your subsequent presence. Thankfully, that’s given you the chance to parse out the competition, the dark green names and their hideouts, your neighbors, above and below. From the distance, wild shades of pink fly in the air. Lizzie’s set of lives calls to you from your place atop the highest of Mumbo’s bridges.

You hear him sit beside you, but don’t manage a word; there’s a silent type of dread in the air, the type you’re afraid to speak into existence. He looks you over, and despite all the unease, the sweet smile on his face drips through the cracks of your tough facade. You recognize it now, the emotion. Terror.

“We need to get you another life.” The only thing you can get to leave your mouth is the obvious. You steady your trembling fingers at your side before encasing his hand. It’s gentle in a way you’re not experienced in being.

“We will. We’ve got my mace. From here on, it’s smooth sailing.” His eyes crinkle, and his goofy mustache draws upward from his smirk.

“You can take one of mine.” The phrase leaves you before you can word it in a less desperate way. The warmth from Mumbo’s hand only partially eases the chilling anxiety that races through your veins. He looks at you and can only frown. “Get another kill with the mace, and you’ll be back to green. Besides, if anyone here should try their hand at fighting, I think I’m our best bet.” Silence follows.

“No. I- Genuinely, I don’t think I can do that.” He says it, laughing almost. Like the thought of sacrificing yourself for him is some unthinkable deed.

“Alright... I’ll help you get your kill, then.” This is your promise, and it weighs so much heavier on his shoulders than it should. It’s new, this type of arrangement. He could only recall being taken seriously through faint memories of another life, even then surfacing only in death.

He rests his head against your shoulder, and you pretend not to cave into docility, your gaze still like a hawk’s, following the rats below.

The next day, preparations start early and eat into another evening. As the air cools with the sun’s descent through the horizon, you trail your friends from above. Grian talks casually with Etho and BigB, but he often glances up at Mumbo upon the wall, betraying his unease. No one suspects your dark form in the pitch black sky above until a trivia bot glides down and you dash behind the taller cobble pillar with Mumbo.

“I can’t hit anyone from here.” He checks around the corner and down into the commotion. An idea strikes you and paints a mischievous grin on your face.

“I can help with that.” You suddenly yank him into the air from under his armpits and hover over the clearing. Mumbo goes limp in your hands but then tightens his grip on the mace once again. A green heart glints from a speck on the ground, and with a nod from Mumbo, you let go.

A bone-breaking crunch reverberates as you hear your friend’s victory cries. You zoom out to join them through the castle’s front gates as the others yell out in shock. Mumbo runs for his life, but even in the chaos, you clearly see his heart stay the same forsaken yellow.

With a glance behind you, the terrible realization catches up. Gem’s body. You dropped him in the wrong spot.

The entire way home is spent in an even worse silence than before. Mumbo laughs it off, but your mind can picture it so clearly now. His own body, bloodied and cold.

You begin fervently building the tower alongside Grian. Its threatening presence is a small reprise from the vulnerability of defeat. You run your fingers along the cool deepslate and look out onto the meeting room.

Skizz and Mumbo are messing with a trivia bot, pushing him around while he boops and bleeps. Scar makes his way down the mountain, obviously up to no good, and steals Skizz’s bot. He rows off the platform in his little wooden boat, and you scoff at the absurdity. Mumbo looks up at you, and it only takes a second to send you both into laughter. Skizz drops into the water below after Scar before Grian can yell out a coherent answer to his bot’s question.

You can’t really believe it when you feel levity in the air. The sun begins setting one last time, but you, Grian and Mumbo, move around the tower, now turned turret, and make shots at the people on the ground. It’s incredible how a killing machine can inspire such giddiness, but finally, there is hope. There’s more than hope. This thing is bound to kill someone at one point. Its range and the recklessness of the teams in traversing the mountain assure you that if not green, Mumbo will go back to a healthy yellow.

Faraway cries draw your attention back downward as a massive group stands right in the traps danger zone. Your eyes shine with wonder as you turn back and face Mumbo. He takes a step back hesitantly, and Grian questions him without losing sight of Gem, ominously standing in the middle of a past crater.

“Jimmy’s there as well.” Shit. Restlessness returns to your stance as the perfect chances make their way up the cherry wood stairs and leave range one by one.

Instinct drives you to fly into the air. Straight up into the cloudy, dark sky, leaving a gust of wind in your wake. Mumbo looks up at you with furrowed brows before you dive toward the crowd. Like a bullet, piercing the space between you both, your arms quickly wrap around Jimmy. The others present jump back in surprise as you take off just as quickly as you arrived. Eyes focusing on those pink braids, you brutally knock Jimmy’s flailing body into Lizzie. She stumbles into a puffer fish trap, giving you all the time you need to safely get Jimmy into the air, outside the blast radius.

The sun begins to rise behind the turret; time seems to slow. Grian woops and yells from the tower’s parapets. He eyes you with mirth in his pupils; they dilate as he places the explosive minecart, and Mumbo sends it chasing its own tail to power up. Lizzie has decided to go for the worst course of action and climb back down into the dead center of the craters from past failed attempts.

Your wings are heavy as you fly overhead while Jimmy continues to struggle in your grasp. He doesn��t seem to have a sword, and the blunt cobble he uses to scratch your talons is only secondary to the relief of Mumbo’s eventual kill.

He smiles, wider than you’ve ever seen him, and in a single distracted moment, Jimmy manages to land a hit to your wings. You yell, more from surprise than hurt, and catch a glimpse of Mumbo pulling out a bow and arrow, taking the stance to shoot, putting his foot back just barely on top of the powered track.

Your yell is bloodcurdling. Mumbo hears the minecart stop at his side. Terror fills his eyes, and in the split moment he has, he reaches a desperate hand out toward you.

#hermitcraft x reader #mumbo x reader #platonic!mumbo x reader #mcyt x reader #x reader #don't mind me editing this a day later because i wrote Skizz's name wrong #i should keep a fic at least one day after i write it and before posting it so that doesnt happen

79 notes · View notes

voidwritesstuff · 6 months ago

Text

Camcorder Stories.

Cw: War being self deprecating. (No surprise there)

Summary: The Four happen to be travelling with a human survivor who is a devoted learner of all things cinema. They're learning about human culture one way or another, even if they dont like it.

>A/n: Inspired by the lovely @darkdemeter and her amazing Darksiders writings. As A film student, I felt like I needed to share all this knowledge that has changed the way I watch films and other multimedia content. To share the hard work involved and the appreciation I have for it :DDD.

The horsemen had no concept of what Film was. Not even Strife,who was the most acquainted with humanity even before the end times.

But now the riders found themselves with a young human who had dedicated a good portion of their years to studying cinema. And much to their chagrin or excitement...

This human carried an old camcorder with them. And with tapes to spare.

Death:

Not even theatre was of particular concern or interest to the pale rider. He was never one for the arts,other than the art of necromancy, so at first he pays the human no mind when they begin talking about film.

"Oh hold on,I need to film this. Stand there at the edge of that cliff...I just need to fiddle with the ISO. So bright..."

Death was just looking at the Valley below,the sickly sun of the kingdom of the dead shone on his cold skin. The warmth was sticky and awful. But hes never been one to complain.

The tall bone towers stood on the far distance on each side of him, a perfect frame of Demise between the reaper himself.

His human companion fiddled with buttons and he could see the lense of the strange device the mortal held. He saw how it opened and closed like a predator's Gaze.

"Okay! There we go. Finally. Please stand there,Im going to do a traveling, then a zoom in And finish on a medium close up...you just stay there like in a reverse shot. " the human made a pause,as if thinking about their words "stay still,look Cool. Back to the camera and look forwards to either of those towers"

Death doesnt know why he indulges in these outbursts of cinematic inspiration. He thinks it helps his companion Keep their sanity..and it keeps them tame and less prone to trouble.

He can hear the mortal slowly walk to him. His ears catch the sound of their footsteps from his right. He can guess theyre putting most of their weight on their heels so they can turn upwards and close in on him to somewhat eye level.

The sound comes from his right to then begin walking a Straight line behind him. Thats the travelling.

This "useless" knowledge of film has been drilled into his mind against his Will. He knew a travelling meant this human would slowly move towards him from either of his sides.

After comes that close up. Those always put his hairs on edge. Like theyre sneaking behind him. He absolutely hates it. Even if theyre not even a threat.

Finally,the medium close up meant the camera would only film from his shoulders up.

He can hear the whirring of the camcorder as it takes in his form.

It cuts when the camera is right on his left shoulder.

"Satiated?" He asked,a gruff in his voice. The annoyance bellows from the base of his throat.

"Very..." he turns to see the human look at their recording"I know you hate doing second takes...I know you think this is silly but...I'd like one more take. Please? . Its not often that outside light behaves,usually its better to do all this in a studio-gives you more controll over the lights and shadows.. but this is almost a golden opportunity.."

He asks himself again why he indulges the mortal on these things. But he looks at how their eyes glimmer at the prospect of connecting with something so tied to them and their people that went on a horrible decline by the hands of things older and more powerfull than them.

And he cant squander their happiness.

Perhaps hes grown soft, perhaps hes intrigued by such arts.

"One last 'take'. Make it count,human"

The smile they give him could melt any Ice. And if the Creator willed it,maybe the one that wrapped his dead heart.

"Okay! Ill do my travelling from the left, then a zoom and finish on your right shoulder. I know theres not much difference but the sun is coming from the left...I think its going to be more dramatic that way!"

Death couldnt help but let out a low,low chuckle"One of these days,I'll make you show me all these things youre...filming"

"Death,after this take I'll show all of them to you. I promise" the human's voice sounds the happiest hes ever heard since meeting them "I think all this Will make a smashing docu-series. Ill give you credits of course, though putting "Special thanks to the literal horseman of the pale horse" sounds a little weird"

Another chuckle left the old reaper "With everything your people has been through,thats your concern?"

The human laughed,a sound so heavenly"Alright,alright,fair. C'mon. Stand there again and We'll wrap this up faster than you can say 'action!'"

Fury

Her opinions could make even the saltiest of film critics cry. And shes not ashamed on telling his human companion how pointless and useless their outbursts were.

But then she saw how cool she looked,and it fed her ego so much she changed her tune.

"Youre going to kill me because of this,Fury. But move to that lightsource there" the human Pointed at one forwards down the Hall of arcane lights they were in.

"Whats wrong with this one, mortal? " the she-horseman asked with her hands on her hips and a little annoyed glare in her white eyes.

"I can tell from how it looks here in the camera that this is an incomplete spectrum lightsource "

"English,human "

The mortal sighed,putting down the camera "Incomplete Spectrum Lights dont do well with colors that are a mix of two others. Your hair is magenta, the middle between blue and red. Depending on where you stand, its taking the color of your hair from bluer to redder. Not a nice look,and not the one im looking for "

She relented and Walked further down the Hall. She raised her hands in annoyance and said "Well? "

"Perfect!! Do something cool with your whip! -Oh I need to change the obturation velocity. "

"...human" Fury scowled.

"How quickly the lenses Open and close to register the image. The quicker it opens and closes the clearer the image of your whip moving Will be"

Fury saw them click a few buttons on their camcorder. The tech was foreign to them,only her watcher seemed to be aware of how they worked. So,when the human wasnt listening, the shadow being explained to her mistress what a camera was and how it functioned.

"There! Ready. Im not sure on what shot to use.."

She did say she didnt care for film knowledge. Shes heard it enough times against her Will but...

"Medium length shot. Didn't you humans call it an 'American Shot' too?" she asked,grabbing the Hilt of Scorn.

The human smiles,the glimmering of their eyes like theyre finally being acknowledged

"Or 'cowboy shot' yeah. You...you remembered! "

"Just because you said it a thousand times. "

By now,her mortal companion had grown used to her dismissal. "Uh-Huh sure. Ahem, alright. 'Fury being awesome ' take one! And...action!"

Just a few takes later,The human approached the horsewoman and showed her the display screen of the camera. Within it she sees the last take they did, which seemed to be the best one yet.

There truly is an art and a skill to it. How they move about to catch each angle, evading any lightsource that May betray their shadow and ruin the film.

Fury catches the warmth and pride in the human's eyes. This is the first time shes seen them so content. Mortals needed little to be happy.

It made her heart squeeze. She almost felt...guilty for being so critical and mean about this,admitedly, unique art form.

"Not bad. Perhaps you'll even make this into something worth watching" she ruffles their hair to add her usual emotional distance, but the human is inmune to It.

"When I do,you and your siblings are invited to the red carpet premiere. You Better dress your best"

"I never dissapoint,human".

Strife:

The horseman of the white horse loved any and all things human related. Was this his way of making up after his failing at protecting humanity from corruption? Maybe.

Or maybe he just really likes the culture.

Not like he'd tell his human companion about why he seemed so interested in their filming.

"Okay heres a fun bit of info for you. Did you know we had an art form called stop motion?"

"I Didnt know, how does it work?"

He listened attentively as the mortal told him about the millions of variations of puppet models,the replacement, the neat little tricks to make things move and seem Real.

To him,stop motion animation sounded like a real labor of love.

"I had to make one for a class once. It was painful but fun"

"Do you still have the recording?"

"I...dont sadly. We made it on a digital camera and god knows what happened to it after this shit show"

"Oh...".

"But if you give me a few hours we can make one together"

Strife knows himself enough to be aware of his lack of patience. But he accepts the deal if only for the experience.

He sees his human companion,his Friend, work away at making a few tiny little puppets that they can pose. They use pine cones,Grass,rubble, anything that they can get their hands on.

The mortal sets the camera on a rock,making sure it cant be moved. Then, they spent the Next few hourstaking pictures and making the puppets move and do silly little things.

Strife defenetly didnt have the patience for this, but it was all worth it when he saw the animation they made together. How the doll moved about in its little scenario,how the arms hoist up some pebble.

" Ive never done anything like this" he had admitted as he cleaned his guns. This was his way of unwinding. "It was fun, but painful. You sure its not some human torture method?"

His friend laughed,shaking their head as they press record on their camera and begin to move it delicately to drink in all the details of the horseman's hands cleaning the gun

The campfire beside them gave the shot a dramatic light that flickered and danced in a way that made the metal glint. And with a low ISO (aka the camera's sensitivity to light) there was no oversaturation to ruin the recording.

"Watcha doing'?" The gunslinger asked, not stopping the cleaning of his weapons.

"A detail shot. Usually its for props. In this case, the props are your guns." They explained "I personally love detail shots. They showcase the love put into the props by the art department"

"Theres an art department?"

"Ya. Theres also a lights department, writers,directors, producers, special effects- like a fake wound-, a costume/clothes department.-"

"So Many people for one movie?"

"Mhm! I can tell you all about it "

"Sweetheart,we've got nuthin' but time. 'M all ears"

War:

Creator help the human that the red rider travels with. He knows little of things like theatre and magic and tech are a mystery to him in so Many ways. Had it not been for the watcher, the behemoth in crimson would have no clue and think its an elaborate human prank.

"Okay so in a movie,you'd have four stages. Pre- production,where the story and list of resources needed for the film get made. Production,which is getting everything on the list plus actors and catering and a bunch of other things. Filming,the fun part. And post-production, where everything comes together"

War raised his brows in surprise, his expression would have been hidden if it wasnt for the slight widening of his shining white eyes and his voice as he says "I...was not aware of how much was needed for such a seemingly simple thing"

The human was unaware of the expression he was making,seeing as their back was to his chest. Ruin trode lazily over the broken pavement.

"Yeah! You need a lot. Think about this,you need a scene in a home.." they begin,opening Their camcorder to put a tape within It "you can either make it within a studio- which means making everything from the ground up- or get a house with the furniture inside it "

He listens attentively "Im sure its more complicated than that...You'd need...lights? You have said that. And you told me natural light can be...tricky"

"Yeah!! " they sound so happy at his remembrance "For a home you manage to "borrow" you need to block out the Windows- unless theyre shown in the shot- and replace the light with artificial ones. But you'd also need people and services to haul the equipment to that home. "

They made a brief pause "a big guy like you would be useful. You May have a spot on the industry after all!"

"I dont see myself-"

"It was a joke,War"

"Right"

"Thats joke 1000 and counting" they breathed out,before turning on their camcorder. "Hey...I want a birds eye view of Ruin's head. Can get on your shoulders?"

He sighed "very well. Be careful"

The human climbs on him with ease. His armor provided foot holds and places to grasp. And its not the first time this happened...

War barely registers their weight on him. He looks up past his hood to see them record the sunset,turning side to side slowly in a panning motion.

"Natural light can be finnicky...but things like these can be breath taking...Wonderful shot"

At this,something comes to the rider's mind. "Why do you...record all these things? Arent they painful reminders? Do you do it to inmortalize yourself?"

The mortal looked down and smiled,shaking their head"in film,we tell stories. I want to tell this story...our story" the camera bends down to record him. And he huffs,all afluster.

"The nephilim are not worthy of remembrance".

"But you horsemen are. Your stories are worth sharing. And im making sure they happen. Your voice deserve to be heard"

"What makes you so certain?"

"I...Im not sure. Its just a feeling.."

He saw the way the human's brows knit together. They chew the inside of their cheek and turn the camera to take the view of Ruin's firey mane.

"Wonderful films have been made out of less. Sure,your stories are amazing and interesting- but thats not quite It. We have all seen stories of guts and glory,of massacres...but you horsemen are different. Unique."

"We're the accursed union of Angel and Demon. We're unique because we shouldnt exist "

He feels them kick him with the heel of their foot. "Dont say that about yourself. Good god" they sigh,looking at the sunset "theres nobody in this world like you four, youre unique in a wonderful way. You are a union of angel and demon but youre nothing like them. Youre uniquely independent, in a League all of your own. I seek to understand it I guess- I want to tell your stories because..."

The words are on the tip of their tongue. So annoying...

And War sounds almost...meek in asking. He hopes of acknowledgement, of being seen, as deep down as that feeling is.

"Because theres simply nothing like you,and I think everyone deserves to know how noble,how kind and how strong you are. Maybe we can even learn something from you for. Your courage and disposition are unmatched. As scarred as you May be,as hurt even...I just think you deserve to be shown and appreciated for your uniqueness"

The rider was unsure on what to say. They are perhaps the only being in existence that appreciates the four in this way. And...he quite likes it.

"No doubt you'll make it far in your carreer" he complimented after a long silence."few beings in existence have the heart that you do..."

He heard them chuckle, their shadow moving as they hook their feet under his armor to stand up and bring their camera further up,showing the low brush and lushness that begins to overtake the landscape. The blue hour fully setting in.

"Will you come watch what I make?"

It was so obvious there was a slight hint of humor. He could tell the human wasnt at all convinced he actually cared for their art.

Too bad he means to show them he does

"To see the fruits of your hard labor? Of course. "

He hears the slight sniffing,he feels the slight trembling..."Ill- ill get you the best- best seats at the theatre. I promise"

War raised his normal hand to wrap around their calf, as a comfort but as a steadying force. "Ive no doubt you'll uphold your word"

#darksiders #darksiders fury #darksiders death #darksiders war #darksiders strife #darksiders horsemen #darksiders x reader #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #darksiders genesis

56 notes · View notes

mariswxts · 8 months ago

Text

amoralism | ten

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning in itself), mention of murder, murder, Knights of Hell but they’re just murderous humans, description of injuries, use of firearms, a mole in the FBI, Azazel, Asmodeus, crime syndicates, (slightly), pressure, it’s a Kevin and Jo episode guys

Song Inspo: Bones by Imagine Dragons

SERIES MASTERLIST

bilingualism

THREE WEEKS AGO:

The dimly lit operations room was filled with the hum of computer monitors and the soft clatter of keyboard strokes. Kevin and Jo, both were hunched over a desk, their eyes glued to the footage playing on the screen in front of them. The grainy video showed the supposed death of Cain, a case that had puzzled them for days.

Kevin paused the video, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. "Something about this just doesn't add up," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "We've watched this footage a dozen times, and it still feels off."

Jo nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Yeah, I know what you mean. There’s something... staged about it. But I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Kevin replayed the segment where Cain was supposedly killed, focusing on the details. "Look at the way he falls. It's too clean. No struggle, no desperation. It's almost like he knew what was coming."

Jo leaned closer, scrutinizing the screen. "You’re right. And check out the angle of the camera. It’s positioned perfectly to capture the whole scene. Almost like it was set up deliberately."

Kevin's fingers flew across the keyboard, enhancing the footage and zooming in on Cain's face. "See that? He’s looking right at the camera. That’s not a look of fear; it’s... calculated."

Jo's eyes widened. "He’s playing to the audience. He wanted us to see this."

Kevin nodded, a sense of excitement building in his chest. "Exactly. But why? What’s his endgame?"

Jo frowned, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe he wanted us to think he was dead. Take the heat off him, so he could operate from the shadows."

Kevin paused the footage at the moment of Cain's supposed death. "That would explain a lot. But it also means we’ve been chasing a ghost. Cain's out there somewhere, and we’ve got no idea what he’s planning."

Jo ran a hand through her hair, her mind racing. "We need to look at this from a different angle. If Cain wanted us to think he was dead, he must have a reason. Something big."

Kevin started pulling up files on Cain, scanning through his known associates and recent activities. "Cain's always been a step ahead. If he's faked his death, he’s probably planning something major. We need to figure out what that is before it’s too late."

Jo nodded, determination hardening her features. "Right. But first, we need to confirm our theory. Let’s see if there’s any evidence that supports the idea that Cain is still alive."

Kevin brought up a series of reports, focusing on unusual activities that could be linked to Cain. "Look at this. A string of unexplained deaths in the last month. All of them have Cain’s signature—decapitation with a single clean cut."

Jo’s eyes widened. "That’s his calling card. He’s definitely still active. We need to alert the higher-ups."

Kevin hesitated, a frown crossing his face. "Wait. If we go straight to them without solid proof, they might not take us seriously. We need more than just a hunch."

Jo nodded, her jaw set. "You’re right. We need to gather enough evidence to make our case airtight. Let’s start with the footage. There’s got to be something we missed."

Kevin replayed the footage, slowing it down frame by frame. "Look here," he said, pointing to a shadow in the background. "There’s someone else in the room. They’re just out of sight, but you can see their reflection in the window."

Jo squinted at the screen, her heart racing. "That’s it. Cain had an accomplice. Someone who helped him stage his death."

Kevin enhanced the image, revealing the faint outline of a figure. "If we can identify this person, we might be able to track them down and get to Cain."

TWO WEEKS AGO:

The sun was just beginning to set as Kevin and Jo arrived at the scene of the latest decapitation. The crime scene was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, eerily quiet and shrouded in shadows. They parked their car a safe distance away and approached on foot, their flashlights cutting through the growing darkness.

Kevin’s heart raced as they reached the entrance. He glanced at Jo, who nodded in silent agreement. They needed to be cautious; if Cain was on a revenge mission, there was no telling what they might find.

They slipped inside the warehouse, the scent of decay and stale air assaulting their senses. The beam of Kevin’s flashlight fell on the chalk outline of a body and a pool of dried blood. He knelt down, inspecting the scene with a critical eye.

“Looks like the usual M.O.,” Kevin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Clean cut, no signs of a struggle.”

Jo scanned the area, her flashlight revealing the remnants of a violent encounter. “Yeah, but something feels different. This doesn’t seem random. Cain’s targeting someone specific.”

Kevin stood up, dusting off his hands. “Let’s look around. Maybe we can find something that ties this to Cain.”

They moved methodically through the warehouse, searching for clues. It wasn’t long before Jo’s flashlight caught something glinting in the shadows. She moved closer, crouching down to inspect it.

“Kevin, over here,” she called softly.

Kevin joined her, and together they examined the object. It was a medallion, intricately carved with symbols that Kevin recognized immediately.

“This is a syndicate insignia,” he said, his eyes widening. “Whoever this was, they were part of the syndicate.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed in thought. “So Cain’s not just killing randomly. He’s targeting members of the syndicate. But why?”

Kevin turned the medallion over in his hands, his mind racing. “Revenge. Cain’s on a revenge mission.”

Jo frowned. “Revenge for what?”

Kevin’s face grew grim as he pieced it together. “For the death of his wife, Collette, and his brother Abel.”

Jo’s eyes widened in realization. “Of course. Cain’s been harboring a grudge for centuries. The syndicate must have been involved in their deaths.”

Kevin nodded. “It makes sense. Cain’s always been driven by a sense of justice, twisted as it may be. If the syndicate had a hand in Collette’s and Abel’s deaths, he’d stop at nothing to make them pay.”

Jo stood up, her expression determined. “We need to find out more about this victim. If we can identify them, we might be able to connect the dots and figure out who Cain’s next target will be.”

Kevin agreed, pocketing the medallion. They continued their search, hoping to uncover more clues that would shed light on the identity of the latest victim. As they moved deeper into the warehouse, Kevin’s flashlight caught a glimpse of a piece of paper pinned to the wall.

“Jo, over here,” he called, moving towards the paper.

Jo joined him, and they examined the paper together. It was a list of names, each one crossed out except for the last two. Kevin recognized a few of the names immediately—prominent members of the syndicate who had been killed in recent weeks.

“This is a hit list,” Jo said, her voice barely above a whisper. “These are Cain’s targets.”

Kevin nodded, his heart pounding. “And it looks like he’s almost done. We need to warn the remaining targets before it’s too late.”

Jo took out her phone, quickly dialing the number of their superior. “We need to get this information to Sam and the others. They need to know what we’ve found.”

Kevin scanned the list, noting the names and locations of the remaining targets. He quickly pulled out his phone, dialling Sam.

He answered on the second ring. ‘Hey, Kevin. What’s up?’

Kevin took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Sam, we’ve got a situation. It’s about Cain."

There was a pause on the other end before Sam’s voice came through, cautious and curious. ‘Cain? I thought he was dead.’

"Yeah, that’s what we all thought," Kevin replied, glancing at Jo for support. "But we’ve got evidence that he’s still alive. And it’s worse than we expected—he’s on a revenge mission."

‘Revenge?’ Sam’s tone shifted, growing more serious. ‘For what?’

Kevin explained quickly, summarizing the events of the past few hours. "We’ve been investigating a series of decapitations, and we found out that all the victims were part of the syndicate. Cain’s been targeting them because he believes they were involved in the deaths of his wife, Collette, and his brother, Abel."

There was another pause as Sam processed the information. ‘That explains a lot. But if Cain’s alive and out for revenge, that means we’re dealing with a Knight of Hell who’s hell-bent on destruction.’

"Exactly," Kevin said. "We’ve already secured the remaining targets on his hit list, but we need to find Cain and stop him before he kills anyone else."

Jo stepped closer to Kevin, speaking up. "Sam, we’ve got a lead on his location. An abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. We’re gearing up to head there now."

Sam’s voice was firm, filled with determination. ‘I’m on my way. Don’t do anything until I get there. We need to handle this carefully.’

ONE WEEK AGO:

The evening sky was a wash of fading orange and deepening purple, casting long shadows that seemed to pulse with the tension of the impending confrontation. Sam led the charge, his expression grim and focused.

And hoping his hair wouldn’t fall in his face.

The intel Kevin and Jo had uncovered suggested that this dilapidated farmhouse was Cain’s hideout. After weeks of relentless investigation and countless dead ends, they were finally closing in on the man responsible for a series of brutal murders, each victim a former member of a notorious criminal syndicate. Cain’s revenge was nearly complete, and they knew they were running out of time.

Sam motioned for silence as they approached the front door, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. Kevin and Jo flanked him, their weapons drawn and ready. The tension was palpable, each agent acutely aware of the stakes.

Sam took a deep breath, then kicked the door open, the sound echoing through the empty farmhouse. They moved in swiftly, clearing rooms with practiced efficiency. The air was thick with dust and the lingering scent of decay. As they reached the living room, they found Cain seated calmly in an old armchair, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Looks like you found me,” Cain said, his voice low and steady. “But you’re too late.”

Sam stepped forward, his gun trained on Cain. “Where are the others?”

Cain shook his head, his smile widening. “They’re gone. All of them. My revenge is complete.”

Kevin felt a chill run down his spine. They had been too late. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Jo’s eyes were locked onto Cain, her expression a mix of anger and frustration.

“What do you mean, ‘they’re gone’?” Jo demanded, her voice tight with barely restrained fury.

Cain leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold and calculating. “I’ve taken care of everyone responsible for Collette’s death and my brother Abel’s betrayal. Every single one of them.”

Sam tightened his grip on his weapon. “This ends now, Cain. You’re coming with us.”

Cain’s smile faded, replaced by a look of somber resolve. “You think I’m the biggest threat you’re facing? You’re wrong. There’s someone within your own ranks, someone who’s been working against you all along.”

Kevin and Jo exchanged a confused glance. Sam’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a mole in your organization,” Cain said, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Someone who’s been feeding information to the syndicate, undermining your every move.”

Jo’s eyes widened in shock. “A mole? Who?”

Cain shrugged, his expression inscrutable. “I don’t know their identity. But I do know they’re close. Closer than you think.”

Kevin felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. A mole within the FBI could explain the many setbacks they had faced during the investigation. But who could it be?

Sam took a step closer to Cain, his voice a low growl. “Why should we believe you?”

Cain met Sam’s gaze, unflinching. “Because I have no reason to lie. My revenge is complete. I have nothing left to lose.”

The silence that followed was heavy with tension. Sam exchanged a look with Kevin and Jo, then holstered his weapon. “We’re taking you in, Cain. You’ll have plenty of time to tell us everything you know.”

Cain didn’t resist as Sam and Jo cuffed him, his expression one of resignation. Kevin’s mind was racing, trying to process the implications of what Cain had revealed. If there truly was a mole within the FBI, they needed to find them before more lives were put at risk.

Back at the FBI headquarters, the atmosphere was charged with a mixture of frustration and determination. Cain was secured in an interrogation room, under constant watch. Sam, Kevin, and Jo convened in a conference room, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on them.

Sam paced the length of the room, his mind clearly racing. “If Cain’s telling the truth, we have a serious problem. A mole within our ranks could explain why this investigation has been so difficult.”

Kevin nodded, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. “We need to re-examine everyone. Look at their access, their movements, any anomalies in their behavior.”

Jo leaned forward, her eyes sharp with focus. “We’ve already ruled out the usual suspects. We need to think outside the box. Consider people we haven’t scrutinized as closely.”

Sam stopped pacing and turned to face them. “We’ll need to do this quietly. If the mole realizes we’re onto them, they could cause even more damage. Let’s start with access logs and communication records. Anyone who’s had unusual access to sensitive information.”

Kevin pulled out his laptop, quickly accessing the FBI’s internal database. Jo began sifting through recent case files, looking for any discrepancies or unusual patterns.

FOUR DAYS AGO:

Kevin and Jo sat across from each other in the dimly lit interrogation room, the sterile walls echoing with their frustration. The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, reminding them of how little time they had left to uncover the mole within the FBI.

Kevin sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We’ve gone through the files a hundred times, Jo. There has to be something we’re missing.”

Jo leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. “I know, Kevin. But everyone we’ve investigated so far checks out. There’s no indication of anyone working against us.”

Kevin flipped through a thick stack of personnel files, each one meticulously marked with notes and red flags. “Let’s go over the interviews again. Maybe we missed a detail.”

Jo pulled out a notebook, the pages filled with hastily scribbled observations. “We’ve already ruled out Sam, Benny, Cas, Meg, and Ruby. They’ve all got alibis and their stories check out.”

Kevin nodded, his mind racing. “But what if the mole is someone we haven’t even considered? Someone under the radar?”

Jo tapped her pen against the table, deep in thought. “Like who? We’ve gone through everyone in our immediate circle.”

Kevin stood up, pacing the room. “Maybe it’s someone who’s not directly involved with us but has access to sensitive information. A support staff member, a janitor, someone who blends in.”

Jo’s eyes widened with realization. “You might be onto something. We need to broaden our scope. Look at everyone who’s had access to classified information, even if they’re not directly involved in our operations.”

Kevin nodded, feeling a spark of hope. “Let’s start with the cleaning crew. They’re here late at night when no one else is around. It’s possible someone could have overheard something or found a way to access our files.”

Jo jotted down a list of names. “Alright, let’s split up and start interviewing them. We need to be thorough.”

They moved with renewed determination, ready to uncover the truth.

THREE DAYS AGO:

The break room was quiet, the usual hum of chatter replaced by the soft buzz of the vending machine. Kevin and Jo sat at a small table, reviewing the cleaning crew’s schedules and backgrounds.

Kevin sipped his coffee, his eyes scanning the list. “So far, everyone we’ve talked to seems clean. No suspicious behavior, no access to restricted areas. Cleaning crew was a bust.”

Jo nodded, tapping her fingers on the table. “But we need to keep digging. There has to be a connection we’re not seeing.”

Kevin set down his coffee, leaning forward. “Let’s think about motive. Why would someone want to betray us? Money? Blackmail? Ideological reasons?”

Jo frowned, her brow furrowing. “It could be any of those. Or something we haven’t even considered. We need to think outside the box.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up with an idea. “What if it’s not about the usual reasons? What if it’s personal? Someone with a grudge against one of us?”

Jo looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. But who would have a personal vendetta against us?”

Kevin pulled out a piece of paper, jotting down names and potential motives. “Let’s make a list of anyone who’s had conflicts with our team in the past. Even minor disagreements could be a clue.”

Jo grabbed a pen, joining him in the brainstorming session. “Alright, let’s start with recent cases. Anyone we’ve crossed paths with who might hold a grudge.”

They worked in silence, their minds racing as they compiled the list. It was a long shot, but it was the best lead they had.

TWO DAYS AGO:

The FBI archives were a labyrinth of files and documents, stretching back decades. Kevin and Jo had spent hours sifting through the records, their eyes tired and their bodies aching from the constant strain.

Kevin pulled out another box of files, setting it on the table with a heavy thud. “There has to be something in here. Some connection we’ve overlooked.”

Jo flipped through a stack of papers, her fingers smudged with ink. “We’ve reviewed all the recent cases. Maybe we need to look further back. See if there’s a pattern.”

Kevin nodded, opening the box and pulling out a file. “Let’s start with cases that involved multiple agents. Larger operations where more people were involved.”

They worked in silence, the only sounds the rustling of papers and the occasional murmur of realization. Hours passed as they delved deeper into the archives, their frustration mounting with each dead end.

Jo suddenly looked up, her eyes wide. “Kevin, look at this.”

Kevin leaned over, peering at the file in her hands. It was an old case, one that had involved a large-scale operation against a powerful criminal syndicate. Several agents had been involved, including some who were still with the Bureau.

“This operation was a mess,” Jo said, pointing to the notes in the margin. “Several agents were compromised, and there were allegations of a mole even back then.”

Kevin’s mind raced. “But they never found the mole. What if it’s the same person, still operating within the Bureau?”

Jo nodded, her excitement growing. “It’s possible. We need to cross-reference these agents with the ones currently on our list.”

They worked quickly, their energy renewed by the potential breakthrough. If they could find a connection, they might finally be able to unmask the mole.

ONE DAY AGO:

The surveillance room was filled with monitors, each displaying different angles of the FBI headquarters. Kevin and Jo watched the screens intently, their eyes scanning for any sign of suspicious activity.

Kevin pointed to one of the screens. “There. That’s Agent Harris. He’s been acting strange lately, always staying late and avoiding eye contact.”

Jo nodded, making a note. “And there’s Agent Parker. She’s been spending a lot of time in the restricted areas, even when she’s not on duty.”

They continued to watch, their suspicions growing with each observation. They had compiled a list of agents who had been involved in the old operation and were now focusing their surveillance on them.

Kevin glanced at Jo, his expression serious. “We need to be careful. If the mole realizes we’re onto them, they might make a move.”

Jo nodded, her eyes never leaving the screens. “We’ll keep watching. Sooner or later, they’ll slip up.”

Hours passed, the tension in the room growing with each passing minute. They monitored every movement, every interaction, hoping for a clue that would lead them to the mole.

Suddenly, Jo’s eyes widened. “Kevin, look at this.”

Kevin leaned forward, his heart pounding. One of the agents on their list was meeting with a known associate of the syndicate— Azazel, no less, their conversation hushed and secretive.

“No way.” She whispered, grabbing her phone and rushing to make a call while Kevin stared wide eyed at the screen.

“That’s it,” Kevin whispered. “We’ve got our mole.”

NOW:

You felt numb. You felt… you didn’t know how to feel. In fact, your feet were barely carrying you towards the interrogation room, where you met Sam. He gave you a small nod, reassuring in hopes to calm the rising of bile, venom and blind fury that rose in your gut, threatening to boil over, but you shoved it down for the sake of it.

“He’s in there.” Sam nodded through the door, but stopped you before you could go in full guns blazing, pulling you in for a brief hug, his chin on your head. “Keep your cool, ok?”

“I will.” You assured quietly, and made your way in, your blood turning to ice.

There he was, at the interrogation table, cuffed to the desk. Smirk playing at his pouty lips, sandy hair slightly tousled from not having come quietly, red flannel and knowing look on his face. Green eyes following your every move, every slope of your body as you walked, tongue now tracing his upper teeth.

Dean Winchester. Dean was the mole in the FBI.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” He chuckled in a gravelly voice, which you ignored, taking the case file from Kevin with a small nod that said ‘well done’ to him and Jo. They’d been working the case while you were out playing a part in some badly written romance movie.

You cleared your throat, looking him in the eye. “So. It’s you. Why didn’t I see what you were doing?”

“I don’t think you were ever that perceptive, eh?” He grinned at you, clasping his hands together. “Ain’t no game that’s worth it if you ain’t the winner, am I right? But I played you good.”

“You sure did.” You replied, being cold about it the best you could. Your arms folded, jaw set and staring him dead in the eye. “But why did you do it?”

He laughed, throwing his head back before he looked back to you with a smirk. He cracked his Cheshire grin and gave you his best cocky-ass smile, one that made him look like the Devil. But there was only one thing worse than the Devil and that was the Devil in lion's clothing. “Because it’s fun.”

“You had sex with me because it was fun?” You frowned, folding your arms. “You wanted to get me this big win, is that what you wanted? Is this your idea of a big win?”

Dean smirked, leaning forward. “It’s my big win, darlin’. I said I’d get you a win, never said who’s.” Then he chuckled. “My patience’s worn thin. Adiós, sweet thing.”

His cuffs dropped from his hands, a Bobby pin clattering to the floor as the officers yelled out in surprise. Before they could react, they were knocked out with a clean few punches, and Dean had tackled you to the floor, the impact of your head hitting stone making your vision go blurry and the corners of it black.

You felt his lips on yours, further kissing what felt like the life out of you before he pulled back, hearing his footsteps disappear into the hallway along with hells and grunts that followed.

Your vision turning black.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

68 notes · View notes

certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year ago

Text

vampire king

pairing: dick grayson x batgirl!reader

wc: 745

warnings: blood i think. should be clean

A/N: idea came from the dc comics event DC vs Vampires. yall should read. prompt "one way or another, you're gonna die tonight" from@nightprompts

divider from @firefly-graphics

masterlist / dick grayson

🎧 vampire

vampires were taking over the streets of gotham. it was quiet at first, only the upper class had already been the mythical creatures or they were turned at the idea of mortality the greed of being young and rich forever.

slowly people were disappearing off the streets only to come back looking ghostly, sunken cheeks and pointed teeth baring two holes into victims skin to suck them dry of blood.

when you first heard batman talking about it you thought it was some prank he was actually in on, but when you visited the ME office and saw the bodies for yourself you quickly realized the severity of the situation.

batman called the justice league for a worldwide level emergency. gotham was the main priority since it was quickly being swallowed by the monsters, you and the others could only do so much with only gadgets and stun guns.

“nightwing and batgirl, both of you take lower gotham. the docks, shipping yards, junkyards. any place dark and dangerous for the normal person.” batman gave commands to groups and duos quickly, everyone split up to their locations.

“you think theirs a higher up?” questioning nightwing through your helmet comms. your motorcycle zipping through the top quiet streets while heading to a north-east shopping yard. the two of you were side to side, nightwing zooming just a little quicker ahead.

“probably. usually there always needs to be one to grow more vampires. they always need a king or queen.” he sounded bored while replying. “keep your head clear, almost there.” then revved his engine and sped off.

powering down your cycle killed the sound and lights leaving you in a dimly lit space with only the sounds of the water close by. pulling your helmet off slowly and clipping it to your handles, you noticed he wasn’t anywhere nearby. it kept you on alert.

“nightwing,” pressing on your wrist com. you waited two seconds before calling his name again. “nightwing, come in.” cautious steps deeper into the maze of shipping containers.

a sharp thud stopped you short, gadgets at the ready. no noise followed so you continued further in. then it came again so you called out, “come out and this will be over quickly.”

no response. “i’m not here to play games. either cooperate or get ready for a fight.” flicking a batarang open.

a deep lifeless chuckling filled the air, a large shadow stalking over white and green containers. “you’re very funny, batgirl.” small knocks echoing out, “thinking you're a threat to anyone. such a small human, weak boned girl. i can easily snap you like that of a toothpick.”

“why don’t you step out of the shadows and follow thru with that threat.” shuffling your feet and legs into a combat stance.

another low chuckle followed by a sign, “oh i will. can’t wait to see your reaction to this news.”

your face screwed up and before you ask what they were talking about, they step out the shadows and stood illuminated by over headlights. hands held out at their sides, a twist grin.

“dick?” body relaxing itself. not understanding what was happening. “this- this isn’t funny, dick!”

his grin twisting further, “oh, this isn’t some joke, y/n. you were asking about a higher up. so i thought you deserved to know who that was.” stepping further in, your heart pounding.

“i’m the king. and no matter what happens tonight, your gonna die. whether that be permanent or immortal is up to you.” hands sitting on his hips with his head cocked. white eyes emotionless and face stone still.

you couldn’t help the quiver to your lips or the crack in your voice, “this isn’t you, dick.”

he pouted and kissed his teeth, “oh sweetheart, this is me. well, dick has been gone for a long time, probably six months at this point. but that doesn’t matter, time is nonexistent when you’ve been alive for thousands of years.” he took slow, calculated strides closer. his hands now held behind his back, still carrying himself strong and high.

a sniffle of your nose before sitting back to your defensive position. eyes steeling hard and flexing your muscles hard, the sharpest point of your weapon aimed at the enemy. dick, the vampire king stopped short of a foot away. arms still held tight behind him as he cocked his head again, a mirthless quirk of his lips.

“are you ready to die tonight, mighty batgirl?”

#dick grayson angst #dick grayson fic #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc comics nightwing #nightwing angst #nightwing x reader #nightwing #dc comics imagine #dc comics dick grayson #dc comcics x reader

198 notes · View notes

dearly-somber · 1 year ago

Text

Sharp Teeth | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, angst, unrequited love, pining, f2l (friends-to-lovers), high school!au

-> w/c. 1172

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Heavily inspired by the Sharp Teeth animatic on YouTube created by Dead Sound. The song I listened to while writing this was a song included in the animatic by Wes Hutchinson called One Down Dog. Give them a watch and a listen.

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:18

-> fin. Wed., Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 19:18

-> edited. Mon., Jul. 18th, 2022 @ 23:35

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook’s mother let her son cuddle into her side as he so often did before bed, showing him the book cover. Jungkook’s eyes sparkled at the sight of a particularly intriguing and somewhat familiar sketch of what he recognized as wolf canines. The book was bound in burgundy leather, the image of the canine carved into the cover so when his fingers brushed over it, it sank before evening out again. His mother turned to the first page and Jungkook got transported into the story, imagining himself in an open field with grass growing green and a gentle summer breeze, somewhere quiet and calm.

The point of view shifted from the delicately flowing grass stems to a herd of sheep gathered by a river’s edge, grazing peacefully.

On the opposite side, however, an ewe laid; looking curiously at two lambs curled into her side.

Jungkook’s mother read, “‘Are you… mine?’”

The ewe blinked carefully at the little lamb who stood on four shaky feet, tail wiggling excitedly at its mother.

“Mother is confused. She’s looking for a sign.” Jungkook waited with bated breath for his mother to continue, looking on as the ewe stood up herself. She nuzzled into the limp lamb’s side before pulling away slowly. “The rest seem unmoved.”

On the next page, the ewe turned to the eager little lamb, nuzzling and licking it before pulling away. Jungkook’s mother continued narrating in a chipper voice.

“‘Yes, you are mine!’ The mother stated with glee. ‘You’re small, and round, and helpless, but I can tell; from your blunt teeth.’”

The lamb baaed in response. Jungkook tilted his head in slight confusion. Blunt teeth? He brought his hand up to touch his teeth experimentally. He pulled them back after feeling around his mouth. No, his teeth weren’t blunt. Sure, some of them were blunter than his canines, but they were significantly sharper than what was considered ‘normal’.

Mother sheep lead her lamb to the riverbank, an establishing shot showing other animals on the opposite side of the river, grazing and whatnot.

“‘Most outside are friendly—the swift’,” a group of deer. “‘The strong,’” a herd of horses. “‘Who fly.’” Swans overhead. “‘Being so close to ground, it’s nice—to have more eyes.’” The lamb looked at its mother timidly, its weak legs quivering with fear.

“‘Don’t worry!’” Its mother soothed at the same time Jungkook’s mother brushed a hand over his head. “‘Blunt teeth, and beaks, and four feet… none here have sharp teeth. Just stay close to me.’”

As Jungkook’s mother turned to the next page, the illustrations took an unsettling turn, zooming in on the animals opposite of the mother and her young. “The swift ones run away, the strong ones turn around—both with heightened senses, and stuck so close to ground.” The point of view shifted back to the mother and her lamb.

“Will make them run in fear? Mother is confused. An evil monster is near! Her young as she cannot lose.” The ewe stood defensively next to her lamb. Panic seized her heart.

“Mother is to defend—slow but tough and firm—her young one not so behind her, the young bones. Every twitch another monster mother is convinced! She’ll never leave her youngster, even monsters do exist!”

A wolf rushed out of the shadows, snapping its jaws around the helpless little lamb.

“The young one cries out, but mother was too late. The evil monster lunged, and sealed the young one’s fate.” Jungkook instinctively held his mother close, lower lip quivering and tears glossing his vision. The ewe fell to her knees, panting fearfully by the river’s edge.

“Mother’s instincts shattered, scared. Confused of what became. So round and small and helpless, with only herself, to blame.” Jungkook sniffled, appreciating his own mother when she gave him a moment to recover. She paged over: a wide-shot of the wolf walking with a lifeless lamb hanging from its jaws.

“With this broken mother, seems the evil does no good. But the evil doesn’t eat—the young was not its food.” Jungkook frowns quizzically, his mother sparing him a glance and smiling fondly at his confused pout.

She turned the page a final time, opening the last two pages. “The evil, has it’s own young.” Jungkook’s mother brushed her thumb over the page with the wolf standing over a pair of pups, each small and round and helpless, with a whine slipping between their teeth. “Evil, could these be?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest when his mother closed the book gently, but hushed quickly when she brought him into her lap. She cupped her son’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbones tenderly with a loving sparkle in her eyes.

“‘I think not,’ says their mother. ‘Simply born,’” Jungkook’s mother leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “‘with sharp teeth.’”

Jungkook’s eyes closed unwillingly as she whispered the words into his skin. He pulled away to look at his dear, beloved mother with freshly stained cheeks, smiling adoringly before throwing himself forward in a tight embrace.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

Jungkook’s hearing slowly refocuses, two warm palms pressing against his cheeks.

“—hear me? It isn’t your fault you were born with sharp teeth, I promise I’m not ma—“

Y/N lets out a surprised yelp as Jungkook falls into her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck while weakly wrapping his arms around her waist. She stands in shock for a moment at his shaking shoulders, before she eventually maneuvers her hands around his torso, rubbing calming circles into his back.

Jungkook is unsure of exactly how long they stand there, but he pulls away when her scent starts to cloud his senses. She smells like daffodils and raisins—an addictive combination.

Cupping his cheeks again, Y/N brushes away rogue tears with the pads of her thumbs. “You alright?”

He smiles softly at her, nodding his head in a small motion. They stare at each other for a second—Y/N with a comforting half-grin and Jungkook admiring her thoughtlessly. He eventually brings a hand up from her waist to place it over the hand resting on his cheek, hesitantly pulling it away from his face to place a close-eyed kiss to her injured palm. He only realizes once his lips touch the fabric of the bandaid that she had wrapped it, guilt forcing him to leave his lips there a second longer than necessary.

When the shifter pulls away, he watches her staring mystified at her palm, light pink hue dusting her cheeks. “I really am sorry about your hand. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck to capture him in a hug. “I told you already that I forgive you, dummy. Like I said,” she smiles knowingly into his shoulder. “It’s not your fault you were born with sharp teeth.”

Jungkook allows a reminiscent smile to grace his features while he rests his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, holding her close. She smells so nice, he could probably just… fall asleep.

245 notes · View notes

paintedgrilledcheese · 3 months ago

Text

Alien Powers

[A exploitation post of the powers certain of my alien OC's possess.]

Common powers in all aliens

Floating/flying: All aliens have the ability to float and fly. With this power, they can float into space.

Healing: Whenever an alien is badly hurt, their skin will start to glow, indicating that their injury is healing rather quickly.

Strength: Aliens are naturally stronger than the average human by x4

Nyack only

Depth perspective: When Nyack eyes turn pure black it indicates that his depth perspective is enhanced. Meaning he can see details more far away than a normal human with 20/20 vision can.

Visibility manipulation: Can manipulate the look of the area around him up to a 25 x 25 room. It gives the illusion that things around him have changed, fooling his opponent.

Raven only

Force field: Allows Raven to create a red force field that can protect her from both front and back, but not the sides. The force fields can go up to 20 feet tall and 15 feet wide.

Mind manipulation: With a simple kiss, Raven can mind control up to 2 people at a time. This power will not make them love her but they will follow and obey her commands and orders. Once free from her control they won't remember a thing.

Cloud [The most powerful one]

Speed: Think of Sonic's speed. Cloud can zoom and get away quickly.

Fire balls: Allows Cloud to summon up to 1 through 5 fire balls (about the size of a yoga ball) and fire them at his target. Getting hit by these can cause knock back and serious burns.

Energy arrows: Think of Shadow's Chaos Spear. That's Cloud's power.

[Powers yet to be unlocked]

Energy blast: Cloud can send an energy wave at any opponent, knocking them back 45 feet away. This blast can cause serious bone injuries.

Time stop: Allows Cloud to stop all of time on Earth for at least 50 seconds. Longer than that, he will get extremely exhausted and weak. Only people who hold onto him are unaffected by the time stop.

Atomic Blast: You know the atomic bomb? Yeah, that's his power. KABOOM!!!

[Note: Downside to Cloud's powers, the more he uses them or uses them for a long time, we will wear him out and knock him unconscious if he isn't careful. He could be out for a minute, hours, or even months.]

Peep: @marshmellomind

#cheese rambles #cheese ocs #bsd oc #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc

18 notes · View notes

crappy-writings · 7 months ago

Text

Keeper of Shadows

Wanda Maximoffxfem!Reader // Series

Series Summary: An odd series of fatal attacks in Upstate New York piques your interest, especially when they seem to be related to the strange powers you received when you were 10 years old. By some stroke of luck or misfortune, the Avengers too are investigating the case, and you are their number one suspect. In a temporary alliance, you work together to discover why people are dying, unraveling a line of love, secrets, and betrayal.

Chapter 3: The Portal-Jumper

(Chapter) Summary: You got away from the two Avengers, but for how long. Besides, you can’t escape the past.

Trigger Warning: Cursing, Injuries, Burns, Death, Anxiety

Word Count: 3,213

A/N: Exposition heavy chapter, sorry in advance. I promise I’ll get the plot moving soon, just bear with me for a bit.

<- Chapter 2 // Chapter 4 →

KoS Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Reblogged Fics

Dropping into the portals was a dumb idea. Actually, no, opening the portals in the first place was the dumb idea. But when you were staring into the eyes of two Avengers, there was nothing else that came to mind.

You tilt backwards, letting yourself fall into the open portal beside you. Time felt like it froze as you fell. You see the very top of the forest trees and fading blue of the sky before the first portal closes. The scene changed into a dark, barren land, tall structures of rock and stone set the background, only accented by a dark, gray sky. A creature like the one you fought moments ago spots you and bares its sharp teeth at you

But as quickly as it saw you, you were already falling into the second portal.

The wind is knocked out of your lungs as your back makes an impact against something big and metal, a loud clang sounds off in the dirty alleyway as you fell against a dumpster. The portal in front of you closed with a bright flash the moment you were through.

You cough and gasp for air, an intense cold settling into your bones despite the beads of sweat that rolled down your face and back. A sick feeling settled uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, your hands were shaking intensely, and your body ached. For a few minutes, you could not move your body at all, the strain from the fight and the portal jumping leaving you completely and utterly exhausted.

Stray beams of fading sunlight covered you in an orange glow, lighting up the rest of the alleyway you laid in. Mixed hues of blue, pink and orange dance between white clouds with purple-ish underbellies. The sounds of New York City were loud in your ears, cars zooming past the streets and honking incessantly, engines revving and screeching tires bouncing inside your skull. You lay your head against the filthy dumpster, closing your eyes in search of respite.

To your left, dark, wispy figures floated around within the darkness of the alley. The small figures lacked any particular shape or depth, their forms contorting differently every other second as they fluidly swam between the shadowed walls and ground. You had not noticed how they slowly began to merge, gathering at the very edge of the shadow to loom over you like a tower.

You clenched your jaw as you stared at them, forcing your body to move away from the alleyway’s shadow and remain in the fading sunlight. They stand tall in their intimidation attempt as you move away from them. They remain still, waiting. They wanted to leave, to travel away from the alleyway.

A shudder rips through you as you continue to stare. You don’t want a Shadow hitching a ride with you, not now, not today. You rose on shaky legs, taking care to make sure your own shadow would not converge with the alleyway’s.

Your hand raises to tip your hat forwards so as to hide your face, but your fingers grasped on to nothing. It was not there. You left your damn hat in the forest.

‘Fuuuck.’ Frustration rises within you, exacerbated by your injury and exhaustion. At least the pain in your shoulder had dulled enough not to bother you too much. Instead, you duck your head, staring down at the ground as you leave the alleyway. Sparing one last glance at the tower of Shadows, you watch as they crash down backwards like a tidal wave, returning to their shifting dance.

Making a right, you walk alongside the rushing cars and taxis of the city in an attempt to walk home. You took off the shitty FBI jacket you got from a joke and costume shop, taking care not to jostle your shoulder too much. Turning the jacket inside out, you brush off leaves and dirt before putting it back on. The small notebook you carried stuck out slightly from the inside pocket of the jacket. A gentle breeze blew past you, making you shiver more than you already were.

You were still testing this newfound portal jumping ability, but the limitations of it were incredibly taxing, not to mention dangerous. Having used it only a handful of times, it first manifested during a boring graveyard shift, where you were desperately wishing you could go home.

A white flash at your side startled you, the barren lands of what you assume is a different dimension revealed itself. Further within, a second portal stood, revealing your dinky apartment. A few Shadows began spilling into the gas station you worked at, scurrying to find dark corners to hide in. Some of them did not find them in time, evaporating under the fluorescent lights of your workplace.

Within a minute though, both portals shut in the blink of an eye, and weakness had spread throughout your body, sending you to your knees with a sick feeling making its way through your entire body.

Another time, you opened a singular portal and stepped into the other dimension. It was cold, black and gray rock formations were visible in the distance. Scattered throughout the landscape in front of you were smooth, glass-like stones, along with small, deep green grass patches. The sky was a gray-ish color, but not as dark as you had seen it before. It was empty, too, no Shadows nor Runners were in sight. You attempted opening a second portal in there, to no avail. The original portal also began to waver, and the weak and sick feeling began to haunt your body. You jumped out of the darkened dimension before you could lose your grip on the portal and potentially be sealed away in there forever.

A dark silhouette zoomed past you in the corner of your eye, snapping you out of your thoughts. It began slowing down its speed along with the rest of the cars as they stopped for the red light. As the silhouette stilled atop a yellow taxicab, you were able to take in its form. This particular figure had a human-esque appearance, lacking any particular defining features like a nose, lips, or hair, but its white eyes remained wide and attentive. Its iridescent skin appeared to be alive as it clashed and shifted around its figure like waves of the ocean.

The creature, or a Runner as you had dubbed them when you were 10, stared down at a blue car that stopped at the red light, waiting. You look closer at the same car and make out the shape of a small child, staring out the window at the creature. When the traffic light finally switched to green and the blue car started riding away, the creature continued to run after it, jumping between the car roofs and streetlights in its path.

A soft sigh escapes you and for a moment, you were taken back to the fight that had happened not even fifteen minutes ago.

That particular Runner was larger than any of the ones you had seen. It had a canine-like appearance but was larger than a bear. It had been stalking the crime scene, circling around the unaware agents as if they were prey. Odd vein-like lines protruded from its skin, shifting around with the rest of its outer shell. Curiously, it was out in the daylight. They usually were out at sunset or sundown, but the sun’s heat typically burned their skin if they were out during the day. This one was also abnormally aggressive and freakishly strong. It’s almost as if it had gotten a shot of whatever the Hulk got.

Were it not for the fact that it was, somehow, already injured, you would not have been able to defeat it. Its oil-like skin had begun to melt, wrapping around your neck and shoulders and slowly but surely running down your arms. It dug its claws into one of your shoulders before gunshots distracted it from its attack.

Had it not been for Natasha Romanoff’s distraction and Wanda Maximoff aiding you with your blade, you would very much be dead. You remembered accidentally making eye contact with Maximoff, an odd feeling of warmth running down your back both times you had done so. The same feeling had occurred when your blade had suddenly flown into your hand. The arrival of the two Avengers at the crime scene cannot be a coincidence.

You had not noticed the pedestrian light had switched to the white, walking figure until a man dressed in casual clothes walked past you, prompting you to follow. Thoughts of the last 20 minutes bounced inside your skull, making sure to keep as many of the details at the forefront of your mind until you could document them.

It took about 10 more minutes for you to arrive at your apartment. As you walked, you saw a variety of Shadows scurrying between objects and people’s, well, shadows. Runners also jumped between buildings, cars or streetlights, some following cars, others making their way through the city.

A small, musty, dark studio waits for you as you step through the door. A cramped kitchen stood to the left at the very end of the apartment, an equally cramped bathroom right next to it. A tall lamp stood beside the bathroom door, its positioning being able to light the entire space. Beside you was a small twin bed with plain blue sheets, a drawer right beside it, stacked with a few notebooks and sketchbooks on the top, along with a desk lap overlooking the bed. A compact window hung above it, a dark gray curtain shielding the inside from the outside sun and fluorescent streetlights of the city. Directly in front of you was a wooden dining table with two plastic chairs, a wooden chest not so well-hidden right underneath it.

A groan escapes you as you lean against the door, renewed exhaustion settling in your bones again. Worst of all, you had a graveyard shift tonight at the local gas station. The only relief of the night was knowing you would not have to stare at Ethan’s dumb face. Ethan, a 25-year-old man who still made “Yo Mama” jokes and thought himself the last Coke in the goddamn dessert, despite being an asshole who only worked at a shitty New York City gas station. Maybe you would not be so annoyed by his presence were it not for that fact that man never fully completed his shift responsibilities.

You push yourself off the door, peeling off the dumb jacket and dropping it on top of the nearest kitchen chair. You also pull off your shirt, slowly so as to not aggravate your shoulder, as you turn on your lamp before entering the bathroom. Dropping the tattered shirt on the bathroom floor, you ducked to look for the first aid kit you knew you had somewhere in your cabinets, finding it at the very back alongside an elastic bandage and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Placing the kit on top of your sink, you finally take a look at the damage left behind by the Runner you fought not that long ago. Three puncture wounds starting at your shoulder that extended into three downward gashes, stopping just above your chest. You wince as you feel the telltale stinging of first degree burns on the very edges of the puncture wounds. The ends of the wounds were still bleeding. You figured that it wasn’t too bad though, some water, alcohol prep pads, and gauze should be good enough, no stitches or invasive procedures required.

You take a shower first, washing off all the dirt, blood, and Runner gunk off your body. After drying off, you dress your wound with some rubbing alcohol, disinfectant and gauze from the kit. Having changed into some warm, comfortable clothing, you sit at your kitchen table with your laptop, a large notebook with all your notes about the case, as well as the small notebook you had brought to the crime scene.

You transcribed your recent notes into the larger notebook, detailing the victim’s wounds, or the ones you could see, as well as the location he was found in. There was one thing that had caught your eye. The man, Elijah Brown, had something in his hand, but you had not been able to get a good look at it before forensics took it away for evidence. Details of the Runner you encountered were also included, making sure to add in how its behavior was different from the ones you had encountered before.

Runners had never been particularly dangerous. Most of the time, they completely avoided adult humans, including you. They did seem to play with young children though. You weren’t quite sure why nor how, but some kids were able to see them, besides you. They eventually age out of it though and eventually cannot see them anymore. Regardless, the Runners seem to entertain the young ones, particularly during long car rides. Years of observation made you notice an odd game they played, which consisted of them following high-speed vehicles, jumping between cars, buildings, streetlights or whatever stood in the way, as if they were following some arbitrary rules that only they knew of. Other than that, you have not quite figured out exactly why they are around.

Shadows were a different story. Although they did not forwardly attack humans, they did feed on fear. Most people do see them without realizing it, catching them as something moves in the corners of their eyes, only to turn around and see nothing and no one. The fear of being in the dark and odd feeling of being watched when nothing is there is often a Shadow hiding within murky corners. When they are particularly hungry, they’ll sneak into a victim’s rooms at odd hours of the night, waking them by paralyzing them and taking the shape of odd, unsettling figures to thoroughly terrify whoever was unfortunate enough to have crossed its path.

Any pertinent information you gathered from news stories had been marked with a yellow highlighter, drawing matches between what you knew about Runners and what details of the case had been revealed to the public. While researching, you managed to find some of the leaked S.H.I.E.L.D. reports from last year. The government had tried wiping those off the internet, but many people had managed to download the files and reproduce them everywhere.

Within those documents, you found a copy of a partially blacked-out file detailing the death of a park ranger found within a National Park’s office in Pennsylvania, sporting similar injuries as the current victims. The death of that park ranger had been blamed on a coyote, despite the fact that there was no evidence of such an animal breaking into the park’s office. Whatever has been going on during the recent months is not new, but it only seems to be getting worse now.

A frustrated groan escapes your throat as you shut off your computer. Your notes about the case felt lackluster at best. Despite going to the crime scene in search for answers, your notes were scarce, and you had no explanation for the trail of dead people or the altered behavior of the creatures only you could see.

What are you doing? Why are you trying to play vigilante when you don't even know where to start? You don’t know what you are doing, you don’t know what you’re looking for, and worst of all, you’re probably on the government and the Avengers’ radar.

Your eyes slowly glide towards an old wooden chest, given to you after your grandmother unexpectedly… passed away. You press your lips tightly, a sigh escaping you as you stare at it for what felt like an eternity. You walk towards your dining table, sinking to your knees to pull out the chest from underneath. Fiddling with the old, somewhat rusty latch, you manage to open it without ruining the lock’s integrity. The smell of metal and wood hits you as you open the lid. You push away a family photograph of the entire family reunited at your grandparents’ house that sat at the very top, as well as old family movies and photo albums. An old porcelain doll that belonged to your grandmother stared at you with dead, glassy eyes, sending a chill down your back. You turned it over so it would not look at you.

At the very bottom, you find the object you are looking for, covered up with a piece of white cloth. Removing the cloth, you stare at the thick, dark leather-bound book, your heart sinking in your chest. You run your fingers along the edge, your hands shaking subtly, debating whether or not you should open it. For a moment, you felt like you were ten years old again. Your mind flashes with the old memory you had not thought of in a long time. The one you did not want to think of.

You swallowed heavily, a burning mixture of anger, guilt and anguish licking at your heart like a flame. Your breath had picked up without you noticing, and you wanted nothing more than to not see that book again. Covering the book once more with the white cloth, you dropped it into the bottom of the trunk once more, abandoning any thoughts of opening it and potentially finding answers there. There has to be another way for you to find more information. These odd deaths have been happening for years now. There has to be a way for you to find that information elsewhere. The key to the answers must be somewhere besides in that stupid, fucking book.

The book radiated malice, and it had already cursed you once. You don’t plan on making the same mistake twice. Not unless the situation becomes dire enough for it.

You will figure this out. You have to. This got started because of you. People died because of you. You had to figure out what was happening, you had to make things right.

Your mind momentarily drifted to the two Avengers that saw you in the forest. There was no doubt in your mind that they were hunting you down right now. A conflicting feeling sat heavily within you. On the one hand, you were completely out of your depth trying to solve this problem by yourself. Maybe aiding each other is the answer.

On the other hand, you do not know how they will react to you and your powerset. They probably think you’re the one behind all this. They can very easily decide to throw you in a cell and hand you over to the government, deeming you too dangerous to be out in the world, unaccounted for. No, you cannot get found, you do not want to take the risk.

It was nearly 8:30pm when you checked your phone. It was a few hours before your shift, and the bone deep exhaustion you had managed to stave off was coming back with force. You will figure things out tomorrow.

You set up an alarm an hour before your shift, before dropping face down on your bed. You fell asleep within the minute.

<- Chapter 2 // Chapter 4 →

#marvel #marvel fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fic #keeper of shadows

33 notes · View notes

elryuse · 1 year ago

Note

May I request Yandere Neighbour Song Hayoung x Male reader? Hayoung is really obsess with the male reader to the point that she stalks you everyday.

Hello Neighbor.

YANDERE HAYOUNG X MALE READER

Hayoung pressed her forehead against the cool glass, the expensive telescope amplifying the image across the street into a disturbingly intimate scene. Y/n, his dark hair backlit by the warm glow of his apartment light, sat across from a girl with cascading, dark curls. Hayoung's stomach churned, a cocktail of possessiveness and primal jealousy bubbling up inside her.

It had all started with such innocent curiosity. The first time Hayoung saw Y/n, he was unpacking boxes on his porch, a shy smile gracing his lips as he met her gaze. Over the past few weeks, Hayoung had become his silent shadow. Nights were spent crouched under the bushes outside his window, a camera her constant companion. A sleeping Y/n, a discarded coffee mug, anything that held a trace of him – these were her trophies. She even left him anonymous love notes, filled with saccharine poems and pressed wildflowers, signed simply "Your Secret Admirer."

But tonight, the sight of him laughing with another woman filled Hayoung with a murderous rage that sent chills down her own spine. "Who is she?" Hayoung hissed, the words barely audible above the frantic rasp of her breath. She zoomed in on the girl, her features hardening with each detail. Long, dark hair, a bright smile – everything Hayoung wasn't. A low growl escaped Hayoung's throat, a sound more animal than human.

The girl leaned in, whispering something in Y/n's ear, making him laugh again. Hayoung's vision blurred with a mix of fury and a horrifying sense of longing. He should be laughing with her, Hayoung. She was the one who knew his coffee order, who left him those notes expressing her undying love. Determined, Hayoung grabbed her laptop, the familiar hum a soothing counterpoint to the storm raging inside her.

Days blurred into nights as Hayoung scoured social media, her obsession morphing into a terrifying fixation. The girl's name was Mina, a bubbly aspiring photographer with a penchant for capturing sunsets and stray cats. Hayoung learned her favorite band, the cafe she frequented after work, even the name of her childhood teddy bear – Mr. Snuggles. Information was power, and power was what Hayoung craved.

The apartment transformed into a shrine of warped devotion. Walls were plastered with newspaper clippings detailing Mina's life, maps with routes highlighted in red pen, and a crowbar glinting ominously in the corner. The stench of bleach and desperation hung heavy in the air. The night Hayoung put her plan into action, the moon cast a sickly glow on the deserted street. Mina, humming a cheerful tune, walked home alone after her late shift at the cafe. Hayoung emerged from the alleyway, a dark wraith materializing from the shadows.

The scream, sharp and sudden, echoed through the night before being abruptly cut short. Hayoung stood over Mina's crumpled form, a sickening sense of triumph warring with a coldness that seeped into her bones. Her hands shook as she dragged the body away, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air.

Back in her apartment, showered and clad in fresh clothes, Hayoung collapsed onto the floor. Tears mingled with the faint traces of blood staining her clothes. A horrifying realization washed over her. The thrill of the kill was a fleeting ember, quickly replaced by a hollow emptiness. She had eliminated the competition, but at what cost?

Silence blanketed the street now, broken only by the rasp of her ragged breaths. In the distance, a police siren wailed, a sound that sent a fresh jolt of fear through her. But Hayoung barely flinched. Her gaze drifted towards the window, drawn to the familiar glow emanating from Y/n's apartment.

He was alone. Relief and a twisted form of satisfaction washed over her. Hayoung grabbed her telescope, a chilling smile playing on her lips. He was hers now. And she, his devoted, if eternally creepy, neighbor, would be watching, always watching. She imagined his relief at finding Mina gone, a relief that would soon curdle into suspicion as he received anonymous notes signed with a single word: "Alone."

The next few days became a maddening game of cat and mouse. Y/n started leaving his lights on all night, his curtains permanently drawn. Hayoung left cryptic messages on his doorstep – a single red rose, a shard of broken glass. She even started playing haunting melodies on a rusty music box at precisely 3 am, mimicking the lullaby she saw Mina play on her guitar once. Sleep became a luxury Hayoung could no longer afford, replaced by a constant vigil.

One afternoon, while peering through her telescope, Hayoung noticed a change in Y/n. His smile was gone, replaced by deep shadows under his eyes. A sense of morbid satisfaction bloomed within her, a twisted sense of victory. But as she continued to watch, a new horror dawned on her. Y/n wasn't alone. He sat across from a woman, but not Mina. This woman was older, her face etched with worry lines. Her voice, low and strained, carried on the wind.

"Y/n, honey, you need to tell the police! This can't go on!"

His voice, hoarse and barely audible, drifted across the street. "But who would believe me, Mom? The police already dismissed it as a runaway case. What proof do I have?"

Hayoung's blood ran cold. This woman was Y/n's mother. The realization hit her like a physical blow. In her twisted obsession, she hadn't considered the collateral damage. The pain she inflicted on him wasn't just his loss of Mina, but the gnawing fear for her disappearance.

A fresh wave of paranoia washed over Hayoung. If Y/n confided in his mother, the police might get involved. They might find the crowbar, the bloodstained clothes Hayoung had shoved deep into a hidden compartment in her closet. Panic clawed at her throat. She had to stop him.

The following night, under the cloak of darkness, Hayoung found herself lurking outside Y/n's apartment building again. This time, however, she wasn't there for Mina. She was there for his mother.

Hayoung slipped a note under the door, her carefully disguised handwriting scrawled across the page: "Don't believe him. He's dangerous. Stay away."

A twisted sense of satisfaction filled her. This would plant a seed of doubt, keeping Y/n further isolated. He wouldn't dare tell his mother about the strange notes, fearing she'd think him delusional.

The next day, Hayoung watched from across the street, a sickening thrill coursing through her veins as Y/n's mother left his apartment in a flurry, fear etched on her face. Y/n stood at the window, his silhouette a stark contrast to the bright sunlight streaming in. He looked defeated, a flicker of recognition crossing his features as his gaze swept across the empty street.

The game continued, a macabre dance of manipulation and fear. Hayoung left cryptic messages for Y/n too, playing on his growing paranoia. A single red rose with a single thorn pricked through the center left on his doorstep. A dead sparrow, its neck snapped, tucked into his mailbox.

One particularly stormy night, Hayoung upped the ante. Power flickered across the neighborhood, plunging the street into an inky blackness. As the first flicker of lightning illuminated Y/n's apartment, Hayoung pressed her face against the window, a wicked grin plastered across her face.

There, hanging from the ceiling fan, was a grotesque marionette, its porcelain face a crude mockery of Mina's smile. Its vacant eyes seemed to stare directly at Y/n, a silent accusation.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night, a sound that sent shivers down Hayoung's spine despite the twisted pleasure that bubbled up inside her. She had finally broken him.

But as the days turned into weeks, a chilling realization dawned on Hayoung. The thrill of the chase was gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of emptiness. Y/n remained a prisoner, yes, but so was she – a prisoner of her own twisted obsession. His constant fear, his vacant eyes staring out the window – it mirrored the hollowness that had consumed her.

One morning, Hayoung woke to a deafening silence. No flickering lights from Y/n's apartment, no sign of him leaving for work. Panic seized her. Had he finally confessed? Had the police arrived?

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Hayoung raced across the street, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pounded on his door, the silence stretching into an eternity. Finally, a weak voice rasped from inside.

"Go… away."

Hayoung's world tilted on its axis. The fear, the isolation – it had broken him. He no longer cared, no longer lived. Her twisted victory tasted like ashes on her tongue.

Tears blurring her vision, Hayoung stumbled back, her gaze falling on the single red rose she'd left on his doorstep days ago. It lay wilted and forgotten, a stark symbol of her own decaying love.

Hayoung turned and walked away, leaving behind the scene of her twisted obsession. She knew there was no escape from the horrors she'd inflicted, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption on the other side of her journey, a journey far, far away from the man she'd loved and destroyed in equal measure

#hayoung #oh hayoung #hayoung fromis 9 #fromis 9 #fromis 9 hayoung #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #apreciation post #icons

62 notes · View notes