#the Murder Coat is ready to come to life

[andy-clutterbuck]

8x14 | Still Gotta Mean Something

[dark-fics-4-you]

Blue Christmas

dark!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), p in v sex, kidnapping, murder, drugging, stalking, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, choking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, abusive behavior

A/N: this fic is directly inspired by the movie P2 (2007) but I changed a couple plot things to make it fit for Rafe. Hope you enjoy!

The click of your heels echoed throughout the large, empty parking garage. You let out a frigid puff of breath as you shivered, pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders as you looked for your car.

After the holiday party had died down, you had volunteered to stay late to finish up a report so you could have Christmas day off with your family. And now, a full hour and a half after everyone else left, you were finally about to be on your way home.

You reached into your purse to fish your keys out, clicking the unlock button to help you find your car.

Chirp chirp!

The sound came from the level above you and you let out a small groan as you began the walk up to the next level.

After spotting your car, you let yourself in, sliding into the seat and closing the door behind you.

You slid the key into the ignition and turned it, but instead of coming to life, your engine stuttered, refusing to start.

“Shit!” You cursed, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “Fucking seriously?!”

All you wanted right now was to get home to see your family, but now it appeared your car might not even be leaving the garage.

You reached into your purse to pull your phone out, dialing your mom, but when no sound came over the speaker, you pulled the phone away from your ear to realize that you didn’t have any signal.

Realizing that your only options were to find the parking security guard or walking out into the cold air to get better signal, you decided that you needed to find the parking office.

However, before you could even open your door, you saw the lights on the opposite side of the garage begin to turn off, one by one, growing closer until you were swallowed by the darkness of the garage.

“I’m still in here!” You shouted, feeling freaked out by the dark.

But the sudden sharp knock against your window nearly stopped your heart.

A bright flashlight flicked on, pointed at your face like the person was trying to get a look at you.

He must have seen the fear in your eyes because the light lowered to the ground, revealing the parking security guard, and you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar face.

“Thank god it’s just you,” you joked nervously as you opened your car door to step out.

You looked up at the tall, blond man, remembering the many times he had let you in the parking garage or waved goodbye as you drove out. He was a shy and somewhat awkward guy, but he had been nice in all of your previous interactions.

Underneath the nerdy looking glasses, you might have even considered him handsome.

“I’m glad you’re still here so late, or I’d be in a lot of trouble,” you groaned, gesturing to your car. “It won’t start and I don’t have any signal in the garage.”

“Ah that h-happens here more than you’d think, I can help you out,” he grinned, taking a cursory glance at your car. “You could um- make a call from the office, if you wanted.”

“Oh that would be perfect! Thanks um… Ray?”

“Rafe,” he corrected you with a lopsided smile.

“Oh. Rafe, sorry,” you repeated. “My name is Y/N.”

“I know.”

“You do?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion as you looked up at him.

“You hand me your parking pass every day, remember? Everyone who works in the office does,” he smiled.

“Oh yeah, true,” you let out a small laugh.

“Did you enjoy th-the party?”

You blushed, smiling to yourself as you remembered your coworker, Jack, pulling you into one of the empty offices for a quick make out session. This was the first time the two of you had ever done something so risky at the office before, and it had been pretty thrilling.

“Yeah, it was nice. I’m ready to get home to my family though, they’re all waiting on me.”

“Then we better call you a taxi, huh?”

“Guess so.”

You followed him as he lead you to the parking office, and your eyes widened as you took in the sparkling Christmas lights that were wrapped around the small space.

“Did you do all of this decoration yourself, Rafe?”

“Uh yeah,” his lips curled into a shy smile and he scratched the back of his head nervously. “I don’t know, it just brightens the place up. Makes the job less depressing.”

“Oh yeah, I totally get it.” You sat down at the chair opposite from his desk, mindlessly glancing over at the monitor that was showing multiple grainy camera angles throughout the garage, cycling through all the cameras throughout the building.

You looked over at the corner of the office to see a large black dog curled up on a bed.

“So, here’s the office phone,” he passed the landline to you. “I’m gonna step out for a quick smoke, you can uh, call your family or a cab, or um whatever you need to do. I’ll be b-back in a couple minutes.”

“Okay! Thank you so much for your help!” You smiled, waving as he stepped out the front door of the office.

You dialed your mom’s number, holding the phone to your ear as you waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” You could barely hear your mother’s voice over the sounds of children playing.

“Mom? It’s Y/N.”

“Where are you?? We’ve been waiting for an hour at this point sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, I had a little extra work to do tonight so I could spend all of tomorrow with you. And you’ll never guess what happened when I left the office.”

“What?”

“My car wouldn’t start! So I’m waiting in the security office and I’m going to call a cab,” your mother started to interject, but you cut her off, “don’t wait up on me. I’ll get there soon hopefully, but with this weather it might take a bit for the cab to get here.”

Your mom was saying something about sending your aunt to pick you up, and you waved her off, but when your gaze landed on the monitor’s camera feed, your blood went cold and the ringing in your ears prevented you from hearing anything.

Your eyes widened as you watched Jack open the office door building on the camera feed, pulling you inside, leaving only a moment before his lips were on your neck, and his hands were trailing down your body.

Your stomach lurched when you heard yourself softly moan his name before his lips covered yours.

This video was from earlier tonight.

“Y/N?” Your mom asked and you realized you had gone silent.

“I-” your mouth felt dry, your mind was racing, but you knew you needed to call the cab as soon as possible. “I’m calling the cab now.”

You hung up quickly, looking behind you and around the now cramped feeling office for the security guard.

Would it be safe to leave the office? How would you find your way out quickly with the lights off?

He was nowhere in sight, so you dialed the number of the cab company, hand shaking as you held the phone to your ear and cursing when it kept ringing with no answer.

Finally after what felt like an eternity, someone picked up.

“Hello? Please, I need a cab at 9876 Main Street.”

“How many passengers?”

“Just one, please hurry,”

“We’ll be there in under 5 minutes.”

You let out a sigh of relief, you were finally going home.

However, you were shocked back into reality when a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, pressing a damp rag over your nose and mouth.

You let out a muffled yelp, struggling against them, but the strong arm that wrapped around your chest held you firmly in place.

You had only taken three gasping breaths before the world around you grew fuzzy, and then your vision went black.

Your eyes cracked open slowly and you lifted your aching head to find yourself still inside the security guard’s office, laid out on the couch. A chill ran up your spine and your noticed your coat was missing.

Rafe was sitting at his desk with his back turned to you, watching the video of you and Jack on a loop.

You let out a soft whimper of fear, shifting to stand up and try to run out of the room, but you quickly realized your right wrist was handcuffed to the sofa when it dug into the skin of your wrist, pulling you back down onto the couch.

The clinking of the metal alerted Rafe to the fact that you were awake and he turned around, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“You’re up! Sorry about all that with the rag and stuff,” he chuckled, acting as if it was some run of the mill accident.

His casual ease as he looked over you sent a chill down your spine.

You didn’t miss the fact that his large dog was awake now, sitting beside him and staring you down imposingly.

“Also, I um- I cancelled your cab,” he told you and your heart skipped a beat.

“W-why?”

“Well… I thought maybe you’d want to spend your Christmas Eve with me,” Rafe nervously offered.

You blinked at him in shock, at a complete loss for words.

“W-we could get to know each other, and finally have our first date.” Rafe stood up from the chair and approached you, and you shrank away from him.

“Listen, Rafe..” you swallowed dryly, heart hammering against your chest as you carefully chose your words, “I- I’m sure you’re a really nice guy, but I’m already seeing somebody.”

There was a deadly silence at your words and Rafe’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening in a way that made you nervous.

His dog noticed the subtle change in his attitude, a low growl building at the back of its throat and he slowly started to walk towards you.

“Easy Max,” Rafe warned, his tone cold and mocking. “Don’t wanna scare poor Y/N too much.”

The dog backed off at that, laying down in his bed, but still eyeing you suspiciously.

Rafe sat beside you on the couch, one arm wrapping around your waist and you shuddered at the physical contact.

“Listen, Y/N, just give me a chance okay? Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“I-” you stuttered nervously, your mind too blank with fear to know what to say. “I have t-two siblings.”

You tripped over your words, face warming up when you felt his hand slowly begin to trace up your back.

“Keep going,” he ordered with a whisper, his hand rising to the rest at the back of your neck. Your pulse was racing and your breath was beginning to grow uneven with tension.

“I’m f-from a town 40 minutes from here. I’ve never ah-” you winced when his fingers flexed slightly, putting you even more on edge. “I’ve never lived outside of the state.”

“Really? That’s incredible. Me personally, I’m from North Carolina, but I’ve traveled all over the world.”

His eyes flicked from your face to your chest, eyeing the way your breath was coming quickly. He grinned wickedly, drawing so close you could feel his breath against your cheek.

“Am I making you nervous, Y/N?”

He adjusted his hand, wrapping his thumb and pointer finger around the back of your neck while his other fingers splayed down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Would you feel more at ease if I was Jack?” Rafe spat his name out like it was poison in his mouth and you winced.

“N-no. I- I don’t- no,” you whimpered, not sure what he wanted to hear from you.

This night had taken a turn that you never expected and your head was still spinning as you tried to come to terms with what was happening.

Rafe let out an annoyed huff, a scowl blooming across his face as he stared at you.

“Do you want to see him again tonight?”

“What?”

“I said, do you want to see him again tonight?”

“I-” you stuttered, but you trailed off, not knowing what he meant or how to answer.

Rafe rolled his eyes, clearly growing irritated by your indecisiveness. He turned to find something on his desk before returning to you with a key in one hand and a small knife in the other.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the knife, your breathing picking up as you looked to him in fear.

“What-?”

“I’m going to unlock you and we’re going to take a short drive, but I can’t have you getting any smart ideas, sweetheart.” Rafe grabbed your cuffed wrist, jamming the key into the lock on the cuff that was attached to the sofa.

He grabbed your wrist tightly with one hand, pulling you off the couch and turning you away from him before reaching over your shoulder and bringing the knife to your throat.

He leaned forward, letting his lips come to your ear and you held back a shudder as he spoke, “if you so much as think about trying to get away from me, I won’t hesitate to kill you, do you understand?”

You nodded, choking down your tears as he pushed you forward to signal you to walk out of the office.

Rafe led you to a car, opened the door, and shoved you inside, giving you a warning glare to not run before walking around to the driver’s side.

“W-where are we going?” You asked as he started the car and backed out of the parking space.

“You’ll see, sweetheart.”

He turned towards the exit of the garage, and for a moment you could feel your escape within your grasp, but he steered away, instead steering towards the ramp that led to the lower levels of the garage.

“W-we’re not leaving?” You could feel your heartbeat pick up again in your confusion. Where the fuck was he taking you?

“We’re almost there, Y/N, calm down.”

Your eyes scanned the dark garage, but they widened when he turned the corner, his headlights revealing Jack duck taped to one of the office chairs.

“Oh my god,” you whispered in shock, taking in the blood that was already dripping from his forehead. Jack shifted in the chair, his eyes squinting as he tried to look through the windshield.

“What’s going on Rafe?? Why are you doing this?” You hissed through tears, frantically looking back and forth between Rafe and Jack.

He chuckled, but it lacked humor and you felt nauseous at the sound.

“Don’t you get it, Y/N?” His hand came to your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I love you so much, and he’s what’s keeping us apart.”

Now you were almost certain you were going to be sick and you let out a sob as his thumb lightly traced your face.

“I- I don’t even know you, Rafe! I barely knew your name before tonight,” you cried hysterically, begging him to find reason. “Please, whatever you’re planning, just stop!”

You couldn’t stop the burning tears from falling now, anxiety making your heart beat so fast you felt dizzy.

“Shh Y/N, calm down.” He wiped away some of your tears with his thumb. His blue eyes watched you with concern, but there was a coldness underneath the surface that frightened you.

“I’m gonna take care of it, okay? And he’s never going to come between us again.”

Before you could question him, he closed the gap between you, holding you in place as his lips covered yours.

Your eyes shot open in surprise, stomach turning in disgust as you squirmed against him, and you whimpered when he forced his tongue into your mouth. His lips felt hot against yours and the kiss lasted too long, as Rafe held you down against the chair by your throat until you were gasping for breath.

He pulled away with a dreamy look in his eyes as he scanned your distressed expression.

“Do not try to run. Got it?”

You stared at him blankly, taking a beat too long to respond and his hand tightened around your throat.

“Got it?” He repeated with a sickening edge to his voice.

“Mm, mm hm,” you nodded, mouth too dry to make any noises other than humming yes.

“Good girl,” he purred, leaning forward to press one last kiss to your trembling cheek before reaching over to open his door and climb out.

You were glued to your seat, too scared to attempt running with him still so close. You could barely watch as he approached Jack with the knife brandished in his hand.

“Please- stop it! Don’t get any closer!” Jack cried out and your heart skipped a beat, more tears sliding down your face was you watched with horror.

“You were never good enough for Y/N, you know that?” You could hear the rage in Rafe’s voice simmering beneath the surface, ready to be released.

“Always taking her for granted and treating her like she’s some everyday slut.” He spat, pulling his arm back before punching James hard across the jaw.

You stifled your cry by biting your lip, trying to ignore Jack’s groans of pain when Rafe punched him again.

“Rafe, stop it!” You cried from inside the car and he turned around to look at you before punching him in the stomach with a grin.

“She may not understand what kinds of tricks you’re pulling, but I do.” He slammed his fist into James’ gut again. “I know guys like you, who get off on playing nice girls like Y/N and treating them like shit.”

“No- I’m not-” Jack grunted, blood trickling past his lips as he struggled to breathe. He strained against the layers of duck tape wrapped around his chest and the back of the chair to no avail.

“And I’m sure you look down on the guys like me. You think you’re so much better because you went to college and got a comfy, corporate job, and assholes like you always get the girl in the end,” Rafe’s voice was downright venomous at this point, and you could tell that he was working himself up to a boiling point.

“Not this time,” he chuckled darkly, bringing the knife to Jack’s throat threateningly.

“Rafe please!” You screamed, tears flowing down your cheeks as you watched the scene before you unfold, feeling utterly powerless.

In one smooth motion, Rafe brought the knife across Jack’s throat and a river of crimson sprayed from his neck, splattering across Rafe’s face and clothes.

You sobbed as Jack slumped against the chair, his head leaning back to reveal the large cut splayed across his throat, and you knew in your heart that he was dead.

Before you could think twice, your hand was wrapped around the door handle, and you pushed yourself out of the car.

The garage was almost pitch black, save for Rafe’s headlights and you didn’t notice the cement wedge in front of you.

“Shit-!” You cursed as you hit the ground, adrenaline too high to register any pain from the fall.

You turned your head as you scrambled to your feet to find Rafe’s angry gaze fixed in your direction. Heart pounding, you stumbled to your feet and took off towards where you remembered him turning from the ramp to the upper levels, the sounds of your heels echoing off the walls of the parking garage.

“Fuck!” You heard Rafe roar from behind you followed by the sound of him hitting something hard in frustration, likely his car, before you heard his heavy footsteps chasing after you.

“Y/N!!” He yelled, his voice reverberating and repeating as he cursed.

Knowing that this was likely your only chance to escape, you frantically looked around for an exit once you got onto the ground floor, only to find that it was gated off, and there was no way for you to leave.

When you passed a second exit that was gated off, you realized Rafe must have closed them all down to keep you inside and your heart fell.

“Where are you hiding?” Rafe’s voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could tell he was getting closer.

If you were going to escape, you weren’t going to be able to do it alone.

You could hear his footsteps getting closer behind you in the dark, and you tried to quiet your shaky breath as you ran to the brightly lit office, hiding behind the support pillars along the way.

Even if he caught you in the office, if you could just make a call to the police, hopefully that would be enough to save you.

You finally reached the front, pushing the door open slowly and quietly before crouching and entering.

Unfortunately, in your panic to get away, you had forgotten all about Rafe’s large dog, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he ran up to you, barking and lunging, only to be yanked back by his chain at the last moment before reaching you.

Your heart rate spiked as the dog growled loudly in between sharp ruffs, barring his teeth and trying to nip at you.

“Shhh!” You whispered. “Good doggie, please be quiet!”

You eased past the dog and towards the landline, trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking in your knees as Max continued to bark.

Images of Jack’s throat being slit flashed through your mind and you choked back a sob as you reached for the phone.

Your sweaty fingers slid over the numbers and you held the phone up to your ear waiting for the ring.

But it never came.

You pulled the phone away from your ear in confusion, and looked down at the handset, following the wire connected to the phone to where it should have been plugged into the wall.

Instead, you stared at the severed wire in terror, realizing that Rafe must have cut it while you were knocked out earlier.

“Why are you trying to ruin our first date?”

Rafe’s voice from behind washed over you like a bucket of cold water, and you slowly turned around to find him standing in the doorway of the office.

He was an imposing figure, made all the more terrifying due to the flecks of blood painted across his face and shirt. His glasses were gone now, and you realized just how much they had been hiding the threatening glint in his eyes.

Rafe no longer seemed like the shy, nerdy guy you had taken him for before tonight, but instead a dangerous predator who had finally cornered his prey.

“Rafe,” your voice was so faint you weren’t sure if you were even speaking. “Please, I’m scared.”

Your throat felt tight, tears filling your eyes when you noticed the blood on his hands.

“Scared?” He asked incredulously. “You should be thanking me for getting that loser out of our way.”

A sob clawed its way out of your throat, and you took a step back, only to jump forward again when the dog’s low growl came from behind you.

“Now it’s time to stop running,” Rafe taunted.

You felt dizzy with fear as you watched him step closer, towering above you, the outline of his muscular form barely hidden by his leather jacket.

Heart beating loudly against your chest and blood rushing in your ears, you didn’t have any time to think your decision through before acting.

You rushed forward, trying to push past him to get to the front door, but you were a moment too slow.

Rafe’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, easily picking you up and spinning you away from the door.

You cried out as he carried you forward, pushing you against the table in the middle of the room and bending you over it.

“Stop it-!” You screamed as you struggled against him, but he easily pinned you against the hard wood, letting out a wicked snicker as he roughly pushed the skirt of your dress up.

“Don’t you want someone to take of you, baby?” The blond groaned desperately, fingers grasping at your tights before ripping them open.

“I just wanted to treat you nice, Y/N.” He growled, anger radiating off his tongue. “Like the good girl I thought you were.”

You wretched your arm free before bending your elbow and thrusting it into Rafe’s stomach.

He cursed loudly, his grip on you loosening for just a moment before his hand clamped down around your wrist, painfully twisting it behind your back and harshly forcing you against the table. When you heard his belt jingling behind you, your heart skipped a beat.

“Looks like I was wrong.” Rafe spat, and you whimpered in fear as he pulled your panties to the side. “Maybe you are a fucking slut.”

“Rafe please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this, Rafe,” you were quaking beneath him, crying harder as your pleas fell on deaf ears.

You froze however, voice dying in your throat when you felt the tip of his cock run along your folds.

“Oh god,” he strained, and you squirmed beneath him, cringing when his lips came to your ear.

“You’re so wet you’re dripping down your fucking thighs, sweetheart,” he taunted, barely shifting his hips forward and spreading your lips with his dick.

You sucked in a shaky breath, legs growing weak underneath you. You fisted the hand pinned against your back until your knuckles grew pale. His fingertips brushed your clit as he languidly dragged his tip along your pussy, up near your ass, then down to your clit. Up, down, languid strokes as he hissed through his teeth.

"Bet Jack wouldn't ever get you this wet, huh?"

Jack’s lifeless body flashed before your closed eyelids again, quickly replaced by the sharp sting of Rafe's fingers clamping your clit, rolling his slick-covered digits over your nerves. An instinctual whine left your lips, and Rafe sneered down at you as he dragged his dick back up to your hole, circling the head around your entrance as you protested.

"Rafe, please, please," you cried into the table, clenching your knees together and tilting your hips from him, anything to get him to pull away.

“Fucking stay still!” He hissed, wrapping his thick bicep around your throat in frustration. You let out a choked whine, tears coming to your eyes when his muscles flexed, cutting off your breathing, and Rafe ignored you as you helplessly scratched at his arm.

He groaned as he pushed into your cunt, his tip nearly sliding all the way inside of you, met with resistance that only fueled him further. Your pleas were lost to the heat that blushed Rafe's face.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you been holding this back from me?" He dragged himself out of you, watching as you clenched and quivered from the sudden withdrawl. Again, he pushed his flushed head into your warmth, and then out, in slow teasing strokes that made your head spin.

Against every survival instinct that was screaming at you, you stopped fighting. Each sting of his dick breaching you, each wet squelch of his fat tip inside you left you feeling dizzy with want.

However, when you felt his cock inch deeper inside, you whined in protest and squirmed in his arms, but one flex of the bicep at your throat quelled your resistance quickly.

“You’re so pretty, you know that, Y/N?”

You shuddered as Rafe groaned against your ear, his arm locked around your neck and preventing you from turning away. Your knees shook beneath you as he slowly forced himself deeper, and you felt betrayed by your body when you felt yourself growing slicker around him.

“Too pretty to be trapped in this shitty office job, wasting your hours at work, if you ask me,” he purred.

His fingers found your clit again, thumb rolling over your sensitive bud, and you bit back a moan as your back arched instinctively, allowing Rafe to dip deeper inside.

He was much bigger than you expected, stretching you out with each thrust, and pushing himself deeper and deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

The blond wasn’t holding back anymore, reveling in every mewl and whimper he could draw out of you; and the way your snug walls clenched around his length had his hips snapping against your ass as he chased his release.

“Don’t you want a family to care for, baby?” He groaned, fingers swirling over your clit and you whined, trying to squeeze your legs shut in a desperate attempt to stop him.

His words echoed in your head, the sick irony completely lost on him.

You already had a family and he was holding you hostage to keep you away from them.

“We could start our own, together,” he whispered, and a muffled sob escaped your lips. When you squirmed beneath him, he easily held you in place, punishing you with quick, painful thrusts.

“You’ll never have to worry about working again,” he groaned when your tight walls squeezed around him. “Just- fuck- stay at home ‘n be my pretty, little housewife.”

Disgust and terror bloomed in your gut as you realized with a shock just how twisted his fantasies were. You felt sick thinking about how long his obsession had been festering beneath the surface and you had been too blind to see.

Rafe pinched your clit between two fingers and you whined, tears running down your cheeks as he forced your legs open again. You tensed around him, letting out a choked moan when he rolled his thumb over your tender clit.

You hated him, but even worse, you hated how much control he had over your body, and how painfully delicious each stroke of his cock felt.

“Please-” you whimpered, not entirely sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going, twisted desire clouding your head as he plunged into you again and again, the sticky sounds of your slick cunt filling the cramped room.

Rafe groaned, easing his hold on your neck to lean forward and trail messy kisses from your cheek to the side of your throat that was exposed, never slowing his pace or the steady circles around your clit. Nausea churned in your gut at the overly intimate gesture; and when the scent of copper reached you, you realized he had smeared some of Jack’s blood onto your cheek.

You gasped loudly when his lips attached to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Rafe’s low grunts vibrated against your throat when you squeezed down around him.

Your body rocked with every thrust of his hips, your knees quaking beneath you as his thumb circled around your clit faster now.

“Rafe-” your breath hitched and you shamefully realized that your undoing was hurdling towards you.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his bicep flexing around your throat as he lost himself in his pace, plunging into you again and again.

You let out a choked whine when his thumb pressed harder against your tender bud, and you were finally pushed over the edge.

Your body tensed, legs shaking as your slick walls spasmed around him. You squeezed your eyes shut as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, whimpering pathetically as Rafe pushed his cock into you again and again.

He snickered as you cried beneath him, reveling in the way you helplessly scratched at his arms, tearfully begging him to stop.

The blond slammed into you harder, each slap of his balls against your sensitive clit made your head spin and it wasn’t long before you were coming around him again.

You trembled beneath him, so dazed that you could only whimper mindless pleas.

“Fuck-” Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as you squeezed around him, his pace stuttered, and the arm at your throat tightened as he grew closer.

You could barely breathe now, and you struggled against him as he choked you, panic overtaking you when your vision grew fuzzy around the edges.

Rafe groaned loudly when he came, forcing his cock deep inside you and painting your walls with his hot, sticky seed.

You shuddered when he nudged himself deeper and you felt his thick cum overflowing past your sensitive, puffy lips. Out of instinct, you tensed beneath him, and he moaned against your ear when you tightened around his softening cock.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled out, loosening his hold on you, although you couldn’t have fought back now even if you tried.

You heard him pulling his pants up behind you, and you flinched when his hands came to your back to pull your skirt down to cover you.

“C’mere honey,” he cooed, carefully lifting you off the table and guiding you to the couch. You obeyed him, much too out of it to put up any more resistance.

You cringed in pain as you sat down, but tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

Rafe’s hand was on your back, lightly drawing small circles on your exposed skin, and you found it nauseating that he could be so gentle after treating you so savagely.

He was staring at you, studying your nervous face for a few moments before reaching out to cup your cheek.

You flinched, turning away slightly as he drew closer, but his grip was firm, and he held you in place as he leaned in and draped his lips over yours.

Your stomach turned as his lips slid over yours possessively, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, groaning as he staked his claim on you.

When he finally pulled away, your head was swimming, and the dazed look in your eye made Rafe smirk.

“Aw look at you, never seen you so cock drunk before,” he chuckled, before leaning in to give you another quick peck on the lips.

“You gave me the best Christmas gift I could ask for.” He grabbed one of your hands, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing gently. “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

You stared at him blankly, a tear rolling down your cheek that Rafe chose to ignore as he looked deep into your eyes.

“I love you, and I promise, I’m never leaving your side again.”

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

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All week long, both Alastor and Y/n could not stop thinking about each other. The desire to see each other was so intense, it was almost like a calling. Like they were being pulled together by an unseen force.

Y/n rolled out of bed. It was just before dawn, light hadn’t even managed to reach the window. She had an interesting dream the night prior. It was her in the snow, only wearing her pink slip. Tears were streaming down her face, she fell to her knees and sobbed so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, someone came up from behind her, placing what felt like a coat on her shoulders before scooping her up in their strong arms. The warmth enveloped her body as she felt herself slowly calming down, when she looked up at who was holding her, it was him. It was Alastor.

The look he gave her was the most comforting she had ever seen in her entire life. She buried her face into his chest, the feeling that she was perfectly safe and protected washed over her. The feeling that she was where she belonged, and was with who she belonged to and who belonged to her in return.

“That was some dream,” Y/n smiled to herself.

Time to get up.

She got cleaned and dressed before anyone else was even awake. That was part of her duties as the acting head of the house. The rest of the morning for her consisted of hanging the laundry to dry, cooking breakfast for her family, waking her sisters up, made sure they were fed, bringing food to her mother in bed, and then finally she got to sit down and eat.

That was how it was every single morning for her. She always ate last. After breakfast, she helped her sisters get ready for Saturday catechism classes. They were held in a little school house about a mile away from their house. She packed their lunches and sent them off with a kiss and a hug.

After checking in on her mother a few more times, Y/n finally had some free time to herself. She thought back to her dream and what it could possibly mean. Part of her was hopeful that it was a message from some higher power that Alastor was going to be the one to save her from this repetitive life.

Sure, she loved her family. She loved her family more than anything. But she also felt the stress taking its toll on her.

What selfish fantasies…absolutely selfish.

Then the familiar sound of the bell came from her mother’s bedroom, snapping her back to reality.

“Coming, Mama!”

———————————————————————

Strangely, Alastor woke up that same morning from that exact same dream that Y/n had. Of course, there was no way of knowing that. Alastor laid there for a moment, missing the feeling of her small body against his.

“Mm…Y/n. Let me hold you just a little bit longer, my dear,” he groaned.

“Alastor! Wake up, Darling! It’s time for breakfast!” His mother called from downstairs.

He rubbed his temples before reaching over to grab his glasses off his nightstand, “I’ll be down in a minute, Mother!”

A smile crept on his face as he realized it had been exactly a week since he seen her. The day he planned to visit her.

I can’t wait to see her.

He got cleaned and dressed before making his way downstairs. His mother was already sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

“Good morning, Mother,” he said as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Good morning, Honey. Porridge is on the stove, help yourself,” she replied.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Alastor fixed a bowl of porridge and poured a cup of black coffee for himself. Then he took a seat at the table across from her.

“Make sure you say Grace.”

He sighed and clasped his hands together, “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen,” he finishes with the sign of the cross.

“The Lord thanks you,” she smiled.

Alastor almost rolled his eyes but he knew better.

“So, are you going to tell me about that girl you met last Saturday?” Her eyes met his, a brow raised.

He took a sip of his coffee, “Why?”

“Because I’m your mother and I want to know what’s going on in your life.”

“She needed help carrying a stag she shot back home, so I gave her a hand.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” His mother questioned further.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just you were gone an awful long time. And you’ve been acting strangely since.”

He looked at her with a face of utter confusion, “Strangely? What ever could you mean, Mother?”

She paused, “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you seem to have your head up in the clouds more. Like you’re dreaming about something or someone?”

Damn, she’s caught on to me. I swear nothing gets past her.

“I…I can’t stop thinking about her. But that’s all I say about that,” Alastor looked down at his bowl.

“Hmm, I figured as much. So, you’re going to go see her again today?”

“How did you know?” He blushed.

“Haha! I didn’t until just now, Darling. It’s cute, you have a crush!”

“Don’t say that, Momma….” He mumbled under his breath, pouting.

“Aw, you haven’t called me Momma in years! My baby has a crush! My baby has a crush!” She teased.

“Stop!” He put his hands over his ears, as his face turned scarlet.

His mother cackled, “Alright, I’ll leave it. I’ll leave it.”

“Thank you,” he said before finishing his breakfast.

———————————————————————

“Give your little girlfriend a hello from me,” his mother said from her rocker, cigarette in one hand, newspaper in the other.

Alastor ignored her comment, “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Alastor.”

“Yes, Mother?”

“I love you.”

His face softened, “I love you too, Mother.”

The leafs and twigs crunched under Alastor’s brow leather boots. There was a chill in the air. It was surprisingly cold for October, especially in Louisiana.

Alastor preferred summer, when it was too hot to think. Because when it was too hot to think, it was too hot to remember.

He couldn’t remember that night if it was summer. But on a cold day like this one, that nipped and stung, he couldn’t help remembering that painful night.

He put those memories in the little box he kept in the back of his mind.

Not today. We’re not reliving that today.

After a while, he finally came upon that familiar cabin with the picket fence. There raking up the leaves was her. It was Y/n.

“A pleasure to see you again, Sweetheart,” he grinned as he greeted her.

She smiled brightly as she looked up at him, “A pleasure to see you as well, Sugar.”

———————————————————————

“You have a lovely home,” Alastor took off his hat as he entered.

“Oh, thank you. I try to keep it as tidy as I can. Go ahead and have a seat at the table,” Y/n closed the door behind them, “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble, I actually just made a pot. I like having hot coffee on a cold day.”

Alastor took a seat at the kitchen table as Y/n walked over with two mugs and a pot of coffee.

“Do you take cream or sugar?” She poured some into each of the mugs.

“Neither.”

“Good, I take mine black too,” she handed one of the cups to him.

“Thank you, my dear,” he smiled at her.

She took a seat across from him, “So, is there is a reason that you stopped by or did you just want to see me?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “And what if I did just stop to see you?”

Oh god, I hope I’m doing this flirting thing right.

Y/n took a sip of her coffee, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind, that’s for sure.”

“Then, my dear, you’ll be pleased to know that I did come by to see you.”

She blushed, “You did!? I mean, so you did?”

Alastor chuckled, “Yes. You see, I enjoyed your company so much that I wanted to converse with you again.”

“I wanted to see you again too.”

His heart skipped a beat, “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he took a sip of his coffee.

“Hotdog! This is a good cup of joe!” He exclaimed.

“Really? I didn’t do anything special to it.”

“Sweetheart, you have a talent for coffee making if I do say so myself! This is even better than my mother’s!”

That was the highest praise Alastor could ever give anyone, when he admitted that they made something better than his mother.

“Thank you! I’m so happy you like it. No one’s ever told me that before,” Y/n smiled shyly.

“So, where are those little ones I saw last time?”

“Oh, my sisters, they’re at catechism classes.”

Alastor groaned, “Ugh, I hated those classes. They were so dreadfully boring.”

“Haha, I didn’t really like them either. But it’s a family tradition.”

“Are you religious, my dear?”

“I guess not in the sense that most people are. I believe in God but I believe it’s more of a force that gives you messages when in hard times. I do believe in prayer too. But I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. And I don’t believe any of that nonsense that’s in the Bible,” she replied.

“That’s an interesting take. I personally don’t believe in God at all.”

“Oh, I’ve never met someone who doesn’t believe in God in way or another. Is there a specific reason? I’m not judging, I’m just curious.”

Alastor took another sip of his coffee, “I just do not understand how people can still believe in things like God when the theory of Evolution has been proven. I’m a believer in science. In things that you can see with your own two eyes.”

Y/n sat looking thoughtfully, “Couldn’t science and religion exist together? Couldn’t they both be true?”

“That’s also a good point. I’m not someone who looks down on people of Faith, my own mother is one. I just don’t understand it. There’s also the question of why? Why would a higher power let terrible things happen to innocent people? Why would they let that happen to…. I’m sorry, dear. I’m rambling,” he laughed a little.

“It’s alright, I like listening to you and your thoughts,” she smiled sweetly.

“And I enjoy listening to you and your opinions,” he returned the smile.

“But, there’s one thing I’m sure we can agree on. That creation myth is a load of bull.”

“Yes. I completely agree with that!”

“I mean, why would a creator make only a male of species? Why wouldn’t they make men and women at the same time?”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense. You need a male and a female in order to procreate.”

“It’s basic biology!” Y/n chuckled.

Alastor noticed an old little piano in the corner of the living area, “Is that the piano you were telling about before?” He motioned his head towards it.

“Oh, yes. It is,” she turned in the direction of it.

“Do you mind if I get a closer look? I’m quite keen on instruments.”

“Be my guest.”

He stood up and walked over to the piano. She followed behind him. He ran his fingers gently over the keys.

“I haven’t played it in a while, so it might need some tuning,” she informed him.

Softly, he pressed one of key down, a pleasant sound was produced, “May I? Play something for you?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He sat on the bench and patted the spot next to him, “Don’t be shy, Sweetheart. I don’t bite.”

Y/n’s face flushed, “How do you know I don’t bite?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he grinned.

She sat next to him. His fingers began dancing along the keys with such beauty and grace, like a professional pianist. He played a melody that she didn’t recognize, but it sounded absolutely lovely. And that was before he began singing.

I have an ear for music, and I have an eye for a maid

I like a pretty girlie, with each pretty tune that's played

They go together

Like sunny weather

Goes with the month of May

I've studied girls and music, so I'm qualified to say

His voice was so smooth and beautiful, she was entranced. He looked at her as he played, watching her expressions with amusement. He loved to entertain. He was a bit of a ham. But it might have also been because he was showing off for the little lady that caught his eye.

A pretty girl is like a melody

That haunts you night and day

Just like the strain

Of a haunting refrain

She'll start upon a marathon and run around your brain

You can't escape she's in your memory

By morning, night and noon

She will leave you and then

Come back again

A pretty girl is just like a pretty tune

He came to a finish and she applauded him.

“That was wonderful!”

“Thank you. Thank you,” he playfully bowed to her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that song before. What’s it called?”

“A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody by Irving Berlin. I heard it on the radio one day. I couldn’t agree more with its lyrics,” Alastor smiled while looking right into her eyes.

Y/n blushed, “Is there a reason why you chose that song?”

“Other than the pretty girl in front of me who inspired it, no.”

Y/n’s heart was pounding in her chest.

“That was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous!” A sudden voice came from behind them.

Y/n turned around to see her mother out of bed, “Mama, you shouldn’t be out of bed! Doctor’s orders, remember?”

“Ah Mrs. Rosier, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure. I apologize if I disturbed you, I was just playing your daughter a song,” Alastor stood up and greeted the woman.

“Well, play me a song now please! Talented young man!” Y/n’s mother replied.

Alastor looked at Y/n. Y/n shrugged.

“I suppose it would be alright.”

“Very well. I’ll gladly entertain you two lovely ladies for as long as you like.”

“Hold on, Mama. Let me get you a chair,” Y/n said.

———————————————————————

Alastor got home just in time for dinner.

“How was your girlfriend?” His mother playfully asked.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Mother. At least not yet,” he said that last part under his breath.

“Well, did you have a good time at least?”

“The best,” he smiled softly.

“That’s wonderful. Now, go get washed up for dinner. We’re having jambalaya.”

“Jambalaya!” He exclaimed with almost a child like glee.

“Yes, jambalaya. Go get washed up already, boy!”

“Yes, Mother.”

He practically ran upstairs, as if that would make it cook faster.

His mother shook her head, “What am I going to do with him?”

Taglist 🏷️: @chibistar45 @ghostofajinx @girl-math-aint-mathing @91062854-ka @harmfulb1tch @2dmenforme @ladyadrasteia666 @uniquecutie-puffs @vxllys

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Heart on the bayou - Prolouge

Synopsis: With a serial killer on the loose, you’ve been working non-stop as the lead detective on the case, catching the Bayou killer, leaving a trail of dead bodies in their wake. When your sister tells you she’s engaged to the famous radio host of New Orleans, things begin to feel that much more…worse.

Warning: Mentions of murder, typical time period racism, takes place in the 1920’s - 1930’s, Detective! Reader x Alastor

A/n: This story is probably going to be posted on my Wattpad soon, and if you don’t know already my user on Wattpad is whoevenisthis_0. This actually started off as just an idea but I felt like I could expand more on it, so here we are. Let me know if you guys are interested in this and I might make this a short series! :) This was just an idea I had

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

“You can’t marry him, you’ve only known him three weeks!” You protested, standing at the table. Your sister bordered teary-eyed, while her fiance consoled her. “What are you to do if he drops you like a fly after your marriage?!” You asked, face heating up. Your father stood.

“That is enough.” He said sternly, but you shook your head.

“No! I will not stand for this!” You yelled, your sister glaring at you, before she stood up, slamming her hands on the dinner table. Your mother jumped, sitting in silence and watching everything unfold.

“It isn’t my fault you’re lonely! I have a life Y/n, just accept it and be happy for me!” Your sister argued. You shook your head, putting your utensils on your plate before picking it up and walking to the kitchen.

“No Seline, you just don’t understand how foolish you’re being.” You say, scraping the food off of your plate and into the trash, hearing your sister, Seline, follow you into the kitchen.

“I am not being foolish! You’ve never been in love, you would never know!” Your sister exclaimed watching you set the dish in the sink. From the doorway, your parents stood, watching their children argue.

“Fine! Marry him then! Go off and have babies and do what couples do!” You yelled at her, walking past her and through the dining room, down the hall to the coat rack where you took your hat and coat, sliding into it quickly. Your sister still followed after you.

“I will! You’re so buried into this ‘killer’ that you have no life Y/n! You don’t live!” She shouted as you opened the front door, ready to leave. The air was cold as it hit your legs, walking down the steps quickly, your sister following closely behind. She puts her hand on your shoulder when you step on the sidewalk, turning you around to face her.

“Seline please, if anything you’re too trusting. You’re a child and I want nothing to do with this.” You say quietly to her, embarrassed to even be arguing outside. You refused to look like a mad woman out on the street.

“You’re just jealous because you know you’ll die alone.” Seline said harshly, before she covered her mouth quickly with a gasp, eyes flying wide. You said nothing, turning away from her with an unexplainable look in your eye. Your job wasn’t for nothing, all you needed to do was prove it.

You’ll come out on top. No matter what.

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Tourniquet

DUNCAN VIZLA X READER

⚠️ Warnings: Uhhh kinda extreme gore, I mean I definitely go into intense detail about some of the way these people die so probably don't read this if you're squeamish, blood, death, murder, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, I think that's it but yeah ⚠️

Duncan comes to save you and risks his life in the process.

Duncan had originally wanted nothing more than to retire from this god-forsaken line of work he'd been in for over thirty years. To succumb fully to the relaxation that was unemployed bliss, somewhere far off in the lost woods with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Maybe he'd try for another dog again, although he wasn't too lucky with his PTSD responses around Rusty. Wherever in the world he may be or whomever he'd be with, he just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, thankyouverymuch.

Today, he was not so lucky. Of course, he had to take the one job offer to end his career with a bang and to coagulate all of the money he'd originally been promised to begin with. One job after another, one shot fired towards a man's head and a stapler gun to his ankles, all led him here. At the front of this house. On a rescue mission. Which would then lead to a hitman mission. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Duncan sighed and took in the landscape with his one good eye, courtesy of the copious amount of torture he'd pushed through over the past month. Although his wounds were still healing and he felt their burn underneath the folds of his fabric coat, he had to act fast as there was no time to waste. He needed to put his life on the line once again; as he had for so many years working as a hitman. But now, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A reward to his revenge. Nothing that was false promises of money or strippers or nights out at the bar that would only situate him for a week before he grew bored. No, at the end of this mission was the promise of your safety and the potential of the two of you living this retired life he'd dreamt of for so long.

He only had to kill 30+ men and his former "mission mates" before getting to you and fleeing this Damocles shit for good.

Easy, in theory. In actuality, he was probably going to end up dead. Unless he could control himself through his rage and use it as an adrenalin boost rather than a distraction to his plan.

The mansion was huge and lavish in comparison to the wood houses Duncan had come to love in Montana. It was almost entirely frivolous; the magnitude of Blut's weath, all gained from those who did his dirty work and never out of his own aspirations.

Seeing the coast was fairly clear, he crafted a plan in his head as to how he was going to make it in and out of the place unscathed. Two guards to his left on the rooftop, facing outwards. Meaning that there must be at least another two on the other side, not knowing from which direction he'd come. Another one in the upper right window that could easily be taken out with a sniper. A few fifteen or so on the ground in hidden positions, all of which he knew considering he used to work for the damn place. Assuming Blut's usual stupidity would mean that the plans for an attack on Damocles would be unchanged, minus those who were inside of the place itself.

Time for action. He took off his heavy coat and draped it on the tree nearest to him so as not to be weighed down by the material. His thick wool sweater would be more than enough to keep him warm, alongside his steel-toed boots. Underneath his coat and concealed by his initial wardrobe was a now visible belt with two loaded guns on either side. His hand was clad with brass knuckles and he had a knife in his boot, only for an extreme situation. Worse comes to worse, he still had that piece of shrapnel under the second layer of his skin from one of his older missions he could cut out if he really had to. Eyepatch in place and hair tied in an up-do, he was ready to start shooting people.

Hey, maybe if they were all dead he'd finally get his $8 million he'd been promised.

It happened as quickly as the next snowflake hit the ground; Blut's mansion was under attack. They'd been expecting him, but as he was called The Black Kaiser, he was the best of the best. He knew their ins and outs and was now thankful he kept a friendly but protective distance from everyone while he was in the org so that they wouldn't know the specificities for his own attack. One skillful shot to the top left roof was enough to pierce through the necks of both the men standing atop it, one falling off after the other and landing on the ground with a thick thud. Blasted through arteries and a fuckton of blood pooled out the edges from where they'd fallen, creating intricate patterns on the wintery terrain and leaving giant stains on the sides of the building.

Now understanding their mission was a go, the man from the window received the hint and withdrew himself from the window, racing back inside most likely to tell Blut about the outside commotion. No matter. He'd take his time to paint the entirety of the green estate red with the fallen victims of Damocles.

He'd been right about the guards from the top of the building being on the other side, except there were three instead of two. They rushed around looking for the potential places Duncan could be hiding, so as to scope him out first and be the ones to receive the praise from their fat ass nepo-baby boss. They must all be younger and have no idea the amount of years and experience he'd had in this industry because Duncan was in plain fucking sight with his guns readied in both hands.

"Bye." He said, and shot them at the same time, making two of the guards meet the same tragic fate as their friends. One, two, they hit the ground with more thuds and guts, spreading their entrails further out than most people would think the human body could reach. One of their intestines had wrapped around the edges of the window panes, a man still alive wishing he wasn't. He was screaming from the upper floor awaiting his fall as he was held up by the gaping wound in his stomach where Duncan had shot him once more. The last guard at the top of the roof looked down in horror and jumped himself, taking his own life and going limp once his neck made a loud snap against the pavement under the soft snow.

PTSD flashbacks edged the corners of Duncan's one-eyed vision, trying their best to stop him as he witnessed the horror of human death via his hands. He was used to this feeling, of wanting to curl up and revert into himself, to never see anyone or anything again and be tortured as payment for his crimes. He was just a man, not a deity. Why should he choose- or rather- listen to who chooses who should meet an untimely death? What makes him above the others within his species?

Because of their frequent visits, he shut his visions down and went soulless. That was the only way to truly do his job and to continue to do it well within the moment and not fight with the side that was desperate to live in peace and an understanding of humanity. He was a pacifist at heart, truly. And even though it went against his psychological beliefs of the world, he had to pretend that intentions outweighed his actions in the sense of his killing and this mission; that getting to you was worth the rampant murderous spree of all these people, paid by their boss just as he was to do the same tasks he's doing.

Burrowing into himself, he rolls to the nearest icicle filled tree, grabbing the man who was hidden here with the gun and twisting his neck until he heard the sounds of life escaping his throat. He discarded his now empty gun for the one in the holster of the other man, making sure it was fully loaded before proceeding to also extract the menthols from the upper part of the stranger's jacket.

"Mange Tak." He said, Danish for thank you. He could have a little class while he was at it.

Noticing the tree he was under and the man whom he'd just killed, Blut was either following their Five-Ten plan or the Outskirts plan, both of which were effective in combat. The Five-Ten plan was created by Vivian herself meaning that there would be five on the perimeter of the compound, five on the rooftop, and ten within the building before whomever was entering made it inside. Then, after getting through the frontlines of security (if they made it that far), whomever was infiltrating would meet the guards who allowed their cohorts to be killed as preparation time for the main show.

The Outskirts plan, however, would mean that every man who wasn't directly appointed as an assassin to Blut's side would be out in the fields which were now covered in snow, using the trapdoors hidden in the earth to prepare their weapons for combat and kill the intruder as he (or she) approached the compound.

He was going to take his bets with the Five-Ten.

Heart barely going over an easy 65bpm, he calmly readied his guns for the next part of the infiltration where a few other guards would pop up and flock to his sides, hoping that they might catch him off-guard. Which they wouldn't. Another few shots took care of those and as he wiped the blood off his face from the splatter of one of them, he lit a cigarette and started walking towards the front of the compound, taking his chances that he knew which plan they had chosen considering he'd killed most of the other ones when he'd killed Vivian during their surprise attack not even hours before he got here.

Stepping over the walkway and opening the doors to the inside, he'd been proven correct in his intuition and flanked to the wall, keeping himself out of sight to those in the building. There were three open entryways leading from the main hall to the upstairs where the pig himself resided. Which meant around six of those corners could be another guard and he'd have to take his shots carefully, unless he wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat which didn't always end well when your opponent had a firearm. He checked his inventory quickly.

Six bullets left. He'd have to be stingy about it.

Holding the trigger and aiming the barrel towards his right, he took a shot through the ornate pillars holding up the entryway's corbel arch, a bullet forcing itself through the small opening in which the wall met the pillar. He heard an "oomph!" which he gathered triumphantly signified his tactic of approach was also correct.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Rolling to the floor into the room from whence the sound came, he staggered over to the next wall and shot through the entryway, shooting the man in the room in the leg. Fuck. Slight misstep on his account (or the other guy's considering he no longer had the bottom half of his leg). He dodged the man's bullets and lifted one of the cylindrical vases decorating the hallway and bashed it into the man's skull, once, twice, and then dropping it as he watched blood ooze from his nose. A sound from behind him meant another and he was met with hands wrapping around his throat and a gun being pressed to his temple.

This man was much bigger in stature than Duncan, but it was no matter. He swiftly acted as though he were aiming for his opponent's side as they would have practiced for upon initiation training. Seeing the man respond confidently to where he'd presumed Duncan would strike meant he'd left his nuts unguarded to which Duncan kicked in with precision. The man screamed, letting go of his counterpart and went to hold himself in anguish. Duncan mercilessly grabbed the weapon from his hands and shot through the one holding his injured manhood, shooting off his limb and probably the area underneath.

A few more men appeared from the entryways, and, after killing them all with a few more bullets than needed considering he had two guns now and maybe a hit to the face with his brass knuckles; he made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for whatever else would come. He could take on twenty more of them before expressing any ounce of fatigue as he'd trained his whole life for missions like this.

However, it was just you in the room.

Almost entirely taken aback by the slumped position you were in bound to that chair in the middle of the room, Duncan froze in his advances. He didn't let his guard down, no, but he took careful detail to the contortions of your face and the state of your being from which he could make out from this distance. Your long hair fell from the roots of your head which seemed to still be intact (thank god), but your skin was an ashy grey and blood had littered your hands and chest area. It was deep and dark and so red, redder than he'd felt he'd ever seen before and the PTSD was back, clawing at his chest and vision through his one good eye, all of his labors seemingly returning to dust. If you were dead, it would be the death of all deaths despite having only known you for a short period of time.

It had been the way you'd entered his house for the first time that caught him winded, hands tucked into the pockets of your long coat that kept you warm and smelling like the vanilla candles that littered your house. Your flushed cheeks from being out in the cold. Your smile as he'd offered you a sip of his hot chocolate, only to find out it had an added hint of whiskey. Your face when he'd kissed you for the first time. The hug you'd given him after.

It took fifty years of his life to finally admit it to himself and to anyone else who'd listen to the raspy notches in his throat as he exclaimed that he was, indeed, in love. And it was, indeed, with you.

"Something caught your eye, Kaiser?" Blut's agonizing and cruel voice caught the echos of the marble flooring and flooded the room, signaling his emergence from the darkness. He was wearing his stupid, douchebaggy jacket with a shit eating grin nearly reaching the corners of his eyes. This was the man whom he'd worked for all these years, pledged his loyalty to despite having no ounce of previous companionship with him. The one who owed him $8 million and the one who'd sent out his own personal hitman army to kill Duncan and get away with it so he would no longer be a liability to the company.

"She'd better be alive, or I'll skewer your head on that fucking Damocles sword you have above the mantle." He nearly spat out, taking his time to enunciate the weight of every word that escaped his lips, forcing them out in such an anger that anyone would feel in the depths of their bones. Blut, however, could care less.

"Oh she's alive." Made sure to keep her that way for you." He said, sauntering towards her seemingly lifeless body and tilting her chin upwards to finally reveal her face. "Thought she could use some plastic surgery though, don't you think Duncan?"

It was as if a knife had pierced his chest then and there. Your face, which had been absolutely perfect upon anyone's first glance, now was missing an eye on the opposite side of his own. Flesh had been carved out around it, which meant it would leave a scar possibly even nastier than his. He wanted to throw up at the idea someone could've taken something so important to you and destroy a piece of your life forever. He then thought maybe that was how his victims' families felt, learning that their fathers or brothers had passed due to the brutality of murder.

But you were still beautiful. And he had to save you still.

"Duncan... you're not responding?" Blut taunted with his awful voice, ringing the question in his ears and twisting the metaphorical knife even further into his chest. Duncan knew he'd need to snap out of the hold of his traumas and force himself to swallow anything else other than the situation at hand in order to save you...and himself.

"You're fucking dead. Don't you fucking touch her." Duncan said, grabbing the hefty sword of the supposed Damocles mansion from the mantle near him, letting the blade drag on the floor before discarding his gun entirely and picking up the sword. It had to have been at least four feet long with a shiny hilt and an even shinier blade which would be stained with the blood of the man before him in the time it'd take to say the sword's name. He would avenge this piece of your life that had been wrongfully taken from you.

A little less smug now, Blut reached into his pocket and withdrew a gun. "Y-y-you fucking stay back Kaiser! I won't hesitate to blow your head off!!"

"Where are your other men? Or are you truly so out of options that you're here alone?" Duncan growled, his discarded gun going into the fireplace, and, with a loud boom, caught the floor and curtains surrounding it on fire. The flames twisted and danced against in the reflection of his newfound weapon, a proper visual to the fire that licked his veins with the rage he felt. He continued his progression to your chair, sparing you a softer glance, before focusing everything onto the man before him who was now cowering by the window on the wall.

It was as if he were a child who'd been told hiding under a blanket would save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. He shrunk into the glass and tried his best to aim his gun with a shaking hand at Duncan's head. Duncan was now eye-to-eye with the man whom he'd fucking rip to shreds faster than any job he'd done as a hitman in his life.

"Blut...you're not responding?" He sneered, dodging the bullet that flew from his opponent's barrel. He lifted the sword and thrust it from the nape of his neck to the back of his skull, brains flying out against the widow he was in front of. Blood spurt from the open wound like a the lake outside of Duncan's house in Montana, where he'd resided before all this madness. Eyes bulged out of his skull with the optic nerves sliding down the forefront of his face and falling just above his mouth. Duncan dismantled the head from his torso still attached to the blade and spear tossed the sword of Damocles out the window and onto the grounds below, the sharp end getting stuck in the ground and displaying Blut's upside down head like a totem pole.

"'Suck my fucking dick."

Duncan freed you from the chair, taking you outside and down the winding trail, mansion burning to the ground in the distance. Back to Montana where now, at last, he would fucking retire.

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shalt Not Kill - Chapter 11

AU Noah Sebastian x female detective reader

18+

Summery: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis

Warnings: talks of death, talks of killings/murder, use of religion, stockholm syndrome, bad language, mentions of alcohol consumption, and the address used in this I just copied and edited from goggle lol as I don’t know proper addresses in America 🤣

I’m so sorry it’s been 2 months! Life has been so hectic but this story is never far from my thoughts and I’m so ready to get back into it and get us to the end!! (although I will be sad when it’s over ahaha)

This chapter is a little bit of a filler, although it has some keys elements within, the next chapter however is where the story really starts to heat up again and I’m so excited to start that one 😏

Until then I hope you all enjoy!!

@l00na24 this chapter is definitely dedicated to you as I wouldn’t have thought to add the polaroids in if it wasn’t for you so thank you 🖤

Story Taglist: @lacy1986 @hayleylatour @thatchickwiththecamera @calleyx13 @english-fucker @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsworld @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran @flowery-mess @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @1toreyouapart @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @overmydeadbodysblog

Let me know if you wish to be added! This is separate to my permanent Noah taglist due to the content within the story!

Chapter Index Here

Masterlist

Your eyes fluttered open as the sunlight shines through the small window and warmed your face, the feeling of longing for the outside world washing over you briefly.

Your body felt sore but satisfied this morning and you turned over only to find you were alone.

Glancing around the room you saw his black jacket thrown over a chair so you knew he wasn’t far away.

You also saw his tshirt left on the ground and picked it up to pull it over your body, you pulled back the covers and noticed the finger shapes bruises over your hips, a sinful reminder of the night before.

How did you feel about it?

You weren’t completely sure, you had let yourself go for him, to him, willingly.

You slipped into his top, the bottom of it coming down to your thighs as you got out of bed.

Looking at his jacket lying there, the detective within you wouldn’t let you not go to it, just to have a peak, what was the worst you’d find?

You glanced at the door and heard nothing so you turned back and picked up his coat, feeling the weight of it in your hands.

You put your hands into one of the pockets to find it empty, the other pocket however held what appeared to be his wallet and his badge.

You glanced at the badge, a painful reminder of everything that has happened, before you put his jacket down and opened his wallet.

Mostly inside it was his cards, I.D, a small amount of cash and a few crumpled receipts tucked into the back.

You were about to put it back when something sticking out of the hidden slot caught your eye.

You pulled out first a piece of paper with an address hand written on it, Noah’s hand writing.

822 20th Street

Los Angeles

CA

90011

You knew the address was in a dodgy part of the city, not somewhere you’d want to be walking around alone at night but apart from that, it didn’t ring any other bells for you. Your curiosity of the significance of this address was burning inside your brain, why was this so important?

You put the paper back and saw there were some polaroid photos hidden behind it, you pulled out the small bundle and set the wallet down.

The photos made your chest feel heavy as the memories came flooding back.

Looking back at you was your own smiling face as you held a wine glass in front of you as if to hide, the next was one of you both together smiling at the camera and finally one of him on his own flipping the camera off with a cheeky smile.

That night seemed like a distant dream.

••••••••

FLASHBACK

Your giggle echoed around the room as Noah walked over with another glass of wine for you both and shut your laptop closed while you’d been looking over one of the case files.

“Hey! I was using that”

It was one of your many evening spent together after work, they were becoming a lot more regular these days, both of you enjoying the other’s company.

“Not anymore detective, no more work”

You smiled and took a sip of your wine as Noah sat himself next to you on the couch, his arm resting along the back of it behind your head.

“We have a killer to catch you know?”

Noah smiled.

“And we will, I have no doubt that with your intellectual capabilities we will solve this”

You blushed, his continuous praise always making your heart swell, no one had ever believed in you as much as your partner did.

“We will…together”

Noah smiled again and took a sip of his own drink.

“Hopefully before he kills again”

Noah nodded thoughtfully and hummed in response before he responded properly.

“We can’t be too hard on ourselves, he’s certainly not made it easy to catch him”

You laughed slightly.

“Or at all. No prints, no dna, no leads….bodies mounting up left, right and centre. I feel like I’m failing the victims families”

Noah shifted closer to you, the beautiful smell of his cologne invading your senses “That’s ridiculous, you’re doing everything you can and look at what it’s doing to you. You can’t be that critical”

You sighed and looked up at him.

“How are you so calm all the time? I wish I could be that way”

“Because I know that everything will work out how it’s supposed to, you’ll find out who he is, I just know it”

You smiled at his words and finished your glass of wine, reaching out to the table to grab the bottle and have a refill, the effects starting to make your brain feel lighter.

“How about some music?”

You reached for your remote and clicked the radio to life, the classic station immediately started to play which caused Noah to smile at you.

“I wasn’t aware you listened to classical music!”

You felt your cheeks go warm.

“It helps relax me sometimes”

The current song ended and you started to hear a beautiful melody with the piano being the main focus of the opening notes, it was a song you’d heard before but couldn’t place, until Noah spoke up.

“Primavera, this is a beautiful song”

You looked at him in shock.

“So you are no stranger yourself I see”

His smile grew as he took another sip.

“In Italian, primavera means "spring." This is a fitting title as its flowing verses are akin to the opening buds, glorious flowers, warm air and gentle breezes of spring…or that’s what I’ve read about it anyways”

His checks went pink slightly and you couldn’t help but be in awe of the man in front of you, he truly was like no one you’d ever known.

“Wow, that’s beautiful Noah”

You listened to the calming music and closed your eyes, letting the horrors of the world wash away.

“I didn’t know you had one of those?”

You opened your eyes again as you felt Noah get up and walked over to your shelves, tucked away was your old polaroid camera.

“Oh…I haven’t used that in ages”

Noah came and sat back down with it, looking it over.

“Does it still work?”

Before you could answer, Noah brought the camera up to take your picture, you laughed and held your wine glass in front of your face.

*click*

You heard the sound of the shutter of the camera going off and saw the flash behind your closed eyelids.

“Noah!”

He laughed and put the camera down as he pulled the photo out and gave it a shake.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist”

His smirk told you that he wasn’t sorry and was in fact, very pleased with himself which made you giggle again.

You glanced at the photo as Noah held it up for you both to look at.

“You look beautiful”

You shook your head and reached for the camera resting in his lap.

“Let’s see how you like it”

You quickly put the camera up, Noah gave a cheeky smile and held up his middle finger as you pressed the button down.

“Rude”

You both laughed as you looked at the new photo, putting it next to yours on the table.

“How about one together?”

You nodded and came in closer to him, you felt Noah wrap his strong arm around you and you leant back into his chest, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you did. You both smiled at the camera and held your position as the flash went off.

You slid back slightly once the photo was done, but Noah didn’t take his arm off your shoulders and he grabbed onto the photo and held it out in front of you.

“Cute”

You smiled and nodded, still hearing the enchanting melody of primavera as it played, you looked up at Noah and realised how close you actually were you felt his breath ghosting over your face.

You resisted the urge to lean forward and reminded yourself that you were work colleagues and partners and there was no time for anything else….no matter how badly you wanted it.

“This really is a beautiful song”

You broke the silence as you sat back and created space in between the two of you.

Noah finished his wine and smiled once again.

“It is. I’ll be sure to introduce you to more interesting things in the future”

••••••••

You could hear the sound of the piano keys in your mind as you relived that night.

You looked at the photos in your hand and noticed that there was an extra one, you pulled it out and gasped quietly.

Staring back at you was a photo of you sleeping soundly in your own bed, completely unaware of the intruder taking your picture.

A small chill ran down your spine. Noah had been in your apartment without your knowledge, that night you’d seen him walk out when you said goodbye but clearly he had returned.

“How many of these does he have?”

The sound of the door unlocking behind you made you jump and you spun round to see Noah’s gaze instantly on the photos in your hand, his expression turning dark.

“What are you doing angel? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it was rude to go through someone’s possessions?”

You stepped back and he walked into the room, clearly not impressed by your snooping.

“I…erm…I wasn’t…”

Noah grabbed the photos out of your hand and casually glanced at them.

“I see you found my favourite one, you looked so beautiful while you were sleeping that I…couldn’t resist”

You stared up at him as he echoed his own words from that night, you weren’t sure what he was going to do next.

“Isn’t it rude to break in and take pictures of someone when they are asleep?”

Noah tilted his head at you and stepped forward and pressed his arms against the wall around your head. trapping you in and towering over your small frame.

“I didn’t break in angel, you left the door unlocked, very careless of you, anyone could walk in”

You took a breath, feeling the fear forming in the pit of your stomach, he was a sadistic killer first and foremost.

“I’m sorry Noah…I didn’t mean to pry”

Noah leaned in closer and then ran his hand over your cheek.

“I’ll forgive you angel, just never forget how much I’ve done for you, I’ve always been there for you haven’t I?”

You nodded at his words as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“Especially at work, all the trouble you had there, no one believed in you did they?”

••••••••

FLASHBACK

You were walking down the hallway of your office at the station, a fresh hot coffee in your hands.

The excitement you felt was hard to ignore as you were up for a promotion at work, taking you from an officer up to a detective with your own office and team and you couldn’t be happier!

“I hope I’m making you proud dad”

You carried on to your sergeants office with a small smile on your face.

As you rounded the corner, you could hear a bunch of officers talking as they stood huddled together, not aware of your presence.

“Can you actually believe officer Y/L/N is getting the promotion?!”

“You know it’s only because of who her father was!”

You recognised the voice of officer Blake instantly, you two had never particularly got along but had no choice but to work along side each other.

“The sergeant must be mad, any one of us could have that detective position!”

You couldn’t listen anymore and held your head as high as you could and walked into view, tipping your head at them with a fake smile on your face.

“Morning gentlemen”

They all looked shocked and tried to act like they hadn’t just been slagging you off as you strolled past.

You made the point of waving at them once more before you headed towards your bosses office, hoping that you did get the promotion today, you’d worked so hard for it and it wasn’t just because of who your father was, you’d show them, you’d prove them all wrong!

••••••••

“But I always have, I have always seen your intelligence and your potential and how wasted you were in that station. They didn’t see you…but I do angel, I see exactly who you are”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp as his voice washed over you.

“I know…I know you’ve always believed in me Noah”

Noah leant his head down and brushed his lips against yours, you returned it, it was gentle, a very far contrast from his mood a few moments ago.

“You’re nearly ready baby, I know you are”

Your brows frowned.

“For what?”

Noah smirked and stood back from you.

“For the next step” he walked back towards the door without turning back as he said “Isaiah 41:10 - Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Bonus Chapter - crossover with Poltergeists by concretejunglefm

[selineram3421]

An Adoptive Father's Day

Alastor and Child Reader Oneshot

Warning? ⚠

⚠ little hint of Reader's living life, alcohol, food mention ⚠

You had snuck construction paper and other supplies into your room for the past few days. Taking what you needed from the party supplies, knowing Charlie wouldn't mind.

Father's day was just a few hours away and you wanted to make a pop-up card for Alastor.

The plan was for you to stay up and make the card while he was asleep. Everything you needed was under the bed.

When the time hit nine, Alastor made sure you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed.

"Good night mon petit.", the deer demon said as he tucked you in.

"Good night.", you replied, hugging Murder Mittens.

He turned off the light on his way out and slid the door to a close.

Waiting for a good while, you heard the door to the hallway close and jumped out of bed, quickly bringing out the box full of supplies out from under it.

You turned on the lamp on the nightstand, setting out the papers and markers, scissors and glitter to the side for later.

"Let's start!", you whispered excitedly.

.

Alastor stared at the glass in his hand.

It was Father's Day. A day he didn't enjoy celebrating in his living life.

Husk hadn't bothered to start a conversation but that was fine. The Radio Demon didn't want to talk at the moment.

For a bit longer that's what he did, just sat on a bar stool and stared down at his drink with a fake smile. It wasn't until the clock struck one in the morning that he finished his drink and stood up.

"I shall be on my way now Husker.", he said and fixed his coat.

All the cat demon did was grumble, picking up the glass from the counter.

With that, Alastor made his way back to the hotel room. Humming a tune while walking, he wondered if his little demon had a parental guardian in their living life.

They'll tell me when they want to. He thinks as he reaches the door of his room.

After opening it and walking in, the demon in red notices light coming from the crack of the sliding door.

Did they wake up? He wonders, closing the door to the hallway and going over to his little demon's sliding door.

Taking a look in the room, he sees them on the rug asleep with many cut up papers scattered around them. Making his way over to the little one, he pics them up and puts them back in bed, noticing the card in their hand once he set them down.

He covers them with a blanket before carefully taking the card out of their hands. He finds red cursive letters on top with a old radio drawn with marker in the middle, it says to and from, his name and theirs half way done.

"Happy Father's Day..", he reads and opens the card up.

"I never liked celebrating Father's Day. But now I have you and I think I can enjoy it. Let's have fun and do something we like. Or you could have fun on your own. Either way, have a good time.

Love, -."

There's little drawn out figures popping out of the card and its the two of them holding hands, they even managed to add in his cane and shadow.

Setting the card down in his lap, he looks at the sleeping child.

Yes, we'll have fun today. Perhaps make some cake for dessert. The Radio Demon thinks with a real smile and puts the stuffed cat back in their arms.

"Sweet dreams little one."

He debates on taking the card but decides to leave it, wondering how they'll present it to him as he turns off the lamp and leaves the room.

I hope everyone had fun today.

~Seline, the person.

Extra!

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @naelys-the-aster @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[darkcherry6916]

Yandere serial killer x fem!reader

For those who like the kind of men that deserve to be punching bags

TW: NSFW ,stalking , mild knife play, degradation, mentions of murder, drugging , kidnapping and everything "nice"

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who was patrolling for his next victim, ready to see the life drain from another pair of teary eyes.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who is handsome, notably covered in lean muscle, a stance that exceeded confidence and a face surely sculpted by god himself. He wasn't just looks , and he knew it. He enjoyed old english literature, he ran and hiked religiously, he pre-planned and cooked all his meals,and he listened ; far too well at times.Smart too.Top of his class in college and a proud valedictorian in high school. A total fucking steal , with a charm that knew how to get under thick layers.

Yandere-SerialKiller-Who had no reason to kill just entertainment and a hunger for cruelty. Who wouldn't be seen pleading for his life if he ever got caught , he found those who did pathetic. Why apologize for putting art into the world ? That's what he considered himself , an artist of sorts.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who knew in an instant you would be his next doll. An ordinary girl with a seemingly boring life who fit right in with the crowd. As far as ancient tales go, things that blend in are not easily traced when gone.

Yandere-SerialKiller-Who followed you home every day , your day to day routine proving him right. You were worthless , another little ant trying to find a treasure to feed on. One that would never come , your life was in his hands ,and he planned to toy with it.

Yandere-Serialkiller-Who officially met you at the grocery store, in the middle of your shift , politely picking up a product you had dropped ; ensuring your fingers brushed together as he handed it to you.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who hit you with one of his infamous body melting smiles, as he spoke of a "you're welcome" to your timid 'thank you'. Slyly, looking you up and down, admiring the way your figure so shamelessly called for him "So what's your name, clumsy girl."

Even the way he mocked you was tentative , the silly pet name crawling at you

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who knew exactly what he was doing with his 'mr nice guy' act. Who raised his eyebrow at your quick, "I'm very particular about giving my name to strangers." Of course, you were only half-joking , but he was quick to retaliate.

"Dont be so cruel, we can always change that."

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who already knew your full name , your address, and your number. But still asked for it with a candid glimmer in his eyes and that virile tone of his.

"I'm on the hour," you said, a smile of your own plastered on your lips. "Lucky for you , i'm no snitch." his voice low and coated with rotten honey as he stepped closer.

How could you resist ? His charm being beyond slippery wasn't a joke , it was intelligent and played extra well with the stroking rasp in his voice.The kind most fantasized about groaning at their ear.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who only let two days pass before he was asking you on a date. Telling you he was willing to plan around your heavy work schedule.

You were ecstatic , so excited at the fact someone had finally taken interest in you.

Yandere-SerialKiller-Who thought you looked so good in your dress,a complete contrast to your bland uniform. Who felt the tiniest pinch at his heart , at just how happy you looked , how desperate were you really ?

Yandere-Serialkiller- Who acted like a true gentle man.Opening the car door , pulling out a chair for you , asking you all the right questions and giving all the right answers.The list went on ,he was doing a exemplary job at getting on your 'take home list' , what you didn't know is that he would be the last on the list.

Yandere-Serialkiller- Who captured you with his lips , inhaling you in as you attempted to open your apartment door. Who wrapped your legs around him , his fingers at the back of your scalp tugging you closer. Noses all smushed together in passion having a make-out of their own; tongues greeting each other in cold lust.

He was devouring you , clouding your senses like the predator he is.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who fucked you so good that you were seeing the moon and the stars , his fat cockhead hitting that spot you liked in a way that had your body churning.Slamming himself in and out with a precision that felt criminal.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who was now plunging into you like no one had before, his large hand around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His hips meeting your ass with a vicious tempo "Holy fuck, you and this pussy." He groaned next to your ear, taking in the feeling of your pussy dripping down his balls. He had you exactly how he wanted you fucked out, crying, and clueless.

"It might just save you." He cooed with not a ounce care if you heard , but his inching threat was easily muffled by the sounds of your pleasured moans.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who essentially fucked you to sleep , kissing your forehead like the sadistic fuck wasn't planning to cut you open in a few minutes .

"It's a shame, what I have to do now." He whispered into your skin, a teasing pout at his full lips. Truly it was , you were pretty and a great fuck.But he had the ability , to make you would look so much prettier , adorned with white ribbon around your sliced limbs.

Yandere-SerialKiller-Who let you sleep just a little longer than the others . Watching the way your chest lifted and caved with every breath. It made him wonder , if you were worth conserving not wanting to drain the color from your rosy face just yet.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who woke you up with gentle taps on your cheek.Whatever was touching your face was cold and flat. You who greeted him with a smile as you began to stiffen from limb to limb.The flashing memory of his lips against yours and his cock assaulting your g-spot putting a grin on your face.

That glint in your eyes, turning into one of absolute horror.Your grin wiping off clean , at the realization.-You weren't in your bed anymore , nor did you recognize where you were. Your memory now turned hasty, and the ache in your limbs conciously apparant, you couldn't move-why couldn't you move.

" Finally, you're awake , I missed those gorgeous eyes."

Yandere-SerialKiller-Who made you watch as he prepped his tools , doing it slowly just to watch the panic rise across your pained features "Whats wrong , baby? Thought you liked surprises."

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who was ready to cut you open , and peak inside. Inching towards your face only to lick the tears off your face with a delighted hum.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who watched you tremble and sob. Your eyes following the blade, which surfaced your skin like sharpened feather , getting steeper and steeper. The blade was threatening to bite, and pretty soon, it would.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who just couldn't bring himself to slit your throat without a last-goodbye, your soft cries making his dick hard all over gain.

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who untied you after a mental discussion with what he referred to as his other self. A self that was passive and tranquil for the most part , the self that decided he would spare you from his blade, only to settle on using you. He was a self-ish being with no guilt factor ; the best of both worlds.

After all , you did give some killer blow jobs

Yandere-SerialKiller- Who threw you off the table onto the floor with a single shove.The tranquilizer he had injected you with while fucking you from the back ,was doing its job exceptionally well. You couldn't move ,especially not when fear was consuming you , striking you nerve to nerve like a rabid animal.

"Let me make you a deal , suck my cock good enough, and maybe-just maybe I'll let you go"

Newflash, he was bluffing big time , worst part you knew it. But just like he had asked , with limp muscles and fat tears.You parted your lips, letting him slide himself past them with ease . His muscular thighs serving as your support and your demise.

"There you go , like a true slut."

Who knows perhaps he could keep you instead ,he never had a pet growing up.They had the tendency to mysteriously go missing.

[star-writes-after-dark]

𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳

CONTENT WARNING - PLEASE READ

This fictional piece contains murder, degradation, and non-con themes. Please proceed accordingly.

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Her voice shook in the quiet of the hallway, and as you looked around more closely you could see even more obvious signs of life. Not currently, it was all old food wrappers and what looked like either black spray paint or scorch marks across the walls, all left from however long ago. You didn’t know how you missed it all earlier, the signs were right there, pointing at how very clearly someone had been living in that abandoned old hospital for at least a year, if not two.

This is how people in horror movies die, you think to yourself as glass screeches against glass beneath your feet. Abandoned warehouses and old buildings were not your usual haunts, and going at night was even less your cup of tea. And yet, somehow, your so-called friends had managed to drag you out in the dead of night, in the middle of winter, to some left-to-rot depot in the more run down parts of Kamino Ward. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Your friends insisted, a group of three other girls who had gone through college with you. “It's not like anyone’s gonna be there to catch us anyway.” 

You exhaled softly through your nose and rubbed at your eyes. “There’s probably going to be animals,” you stress, “and who knows, there could be druggies or those guys who look for metal… you know, people who are most definitely not afraid to kill us?” 

The ringleader of your little group, a bright-eyed girl named Izumi, jostled your shoulder playfully. “You’re such a worrier! No one’s going to be there, and we can just fight them off anyway.” 

You didn’t even want to think about just how absolutely wrong she was, but you couldn’t help it. Four girls, up against god-knows-who, with devil-knows-how-many weapons and much more conviction to stay hidden than any of your friends were to go exploring. They wanted adventure, but only on their terms and every fiber in your body felt like this was the worst possible way to scratch that itch. 

But, at the same time, you would have felt even worse if you didn’t at the very least go with them. So there you were, the four of you bundled up in puffy jackets with flashlights on-hand. You carried extra batteries, just in case. And a Swiss army knife that your dad gifted you for your 19th birthday. And matches and a lighter. And some granola bars, along with a bottle of water. And duct tape.

Okay, so maybe you were a bit overprepared, but you’d rather be over prepped and ready for anything than not ready at all for any emergency situations that might arise. You also shoved a first aid kit packed away in your bag. 

“You going camping?” Izumi had snickered when you were filling up your water bottle. You leveled a glare at her, and tightened the cap before tipping it over to make sure no water could leak out. 

“No,” you sniffed, tucking the offending water bottle into your backpack as your friends pulled on their coats and gloves. “But if you’re thirsty, you can’t ask me for water.” 

Izumi pouted at you, tugging on your arm. “Oh, what? That’s not fair, I was just playing!” 

It was your turn to snicker at her now, and you shrugged her off in favor of slipping on your own warm gear. You chose not to answer her, and Izumi hung her head in resignation and what you hoped was shame. 

Which was how your little group ended up in front of what Izumi was telling you used to be a mental inpatient institute. You shivered, despite your warm jacket and gloves, and watched as your breath fogged up in the air before you. Dread pooled in your gut, an unshakable feeling that you felt the need to voice. “Guys, it’s not too late to turn back now.” 

One of the other girls, Atsuko, rolled her eyes at your scaredy-cat attitude. “You’re seriously so boring. Come on. We’ll all go ahead of you, don’t worry.”

You sighed but muttered a quiet ‘fine,’ and motioned for everyone to move forward in their exploration of the old, crumbling building. Metal and glass crunched and squeaked and made all sorts of horrible noises underfoot, and you gritted your teeth to prevent any unnecessary shrieking as you edged towards the busted-open doors. Your friends, braver or just more stupid than you, were already forging ahead, flashlights on and waving wildly around what the decaying map on one of the walls told you was the main entrance of the hospital. Rubble was everywhere, broken-down walls that had collapsed with time and overgrown plants took over most of the space. You looked down as you picked your way through the mess, and something just wasn’t quite right. There was a feeling in your gut that wouldn’t leave you alone, the hair on your arms pricking beneath your thick layers as you caught up with your friends. 

No one was talking quietly as they passed through the rooms, and it irked you. Beams of light swayed this way and that as you explored deeper into the building. Names of people long dead were rattled off by Izumi every time you entered a new section, doctors and patients alike, and it wasn’t long until you found yourselves in what seemed to be an even older part of the hospital. Rust was dripping down from the ceiling, coating every metal surface in sight, and old beds and gurneys were cluttered in corners while there was clear water damage in others. And there was dust everywhere, a thick layer of it to be exact. It spiraled up and into the air with every step anyone made, and you quickly pulled the collar of your coat up to protect your nose and mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Your footprints were easily spotted in the hallways, and you kept looking behind you as that not-quite-right feeling from earlier doubled in the space between your heart and your stomach. 

“Guys,” you mumbled through the fabric of your collar. “I really think we should get out of here.” 

Your friends groaned at your insistence. “Why did you even come if you were going to be such a spoilsport?” Izumi asked. 

“Haha, cum,” Haru, the last tagalong of your group, mumbled to herself. 

“Because I would have felt like shit if you guys died and I wasn’t there,” you responded snarkily, ignoring her. “Seriously, something feels off about this place.” 

You caught Atsuko rolling her eyes at Izumi and Haru. “You’re just paranoid,” she said, “quit bitching.”

“I’m not bitching,” you muttered, your voice sounding more petulant and whiny than you intended, but you ducked your head and trotted through the dust to keep up with your friends. “I just don’t wanna fuckin’ be here…”

It had been several hours, and you were still plagued by the instinct that something was just wrong about the hospital. You couldn’t tell if it was just the vague sense that you were being watched, or if you were being paranoid like your friends suggested, or if there was really something truly wrong with the space. But your nerves still felt frayed either way, and you had a stress headache building behind your eyes. 

And to make things worse, Izumi suggested splitting up. You and Haru were the only ones who protested this idea, which made Izumi immediately pair the two of you up as her and Atsuko went off to explore on their own. 

“God, this is the worst,” you mumbled, kicking the top part of a cinder block off of its other half. “I don’t want to be here.” 

“Yeah, well I didn’t want to come either,” Haru snipped back at you. 

You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at her, a quiet rage simmering just below the surface of your skin. “Why didn’t you say anything then?” 

Haru shrugged in a too-casual manner that clued you off to the fact that she actually felt guilty. “Didn’t want to be seen as a wuss.”

“Oh so it’s fine for you guys to see me as a wimp, but the rest of you guys get to be the brave ones? Seriously?” 

Haru snapped her head up, glaring at you. “It’s not like that! I just meant I-” 

“Save it,” you snapped, waving a hand at her. You shivered again, the cold had been thoroughly and consistently been seeping through your clothes all these hours, and now that you were standing still it was even more bone-chilling. You shifted your weight from foot to foot to try and keep your circulation going. 

To her credit, Haru looked like she genuinely felt bad for what she said, and you sighed. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, unmoving in the dark hallway as the tension in the air settled. And then it hit you like fucking a truck, it being exactly why you were so weirded out by the atmosphere. 

“Haru,” you whispered, stepping back through the debris towards your friend. “We have to get out of here. Now.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that. Stop being such a baby.” 

“No,” you repeated, more firmly this time. Haru finally caught on to your tone, and looked at you with a flicker of concern in her eyes as you continued. “We need to leave. There’s someone else here with us.” 

“What do you mean?” She whispered. Her voice shook in the quiet of the hallway, and as you looked around more closely you could see even more obvious signs of life. Not currently, it was all old food wrappers and what looked like either black spray paint or scorch marks across the walls, all left from however long ago. You didn’t know how you missed it all earlier, the signs were right there, pointing at how very clearly someone had been living in that abandoned old hospital for at least a year, if not two. 

You grabbed Haru’s hand and started dragging her back towards the convergence of hospital wings, where you last saw Izumi and Atsuko. “I mean, there was no dust. No needles either, which means someone cleaned them up.” 

She stumbled along behind you, struggling to keep up with you as you darted around and through broken walls and over shattered glass tubes. “Wait- what does that mean?”

You ignored her and pursed your lips, tugging on her wrist harder, as you pulled out your phone to call Izumi. “Pick up, pick up…” 

“Bitch, tell me what’s going on!” Haru cried from behind you as she almost tripped over her own feet. You continued to ignore her as Izumi answered your call. 

“What? ” 

“Don’t ‘what’ me, we need to get out of here,” you snapped, fed up with her attitude. 

Izumi sighed heavily over the phone. You were getting increasingly more annoyed with your little group’s general animosity towards you, you who were trying to keep everyone safe and alive. “Look, we get it, you’re scared. You can go home if you want, but Atsuko and I are staying.” 

“No, ” you growled into the speaker, still gripping Haru’s wrist tightly. “We all need to leave. There’s someone else here with us, and I don’t think they’re going to be very happy if they see a group of girls snooping around their home.”

“And how do you know this? ” 

“Because there was no dust in the front part of this stupid place, and have you guys seen any needles? Because Haru and I haven’t, which is weird for a hospital, which means someone else is in here - living here - and I’m willing to bet it’s some guy hopped up on heroin or something who’s definitely not against killing four defenseless women!” 

Your voice rose with every word, until you were nearly shouting in the echo-y space of the lobby. You reluctantly let go of Haru’s wrist, and she brought it to her chest to rub where your grip had bruised her skin. “Sorry,” you mouthed at her, noticing her wince. You turned away from her, staring at the floor as you continued to argue your point to Izumi. “Look, just meet us back where we split up? Please?” 

“I’d like to point out we’re not defenseless, we have Quirks, but oh my god, fine. Atsuko, we’re going back. ” 

“What? ” You could hear Atsuko whine over the phone. “Why? ”

“Because we have a crybaby of a friend, that’s why. We’ll see you soon, I guess. ” 

You sighed in relief and felt your shoulders slump as Izumi hung up on you. You turned back to Haru, who was still cradling her wrist to her chest and pouting. “Did you have to yank me so hard? You almost ripped my hand clean off.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I said sorry, okay? I really just want to get out of here.” 

You shivered, still cold and rubbed your hands together, blowing on them to try and thaw out your fingertips. The night wasn’t getting any warmer. You heard Haru make a noise next to you, and saw her sweeping motions with the flashlight stop very suddenly. You turn, about to ask her what she just said when you notice the look on her face. 

“Oh, fuck, ” Haru whimpered quietly, her shaky hand focusing the flashlight on the most terrifying man you had ever seen. If you had seen him on the street, you would have thought he was hot. Sharp, angular facial features, studded with piercings and staples that appeared to keep his own burned flesh together with smooth, unmarred skin. Haru’s flashlight made his dark hair look blue, and the shadows that draped around his shoulders only made him look scarier. And his clothes were entirely inappropriate for the mid-November night, a simple pair of pants and a short sleeved jacket were his only protection against the cold. 

“Language, language,” the man rasped, stepping closer to the both of you with practiced ease. His feet fell through the thick layer of dust that was coating everything like he knew where each stone, each fallen piece of wall sat, and like he was used to stepping around it all. “You girls look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m not gonna hurt you, don’t worry.” 

“Y-you’re not?” Haru asked quietly, the both of you stepping back slowly. You were nowhere near anything that counted as an exit. Haru, who apparently couldn’t read a room to save her life, started rambling. “That’s- that’s great! Could you point us in the direction of the front doors? We were just leaving and got lost.” 

“Got lost, huh?” The man asked. His eyes never strayed from you and Haru, and as he cornered the two of you, they sparkled with malice and joy - joy at your fear. He reveled in the emotions he provoked. “That sucks. Yeah, I’ll show you the way out.” 

Something in your gut told you to duck, to leap away, to fucking move as the man crept closer, because the tone in his voice was not that of someone who was used to being helpful, or in the business of being nice. He was a threat that would follow through, and he knew it. 

You’d be damned if you didn’t listen to your gut feelings. Because in the moment you decided to twist your body and leap to the side, the man steadied his stance, held up a hand, and he completely incinerated Haru with blazing blue flames. She didn’t even scream, the only noise she made was a low moan of pain before her life was ended and reduced to a pile of ash. You landed hard on your forearms and looked up as Haru, who just minutes ago you were debating on whether or not to keep her as a friend, was no more. Gone in a matter of seconds, her life torn away by the strange man who had no problem killing her. And by the look on his face, he saw no issues with killing you, either. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Your saving grace. Atsuko and Izumi, who had arrived just in time, were standing in the doorway, and it was clear that they had also watched Haru get burnt to a crisp. 

The man turned around. “Oh, look at that, you brought more idiot friends.” 

“Run!” You shouted at the two girls, who glanced at your form on the ground, confused, before they caught sight of the blue flames reappearing in the man’s outstretched hand. He cackled, eyes electrified with glee as he watched the terror pool in your friend’s faces, and he unleashed another burning hot whoosh of flames in their direction. 

You took his momentary distraction to scramble to your feet and took off yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. Panic surged in your chest as you heard Izumi and Atsuko scream, and then the sound stopped abruptly. 

You couldn’t remember the way out of the building. Dark hallways twisted and turned, and you were too busy making a fuss earlier to map anything out in your head. The man’s laughter echoed behind you, reminding you that you were truly, utterly fucked.  

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?” He called out, his tone mocking. You could feel another rush of flames from behind you, warming your back until you were too hot, sweating beneath your jacket. It had missed you by a hair, the smell of burned fabric filling your nose before it was gone in the cold. “Come back, I promise I won’t hurt ya… Too bad.” 

You could barely see as you ran, having dropped your flashlight somewhere behind you and in no hurry to turn around any time soon. The lack of light left you trampling over medical equipment, through messy rooms full of rusted wheelchairs and- 

You yelped loudly as your leg caught on a piece of corroded metal, a table or chair leg. It didn’t matter to you as pain ripped through your shin, and you floundered, barely quick enough to catch yourself. Heart racing, you forced your legs to move faster, searching for any sign of a way out, a flicker of moonlight or a breeze of cold air. Anything. You could hear the man drawing even closer as you panted, the sound of his footsteps deliberate and unhurried despite how eager he was to keep up with you.  

“Come on, don’t run from me,” he taunted, the pale light of his Quirk - because it had to be his Quirk - illuminating the hallway around you. “You won’t get very far.”

Desperation clawed at your throat, raw and ragged in time with your heavy breathing. You had to find somewhere to hide, or at least a way to put some distance between you and him. He wasn’t even trying to keep up with you, you could tell by the sound of heavy footfalls not too far behind you. There were several times when he had a clear shot at incinerating you, but he didn’t. You couldn’t tell if it was because he just enjoyed the chase so much, or if… Well, actually you didn’t know why else he wouldn’t take every opportunity to kill you. And you weren’t in the position to stop and think. 

You were running as fast as you possibly could, kicking up dust and all sorts of hospital debris as you went, up until you came to a T shaped convergence of the halls. You could hear the man coming up behind you, and at the most inappropriate of times, a piece of advice from your driving lesson days popped into your head. Don’t go left to go right. Or in this specific case, do the exact opposite and feign going left, then at the last second veer right, and hope he gets a little thrown off your trail. You only had one chance - one try to get this right. You took it, because you’d die damned if you didn’t.  

Chest heaving with effort, you darted to the left, and then jerked back at the last second to turn down the other hallway, sprinting for your life. You heard a thud from behind you, followed by a snarl. “You little bitch! ” 

Had you turned around, you  would have seen the scarred man smack almost face-first into the wall, using his hands to stop his skidding slide before he actually made contact. But you didn’t, because that would be stupid, and, again, you’d die damned if you were actually that stupid. Some final girl bullshit that you couldn’t really remember. 

You could see a door ahead of you, a rusted metal thing with a blessed window in it, your only source of light. Well. 

The pyromaniac behind you was also a source of light, but he was nowhere near blessed and you wouldn’t want to stay with him if he was your savior. This was an entirely unnecessary and distracting train of thought, you realized as you neared the door, dust flying up around you. The moonlight pooled in through the door’s window, and was eaten up by your shadow quickly as you nearly slammed into the door, jiggling the handle and-

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! It was rusted and sticking, and it took several harsh jerks before it squealed loudly, sending you tumbling into the open air with the murderer hot on your heels. 

“Come on, don’t run from me,” he spat his words at you from earlier, terrifyingly close. “Name’s Dabi - there now we know each other. Don’t you wanna get to know me better, sweetheart?”

“No!” You shrieked over your shoulder, edging away from him and closer towards the edge of the woods. He had stopped just outside the hospital, hands in his pockets, and you turned to look at him now that he wasn’t actively chasing you. The fucker didn’t even look winded, compared to your heavy breathing and shaky legs. Were you that out of shape? And what kind of a bitch ass name was Dabi? You weren’t eager to find out. “Just- just get away from me, please! I won’t tell anyone you’re here, I swear!” 

“You won’t?” Dabi crooned with a sickeningly sweet falseness rooted deep in his voice. He put a hand over his heart, pretending to swoon. “How kind.” 

You gulped for air, shivering now that you weren’t hauling ass and were exposed to the wind. 

“You cold baby? I can warm you right up.”

You shook your head and took another step back. “Please- just let me go. Please.” 

Dabi hummed thoughtfully and rocked his weight from side to side, rubbing at his chin like he was actually considering letting you go. You felt hope creep up your esophagus, curling around your heart and tugging it up your throat eagerly. 

Until it all went plummeting to your stomach, your knees going weak when he casually said, “you’re too cute to let go.” 

A sob wrangled itself into the back of your mouth, and you suddenly felt too hot, too uncomfortable in your own skin as tears pricked the backs of your eyes. You shook your head helplessly and turned to start running again, but your energy was sapped. Sweat was drying along the curve of your spine, breathing was difficult with how shaky your lungs were, and really all you could manage was staggering along through the trees. A loud sigh came from behind you, from Dabi, and he didn’t even have to raise his voice for you to hear him ask, almost bored, “this again?” 

Fucker. 

You didn’t make it very far. Actually, all circumstances considered, you did get pretty far away from the hospital, repeating the mantra of ‘one foot in front of the other’ over and over again until you had picked up a considerable pace and your breath was coming in short but even bursts. Your legs still burned, specifically your calves and your shin where the piece of corroded metal had torn your flesh open earlier. 

You had only made it to the clearing because Dabi let you. He made that very clear. You could see and hear the tell-tale flickering of blue flames crackling on his palm behind you, almost like it was a ball he was tossing up and down. Casually. 

And when he reached you, because he did, his hand was hot through the layers of your clothes as he pushed you from behind. You fell to your knees easily, and a wave of desperation washed through you, resigned to your fate. You felt hopeless as you stayed there, on your hands and knees in the middle of some bumfuck nowhere forest with a murderer who was probably, most definitely going to rape you. Tears dripped down your face, leaving cold tracks on your cheeks as another biting breeze swung through the clearing. Dabi laughed from behind you, dark and threatening and hungry.  

“You look good on your knees,” he cooed, stepping closer to you. Heat radiated off of him, and it took every ounce of willpower to not shiver as your legs grew warmer. “You gave me a real good chase, I can appreciate that.” 

You heaved a sob, and the ground thumped beneath your frozen fingers as Dabi also dropped to his knees, and draped himself over your body. God he was warm. And apparently turned on, going by how his dick seemed to strain against the zipper of his jeans. 

Had you been in any other situation, maybe one where you met in a cute coffee shop and he gave you his number and didn’t murder your friends, you two could be cuddled up together in your bed, his large hands splayed across your stomach and maybe your thighs. 

But you weren’t in another situation. You weren’t in another universe where things went well for you, you were right here, right now, with your friend’s killer curled around you and rutting his hard on against your ass. 

“S-stop… please,” you begged, trying to shove him off of you. You didn’t have the strength, because despite being so tall and lanky, Dabi actually had a good amount of muscle on him - he had to, with the way he was holding an arm around your midsection like he was made of steel. 

“Nah,” he rasped against your ear. Dabi chuckled at your weak struggling, and bit at the shell of your ear in retribution. In what you assumed was an apology, he licked a long, wet stripe up the same spot to soothe it. “You’re mine, gorgeous.” 

He leaned back, barely, to yank at the waistband of your pants and he pulled them down swiftly to your knees. “Oho, what’s this?” 

Dabi had revealed your underwear, a pretty pink pair covered in a strawberry print, with green ribbon sewn through the band. They were your favorite, but after this, you were going to burn them. Dabi’s blue flames flashed in your head, and you thought maybe burning them would be too close to home. Straight in the trash then. Dabi was still talking from above you, the hand that wasn’t holding you up by your torso trailing along the edge of the fabric. His fingers were hot, just like the rest of him, and they sent tingles down your spine as he snapped the edge of your panties. To your dismay, you felt your body betray you as those tingles turned to zings of pleasure that ran straight to your core. 

“These are fuckin’ cute, you little slut,” he remarked, snapping the crotch against your pussy. “Were you expecting someone to see them?” 

You sniffled and shook your head pathetically, fear and humiliation and the cold preventing you from putting up any more of a fight. Dabi noticed, because of course he did, and you couldn’t catch a break. 

“Hey, where’s all that spunk from earlier?” He asked, rocking  his hips forward, making you yelp and jerk before he yanked you back against him. “Don’t tell me you’re givin’ up.” 

You could only whimper, your brain conflicted by so many things. It was cold, so, so, freezingly cold, and Dabi was radiating warmth like it was his job, but he had caused so much damage in one night and was about to cause more. “Please… just- just let me go.” 

Dabi heaved a sigh, sounding very much like you were becoming a nuisance to him, and moved away from you. “Fine, maybe this will help.” 

And then he set fire to your underwear, scorching you and leaving you exposed to the elements all at once. You squealed. “Hey!” 

“Shut up, you whiny bitch,” he mumbled, shoving you flat on your face before he hiked your exposed rear end up into the air and went to fucking town on you. Sloppy and wet and messy and all sorts of fucked up, Dabi’s tongue was licking through your labia like he wanted to taste every inch of you. 

Dabi grunted as he shoved his tongue inside your dripping cunt, lapping up your wetness greedily as he buried his face between your thighs. The tangy scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his cock throb even harder in his pants, and he could feel your body trembling beneath him. You couldn’t help any of the soft moans that spewed out of the corners of your mouth. You really, really couldn’t help it, his tongue felt so good and he was acting like your pussy was the feast to his appetite. 

“Mmmph, fuck, y’taste good,” he growled, the words muffled by your slick folds. His scars and staples scraped deliciously against your inner thighs, and you felt your legs twitch involuntarily. 

Being eaten out by a murderer shouldn’t feel this good. 

But his fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your butt, hungry and needy and he lifted his head to suck down some air before he was buried right back against your gummy insides. He licked and sucked at your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue, relishing in each desperate whimper that escaped your lips as your juices gushed down his chin.

Dabi's mind raced with all of the depraved thoughts he could physically have as he ravaged you. Images of branding your perfect tits as he groped them, your thighs, your ass, fuck even your pretty little pussy, marking your skin with his flames, filled his head and made him dizzy with need. He wanted to ruin you, claim you, make you his in every fucking way possible.

You were a whining, writhing mess against the forest floor, hands scrabbling at moss and stones and tree roots as pleasure sparked and built up inside you. You could feel your walls fluttering around his tongue, trying desperately to listen to everything in your head screaming at you that this was wrong, that you could not cum right now. Fuck. 

“Dabi, Dabi-” you whined, fingertips scrabbling at the dirt. “Please- I’m-” 

“Gonna cum already?” Dabi mused, lifting his head to take a break from tonguing at your sensitive bud. “You really are just a pathetic slut, aren't you?” 

You shook your head no, unable to form a coherent sentence let alone thoughts. He growled then, the vibration sending more electric-hot jolts of arousal through your veins. Dabi pulled his body away from you, and you heard him lick his lips. Slurping was probably the more accurate word, if you thought about it hard enough. You were not thinking about it hard enough, or at all really. The only thing you were doing was whining at the loss of his tongue, of his body heat.  

“Yeah, you are,” Dabi argued right back, spreading you with two long fingers before shoving them inside your cunt with a wet, schlick sound. “So fuckin’ desperate for me.”

You moaned and squirmed, at the sudden intrusion. The feeling of his digits, hot and so deep inside of you was overwhelming. You opened your mouth to beg again, beg for mercy or reprieve, but Dabi’s thumb pressed against your clit harshly and suddenly the only noise you could make was a loud squeal. 

“That's it, scream for me,” Dabi purred, his rock-salt rasp of a voice sending shivers down your spine. He spread his fingers inside you, curling them deliciously against your spongy walls. It was torture, all too good and too much and not enough at once.”You're just another toy for me to play with.”

All too quickly, your orgasm washed through you without a warning. You had felt it building earlier, and you had managed to shove it away for the sake of your pride but now? Now you were breathless as Dabi pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching your pussy flutter and spasm around the digits with glee. 

“I’m that good, huh?” He cooed, but it was patronizing and made your wobbly insides feel even weaker. He gave your clit another swipe with his thumb before taking his hand away entirely. You were left on the ground, ass-up-face-down, panting heavily as your vision came back to you slowly. You let your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion of the night weighing heavily on you. That was, until Dabi’s hand came down on your outer thigh in the least gentle way conceivable. 

“You didn’t think I was done, did you, pretty girl?” 

You groaned, ready to give up and let yourself go numb to the experience, but Dabi wouldn’t let you. You heard him fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his pants, huffing quietly in the, at this point, early morning air. He was still rock hard, despite having gone neglected this entire time, aching and leaking into his boxers. Dabi let out his own quiet groan as he palmed himself through the thin fabric, and the sight of you screaming as he split you open was almost too much to bear. He watched your gaping hole clench around the cold air again, like your body was begging for his cock. 

He had to have you, and he had to have you at that very moment. Without another moment’s hesitation, Dabi flipped you over easily, settling himself between your legs like it was his home. You yelped and tried to wriggle free, but another firm smack on your backside stopped you just as soon as you had started. It was a quick, rushed action to pull his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing free and hitting his stomach before he lined the tip up with your entrance. 

You sputtered at the sight of his dick. Because who on God’s Green Earth decided that any man should have a dick that was good looking, but also that intimidating, and why was it attached to a murderer, and why was it pierced of all things? It twitched under your gaze, flushed red and angry that it had gone so long without attention until Dabi wrapped his hand around the base. 

“Like what you see, huh?” 

Opening your mouth to form a retort, you found that it was impossible due to Dabi sticking his fingers, the ones that had been curling so deliciously inside you a few minutes ago, into your mouth. At the same time, he pressed his hips forward, bullying his length inside you without any complaints from your pussy. 

“Oh fuck- ” he nearly whined, throwing his head back at the feeling of your tight heat, slick and easy to rut into, around him. “You feel s’good ‘round my cock. You like this don’t you, baby? Can feel your pussy tryna suck me in, like a bitch in heat.”

He was rambling, dirty words spilling from his mouth as you very half-heartedly tried to push him away. After all this time, you still couldn’t mentally get around the fact that he was raping you. The term felt wrong, because truth be told you were enjoying the experience, probably a little too much for a supposed ‘victim’, but it was true. You were being split open on Dabi’s enticing cock, and despite what your body was saying, that it felt good, to just let it happen and maybe he’d let you go, your head knew better. 

Dabi only laughed at the way you struggled, tightening his grip on your waist to leave bruises almost immediately. “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his hips snapping forward to bury himself deeper inside you. “You know you want this, your pussy can’t lie to me.” 

He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, relishing the way your inner walls clenched around him. Your protests were getting weaker, and falling on deaf ears as your movements became less frantic. 

“That's it, just relax - take it,” he muttered, hands sliding up and down your sides in a way that you could have called comforting, in another universe. “Good girl.” 

You whimpered at the praise, because fuck it was starting to feel good. He was starting to feel good, rocking his dick into your tight, wet heat almost robotically slow. The burning pain had faded away, leaving only a faint pleasure in your veins that was steadily growing stronger. You felt his hands glide down over your hips, to the backs of your knees where he hiked your legs up close to your chest. It created a whole new angle for him to grind into you from, and you keened in response. 

“Look at you, so eager for me,” Dabi purred, his voice low and filthy. “I barely have to move and you're already clenching down on my cock like you need it to survive.”

He leaned down, nipping at your neck hard enough to leave marks. His tongue laved over the stinging skin, soothing the hurt even as his hips started moving faster. “I wonder,” he mused, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, “will you still be this desperate for me when I’m done with you? When I’ve fucked you raw and left you dripping with my cum?”

You whined and shook your head, blinking back tears that sprang up out of nowhere, and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. You couldn’t speak, not with the way Dabi seemed like he was on a personal mission to fuck the air out of your lungs. It was succeeding. 

Dabi grinned wickedly as he watched you struggle to hold back tears, your face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure. “Aww, don't cry, baby,” he cooed mockingly, continuing his relentless pace. “We're just getting started.”

He could feel your walls fluttering around him, squeezing his cock like a vice as he slammed into you over and over. The wet sounds of your coupling filled the air, obscene and filthy, making you cringe internally at how loud it all was. 

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward with renewed vigor. “I bet you've never been fucked like this before, have you? Never had someone pound this pretty little cunt until you can’t even think straight.”

Dabi reached down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue as he consumed you.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled against your mouth, panting. “By the time I'm done, the only name you’ll remember is mine. The only thing you’ll crave is my cock splitting you open.” 

He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. The movement sent sparks of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, too much and not enough all at once.

Dabi groaned, his voice rough with desire as the tip of his cock bruised your cervix. “Your pussy was just made for my cock.”

He could feel you clenching around him, fluttering and squeezing as he pounded into you, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, pleasure building at the base of his spine.

“I’m going to fill you up,” he growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips with a searing heat. “Paint your insides with my cum until you're dripping with it.”

His thrusts became erratic, his rhythm faltering as he chased his release. He could feel you tensing beneath him, your moans growing higher and more desperate.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble. “Show me how much you love being fucked by me.”

With a final, brutal push, Dabi buried himself to the hilt inside of you. His cock twitched and throbbed as he emptied himself into you, wave after wave of hot cum flooding your cunt. And you responded in kind, keening as you writhe on the moss and dirt of the forest floor. 

As the aftershocks of your shared climax subsided, Dabi pulled out of you with a wet pop. He watched with a smug grin as his cum leaked out of your abused hole, trickling down your thighs and pooling on the ground beneath them.

"Look at the mess you made," he purred, reaching down to scoop some of the pearly liquid onto his fingers. "So sloppy and dirty, just like a good little cumslut should be."

You winced at his words, feeling something like rage flicker inside your chest.

He brought his fingers to your lips, smearing the sticky fluid across them. "Clean them," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "Taste what I gave you, what you earned."

“No,” you grumbled, pushing his hand away. You looked up to see Dabi sneering down at you, eyebrows furrowed darkly at your defiance. “I’m not your fucking toy to play with.” 

Dabi laughed. “Did you hit your head? I could kill you right now.” 

“But you haven’t,” you snap, sitting up with another wince. Cold was seeping back into your bones, now that you weren’t sweating, and you yanked your pants back up over your ass. Despite everything that had happened, you were pumped full of adrenaline now, a violent fury building in your veins. “So fuck you. ” 

Dabi smirked at you condescendingly, but he wasn’t stopping you. He was most likely also tired, you thought, and probably wasn’t expecting you to put up any more of a fight. “I already did, sweetheart. And now you’re never getting away.” 

Whatever had been snowballing inside you snapped. With a jagged scream, you threw yourself at Dabi, the murderer, the rapist, the pyromaniac who had killed your friends and had chased you into the surrounding forest to get his dick wet, sending him sprawled on his back with a thud and an unexpected rush of air leaving his lungs. It had been so unexpected that Dabi didn’t even get the chance to fire up his quirk, and he still didn’t have a chance when you started choking him. 

“F-Fuck,” he sputtered, but that was all he could get out. 

“You - fucking - bastard -” you snarled, shaking him with each furious word that left your lips. “Think you’re going to get away with this?” 

Dabi’s eyes were rolling back into his head, and his face was turning a pre-dawn shade of lilac. His hands came up and clawed at your wrists, sparking blue with his flames, but you weren’t getting burnt. You didn’t even feel the warmth of the fire, watching in morbid delight as Dabi was struggling more and more to breathe beneath you. 

“P-please,” he croaked. 

It gave you pause, his pleading, and you relinquished your tight grip on his airway. Not all the way, mind you, there was no way in hell you were letting this fucker go, but you sat back enough that he was able to suck in a short breath of air. 

“You’re begging?” You asked incredulously. “You’re begging me? That’s rich, asshole.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dabi rasped. His voice was much more hoarse than it had been a few seconds ago. Regret flashed in his sparkling blue eyes, and your shoulders fell. You couldn’t kill him. Was that even what you had been trying to do? Kill him? In cold blood, just like he had done to your friends? You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t- 

Dabi laughed in your face. Malicious, dark, and 100% not apologetic in the slightest. 

Yes you could.  

You screamed and went back to choking the man beneath you, enjoying the struggle he put up. Now his flames really were burning you, but you didn’t care even as smoke seeped up from his neck and into your face. You’d live with his burns for the rest of your life if it meant you could cause maybe as much damage to him as he did to you. Dabi grunted, and with one strong shove, managed to push you away from him as he coughed and gulped down as much oxygen as possible. 

Your shoulders heaved as you stumbled up and away from Dabi. He was laughing now, even as his eyes watered and he wheezed in the crisp morning air. You were still angry. Still violently, unashamedly angry. Your insides felt sticky and gross, and you could feel bile rising in your throat as the true reality of everything was starting to crash down on you. No, your mind screamed, push it away. You’re not done yet.  

You shook yourself off, and grabbed Dabi by the back of the throat. He yelped in surprise, wriggling to try and get free from your grasp but your fingernails dug tightly into his flesh and clothes, making every effort useless. 

You slammed his face into the bark of the closest tree with every ounce of pain and anguish roiling beneath your skin. Blood gushed from his nose, and you swallowed back another wave of bile. Dabi opened his mouth to say something again. His teeth were stained red, his gums also bleeding. 

“You still alive, fucker?” You asked, leaning in close to his ear. You noticed now that he had his ears pierced. 

Dabi nodded, like he was satisfied with himself, and gave a low chuckle. “Yeah I’m still kicking, bitch.” 

“Good.” You paused, dragging out the moment before you continued, “because I want the last thing you’ll ever hear is me telling you that tomorrow, when the news rolls out, it’s not going to be your name in the headlines. It’s going to be mine.”

All Rights Reserved - Do Not Copy To Any Site

Read Here On AO3

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

blorbos are how we are coping with current events

so uh. here’s a few nice lighthearted gravity falls headcanons for you all (and yes there is a lot of ford centric ones here. no negativity about him on this post, please. preferably not about anyone else featured here either)

-both stan twins are trans. shermie was the first one they told about this, and he’s been immensely supportive of them. he started referring to them as ‘boys’ whenever he could, especially when filbrick was around (‘you boys ready?’ and stuff like that). even though the twins haven’t seen him in a while, and his relationship with ford is a little strained, they both still feel safe around him

-shermie’s daughter, the mother of the mystery twins, is transmascfem. they’ve always been much closer to her than to their father. it was her idea to get a cat, and she let the niblings pick it out. they collectively named it ‘smoky’

-both mystery twins are trans as well. as soon as he knew, stan made damn sure they were aware of his support for them. mabel told ford she was trans before dipper did, and he made sure they both knew he would support them as well

-the stan twins get a ship cat with polydactyl and name him icarus. he was supposed to work as pest control, but ford babied him too much so now he’s just there for emotional support

-upon figuring out how cellphones work, ford took an immense liking to the camera function. he frequently sends stan and the niblings pictures of anomalies, animals, or just cool stuff he finds

-stan keeps his cool when being insulted, but absolutely cannot stand it when the same happens to his family. type of guy to go ‘ok’ when you tell him he sucks, and then turn around and threaten to murder you when you say the same to ford or the niblings

-gideon is an exception. gideon crossed the line with mabel and now stan can’t help but get irrationally angry every time he sees or hears him

-ford isn’t as good at math as people tend to thinks he is, and he is. so anxious about someone finding that out

-ford has maladaptive daydreaming disorder, and so does mabel

-ford initially bought the painting in the attic of a ship in a storm because it reminded him of stan

-melody and soos got a tabby cat and named it metronome. soos chose the name because it was similar in theme to ‘melody’ and cause he thought it sounded cool. melody calls the cat ‘bloop’ and at this point it probably thinks that’s its actual name

-mabel uses exclusively edible glitter due to all the pets in her life (waddles, smoky, icarus, metronome)

-mabel helps pacifica realize that she’s transmascfemneu. this makes pacifica think about things a lot, and eventually she ends up in a qpr with mabel (featuring candy and grenda as wingmen)

-wendy is bigender and enby

-ford nearly cried the first time stan made pancakes after the portal

-it’s become a running bit to call ford anything but his name and at this point he’s just given up on correcting people and chosen to embrace it

-robbie’s first name is actually robin. his friends started calling him robbie when he came out as trans and the name just stuck. he’s still very attached to ‘robin’ though and has no problem being called that as well

-stan repaired his old winter jacket, though he doesn’t wear it any more. ford sometimes does

-because stan runs hot and ford runs very cold, ford has a tendency to come up to stan and hug him under his coat. stan is fine with this, despite his grumblings about ford just doing it to steal some warmth

-ford experiences cuteness aggression to the max, while stan really doesn’t at all. icarus has experienced both threats of being eaten/crushed and ford screaming into his fluff

-icarus has separation anxiety with ford

-stan doodles on ford a lot. the only rule is nothing on his face and do NOT touch the neck tattoo (destroyed as it may be from weirdmaggedon). yes, stanley, the all-star one. get that smug smile off your face- stop laughing-!

-ford’s sleep schedule has significantly improved since getting icarus. this is mostly because he sometimes falls asleep while waiting for icarus to move off his lap (can’t move til the cat does, y’know how it is)

-stan loves loves LOVES sunny cloudy days. they remind him of running across the beach with his brother, and watching the niblings throw water balloons at each other, and hearing his twin laugh as he tells jokes on the stan o’ war ii

-stan had ford custom engrave his lighter. he thinks it looks cool as shit

-ford has made several smoke bombs for stan. he has no clue what he keeps using them for, but he likes building things, so he doesn’t mind

-mabel has set up three music playlists for the stans. one only for ford, one only for stan, and one that’s visible to both where they can both add music

-mabel introduced ford to breakcore and noisecore. she was very surprised that he liked the two genres

-ford is agender and anattractional

-stan’s favorite smells are cinnamon, bergamot, and saltwater

-stan made sure to always have supplies to make brownies and hot chocolate on the ship in case of them need some mood lifting

-ford has a plaid weighted blanket. the cat laying on top of him every night also helps

-ford made sure stan got a good mattress that would work with his back before they set sail. stan argued with him the entire time, but he has been waking up in less pain since then

-ford always ends up hogging the blankets in any bed. more cover = better in his unconscious mind. stan doesn’t really mind too much, but he would like to keep at least one blanket some time

-ford makes a startlingly good seagull impression

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

heyo bro, it's been a bit since i requested anything, so, first off:

how are you? hope you're doing well ^^

secondly, could i possibly request a drabble about julian and mc getting arrested for something and portia (and/or mazelinka) having to come bail them out?

have a good day, my bro :D

~ @dumbfxck00 no idea if this is the direction you wanted this to go in, friend, but I hope you like it! ~

"She's going to kill us, isn't she."

It's phrased like a question, but the doleful words coming from the lanky redhead shackled next to you in the stone cell sound a lot more like a factual statement. A very depressed, slightly melodramatic, decently self-pitying statement. You draw your knees up with a slight shiver in the damp air as you weigh your options.

"I could always try calling Asra -"

"God, no -"

"You're right."

"At least Pasha could forgive me. She's a good sister, after all," He lets out a long-suffering groan and hangs his head, "and what a failure of an older brother I've been."

"Hey," You scoot in closer with another shiver, mainly in an effort to comfort him but also in the hopes of getting a little more warmth.

Julian lifts his head at your movement. You watch all the confidence and charisma rush back into his bearing as he notices your plight, reaching his not-chained hand up to whip his coat around your shoulders as he scoots closer to you. You end up glued to his side with his legs over yours, face pressed to his chest, as he wraps you up in the heavy black cloth and tucks you in tight.

"Rather chilly in here, isn't it?" He gazes down at you fondly, his warm grey eyes only a few inches from your face. "This is morbidly romantic ... seeking each other's warmth in a prison cell ... brought closer by our love than the shackles that bind us ... despite the crimes I've hardened my heart with ..." His expression falls. "and here you are, an innocent ... suffering alongside me, a murderer ..."

You huff against his shirt. "You're not a murderer, Julian. And your heart is still plenty warm."

He perks up again. "You can feel it, can you?" He leans in closer, his mood lifting once again as he leans in for a kiss. "Can you feel how it beats for you, even chained as the criminal I am now?"

"ILYA I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY -"

Julian winces and jumps. You snuggle smugly into the coat as Portia comes storming down the corridor with a concerned looking Nadia behind her. Portia slams her hands against the iron bars, rattling them with a ferocity that, really, you can't blame her for at all.

"WHY ARE YOU IN HERE?! TELL ME TO MY FACE!!"

Your lover cowers, grief-stricken. "Your brother's a murderer, Pasha, I've taken a life -"

Portia turns her gaze on you and you give a deadpan response, ready to leave the cell and not willing to risk her wrath. "He accidentally dropped a kid's new goldfish into a canal when they asked him to hold it, and an eel ate it before he could jump in."

Julian winces, his voice coming out much smaller as Portia turns her unimpressed stare back at him. "I failed them ... I'm supposed to save lives, not lose them -"

Portia groans. "And how did that lead to you and MC in a cell?"

"A mistake!" His melodramatics kick up again, the chain rattling as he springs to his feet. "They're innocent, I swear! Do with me as a murderer deserves, but don't let them suffer on my behalf!"

You snuggle further into the coat and idly wonder if there's any way she'd invite you to dinner at the cottage if you cooperated sweetly enough. "He felt so bad he turned himself in to the nearest guards on a murder confession and asked to be arrested."

Portia's eyes go dull. "And you?"

Now you start to feel a little silly. "And I didn't want him to go alone."

Behind her, the Countess is quietly laughing into her hand. Portia reaches her hand out for the keys to the cell and opens it with a loud squeal before storming in and yanking for the chains attached to the wall.

"I can't believe you two. You're really perfect for each other, you know that? Two idiots competing to see who's smarter and tieing for third place." She reaches a hand out to help you to your feet, ignoring her brother's feeble protest as he's left to follow on his own. You give her and Nadia a grateful smile.

"Thanks for getting us out."

"I knew when I was informed that a certain 'Dr Devorak and company' were arrested that there must have been some mistake," Nadia hums, "I'm grateful to Portia for responding so promptly, or I would have been forced to contact your honorary grandmother."

Julian audibly gulps behind you. You make your best effort at looking penitent, but your stomach betrays you with a loud growl. Portia bursts into snorting giggles and turns away before you can apologize.

"I'm going to get dinner started. It's your choice if you stay behind."

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #17: Close Your Eyes

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content: lab whump, captivity, clones, drugging, dehumanization, nonsexual nudity, murder mention, restraints, experimentation, mind control, noncon body modification, eye whump, medical whump, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

teehee Dew finally gets ice cream in this one yay

(if you can’t read this because of the eye whump, here’s an eye whumpless summary!)

— 

Anton was up late into the night, getting his test subject’s new clone ready. As Dew slept, Anton had injected him with something that’d make sure he wouldn’t wake up in the night during this ordeal. He didn’t want Dew awake and watch another clone come to life. He didn’t want Dew to watch Anton set another version of him free.

The cloning machine was on the other side of the lab anyway, so Dew would hardly be able to see it from his room. Still, it was a necessary precaution. Dew was already going through so much pain; he didn’t need more stuff to worry about.

Anton was far too familiar with making clones. He’d spent five years of his life alone in his lab with nobody to experiment on besides himself and his clones; he’d grown familiar with the process of making and breaking multiple versions of himself. He’d grown used to not viewing these things as real people, because they weren’t.

The process was always the same. Inject a DNA sample into the machine, and wait a couple of days. The clone would come out with all of the memories of its original, it would… most of the time be an exact copy. Of course, Dew’s clone couldn’t be an exact copy of him now, not with his wings, so Anton had to do some tweaking. Make a clone of the old clone; a copy of a copy. Easy enough. No harm, no foul.

In the early days of making clones of himself, there was a recurring problem Anton had noticed. There were too many times where a new Anton would see himself standing before him, lab coat bloodied and hair disheveled, and know right away what its pathetic life would be used for. There were too many times where the clone would fight back, try to outsmart him and escape.

He needed a way to keep himself safe— from himself— so he implemented something into the machine that sedated when they first came out. It kept them weak and docile, lessened the shock of being a test subject, and kept them unable to fight back. It’d come in handy now, as well.

The machine whirred to life, lights lighting up and beeping. Anton didn’t miss that sound in the slightest. It brought him back to his darkest times, times he honestly wouldn't mind to forget completely, if he hadn’t already.

After a few moments, the clone was ready. Anton swallowed his nerves and walked up to the machine.

“Hello,” Anton said, helping the new Dew step out of the machine.

“Hi,” the clone said, looking up at Anton with wide, curious eyes. It stood in front of him, calm and relaxed. It wasn’t wearing any clothes, but it didn’t care. It just stared ahead. So innocent. So blissfully oblivious to the horrors just under its nose.

“Do you know your name?”

“It’s Dew…” The clone looked around, curious eyes dancing across the strange and unfamiliar laboratory. Though, it didn’t look scared. It turned its gaze back to Anton. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry your silly little head about that,” Anton said, patting the clone on the head. “Put these on.” The scientist handed the clone some folded up clothes, and stepped away.

It felt wrong, to Anton. This wasn’t the Dew he had grown familiar with the past couple months. It didn’t have top surgery. It didn’t have wings. It was just a lie made to keep his friends at bay. All Anton saw when he looked at this thing was all his hard work gone. This clone wasn’t the real Dew, and for that, he despised it.

Anton shook those thoughts away. Of course this wasn’t the real Dew, that was the point. The real Dew would be safe with him, here. He never needed to think about clones again after this.

After the clone was dressed, it started looking around again, expression noticeably more dazed than before.

“Woah, what’s that thing?” It said, looking closely at a giant cylindrical tube-like vat of green fluid. It was tall, going up all the way to the ceiling, and the glass looked very thick. There was nothing inside of it besides a bright green and glowing fluid that was mesmerizing to look at. And even though the rest of the lab was dark, this lit up the area around them well enough.

“Nothing. Follow me.” Anton grabbed its arm and swiftly led it out of the lab before it could ask any more questions.

“What’s going on?” It asked, catching up to Anton’s pace.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Oh. Who are you?”

“…It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh.” Besides the pair of footsteps, there was a long silence as they walked up the stairs. “This place kinda reminds me of the strongholds in Minecraft… Hey, I’m kinda cold.”

“We’re almost there.”

Anton led Dew’s clone to his car and sat it in the passenger seat, put its seatbelt on, and shut the door. It had stopped talking now, seemingly too tired to ask anymore questions. As Anton drove, he couldn’t help but periodically glance at the dozy, docile thing sitting next to him, looking out the window at the dark forest. It had no idea what was happening. It was almost cute.

“I’m sleepy.” The clone yawned. The repetition of the trees going past the car was almost hypnotic.

“I know. Just relax. It’ll be a long drive.”

“Okay,” It said softly, resting its head against the cold window. “G’night…”

Anton gave a bittersweet smile, and watched its eyes flutter shut as it drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

In around four hours, Anton would be dropping this clone off at its house. He would wipe its memories of the night, and it’d live its life as Dew, its friends none the wiser.

He just had to drive back to Dew’s old house. It was easy.

Anton had tried to ignore the horrible feeling in his gut, his memories of the gory and grotesque scene his lab rat had caused in that room, only a few days ago. He had tried to forget it, tried to focus on the fact that his test subject had escaped, and what had to be done about it. The murder could be easily taken care of; disposed of, cleaned up, and forgotten about. It was in the past. It didn’t matter anymore.

And yet…

Visions of Dew’s bloody and broken corpse flashed through Anton’s mind. The way his favorite little lab rat was lying lifeless on the carpet, blood pooling under the limp and stiff body that was littered with stab wounds, knife only inches away from the scene. The way the light in the poor guy’s eyes was gone. Just like that.

The way Dew was dead.

Dew was dead. Not the real Dew, of course, but that didn’t matter. Anton had seen a Dew’s bloodied corpse laying in front of him, and it sickened him.

He had tried to ignore it. There were more important things to worry about than his feelings— than those horrible feelings of sadness and grief flooding through him at the sight of his test subject, dead on the ground. More important things like the fact Dew had escaped, and needed to be brought back home. The fact he had to punish Dew for disobeying.

But how could he possibly punish someone who was hurting so bad to the point he drank one of Anton’s vials, or shot himself with one of Anton’s inventions? How could he possibly hurt someone worse than they were already hurting? He couldn’t.

Of course, Dew knowing he had been cloned and that there was nothing to do to escape his life as Anton’s test subject was probably punishment enough. It was obvious now he felt completely hopeless; Anton had stolen each and every ounce of hope the man had left by replacing him with a clone and threatening his friends.

So Anton didn’t punish him for escaping. He didn’t punish him for his obvious disobedience and attempts to get out of experiments— too caught up thinking about if Dew had grabbed any other vial, any other invention, it could’ve been so much worse. He didn’t want anything bad to ever happen to him. So he’d been kind, comforting. And it seemed to have worked. Dew was content here, he seemed to finally accept things, which was all he really wanted.

Anton arrived at his test subject’s old address. The clone was still fast asleep, and it took a few light nudges of its shoulders to wake it up. It was alert now, as normal as it could be, acting like the spitting image of Dew. The two of them got out of the car and it questioned him, but Anton was quick to hit it with a quick blast of his memory eraser. He left it by the curb of its house, and drove around the corner out of sight. Memories of that night left its mind, and it stood alone in front of its house. Shrugging its shoulders, it walked inside, out of sight, and Anton began his ride home.

. . .

The scientist had been preparing for an experiment all morning, and Dew had no idea what it was.

Anton had agreed to take a few days off and let Dew rest, giving them both a much needed break and start experiments again once he was ready. Of course, he’d never be ready, but if it was going to happen anyway, it was best to get it over with, and Anton seemed to be itching to start again.

It had to have been almost lunch time by now, and without Sasha to keep him company, Dew spent the morning curled up in his room, drawing and listening to music, blocking out the rest of the world and hoping whatever Anton had planned for him wouldn’t be too agonizing.

Without anything to be hopeful about, that was all he’d been doing lately. That was all he could do, now. Anton didn’t seem keen on letting him outside anymore, and Dew was too petrified to ask.

Dew could’ve spent more time with Anton the past few days. He’d thought about the birthday party he threw him, and their time spent outside together, playing with animals and flying, and when they had watched Dew’s favorite show together upstairs— the last time he had interacted with Anton before he’d ruined everything with his stupid escape.

The truth was, Anton had been fun to be around sometimes, and at this point, Dew wasn’t afraid to admit it. He’d been scared before, when he still held on to the possibility of being free, but now? If he really was stuck here forever, maybe it was in his best interest to use Anton’s friendliness to his advantage. Dew hated the man, but at least he wasn’t cruel. At least he was trying to keep him happy.

If Dew was really going to be a test subject forever, as depressing as that sounded, he should make the most of the rest of his life.

So he sat on his bed, waiting apprehensively for Anton to finish preparing his torment and bring him into the lab. As he doodled in his sketchbook, he heard the scientist’s footsteps coming towards his room. He put his sketchbook down, brought his knees to his chest, and stared at the door.

“Okay Dewey,” Anton walked in, smiling menacingly, yet giddy with excitement. “It’s all prepared. Let’s go.”

Dew slowly stood up, hospital gown already on, and stared incredulously at the scientist as he pulled out a long chain.

“W-what is that?” Dew asked, taking a nervous step back.

Anton sighed. “The past two days you have hurt yourself using the things in my lab. I don’t know if I can fully trust you in there unrestrained anymore. And this experiment has to go perfectly, I don’t want any more delays, okay?”

Of course. Dew had lost all of Anton’s trust, it only made sense for him to be extra restrained in the lab. That didn’t stop his heart from racing, though. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled and clicked the chain around both of Dew’s wrists in front of him, then the two of them headed into the lab. Dew ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was his life now, and he had to be the best test subject he could be so that Anton would be nice to him. He had to be good. He had to.

He hopped up on the operating table, and was told to lay down. Anton placed a pillow behind his back so his wings would be cushioned semi-comfortably. Dew was thankful for that, at least.

As Anton started messing with the restraints on the side of the table, Dew looked up at him with teary eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked meekly.

“You’ll have to be restrained for this one,” Anton explained, tightening the straps around Dew’s legs. “Can’t have you moving around too much. This too tight?”

“N-no.”

Dew weakly protested as Anton tried grabbing his arms. The scientist shot him a look, and he meekly complied, allowing the scientist to spread his arms flat against the table and strap them tightly in the restraints. Dew shuddered as Anton gave the straps an extra tug just to make sure they were secure.

Anton took out his tape recorder and pressed record. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s cold,” Dew whimpered, goosebumps running across his skin.

“Don’t worry.” Anton ruffled his hair. “I’m sure you’ll forget all about the cold after we begin.”

The scientist began rummaging around the tray of tools, and Dew’s nervousness got the better of him. “W-what are you gonna do to me?” he asked.

Anton looked up, a giddy smile creeping across his face. It made Dew’s stomach drop. “Eyes are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“Um, what do you mean?” Dew mumbled.

“Eyes. They’re so fascinating, so complicated and intricate. We rely on our eyes to see the world around us, but… what if there was more? What if there was a way to see beyond the threshold of reality? I want to test something I’ve been working on for a while now, and I think I’ve finally figured out how to do it.”

“You mean— test on my eyes? You’re going to experiment on my eyes?”

“Yes! I won’t tell you the exact details though, I want it to be a surprise.”

As much as Dew wanted to behave as well as possible, he was beginning to panic. “N-no! No, Anton, y-you can’t! They’re my eyes! Please—”

“Remember that one time you asked me to give you night vision?” Anton joked, nonchalantly waving around a long syringe. “Don’t you want this?”

“No!” Dew screamed, but quickly realized that resisting would only make things worse. That’s right, he had to behave. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and looked back up at Anton. Maybe they could talk this through? “Wait— wait. Can’t you j-just test this out on a clone instead? What if something goes wrong?”

“I would, but that’s why you’re here, silly.” Anton booped his nose. “And nothing will go wrong. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No— c’mon, Anton! I th— I thought we were friends!”

Anton furrowed his brows, looking at Dew with a sad expression. “I need to do this, Dew. You’re my test subject. This is what you’re here for. …How about, after this, I’ll get you some ice cream? How does that sound?”

“B-but— Ah!” Dew yelped and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw Anton’s hand come towards him, only for him gently taking his glasses off. Still, that was not a good sign.

Dew peaked an eye open to see Anton picking up a giant, blurry needle.

“Wait— wait wait wait wait WAIT!” Dew cried, imagining all sorts of horrible things Anton could do to his eyes, and knowing this would probably be the worst thing he’d have to endure so far. He struggled against the restraints fruitlessly, only tiring himself out. “I— I’ll do anything, anything but this! Please!”

Anton sighed. “C’mon Dewey, be a good test subject.” As Dew continued pleading and blabbering as if his life depended on it, the scientist took out a roll of duct tape.

Dew’s eyes went wide. “Wait! Wait wait wait, please! Please n—”

“Stay still.” Dew’s breath hitched as he was rendered completely motionless. A chill ran down his spine as the scientist put a strip of duct tape over his mouth, smoothing it out with his hand. Dew glared at him, and Anton ruffled his hair, smiling. “There you go.”

He was eerily still as Anton prepped the syringe. Dew whimpered into the gag as Anton brought the needle closer, grabbed his arm, and injected a strange fluid into his veins. Dew only hoped it would ease the horrible pain that was sure to come.

“This’ll just make you feel a little groggy. A small sedative, that’s all it is. But I need you awake for this, can you stay awake for me?”

Dew nodded, already feeling drowsy, as tears fell down his cheeks.

“Good. Let’s get started, then.” Anton said, snapping on black rubber gloves.

The scientist picked up a small glass bottle that was filled with a very bright blue liquid. It was neon teal and glowing bright, with small bubbles swirling around inside it. Anton took an eye dropper and filled it with the substance. Then, Dew hazily heard a command to keep his eyes open, and he realized he was unable to close them no matter how much he wanted to.

The scientist was smiling to himself and saying something into the tape recorder, something Dew was too dazed and terrified to make out.

His chest heaved as he watched Anton’s hand slowly approach his eyes. He quickly turned his head away, only causing the scientist to wrench his head back with a rough hand entangled in his hair. Dew wanted nothing but to squeeze his eyes shut, but he couldn’t.

His eyes burned with tears. Everything felt like a hazy dream, far far away and yet so real. A wave of terror flowed through him. Anton held the eyedropper above one of Dew’s eyes and squeezed it, causing a couple of drops of that glowing blue liquid to fall into his eye. 

No no no NO NO NO! Dew couldn’t move. It felt like his eye was on fire. Something was coating his entire eyeball inside and out and he couldn’t get it off of him.

Anton repeated the process with Dew’s other eye.

Anton looked down at his test subject. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, Dew. Stop crying.” His tears dried up immediately after.

Dew could only watch in horror, his vision blurry and pained, as the scientist picked up another object and brought it towards him.

Dew’s vision was fading, and so was his consciousness. He hoped that only implied he would fall asleep soon. Yes, sleep, that sounded nice. Dew tried to relax as the room went dark, as he let Anton do whatever he wanted to do to him. He felt himself drift off, succumbing to the drugs. He barely heard the scientist’s voice anymore. He was so, so tired.

Right as Dew was about to close his eyes, he felt a sudden sharp sting on the bottom of his face. Anton had ripped the duct tape off.

“Wake up, Dewey.” It was the scientist’s voice, shaking him and his mind awake. That’s right. Dew was supposed to stay awake.

Anton loosened the straps enough for Dew to partially sit up, and held a cold flask of liquid to his lips. “Drink this.”

Dew moved his head away groggily. “W-w-why are you doing this?” Dew sobbed. “M-my eyes! What did you do to—”

“Shhh,” Anton said. “You’ll find out soon. Now drink.”

Dew didn’t have a choice but to gulp down whatever strange substance Anton had just given him. It tasted juicy, a strong sour, yet empty and cloudy at the same time. He all so suddenly felt lightheaded and dull, thoughts sizzling out into nothing. His head felt foggy, and he felt far, far away.

Dew didn’t know what happened after that.

. . .

In situations like this, during experiments like these, it was easy for Anton to get carried away, fueled with the excitement of creating something new. It was easy to be blinded by the power he held, and forget all about how his poor test subject felt. Experiments like these were what fueled him, what reminded him of why he still did this in the first place. Testing the limits of the human body, creating things nobody ever thought possible. This was why he loved science.

Not a single ounce of hesitation went through Anton’s mind when he took out a spoon and brought it to his test subject’s face. Right now, Dew was completely out of it. He wouldn’t remember any of this, which was a huge relief. At least he wouldn’t feel what was about to happen.

Anton brought the spoon closer to Dew’s glossy eyes. And…

Whatever was in that glowing blue liquid seemed to have worked, creating a link between the eye and the brain, no optic nerve needed. He was holding his test subject’s left eye in his hands. His eye.

It was easy to assume there was no coming back from this. Dew may as well have just lost an eye. But Anton was sure he’d be able to pop it back in place eventually, that was part of the experiment, after all.

He held the slimey, squishy, disgusting thing in his hands. It stared back at him, brown eye wide and still and petrified. It disgusted him. It made him feel sick to his stomach at the thought of permanently making Dew lose an eye. But the thought of this experiment being a success outweighed any guilt or remorse he felt, replacing it with the exhilarating thrill he’d been searching for. He held the eye between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a slight squeeze, just to see how it felt. If this experiment went right, everything would change.

He talked into the tape recorder as he prepared for the next step. An injection here, a bit of lasering there, he worked quickly and meticulously, lost in his own world. Once he was ready, he popped Dew’s eye back into place, and repeated the steps with the other one. One last injection with another strange substance, and Anton stepped back to take a look at his handy work. If all went well, things would start happening any minute now.

And he was right.

All of a sudden, Dew started writhing against the restraints, screaming at the top of his lungs. The straps keeping him restrained to the table pulled taut, and Anton was glad he decided to make them extra tight this time. Feathers flew everywhere as he flapped his wings in the midst of the struggle. The sound of nails scraping against metal filled Anton’s ears, but that was nothing compared to the screams. Anton hadn’t hurt such visceral, gut-wrenching screams in a long time. It made him feel sick, but he couldn’t stop watching.

All too quickly, something bubbled its way to the surface of Dew’s skin, bursting out of his forehead with a pop. There was minimal blood, to Anton’s surprise and relief, and he was almost sad that it had happened so quickly.

And then, eerie silence. Dew collapsed down against the table, limp and heavy, erratic breathing turning deep and calm.

Anton approached him slowly, heart pounding through his chest. On the center of Dew’s forehead was an eye. Wide and bloodshot, staring directly at him.

. . .

A few hours later, Anton watched his test subject stir awake, unrestrained and laying flat on the table. He was at his side in an instant, ready to provide painkillers or sedatives or even comfort if needed.

“Dew? Are you awake?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dew said, still feeling groggy. He looked around and started to panic. “I… I can’t see anything—”

“There are bandages covering your eyes, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just calm down.’’

“W-what did you do to me?”

“We’ll talk about that later. First, tell me how you feel.”

“I…” The lack of sight caused Dew to panic as he remembered what was happening before he blacked out.

“Dew,” Anton said, putting his hands on Dew’s shoulders. “Calm down. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Y-you— my eyes!” Dew cried, twisting out of Anton’s grip. “What did you do to my eyes?!”

Anton swallowed thickly. This was not going well. “I’ll tell you later. Are you in any pain?”

“I-I… kinda? Everything’s still- still weird. Like, numb, almost. What did y-you do to me?”

“Hm, okay. That’s to be expected.”

Dew flinched in surprise as he felt the scientist grab his arm. “H-hey, what—”

“I’m just giving you something to help you relax. Stay still.”

Not being able to see only caused Dew to focus harder on the injection, unable to drown it out. Dew tensed as he felt a needle enter his skin, and choked back a sob when he felt the sting of the contents entering his body. But, like always, it was over as soon as it began.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” Anton said. “I should check on your eyes. Try to relax, okay?”

Dew nodded, and Anton peeled the bandage off slowly. He sucked in a breath the second light hit eyes, and he batted the scientist’s hand away.

“Too bright!”

Anton winced. “Sorry.”

“Wait—” Dew lifted his hands up to his eyes and peeled the bandage off. He slowly peaked out, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he could still see. Thank fuck. Anton dimmed the lights, but everything still hurt to look at, so Dew covered his eyes again. “I-I can see fine, but- but it hurts.”

“We might need to keep those bandages on for a few weeks, while they heal, and just while your brain and body gets used to… a new eye. “You can handle that, right?”

Dew’s heart skipped a beat. “A— a what?” He squeaked.

“Another eye, Dewey.” He heard it in his voice that Anton was smiling wide. It made him shudder. “I made you grow another eye. On your forehead.”

“What?”

“That’s not the only thing, don’t worry. There’ll be more changes in the coming weeks, which is why the bandages have to stay on. It’s gonna be great.” Dew flinched as he felt the scientist’s hand gently ruffle his hair.

“O-okay.” Dew nodded, numb to it all. A new eye. He didn’t want to think about it. He was just thankful his vision wasn’t gone completely, a few weeks of darkness wouldn’t be too bad.

“Oh yeah!” Anton exclaimed, putting a cold bowl of something in Dew’s hands. “Ice cream, like I promised.”

“Th-thanks,” Dew said. It was vanilla, not his favorite, but he realized he didn't remember the last time he’d eaten ice cream, so he’d take what he could get.

Once Dew was done eating, Anton gently lifted him up and started walking to his room. He wrapped his arms tightly around Anton’s shoulders as a way to balance himself, disorientated from not being able to see and afraid of being dropped. He felt the scientist gently petting his back, probably trying to be comforting. Dew was carried up the stairs, through the door, and gently set into bed. He put his knees to his chest and reached a hand up to itch at his bandages, but Anton quickly stopped him.

“Don’t touch your bandages.” Anton reminded him, holding his wrist away from his face.

“They’re really itchy,” Dew said. “Do I really have to keep them on?”

“Yes. Your eyes need to heal.” Anton sighed. “I don’t wanna do this but… I don’t know if I can fully trust you either.”

“Do what?”

Dew flinched as he felt something rough and scratchy brush against his wrist that the scientist was holding, wrapping around it tightly. “Hey! What are—” He weakly pulled away, but Anton was stronger.

“Calm down. It’s just so you don’t mess with your eyes while you sleep. I can’t risk this going wrong.”

Dew looked down and allowed Anton to tie both of his wrists together behind his back. “There. That’s not so bad.”

“Easy for you to say…” Dew grumbled, flopping into bed. He curled into a ball, and the scientist tucked him under the covers. He thought he must look so defenseless like this, eyes covered, body restrained, completely unable to see anything coming. He hated being this vulnerable.

Anton petted his head softly, and smiled when Dew leaned into it. Dew wasn’t his clone, but he was still as cute as ever.

“Goodnight, Dewey.”

Dew heard the scientist leave the room and close the door. The click of the lock echoing through his ears. He heard footsteps get farther and farther away from his room, and assumed Anton had already turned the lights off and left the lab. He was alone.

Dew laid there on his bed, unable to move his arms that were restrained behind his back. He was still groggy from the drugs, dozing in and out of consciousness while he tried to focus on anything else but the incessant itching of the bandages and pain in his eyes. But it was dead silent in his room and he wasn’t even able to turn his music on. Unable to see, move, or hear anything, Dew was left to wallow in his own mind until he drifted off into a deep sleep.

. . .

Now that it was late at night, and Anton was by himself, the events of the day had caught up to him. It must’ve been so scary for his test subject, painful as well. Anton had to admit he was a bit blinded by the thrill of the experiment for a moment, and didn’t stop to think about how Dew was feeling. He could tell how much he was hurting, such a distressing and risky experiment would do that, he should’ve been more careful.

Anton felt disgusted with himself. But it’d be okay. Dew would forgive him eventually, and they’d move on, like they always did.

“Hey Anton, are you okay?” Sasha asked. They seemed to always see right through him.

“Yea—” No, he had waited long enough, it was time to tell his friend the truth. “No, I mean… Dew’s back.”

“...What?”

Anton fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “I brought him back. Your guys' escape plan failed. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t feel bad. It was inevitable. And there was no way he could live a normal life out there with his wings. I’m just… trying to protect him.”

They were quiet for a moment, then, “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now and… I think it’d be best to leave him alone for now. After the experiment today… he needs time to heal from it. I can’t have anything interfering with the results. Though… maybe after a week or two, some enrichment would be good for him. I know you two are friends, it’s not right to keep you apart.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“Well, that’s good. Tell him I said hi?”

Anton smiled. “I will.”

“G’night, Anton.”

“Goodnight.”

— 

eyes are so strange and wacky am i right

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[mustangbby]

hello hello! for the reqs, how about helping kafka get ready for one of those fancier missions? just some sweet intimacy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

FANCY! - kafka x reader

- helping kafka get ready for a more fancy mission.

- I LOVE TJIS GN. i'm so crazy about kafka i need her to have a rerun rn!!!!! anywayssss this request is so fluffy i love it sm. thank u anon, and enjoy!!

- slight mentions of murder and theft, besides that pure fluff. wc 970

It was, once again, time for Kafka to leave off for a mission.

You’ve gotten used to this schedule, but you got to keep her a little later today. She didn’t have to be at the banquet hall until 9:00 at night, giving you two the whole day. When the clock hit around 8:00, she hurried into your shared room to put on her dress of choice. 

It was a plum colored dress, very similar to her hair. Instead of the updo her hair was usually in, she decided to leave it down, but she wanted help styling it while she did her makeup.

“Dearest, would you come here?” She called, your footsteps taking you from the other room into the bedroom.

“Yeah? What's up?” You asked, tossing your phone onto the plush bed before standing behind her. “That dress is gorgeous. Suits you well.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I just need help styling my hair for tonight. I don’t know if it should be flat-ironed or curled.”

You hummed, going into the bathroom to grab some supplies. You grabbed both the curling iron and the flat iron, taking some heat protectant so her luscious hair doesn’t fry. 

“How does flat ironing sound? I think it’ll look nice with the dress style. Pair it with some gold eyeshadow and gold jewelry, too,” you stated, running your hands through her hair, applying heat protectant.

She nodded, applying a light coat of foundation while keeping her eye on the time. “Straightening it sounds fine. I barely do it, anyways.”

So you got to work, taking fine care of each strand and going over them a couple times to make the look perfect. She was applying makeup, occasionally chatting with you about little things, or joking about her look. 

You were going over her hair a second time, making sure that all ends and pieces were not missed. 

“So, what's this mission even about anyways? Or is it top-secret?” You smiled, lightly prying. “I won’t tell a soul about it, I swear on my whole life.”

She giggled, looking at you through the mirror. “Jail worthy, as usual. But I won’t get caught. It’s to steal a jewel that Elio needs and wrote in the script. I know exactly how to be successful.”

You nodded. “As long as you don’t kill too many people… but anyways, who’s going with you this time? This seems too nice to have Silver Wolf assist you. Is it solo, or is Blade going with you?”

“Just Bladie. He’s going to be there for a distraction, anyways. I’ll throw him in the middle so everyone will pay attention to him,” she joked, pulling a laugh from you. “But, in all seriousness, he’s necessary to complete the job.”

You were still paying attention to her hair, careful not to leave any strand under the heat for too long. 

“Which gold would look better? The one from this pallet, or this one?” She held out two pallets, one with a more glittery gold, and one that’s a lighter, more toned down version that doesn’t have all of the sparkles. You took another look at her dress before picking which one would look the nicest. 

She nodded, applying the shade of choice. You liked times like this- times where you both could be with each other without conflict waiting to arise, times where she’s not trying to keep away from bounty hunters, and times where there's no tension or anxiety coursing through her veins. This was a moment of peace, where you could both drop your worries and relax for even just a few minutes (in this case, a system hour). 

“Finished! How do you like your hair?” You stepped back, shutting the flat iron off and unplugging it from the side of the wall. She ran her hands through the strands, nodding in approval before smiling at herself through the mirror. 

“It looks nice. It goes well with the dress style. Good call.”

You smiled, happy that she likes the look. You put everything back, allowing her to finish up her makeup. 

When you re-entered the room, you pulled out a couple pairs of high heels for her to pick from. There were varieties of colors- white, nude, silver, gold, black, you name it. She stood up, looking over the selection.

“If you’re going to wear gold jewelry, and you have gold eye makeup on, wear the gold pair of heels. Trust me, it will balance out everything just perfectly!” You advised. You sounded so passionate, leaving a gentle smile painted on the stellaron hunters face. She picked the heels up and put them on, spinning around in the mirror to make sure they fit nicely and feel good to walk in. 

You took some jewelry out of the jewelry box, presenting her with a couple of nice gold necklaces and rings, topped off with a pair of pretty earrings that match the same theme. She chose one of the necklaces and two rings, sliding the rings on and having you put the necklace on. She put the earrings on before toying with her hair, throwing it over her shoulders to hang off her head, spilling onto her back. 

“You’re beautiful, Kafka,” you mumbled, in slight awe of how gorgeous she looked right now. She giggled. “Thank you, dear. I wish you could come with, but it’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t want to risk you being kidnapped, hurt, or killed.”

You nodded, sitting down on the bed. The time hit 8:45, and she walked over to you.

“I better head out now, but I should be back by tomorrow morning,” She said, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kafka,” you replied, giving her a long kiss on the lips before escorting her out the door.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • VII

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 4.4k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter Seven - I wish I wasn't lost (EDITED 09-03-24)

new? start from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

I moaned as she slid down one more time and I gripped her hair, holding her still. I filled her tongue as threads of my release coated the back of her throat. The sight below me left my legs shaking as I pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ears, and rubbing my fingers underneath her chin in endearment.

What have I done?

“Good girls swallow,” I whispered and she moaned.

“Open,” I said, watching in complete reverence as she stuck out her tongue, showing me that she obeyed, drinking in all of me.

I leaned down towards her, pulling her chin up to kiss me as I melted into her lips, sighing with commitment.

What have I done?

+++++

NOAH

I wonder how How can it be that two souls live beneath my chest? I wander on Through the snowfall And the firestorm

One week passed.

I had resorted to stealing from a few homes, but the objects I took were worth nothing compared to the cost of Y/N's drugs. After selling everything, I only made 4.5k, barely enough to maintain my daily goal of 645; and I was desperately trying to come up with another scheme to earn more cash. With my stolen money in hand, I went to one of D's associates, feeling a surge of anger at the smug grin on his face as he greedily snatched the envelope from my grasp.

‘Having fun Sebastian? Surprised you even made this much yourself.’It took everything in me to walk away without bashing his fucking face in.

As each day passed I was being eaten alive by guilt, and I could barely look at Y/N. She noticed the shift in my behaviour, persistently asking me what was wrong and if she had done something.

‘Nothing,’ I would say.

‘Just stressed,’ I would say.

Our final night together was the night I stole her medication. As she held me in her arms, drifting off into a peaceful slumber, I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. Instead, I quietly cried while she slept, unaware of the lies that lay next to her.

The next morning, I lied and said I would sleep in the spare bedroom across the hall. The expression on her face was heart-wrenching.

‘Oh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know that the nightmares are hard to deal with.’ She had said, her eyes falling briefly before she attempted to hide her expression with a smile.

My heart yearned at her words, wanting to hold her against my chest, ready to block out all the evil in the world if it meant protecting her. It wasn’t the nightmares that pushed me away, it was myself.

‘I don’t want to invade your space more than I already am.’ I responded.

I watched her take her pills when she did, my chest clenching in shame with every sip of water that followed the lies.

I wish I wasn't afraid of The haunted valley

The boys watched the remorse control me as I began to shut off the world, secluding myself from Y/N, and them.

I wish I wasn't a failure That nobody needs

“Noah?”

In the depths of my mind, I'm lost and confined A question gnaws at my core; I can't deny

“Noah.” Am I a mere illusion, a ghost in the crowd? Or do I carry a soul screaming out loud?

“Noah!”

I pulled out my earbuds at the call of my name, and my eyes squinted open. Ruffilo stood over me as I lay on the mattress in the basement, drowning in lyrics. The music blared from the removed bud as Nicholas glared, folding his arms.

I wish the voices in my head stopped their shrill tongues Just for a second so I could breathe some fresh air For a moment so I could stop sinking into despair I am a traitor in the face of myself

“Did you want to work on the song?” He asked, “Or are you wallowing in self-pity?”

A slave to a maggot that eats away my soul I ask the mountains to consume me as a whole How long will I be captured in this maze in the hail?

The song.

Y/N had hooked us up with a gig at Sammy’s tomorrow night, and Jolly had the brilliant idea of finishing our first-ever set with an original song; despite us never even playing for an audience. I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous about playing some shitty music in front of an audience of strangers, or that one of the audience members would be Y/N.

I shrugged and closed my eyes, sinking into the softness of the pillow with the bud still in my ear. Nicholas shook his head at me. He leaned over, tugging on one earbud to make me listen to him.

"Come on, you can't mope forever," he said with a sigh.

"I can try," I retorted, pulling the bud back from him as I sat up.

"You've been ignoring her for days. Can't you see how much it's hurting her? You messed up, not her." Nicholas' words hit me like a slap in the face.

I turned away from his piercing gaze, but I couldn't help but notice Jolly and Folio pretending to work while eavesdropping on our conversation.

"She's been bringing your regular coffee every day after work because you haven't even been showing up," Nicholas continued, his tone sharp.

I felt guilty as I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unable to meet anyone's eyes. She has?

I rolled my head back “I know. None of it is fair to her.”

Nicholas perched on a chair by the wall, observing me with caution in his eyes. "You need to stop taking your guilt out on her," he said.

I let out a deep breath and got up from the bed, tossing my earbuds onto the sheets. "I can't even look at her without feeling like she sees through me," I admitted.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Nicholas asked.

I scoffed and threw my hands up in frustration. "Yes it is, because I took her pills and had to watch her swallow fake ones," I ranted as I paced around the room. "Pills that are supposed to help her, but are nothing but deceit!"

Nicholas kept his gaze on me, his brow furrowed. Folio's face also showed disappointment as he watched from the side.

"She takes those pills expecting relief, but I took that away from her!" I stopped walking for a moment, pressing my palms against my eyes and exhaling loudly in turmoil.

"You made a choice," Nicholas stood up and approached me, standing in front of me.

He looked into my eyes with a mix of anger and sadness. "I hate seeing you like this, Noah, but you messed up."

"I know I messed up, Nick," I replied, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, offering comfort.

"You need to tell her," he advised, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I collapsed into his hug, holding onto my brother tightly. "I can't...not yet," I whispered.

“So you plan on ignoring her for weeks until everything with D is over?” Nicholas shook his head, “We’re living with her now. You can’t just avoid her and you shouldn’t after everything she’s done for us.”

I stepped back from him and nodded in agreement, “I know; that’s why I’ve been considering...”

“Considering what?” Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

“A pharmacy robbery.”

“By yourself?” He chuckled, watching me carefully. “Are you serious?”

I heard Jolly laughing in the corner and gave him a sharp look.

“Of course I'm serious,” I shrugged. “But I could make a ton of money from this Vincent guy by getting pure drugs.”

“The last time you pulled off a big solo heist was when we got into this mess in the first place. You don't take on big jobs alone.”

The lights flickered around the room as I sat on the motel bed, my chest heaving with excitement. A seventeen-year-old Ruffilo sat beside me with the tattoo machine ready to brand my knuckles as twelve-year-old Folio watched eagerly.

“Today’s the day,” Jolly cheered, a wide smile stretching across his face as he threw a beer in my direction, “Our young padawan becomes a man.”

The can fumbled between my fingers as I looked down at it proudly, jittering with thrill. Jolly’s never let me drink before.

I opened the can in acceptance, hesitant to take the first sip with shaky hands, before bringing it up to my mouth. The beer was pungent and bitter, my lips puckering with furrowed brows; yeah, it was disgusting.

I tried to hide my distaste with a weak smile, “Yum.”

Jolly laughed, throwing his head back in amusement.

“You might want to chug it,” He said, taking a sip of his own beverage, “the knuckles hurt like a bitch.”

My eyes danced between him and the can as Nicholas and Nick began chanting, “Noah, Noah, Noah!”

Jolly joined with a raised fist, smiling with admiration as I chugged the drink, throwing the can to the floor in excitement as I stomped on it, the scream of elation ripping through my lungs as we all laughed. Nicholas hollered as he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me and I grinned, living within this moment of adventure.

“You ready?” Nicholas said, raising a quizzical brow as I began to feel the buzz. I nodded eagerly, throwing my hands in front of the table placed next to the bed.

Nicholas slid plastic gloves over his own tatted fingers before he wiped my knuckles with an alcohol wipe.

“There’s no going back,” He smiled as I sucked in a breath, anticipating the familiar scratching of the needle as it embedded the letters into my skin.

“Happy fourteenth birthday, baby bro,” Jolly walked over to me, patting my back. He handed me a crumbled paper bag, and with my free hand, I reached inside excitedly, pulling out the fabric.

I bit my lip as I tried to hide my smile but couldn’t. I was finally one of them.

“Your first mask.” Jolly nodded in approval. I tried pulling it over my head but couldn’t with one hand, so Jolly reached over, pulling it down over my face.

He bent down in front of me, his hand on top of my head as he shook me with fondness and it took everything in me not to cry with happiness at his praise.

That evening Nicholas wrapped my knuckles with black tape, protecting the freshly wounded skin. He went over the plan with Jolly, pointing towards the map indicating where I was to go, and where I would meet them after.

“This garage is filled with fancy as fuck cars,” Jolly nodded, leaning over the table, “so you have options. Don’t settle for any car, but don’t linger too long.”

“Remember, Kia’s and Hyundai’s are easier to hotwire, so you’ll have better luck getting in and out,” Nicholas said and I nodded as I jumped up and down, amping myself up.

“The alarms will go off almost immediately once you break in. People in this hotel get that shit valet, so someone is bound to notice right away.”

“Don’t forget, one, Underneath the steering wheel column find the wiring harness connector, Two, Pull aside the battery, ignition, and starter wire bundle, Three, Strip about 1 inch of the battery wires and twist them together. Fourth, Connect the ignition on/off wire to the battery wire.” Jolly listed and I nodded with each of his commands, reciting them back, “And don’t forget to break the steering lock or you won’t be able to drive.”

“Wire bundle, trip and twist, ignition to the battery,” I repeated, “Steering lock.”

+

“Well, I have no choice,” I threw my arms up, laughing, “What, you want me to ask Y/N then?”

Ask Y/N…

“No but-” Jolly started, but I interrupted him. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. She could be a diversion. A distraction in the plan.

“Y/N could be an extra body, and perhaps…” I trailed off, my mind wandering in thought. Yes, this was crazy; and the idea that followed even more so…but perhaps it could work.

“Okay,” Nicholas said as anger started bubbling from his tone as he watched me with disbelief, “And?”

“And,” I grabbed his shoulder as a smile wound up on my lips, “I can steal Y/N’s prescription while I’m there, and then replace her meds. So, she’ll never know.”

Nicholas rolled his head back in annoyance, almost laughing at my words, “Dude, you’re just going to dig yourself a hole here. You can’t be serious. Just tell her the truth about the fucking pills rather than getting her more involved.”

“I will eventually,” I sighed, “Just not now.”

“You do know how hard it is to steal from businesses alone versus a few houses here and there?” Jolly said as he scribbled in his notebook, “What is Y/N going to be able to do? Other than putting her and you in danger?”

“I have a plan,” I said, as I started pacing around the room.

“You’re considering her help? Are you fucking insane?” Jolly’s mouth hung open, “Du är en riktig klydderöv.” (You are an ass who likes to make things harder than they are)

“Listen,” I held my hands up in defence, but Nicholas threw his arms up.

“You can’t be serious; she could get hurt! You’re just using her?” he seethed.

“And you guys aren’t?” I laughed, pointing to the guitars and motioned around the room, “We are fucking freeloaders.”

“Aren't you worried about her getting injured?Caught? Better yet, Arrested?” Nick asked through clenched teeth. Why did he care so much?

“Of course I fucking am!” I growled, trying to not let any more guilt eat away at my insides, “I just want to have her as an extra body for that bit of fear factor. I don’t want her doing anything upfront or dangerous.”

“That’s still dangerous!” Nicholas exclaimed, “The fact she will be in that situation in the first place is not a good idea.”

I nodded in agreement, “I know. But what other choice do I have right now?” My eyes danced past each of the boys.

I knew this wasn’t the best idea, but my options were slim. I wanted to continue whatever was going on with Y/N- I didn’t want to feel this guilt, and if I was being honest with myself…

I was scared.

I was scared she wouldn’t see past my deceit, and I was scared she would hate me. That she wouldn’t forgive me.

I knew I had to make up for everything that had happened, but the first step was getting her proper medication back.

And to do that, I needed her help.

I wonder how How can it be that two souls live beneath my chest? I wander on Through the snowfall And the firestorm

“Let’s work on the song,” Folio changed the subject as the room heated, and I sighed heavily.

“Yeah, whatever,” I sat back on the mattress, pulling up the lyrics I wrote on my phone.

“Whatcha got Noah?” Jolly asked as he picked up the guitar.

“You've run out of luck, and I'm calling your bluff You stabbed me in the back, but not deep enough But not deep enough I see through you.” I hummed.

Jolly nodded as he tried to match the chords.

“Then the chorus, yada yada,” I said, eyes scanning my device as my thumb scrolled the screen.

“You said I'd never make it, you said I'd fall on my face But now I'm right where I belong, and I put you in your place You said I'd never make it, you said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong, and you've got nothing to say.”

Jolly eyed me briefly with a slight glare as I spoke, and I avoided his eyes.

“I like it,” Nicholas said, plucking the bass.

+++++

Y/N

With my fingers wrapped around the paper coffee cup, I sighed, fiddling with my keys to open the front door to my house.

Noah’s sudden distance made my chest clench in worry.

“look at me, show me those pretty eyes while I fuck your mouth,” he demanded and my lashes flicked up toward him, his body shuddering as I stared into him with complete greed.

The last time we spoke was that night.I chalked it up to him being busy paying back D, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly broken, and that it was my fault for his distance.

Doubt ate at my insides, beginning to regret inviting them into my home.

I wish I wasn't afraid of The haunted valley I wish I wasn't a failure

Maybe Noah saw how unwell I was, after the nightmare. Maybe this whole situation made him uncomfortable. I made him uncomfortable.

That nobody needs That nobody needs That nobody needs

I'm sure he heard me wake up screaming at night, and it hurt me to know that he wasn't the one who came running in to check on me. But that's okay, not that he had to. However, Nicholas was always there in a heartbeat. Living with the boys was easy, and I enjoyed spending game nights with Nick, Jolly, and Nicholas. Surprisingly, we got along well and I developed a close bond with Nicholas over the past few days. He must have noticed my internal struggle because he would often reassure me when I came home between shifts, rushing down to the basement with a cup of coffee to see Noah, only to be disappointed when he wasn't there.

“Hey,” Nicholas had waved, his gaze falling when he saw the coffee in my hands.

“Not home?” I asked, giving him a sad smile.

“No… I don’t know where he is either.”

I shared a curt nod before turning around to run back up the stairs.

“Y/N?” Nicholas called out before I took the first step up.

I stopped, sucking in a breath before sighing, “Did- did I do something wrong?” I asked, turning to look at him briefly.

Nicholas shook his head quickly, “No! No, of course not. You’ve done nothing but be kind to us.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m the problem? Did I scare him away?”

Nicholas’ shoulders dropped as he patted the seat on the couch next to him, pulling me into his side. I rested my head on his shoulder as he rubbed my arm warmly.

“Noah is a difficult creature,” He said, “But I haven’t seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

I sniffed, “Then why is he ignoring me?”

Nicholas stiffened at the question, and I tried to shrug it off, but I knew that he knew.

“I- he’s going through it. This is a lot of money for him to get himself, without any help.”

I pulled away from his hug, “I just wish he would let me help.”

I closed the door behind me, smiling down at Juice as he greeted me. I heard someone puttering in the kitchen and assumed it was Nicholas.

“Hey, Ruffilo-” I shouted, slipping off my shoes and prancing into the kitchen. I immediately gasped in surprise when it was not Ruffilo, but Noah, who sat at the table munching on a grilled cheese. Our eyes locked as we silently exchanged words, and my breath hitched in my throat. Why did I feel so nervous?

My face flushed with embarrassment as I stood frozen in place, staring at him for a moment too long before bowing my head in anxiety. My heart raced, and I couldn't help but want to stare at his perfect smile or the way his long hair framed his face.

"Hey," he said gently, his eyes burning into me as I placed my bag on the counter and took a deep breath. I tried to distract myself by placing his coffee on the counter and grabbing a cup from the cupboard to fill with water.

"How are you?" he asked, still gazing at me intensely. I hesitated before turning around, my back pressed against the counter as I let my eyes meet his. I couldn't help wondering why he suddenly wanted to talk to me after days of distance. Part of me wanted to walk away.

"Um," I took a slow sip of water, the cool liquid offering little relief from the tension between us, "I'm good. And you?"

He watched as I took another sip, his eyes scanning over the glass and my fingers wrapped around it. He hesitated before speaking again, as if afraid of what he was about to say.

"I'm okay," he began, trailing off before looking away, fixating on the ground as he spoke softly, "I've missed you."

My heart raced as he revealed his feelings, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Part of me wanted to brush off his words, while the other part wanted to wrap my arms around him and give in to his touch. Did he truly miss me, or was he just trying to ease his guilt for being absent for the past few days? Regardless, the way my breath caught in nervous anticipation showed how thrilled I was to see him.

"I got your coffee..." I murmured, not sure what else to say as I turned and handed him the cup. Our fingers grazed each other lightly as we exchanged the drink, sending tingles up my arm and butterflies fluttering in my stomach - reminiscent of the day we first met.

He gave me a small smile and thanked me shyly, but I could sense that something else was on his mind as he took a sip.

For a brief moment, silence hung between us as unspoken thoughts danced in the air.

“I’ve missed you too,” I confessed quietly as my cheeks warmed, and I began playing with my fingers nervously.

Noah’s ears flushed with colour as he genuinely smiled, “Let me take you out tonight.”

“I- I have work,” I stammered, excitement replaced with disappointment.

“Call in. Let me take you on a date.” He shook his head as he took another sip, refusing to let down.

“I can’t afford to call in,” I gave him a sad smile, “But I would love to go out with you this weekend when I’m free?”

“I’ll give you the money then,” He stood up now, grabbing the glass from my hands before pulling my palms into his grasp, “Just let me treat you.”

His October eyes begged as they bore into me, trying to read my mind. I looked away, trying not to succumb to his silent plea but instead, I smiled, looking at our connected hands. Why was he suddenly being this way?

“Stop looking at me like that,” I laughed.

“Like what?” He teased, before sticking out his bottom lip, packing on the puppy dog eyes.  

“Like that!” I giggled, and Noah tugged on my arms, pulling them so they were wrapped around his body as he buried me in his chest.

I sunk into his arms in alleviation as we swayed in the kitchen to the beat of our hearts.

Part of me wanted to pull away, tempted to see if he would bring me back. The other part of me wanted to berate him for his attitude. Part of me wanted him to take me against the kitchen table. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment together.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant,” Noah whispered now, his voice vibrating from his chest as my cheek was pressed against his soft cotton t-shirt. I nodded against him in response, squeezing his torso as I closed my eyes, my mind beginning to overthink everything that’s happened between us.

I finally sucked in a breath, hesitant to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Noah immediately pulled me from his chest to look me in the eyes with a sullen expression, his hands cupping either side of my face, “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re perfect.”

My eyes began to glaze over as my mind eased a little, and I chuckled softly, “Definitely not perfect.”

“Definitely are,” He whispered, hesitating once more before his broken eyes began analyzing my own. He made me feel like I had no reason to think he was lying. He made me feel perfect.

Noah watched me carefully before his eyes closed briefly. He sucked in a breath, hesitating, “I- I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m so lost right now.”

“I hope you know you can talk to me,” I matched his tone, my head tilting in empathy as we stood in the kitchen, holding each other. My fingers gripped onto the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him into another hug, embracing all his insecurities.

“I know,” He sighed, before masking his sorrows with a smile.

“Please come out with me,” He pulled away and pleaded again, the pad of his thumb beginning to graze across my cheekbone before tracing the outline of my lips, “I want to spend time with you. I want to hear your story.”

I smiled at his words, my breath catching in my throat as we watched each other, completely mesmerized as my eyes travelled across the outline of his ochre eyes. The slight stubble outlined his perfect lips that wrapped around the whites of his teeth as he smiled charmingly, and it left my palms sweating.

“You know plenty about me now,” He said gently, concentrated eyes devouring me, “So who are you?”

Subconsciously I began leaning in closer to his touch, our lips inches apart, “Why are you so convincing?” I whispered, the warmth of Noah’s breath cascading along my face.

“Ahem.”

I turned immediately at the cough, and Noah pulled away from me, staring back at the ground. I looked between him and Ruffilo, who stood leaning against the wall, watching Noah with analytical eyes.

“Hi, ruffles!” I then smiled warmly, confused at his interruption but happy to see him. He acknowledged me briefly, nodding in my direction before glaring daggers towards the brunette.

“A date?” Nicholas's eyebrows furrowed as he crossed his arms and spoke with a tone of accusation.

Noah gave him a sharp look and I glanced between the two of them, trying to make sense of their tense exchange.

Noah turned away from us, shaking his head. “It's none of your business.”

“It is my business now.” Nicholas stood up, positioning himself next to me in a protective manner.

I furrowed my brow and took a step back from Ruffilo. “Can someone please explain what's going on?”

A cynical smirk appeared on Ruffilo's face as he let out a quick laugh, scoffing at the brunette in front of him. “You didn't ask her where you really wanted to take her out, did you?”

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I was getting there.”

I looked between them again before turning my head towards Noah. “Where were you planning to take me?”

Noah licked his lips thoughtfully before turning to me. “I need your help.”

Chapter 8

Tags:@crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[soft-persephone]

Roughest Rough Drafts of a John Sampson Fic

No rating // WC: 1k, give or take. I didn’t count // masterlist // AN: rough drafts for a fic I’m working on. Can’t get the intro just right, so enjoy two options I didn’t go with! Stay tuned for the real one! // real one

ONE

Imani sighed, watching her breath form a white cloud of powdery condensation before her.

The apartment townhouse building felt intimidating.

She turned on her heels for a quick walk to clear her head or maybe she could—

“I know you not leaving already.” A low familiar voice called out.

“Hi Alex.” She said in defeat.

“Well don’t you look nice.” He appraised her with a nod, “to think all that hides under your dickies and carhartts.”

She huffed at his compliment, crossing her arms and refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Imani had gone all out on her outfit, as she would, anytime she had too.

She wore a silky bodycon number, not too tight or inappropriate, but that didn’t stop the curves of her hips, her thick thighs from popping or the dress complimenting the shape of her waist just as much. Her long white coat rested snugly on her shoulders.

She clutched tightly at her coat to ward off the cold.

“How could you think of leaving?” Elle huffed, interrupting their latest spat, “You have to thank all your new donors!”

“I already called them one by one,” she groaned, stomping her feet, “why do we need a party to do it all over again!

“Because it opens the door for more.” Ellen said smoothly.

“Oh is that how that works, now.” Alex said to her coily.

They leaned into one another sharing a brief but rather heated kiss.

She wanted to say something smart like, can you guys move so I can get inside or something like that, but her and Elle were past that level of pettiness. . . Maybe.

It was hard to tell.

Elle was so hellbent on focusing on her career, putting herself first, and emphasizing she didn’t need a man, but did a complete 180 once Alex came back into her life.

She couldn’t hate Elle for it too much. He’s nice looking and just an overall good man, more than a good father. Anything and everything. He was the total package.

They don’t really see eye to eye, but if Imani was being honest, that was more on your friend’s end than Alex, but she’s never cut any of her men some slack, and nothing you could say, or what anyone could say for that matter, will change her mind, but Alex pushed through that and made it work until she trusted him.

Good for him and good for her.

“You coming or you planning on staying out here all night?”

“Come inside Mani, listen to Alex.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

And then there was that.

Saving her energy she followed without a word, but on any other day for any other occasion, she would have made a big deal out of Alex telling her what to do and Elle urging her to listen.

“You guys made it!” Jonesy kissed her and Elle on the cheek. Alex held out a hand for him to shake, but Jonesy pushed his hand away, going straight for the hug.

“Oh we know each other better than that, Alex.”

“Uh, yeah.” Alex patted Jonesy on the shoulder, politely putting an amount of space between them.

“Your coats can go in this closet here.” Jonesy pointed, “Make yourselves comfortable. You all know your way around the place.” He flashed them with a smile and a slight wave, “I’ll let everyone know when dinner is ready.”

“Wow you look so nice!”

“Don’t you look pretty!”

“You really stepped out tonight girl!”

Imani was over it.

Everyone was being extra nice, treating her like some lost doe eyed soul. She’s gone to therapy, she’s dealing with it, and she’s even ready to move on. Everyone else needed to follow suit.

Imani was fine and tired of everyone treating her like she wasn’t.

“It’s just such a shame how he was murdered like that.”

You purse your lips at the random white man donor you purposely forget the name of. “It is.”

“But you used your grief and pain to start this foundation to give back to people just like him. I’m so glad to be a part of helping you reach out to the homeless in your community.”

You smiled and nodded as he went on his white savoir guilt trip rant.

“And without Detective Alex Cross, you never would have gotten justice or answers.”

Alex and Elle had made their way back to you to chat, not knowing that some stranger was throwing your trauma back into your face for shits and giggles.

“I’m going to get some air.” You gave them a tight lipped smile before making your way to the balcony.

“Fuck, I could use a smoke.” You muttered to yourself over the balcony, looking out that the city.

“Is that in reference to a ciggerette or something else?”

You peered over at the man who asked.

His out of date shoulder length hair and odd fitting white tux jacket trimmed in black made him stick out amongst the well polished crowd, but you were not going to judge him, especially when by looking at him, you could tell he had something you wanted.

“Depends,” Imani eyes him trepidly, “what you got?”

He only had one joint in him. Not ideal, but she would take what she could get.

It was a little stronger than what she necessarily wanted, but bigger can’t be choosers.

The tightening feeling in her chest subsided, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

She eyed the moon and what little stars were visible.

Thoughts of escaping to a secluded countryside intruded her mind.

“Hey I know you.” The stranger interrupted her short fantasy of escape. “You were the girl that was with that homeless guy.”

“He didn't die homeless!” Imani clipped, “he had a home”

“You can’t keep carrying that shit,” he ignored her outburst, “ he passed the joint once more and she took it gratefully.

He dug around in his mysterious pockets once more and pulled out a little plastic baggie. .

“Here,” he shoved them in her hand, “you need them more than I do.”

“There was some weed, mushrooms and. . . Pills? “What are these?” Imani held one up, the light of the moon made them glow. They were magic. She was sure of it.

“They’ll help the pain go away or it will show you your truth to deal with it yourself.”

“How can you be so sure?” Imani blinked, the pill still glowed in the palm of her hand. The magic hadn’t faded.

Before he could reply, a rich velvet voice called out, “ What’s going on out here?”

Stranger scurried off without a word.

Imani turned to face the new man, letting out a puff of smoke in the direction of the wind so it wouldn’t blow in his face and the smell wouldn’t linger.

He looked down at her casually, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

His neatly short cropped fro went well with the equally as neat beard on his face. He held a gaze of light disapproval she’s seen Alex give his kids when they were acting out.

Was he treating her like some child?

“I’m not afraid of you.” She called out.

“You should be.” He smirked lightly.

“What, you a cop or something like that?”

He took the joint out of your hand, putting it out on the rail before flicking it over the balcony.

“Aye, what the fuck!”

“Or something like that,” he eyed her, “detective.” He nodded his head as if contemplating, “close enough I think.”

He took the bag out of her hand.

Imani squinted in displeasure, but it wasn’t until half a beat later that she actually moved to stop them.

Shit. That weed was strong as hell.

She pushed through her foggy brain enough to grab at the material of his shirt.

“Give them back. I need those.” She wanted to say something more tactful, but her mind was loose, and now, whatever thought she had would fly out as is. “It’s not even illegal. I’m obviously not underage.”

“As much as I liked to believe that, I’m sure you got at least ten more years of being carded. Can’t be too sure these days.”

Her brow furrowed. Was that a compliment? That could be a compliment? Why was he complimenting her about how young she looked?

She fisted at the material of his shirt, a strange sensation probed at her wrists. What the fuck?

“Why are your nipples so hard?”

“It’s freezing out side.” Was the only explanation he gave as he pried her hands off of him.

She nodded, accepting his explanation, but then she looked at him and remembered he had a coat on, and after he just touched her, she now knew that he had on leather gloves as well.

“How are you cold if you have on a coat?”

“Get inside.” he motioned toward the door with his hand.

Imani’s drugs might be gone, but there was something comforting about his presence. His voice is low and warm, demands unobtrusive and somehow. . . Relaxing despite the reality of her situation.

Wait.

“Are you taking me to jail?” If not, can I have my drugs back?”

“If you behave,” he started slowly, “I’ll think about it.”

She grabbed his wrist as he stomped inside. He was walking so loud.

“Stop, everyone’s going to know if you keep walking like that.”

“You’re fine,” he huffed at her with a unreadable expression, “that’s your mind playing tricks on you. The weed is making you paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid!” She hissed up at him. “Your just being too much of a cop.”

“Mhmm. Right.” He said nonchalantly before presenting you to Alex and Elle.

“Mani, where were you?” Elle brushed your shoulder with a hand. “You’re freezing.

“Seems you met John already.” Akex commented with a raised eyebrow, before dapping up your jailer.

“You know this man?” Imani couldn’t stop herself from blurting as she pointed up at John, as he was apparently named.

Her other hand tightly grasped his wrist as her arm was wrapped around his. He allowed her to stand closely into his space. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had to, but he was probably grateful for the warmth she was giving him, despite the fact he had a coat on.

Oh, perfect opportunity.

“Do you know why his nipples are so hard even though he has a coat on?” Imani questioned seriously.

Alex put a hand on his chest as he laughed.

“Aye,” John’s cool facade faded instantly, “keep your voice down! We're inside!” With his free hand he twisted your ear tightly and pulled.

She moved close to him to avoid the pain, letting her cheek rest against his chest.

He let out a short grunt of disapproval before switching tactics.

He pinched her side that was unguarded and vulnerable, making her jump.

Imani puffed as she nuzzled into his chest. He was warmer now, much warmer. Both hands free, she wrapped them around him, brushing her hands down his back to rest on his waist.

How muscles looked so hard and felt so soft will forever be a mystery to her.

“You both look quite close for two people who’ve only known each other for an hour and a half.”

That sounded an awful lot like. . .

“It’s been an hour and a half since we’ve been here?” Imani turned her cheek, letting the opposite rest on his chest so she could lay on him and still talk to Elle and Alex.

“No it’s been two hours for us.” Elle corrected. “John was late.”

Jonesy tapped a glass, getting everyone's attention, dinner was ready,

There was technically assigned seating, but in Imani’s current state, her dislike of her spot was not subtle. Luckily, she was not mean about it. Following John she sat next to him, scooting her chair to sit as closely to him as possible.

“I think I—“

“I didn’t take your seat, I just dragged my chair from over there to right here, scoot yours down.” Imani explained with a smile.

The woman gave her and John a look before taking her seat and scooting it pointedly away from them.

“This is not behaving.”

Imani straightened, her face drawing into a pout.

Dinner was chill.

You were so so hungry.

And so was John?

Imani unintentionally went plate for plate with John.. If he got extra of something, she got extra of something. At some point it became a mutual understanding, if he asked for someone to pass down a certain dish and put it on his plate, he’d put some on hers as well before passing it back up.

After all that, they both still had room for dessert.

The thought of dessert made her think of treats which reminded her of her drugs and the fact that the man she was sitting next to held them hostage in his pocket.

She reached over to his pocket to see if they were there, but he swiftly grabbed her hand and put it in his lap, leaving her to eat dessert one handed.

It was fancy and strange in structure but very delicious. Shemade a mental note of the flavors to recreate into a smaller Togo pastry one day for her shop.

“How long have you and John known each other?”

Imani squinted, dubiously confused, but she feel how her shoulder nestled against his and how John restraining her hand in his lap, may make it appear like they were holding hands.

Her head throbbed lightly, not quite used to the weed she had smoked hours ago. Her high subsiding and everything becoming a little clearer. For one, the way everyone was sneaking glances down the table at them.

“We met here, like. . . three to four hours ago.”

John nodded silently in affirmation before sharing a look with her afterwards and she had to thin her lips to suppress a laugh.

Because why would he just sit there like that and nod.

“You two seem,” the woman paused, twirling her fork, “closer than that.”

Imani and John shared another look and stayed silent, much to Elle and Alex’s dismay.

“You feel better.” John’s voice flooded Imani’s senses with something warm, warmer than the coat he was ushering onto her shoulders.

She scoffed softly, her voice losing its bite in her sober state, “I was always fine.” She huffed into the cold as they walked out the door. “Just a little high is all.”

“Little is understatement.” She studied the condensation in the air as it left his mouth.

He stood an appropriate distance away from her.

She wasn’t high anymore

TWO

Imani took a few bites of the pastry she just made. The presentation and look was exquisite, but her main concern was flavor. It looked elevated, but the texture was off, so the flavors didn’t quite matter.

She jotted down what she could try next time to improve on the current flaws, but if what she did manage to figure out flavor wise, she wasn’t confident in either. Maybe she’ll try ubbe or something with sweet potato, hell maybe both.

“Mani?”

Imani looked up from where she was standing. The little tall round table was littered with her note. She quickly stacked and sorted them out the way.

“Elle!” She beamed at her friend and embraced her in a warm hug, “what are you doing here at this time? Shouldn’t you be busy, paving a way for the youth in our community?”

“Oh stop,” Elle shook her head at her, “your work is just as important.”

Before Imani could continue with more pleasantries or continue the flow of casual conversation in an attempt to catch up with her friend, she noticed Elle staring at her.

She followed her line of sight to her jacket.

Imani swallowed without a comment schooling her features as she fight to stay still.

“You’re wearing Deonte’s Jacket again.”

“I work with a lot of college kids. They think it’s really cool when I wear this sort of stuff.” Imani hoped her smile seemed natural and not forced.

She crossed her arms into the oversized dickie jacket to calm her nerves..

Ignoring how Elle’s eyes sharpened as she looked her up and down, noticing her equally as oversized matching dickie pants.

“What are you wearing that’s actually yours?” Elle urged, She leaned into her, lowering her voice.

Imani averted her eyes away from Elle’s and crossed her arms.

“I was just thinking about him today and figured I wear this. I promise it’s nothing too serious.”Imani exhaled through her nose, taking a beer and looking in Elle’s eyes, hoping she was being understood, “I’m fine.”

Elle took the opportunity to look her over once more.

“Okay.” She nodded.

Imani thinned her lips.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Boundless Ch 1: The Rigid Hunter

summary: he’s looking for her— hunting her.

pairing: witch hunter!marc spector x witch!reader

contents: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder/torture, marc is a broken asshole, injury, blood mention

gif credit: @perotovar

wc: 2.4k

an: welcome to the boundless universe! i’ve really enjoyed writing this so far, i love the concept. i’d really love to build it together, so if anyone has any questions, thoughts, headcanons swirling around in your brains please feel free to come talk to me about these two! i hope that y’all like this and i’m excited to hear your feelings on it. 🤍

boundless masterlist | moonknight masterlist

Marc remembers the day he found out the legends were true. Say your prayers, lock your doors, and sprinkle your salt because they’re out there. Witches and wizards walk the streets looking for opportunities to spread pain and suffering. They look like us, and talk like us. But they can’t feel like us, love like us, care like us.

He was 10 years old the first time he witnessed the violence that comes with being in his family . He watched with horror as his parents tied up one of his teachers. She spewed nonsense, objects flew, and fires burned. Each hunter chose their weapons and that day he’d watched his parents use daggers he thought were for show.

He was afraid at first. He didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to be violent like her— like his mother. And though eventually he had succumbed to violence, realizing that there was no way to fight it, that it was in his blood, he always vowed that he would be different. Despite his disdain for witches, he has never been ruthless. He has always killed them quickly, painlessly with mercy, never been one to taunt them as they meet their deaths.

Today, almost 20 years later, Marc’s crossbow is slung over his shoulders, one of his hands resting over the dagger on his hip as he slowly makes his way through the forest. He’s hypervigilant and jumpy, eyes roaming the greenery that fades into orange and yellow and red. He’s ready to defend himself at the drop of a hat.

He’s looking for her— hunting her. The full moon is tonight, and witches always flock to their dens, charging their crystals, infusing their spells with the magic of the celestial being. Her den and a handful of others are in these woods, just on the outskirts of a camping resort so as not to draw too much suspicion. Time and time again witches fail with anonymity— he and his family follow the breadcrumbs they leave and pick them off one by one.

He’s looking for her darkness. He’ll know it when he sees it, he’s seen many dens and killed more witches than he can count. They surround themselves with smoke and blood and evil. This one will go down just like all the others, he’s sure. She’ll be just as vile, conniving. Just as eager to beg for her life when he lines the tip of an arrow up with her eyes. Emotionless and self-serving with a heart that bleeds black.

It’s easy to get distracted by the sights around him. He loves autumn, the symbolism of how even as an organism fails and dies, there’s beauty to be found. It gives him the hope that maybe there’s something to be found in him too despite all he’s been through.

There’s something soothing in the sound of leaves crunching beneath the weight of his boots. There’s a waterfall in the distance that feeds into the creek he’s following. Where there’s water, there’s life.

He continues up the stream, noticing the remnants of a paper sailboat coated in wax tangled in some brush on the bank. He bends to pick it up, noticing words sprawled across the side.

Sail under Hecate’s moon.

The words heighten his senses— she’s close, within walking distance of the area. And while that can mean a wide variety of things, Marc is prepared for the worst, to walk miles and miles if he has to. Standing quickly his eyes scan the area, wary of her. There is no one to be found, not an inkling of life in his sights so he carries on.

He nearly makes it to the waterfall when across the creek he hears the rustle of leaves and his heart lurches in his chest. No matter how many times he faces a witch, there’s always the unpredictable— they could have anything up their sleeves. Thousands of spells and enchantments and potions, each one more horrible than the next. His hands slick with sweat reach back, drawing his crossbow to line up with his sight.

Deer.

Two of them make their way to the bank, bending to drink, paying him no mind. His heartbeat slows and shakes his head, letting out a silent sigh of relief as he lowers the bow.

Marc’s eyes return to the waterfall that’s a short distance in front of him. He could simply go around, and walk a short distance so that he could get to the top of it at a steady incline. But that would be too easy for him. He was taught to never take the easy way, that anything that holds weight in this life is a challenge. It must be difficult for it to mean anything in his mother’s eyes. He still doesn’t quite understand why after all this time, her opinions have a hold on him. He bats the thoughts of her away as he eyes the rocks to the left of the waterfall’s mouth.

They are damp sure, but not completely slick and unclimbable. The summit of the waterfall is much higher than it looked far away, but he thinks nothing of it as he steps forward and begins to climb. The hood of his cape falls as he puts one hand above another, exposing his dark curls.

A bush behind him rattles and he glances over his shoulder, eyes going wide as he realizes how vulnerable he is right now. There’s nothing he could do if he were to face her now, this high up is too far of a jump to do it safely. The best course of action is to finish the climb, it’ll grant him a better vantage point to get his bearings and height is always an advantage in combat. But when Marc turns around, looking up to his goal, there’s a crow— the largest crow he’s ever seen in his life, cawing loudly in his face. He’s startled, losing his grip on the rocks, feet slipping as they try to find purchase and he falls, grunting as he hears his flesh and bone tearing and cracking before he goes unconscious.

When Marc wakes sometime later, he hurts all over. There’s a splitting ache in his head, and a pain much sharper and dangerous sitting in his leg. He can handle pain, he’s been trained his whole life, day in and day out to handle much more than a slip in some gnarly wood. He blinks up to the trees, taking shallow breaths. If he can just lay here and gather his strength he should be able to get up.

What would his mother say if she could see him? All the things she said all his life, he imagines. Baseless shouts of this is not his calling, that he was meant to weld or harvest or research. That his attempts at living for Randall are in vain. Like he wasn’t bred for this. Like the mistakes he made has tainted his blood, taking away his right to hunt.

He tries to sit up and pain screams in his side. Had he broken some ribs? He lays back again, trying to get enough air to his brain so he doesn’t pass out again. His attempts are futile and soon, he drifts out again.

Somewhere in his mind, he can hear the graceful patter of feet near him. He feels when he is picked up by something as large as it is fluffy. A wolf maybe, taking him back to her cubs for a meal. He wonders if it would be such a bad way to go if it meant he’d never see his mother again.

A little while later his surroundings change. He’s somewhere soft and warm. Everything inside him is on edge. His instincts tell him that he’s unsafe, that he must get up and go, but his body is in no state to do so. He can’t even open his eyes, can’t speak a word, let alone take any steps.

Something—someone guides his head up, tipping a cup to his mouth. “Drink this,” A soft voice says to him gently.

He wants to resist but he’s weak to this person’s will. Whoever it is pours a steady stream of the liquid down his throat. It’s thick, warm, and tastes like black currants, mint and citrus. His body goes a little numb, relaxing further into the bed he’s laid in.

His pain waxes and wanes even as he sleeps. Though he isn't conscious, sometimes can feel the way his body cries and aches. He can feel the heat of healing, feel his muscles and bones scraping against each other as they slowly move back into place. He’s grateful for the braviety, happy to sink into a deeper place of unconsciousness, to run from the discomfort.

Marc wakes gradually. He first wiggles his toes, feeling the numbness in his right leg. He taps his fingers softly, enjoying the fullness of whatever bed he lies in. He tries to stretch his neck but he’s quite stiff and decides to just open his eyes. To do the inevitable and face his reality. When his eyes open, he frowns at the sight of paper boats hanging from the ceiling.

Paper boats, covered in wax, sailing under Hecate’s moon.

Marc knows right away where he is. He’s too warm. He can smell moss. The room glows from the outside in, candles lit but somehow he still feels the darkness. Maybe it is the deep dark reds and purples of her linens and furniture. Maybe it’s the white wolf that sits near the fireplace, eyes as dark as the night sky as it watches him. Or maybe the sense of dread as he takes in his surroundings, as he realizes he’s been made. He tenses, turning his head until his eyes meet hers.

Marc’s mouth drops open, going dry. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen— her soft mouth raised in a smile, her eyes clever. There are no words, just sensations that contradict each other. He feels wonky like his body can’t decide if he wants to stay or go. His brain tells him that he should fight, that he should leave. His heart pounds loudly in his chest as adrenaline builds. But in the pit of his stomach, there is nothing but ease as he looks into her eyes. All of this leaves him utterly confused and then some.

When he continues to stare at her quietly, she says, “You’re awake.”

He’s in the witch’s den and here she is, smiling down at him because she’s got him in her grasp. He’s not sure why she hasn’t killed him yet. He should be more afraid. He should kill her.

Where’s his weapon?

“Don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. Or paralyze you, drug you— maim you. Especially after fixing you up, I’d be destroying all my work,” She muses playfully, looking down into her book.

Marc’s eyes go wide with shock. Is she being funny?

“You know who I am,” He states, ignoring the way his heart starts to beat more quickly.

She nods, looking up from the pages, “The sigil on the crossbow made it pretty obvious.”

“You saved me anyway.”

“The wolves would’ve eaten you alive.”

“That would’ve been better than being taken hostage and killed by a witch.”

“You aren’t taken hostage— I’ve nursed you back to health. If I wanted you dead I wouldn’t waste my energy. I would’ve watched them feast,” She says matter of factly.

“Spoken like a true witch,” Marc scoffs.

She narrows her eyes at him, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know everything about you. My whole life is about you. Your kind,” He corrects.

“News flash Spector, I’m just as human as you are.”

“You might look human but our hearts don’t beat the same. You’re a monster, it’s in your blood.”

His words punch her in the gut. She knows that witch hunters are cruel, she’s been taught that all her life. Spell writing, potion brewing, ingredient harvesting, and the all-important learning to murder witch hunters in any and every fashion. There are many rules to be followed in witchcraft— regardless of one’s craft or coven but the most important of them?

If you see one, there should be one less in the world.

She knows they’re raised to hate her as much as she’s raised to hate them. But the hate never stuck. It was drowned in curiosity, in a yearning for peace and understanding. Because how dare she want to live a life that is fruitful and soft. How dare she see the humanity in them. She blows out a breath, eyes raising to the ceiling as she tries to keep her tears in. Even as her heart aches, it roars, begging to retaliate. Begging to lash out and hurt him. She ignores that urge like she always does, wiping at her eyes.

He sees the way her tears twinkle in the soft candlelight— she truly is beautiful. He quickly bats the thought away again. Beauty can only run so deep in her, she is a witch after all. It stops at the surface, he knows that. But, he feels bad for making her cry. She’s a witch, the bloodsucker of the human race. He shouldn’t care if she lives or dies, let alone if she cries. But before he can think better of it, an apology sits on his tongue. He doesn’t get the chance to say it.

“You’d prefer to be alone,” She sets down her grimoire and stands, reaching for a cloak that’s hung on the wall. “I’ll go to look for matching wood to repair your crossbow, part of it broke during your fall. Don’t try anything stupid, your leg is still setting.”

The white wolf that hasn’t taken its eyes off of him makes growls under its breath and Marc glares.

“Neither of us is going to hurt you. She simply wants you to be kinder to me. How a wolf knows that and you don’t….” She clicks her tongue in scolding, turning to look at the wolf, “Come along, Nimbus.”

He watches them leave, letting out a deep breath when he’s finally alone. He’s still confused. He doesn't understand her.

Kinder to her? She must not understand their dynamic— she must be out of her mind. That much is clear since she’d brought him back to her den to help him instead of killing him. Could he really trust that? A witch so unstable? She could’ve brought him here to nurse him back to health for a challenge, all to kill him again. That makes more sense, that aligns with all of his previous experiences. There must be ulterior motives for why she’s brought him here. He won’t fall into this trap.

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