#trigger mentions of torture

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 18

Revenge - Unreliable Narrator - Loss of Identity - "I see what's mine and take it" (Panic at the Disco)

Whumpee sobbed and curled in on themself to protect their stomach and other organs.

They were coming... running toward the room. Whumpee knew they were mad at them.

"I didn't do anything", Whumpee cried as their cell door was opened.

"Whumpee it's me", the figure dressed in a dark cloak knelt down.

"No please, I'm a good prisoner... please no more", Whumpee whimpered, "I'll do anything, just please... I-I can't handle anymore."

"Whumpee please, open your eyes. It's me Caretaker", Caretaker tried to cup Whumpee's cheek lovingly, but Whumpee turned their head away.

Whumpee could feel their shackles being removed. They squinted to see who it was.

"Please forgive me... please I don't know what I did.. please", Whumpee's voice cracked.

"Whumpee it's me... do you not recognize me?", Caretaker frowned.

"Ye-yes Master", Whumpee whispered weakly, "yo-you visited me yesterday with your whip.... I still remember your lesson."

"I-I wasn't here yesterday", Caretaker studied Whumpee for a few minutes before they were disturbed.

"Master, I did as you requested and placed your runes around this place. Do you need me to do anything else?", one of Caretaker's students peaked in.

"Ros-Rosemary?", Whumpee whimpered, "why are you here... with...? Caretaker is not safe to be around", Whumpee sobbed loudly.

Rosemary gave a questioning look to Caretaker.

"What's wrong with Whumpee Master?", Rosemary frowned.

"I have no idea" Caretaker continued to study Whumpee, "I have a feeling I may have to do some investigatory magic into what was done. I'm being seen as an enemy to my own student."

"Do they still have a spell attached? One that isn't removed by the castor's death", Rosemary came closer, "Whumper is dead.. I saw you kill them."

Whumpee watched as Caretaker covered one of their eyes. A glowing light shown from the visible eye as Caretaker scanned Whumpee.

"There are no spells or curses", Caretaker lowered their hand from their eye causing the light to diminish.

Caretaker pulled a knife from their boot, and reached for their cloak.

Whumpee timidly got up and ran for Rosemary.

Rosemary wrapped their arms around Whumpee in an embrace.

"Here", Caretaker cut away a long strip of fabric from their cloak and handed it to Rosemary, "blindfold them just in case I am being seen as Whumper or someone else."

Whumpee shook while the blindfold was tied.

"Don't take it off" Rosemary hugged the trembling Whumpee close again.

"Th-the bad thing might get me again", Whumpee whispered.

"We will not let anything hurt you Whumpee", Rosemary gently rubbed circles into Whumpee's back, "I promise."

"I need to enact my runes", Caretaker watched them both, "please get them to safety, and I will be out soon."

Rosemary nodded and started to guide Whumpee out.

Caretaker held their hand on the floor. They were able to track every step their students made until they left the building.

Caretaker traveled to the center of the building. As they sat they drew in all of the energies from their runes and called the energy forth to them.

"I am Caretaker, servant of Stolas and wielder of the magic and wisdom they share. I place my influence on this building with the runes that yield my power. May all who find this place be warned off by my protection. From this dark energy that haunts this place. I wish to protect them from it. As I say.... it will be done."

Rosemary smiled as they watched a beam of light erupt from the building and a giant owl form as a cloud above the the building.

"Wow", Rosemary exclaimed.

"What?", Whumpee had been hugged into Rosemary's chest for comfort.

"Master's power always amazes me. I hope one day we will have that much power", Rosemary smiled.

"But Master has hurt me since I came here... they've done unspeakable wrongs to me", Whumpee mumbled into the embrace.

Rosemary's heart ached for what Whumpee had been through and that their kind Master was being blamed for it.

They could see Caretaker walking out of the building now.

Rosemary waved to show their position, in which Caretaker waved back.

Caretaker sighed in relief after they finally got to Rosemary and Whumpee.

"I finally have my students back", Caretaker smiled and did a small finger wave to open a portal, "are we ready to go home to Kayden?"

"Kayden was supposed to graduate and leave your teachings?", Whumpee frowned, "where am I being taken?"

"Kayden decided to stay back while we searched for you. In case something bad happened, he could take over my teachings", Caretaker frowned, "you're being taken home to my Coventry. Where you will get some proper rest, and we will figure out what has happened."

Whumpee woke up the next morning and heard movement in the room.

"Who's there", they lifted their hand to the blindfold.

"Don't take it off", someone ordered, "it's me Kayden. I was coming to check on you."

"Kayden?", Whumpee whimpered, "I don't know who to trust and who not to."

Whumpee felt a hand on their shoulder, then another hand held their cheek.

Whumpee was about to pull away when they felt themself pull out of consciousness.

In their spirit form, they could see things that their naked eyes couldn't yet see.

"Could an imposter pull you into your spirit self?", a voice echoed.

Whumpee turned to see Kayden's spirit form smiling at them.

"Kayden", Whumpee reached out to hug them.

"It's okay Whumpee, you are safe. I know you have had a hard time for the last while. You are going to have to trust us. I will not allow anything or anyone to hurt you", Kayden snapped them back into the real existence, "though I think you need some healing work done. We can do that while Master works to find out what happened to you. This may hurt and be uncomfortable."

Whumpee knew Kayden was right. Sometimes healing hurt worse than the original cause of the pain.

Still Whumpee nodded. They felt more relieved to have Kayden do it. Right now that was the only person they could trust.

Whumpee gasped as the final parts of their body received the healing.

"I'm so tired", Whumpee whispered as Kayden held them up.

"Yep, here uh", Kayden dragged them to a chair and tried to sit them on it, but Whumpee started to collapse to the side.

"That won't work", Kayden pulled them up, they were quite tired themself from performing healing magic. It took energy from the user as it took energy from the person being healed.

"What am I doing?", Kayden sighed to themself, just then remembering they had magic. Kayden snapped their fingers at a nearby couch and watched it scoot toward them.

Kayden carefully lowered Whumpee to the couch before weakly collapsing to the other side.

Caretaker came in a few minutes later to find Whumpee asleep and Kayden tiredly watching them.

"What happened in here?", Caretaker set a few things down.

"I uh healed them", Kayden breathed heavily, "I don't do healing too much, so it takes a lot of my energy still.

"Ahh", Caretaker nodded, stepped behind Kayden and gently tapped on Kayden's shoulder, "thankyou for healing them for me. That was probably some good practice for you, but I'm afraid I still need your help."

Kayden jumped up with fresh energy, "yes Master anything."

"I have to do some dream traveling into their subconscious. I feel like that would be the best way to solve the problem, and hopefully help them relax a little", Caretaker frowned at Whumpee who was asleep with a stream of drool coming from their lips, "I need complete silence and no disturbances while I astral project and dream walk."

Kayden nodded, and helped get things together for Caretaker.

Caretaker removed Whumpee's blindfold and tied a scarf around their hand. Caretaker then laid on the floor and held onto the other side of the scarf.

The scarf would help Caretaker bridge their projected spirit into Whumpee.

Within minutes Caretaker was out.

"I don't know how you do it Master", Kayden watched.

Caretaker walked down a dark hall.

"It scares me that your subconscious is so dark. It wasn't like this last time I wandered through here to get rid of that pesky nightmare of yours", Caretaker continued to walk.

They finally rounded the corner and found exactly who they were looking for.

They were sitting against the wall with their knees to their chest and head burried.

"Whumpee?", Caretaker whispered as they approached.

"No, you can't... you can't be here", Whumpee jumped up with terror.

"Whumpee it's me... I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what is happening in your physical body", Caretaker knelt down, "I haven't seen you in weeks. How did you mean that I whipped you the other day?"

"I-it was you", Whumpee whispered, "you and the bad thing."

"The bad thing?", Caretaker studied them.

Whumpee nodded, "don't you remember?"

"No Whumpee", Caretaker stood, "will you show me."

Whumpee gulped and looked down.

"I need to help you, but I can't if you won't share it with me", Caretaker frowned, "please help me."

Whumpee finally nodded.

Caretaker followed Whumpee down the hall farther until they turned into what looked like a room but it was a dream pocket of Whumpee's mind.

Whumpee pointed, "I don't wish to go in."

Caretaker nodded and took a deep breath before they stepped into the dream pocket.

They gasped when they saw them in physical form, hurting Whumpee. It looked just like them. Flashes of several torture scenes flashed before Caretaker's eyes.

"That looks just like me, but I know I didn't... I wasn't here", Caretaker frowned.

They turned back to the door and saw Whumpee standing their with tears in their eyes.

"Exitus Ostium", Whumpee whispered angrily.

Caretaker landed back into their physical body with a crash.

"Ouch, that was a very forced exit", Caretaker grunted as they sat up.

Whumpee also woke up and glared at Caretaker.

Kayden knelt and tried to help Caretaker stay sitting up while they corrected themself.

"You saw it, you had to of?", Kayden looked up at Whumpee then back to Caretaker.

"I saw it, but it doesn't make since", Caretaker turned and looked at Whumpee, "how was I there and here at the same time?"

"You're the one who can make portals", Whumpee frowned.

"When have I ever acted in that way?", Caretaker argued before taking a deep breath.

"You've betrayed my trust", Whumpee whispered.

"Alright, I need to figure out what is happening. I know that wasn't me", Caretaker felt their heart sink, "I would never and could never do that to any of my students. I honestly couldn't do any of what I just witnessed. I would lose my abilities if I did."

Kayden quietly entered Caretaker's study.

Caretaker leaned over their desk. They stressfully flipped through page after page.

"Uh Master, can I help you with anything?", Kayden got closer.

"Uh, I'm okay... just trying to see what I'm missing", Caretaker frowned, "I need to solve this."

Kayden nodded, "but you are going to stress yourself out."

"I am stressed. My student was stolen and injured while under my protection. They are now terrified of me because somehow I was here and there. I can't even blame Whumpee either because that looked just like me. I don't know how I'll prove my innocence because any magic I use will be seen as trickery. It was horrid what they went through."

"You don't use trickery and chaos magic though", Kayden reached for a cup of water.

"I am well aware of that fact, but I know it's a possibility", Caretaker looked at the cup, "that was supposed to be tea, but I didn't get that far."

Kayden held the cup in their hands and slowly heated the water until it was boiling.

"What tea would you like?", Kayden opened a cupboard.

"Wait that's it", Caretaker smiled at the cup, "go get Rosemary and Whumpee please."

Whumpee was forced through the portal following Kayden. Rosemary and Caretaker followed behind.

"Bring us all here so they can hurt us together", Whumpee mumbled.

Kayden frowned, "will you do me a favor and stop being rude to my Master. You are blaming them for something they didn't do.... they were with me for most of the time preparing me for graduation. Then we had to halt that to find you, I missed my graduation because you went outside at night when you weren't supposed to. That's right, I know, I've kept it secret from Master, but you are really getting on my nerves. You've stressed Master out... I want to be nice....and I know you've been through it, but..."

"It's alright Kayden I already knew what they did. Your graduation will still happen, and I'm very sorry you had to put it off.... I really appreciate your patience though", Caretaker sighed.

Kayden saw Whumpee look down sadly.

"I-I'm sorry", Kayden frowned.

"Don't", Whumpee whispered.

The owl that was revealed earlier when Caretaker casted the protection returned as they approached the building.

"I really do not want to be back here", Whumpee held onto themself for comfort.

"I'm sorry", Kayden tried to comfort them... feeling bad for yelling at them.

Whumpee shrugged them away, "I'm fine."

"Why are we here again?", Rosemary looked around.

"Water has memory", came Caretaker's response.

"Are you quoting Frozen Master?", Kayden frowned.

"I guess you could say that, but they got that part correct", Caretaker smiled, "I can use the water here in this building to mirror what was witnessed."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker weirdly, "how will that prove you are innocent. You saw it in my dreams."

"I saw it, but I don't believe it. Seeing isn't always believing Whumpee. Not when you work with magic", Caretaker waved their hands.

Ice particles began to form into humanoid figures.

"That's the bad thing", Whumpee cowarded away, this time hiding behind Kayden.

"But what are they doing?", Rosemary watched, "they seem to be in a spirit form.

"You're right Rosemary", Caretaker agreed.

They walked along the hall a little more before finding another spot with water.

Caretaker waved their hand.

Another figure appeared, this time it looked like Caretaker.

Whumpee backed away.

"It looks like you Caretaker", Kayden frowned, "but it's not right. It looks like it's disfigured... like two faces in one."

Caretaker took a closer look.

"Yes like half of the face is mine the other is someone elses", Caretaker poked at the ice, "it almost looks like the person I killed when rescuing Whumpee."

Whumpee took a close look at the hands of the ice figure.

"Master it doesn't have your scar", Whumpee looked up.

Caretaker showed the scar on the palm of their hand. They had received a burn mark when they accidentally touched a hot cauldron.

"Yes", Caretaker nodded, "I almost wonder if you were dealing with a shape-shifter. They can make their appearance as close to resemblance to the real person, but some may not be able to replicate birthmarks, scars, and other injuries. For example I can't shift into Madame Missy Gills, as I do not have a missing leg and prosthetic. I would have to know how to use two different forms of magic, then use all three at once. It's possible, but time consuming and tiring."

"A shape shifter?", Whumpee frowned.

Caretaker nodded, "I think I see more water up ahead.

Caretaker waved their hand over the puddle.

The figure appeared and Whumpee covered their mouth to not scream.

"Th-they were the one who kidnapped me" Whumpee stepped back, "I had only seen them a few times, but they were the one who kidnapped me."

Caretaker studied the figure, "they wear a chameleon necklace."

Kayden looked as well, "that is from forest dwellers, Caretaker has fought with them off and on for the last few decades because they do not like the magic we use."

"Yes they are a group of shape-shifters", Caretaker sighed, "I believe you've been deceived by one of my enemies Whumpee. You were hurt by them because you are my student."

Whumpee frowned, "but why would someone want to do this?"

"I don't know Whumpee, but I can assure you I will be paying a visit to them", Caretaker glared at the ice figure. They slammed their hand down onto the figure, causing it to break into shards of ice.

"I remember now... that chameleon was always around their neck. I always questioned why you wore it in when you tortured me", Whumpee frowned, "why the chameleon?"

"They identify as the chameleon as they also change to blend in with surroundings", Caretaker smiled weakly, "it's like their calling card."

"I-I'm sorry Caretaker... I really and truly believed that was you. I've acted so meanly to you", Whumpee looked down sadly, "after you saved me.... I-I should have known it wasn't you", Whumpee sniffled.

"Hey, hey its okay. You were deceived, I fully understand that that happened to you. After what I witnessed you going through in your subconscious, I don't blame you either. I'm just glad we figured it out", Caretaker reached out and hugged Whumpee close, "I'm sorry for what you went through. It's okay."

Kayden frowned, "I'm sorry for getting after you as well", they looked down, "you have been through a hard thing and I didn't need me to go off on you like that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay", Whumpee smiled, and opened the hug for Kayden to join, "I'm sorry I ruined your graduation."

"It's alright, I'm happy we solved this", Kayden squeezed in.

"You too Rosemary", Whumpee smiled as Rosemary got into the hug.

"I'm so glad to have my students together again", Caretaker smiled happily, "let's go home. This place will be left to rot now. No more bad things."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[ieppiq]

More info through here:

WANGI & PINCH INFO

If Inkitt prevents you from reading the whole story without logging in, here’s the alternative:

https://open.substack.com/pub/sksdrabbles/p/lamb-and-canines?r=5h0dr3&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

tagging peeps who’ve interacted with the ask post (feel free to ignore): @amaiguri , @chauceryfairytales , @moremysteriesthantragedies , @pluttskutt , @write-with-will and honorary tag @redotter .

[funnyscienceman]

thinking on it further i wonder if singed being good with kids has like, anything to do with how much Understanding he has of the world and just exudes in every scene he's in. this like benign wisdom. as if he knows exactly why kids should be treated fairly, why you cater to their strengths and support or guide them when it comes to their weaknesses, and doesn't see much reason to stray from that so he just. Does it.

"In my experience, no one in power is innocent."

"Patience is a product of age, both of which I possess in abundance."

"It's always the same look, when one covets a weapon."

He knows how people work. He knows very well, and if his goals were in any way more ambitious or proactive or visible like everyone else's, he could be a genuine master manipulator. He could toy with people whichever way if he wanted to. Hell, he pretty much already does, navigating the interrogation with ease and then letting Ambessa do all the talking when she hires him to get her Warwick. He doesn't say or do anything more than he precisely needs to.

Was it on his mind then, I wonder, when taking Viktor in as a child? Was it the dad part or the scientist part acting when he says, "You want to assist me? Very well. We can be loners together."

Evidently, Viktor holds him in enough regard even after everything with Rio to come back and ask for his help, and then refer to him as a friend later on.

Are the dad and scientist parts of him inseperable?

Viktor anticipated Singed's visit in s2a2. In the time it takes for Singed to go from the front gate to the greenhouse, he's already clocked that 1) the commune is literally dependent on Viktor as a living battery, 2) Viktor's power is diminishing, and 3) oh yeah this shit's definitely gonna help me with my main project, i wonder if i can get viktor to agree; worst case, he'll just say no! Hold on, does he know he's the living battery for this place? Oh goddammit he doesn't, why did i expect otherwise

Is he nice to kids because he has no compelling reason not to be? Is he nice because just being on someone's good side, in general, tends to be more beneficial than not? Is he nice because he's just instinctively a Dad?

He takes Viktor's hand very much on purpose, looking straight at him as he does so, and I wonder if he just Knew doing so would essentially be showing a part of his figurative hand. Viktor's here in the greenhouse because he's trying to heal Vander, after all — restore his humanity, reverse the wolf stuff? Apex Hextech can affect the mind, therefore let's try to use it to cheat death.

He respects Viktor a whole lot, recognized from just the toy boat that the kid's a genius. "She's a rare mutation that I cultivated."

Has he formed any genuine relationships with anyone since Ori was put in the cocoon, or is everything just another step towards saving her from death?

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw: death mention, implied torture

The villain leaves, as promised. The hero sees them off at the door for the first time with a smile they stop pretending is genuine after a few seconds.

The villain wraps them in a slightly desperate hug, to their surprise. Their body’s warm, their arms shaking slightly. Nerves? Dread? Fear? The hero doesn’t know.

“I hope things get better for you,” they mumble into the hero’s shoulder. “I really mean that.”

They lean back to hold the hero at arm’s length. Their eyes glisten with tears the hero can’t put an emotion to. Doesn’t want to. “Stay safe, [Hero].”

And with that they’re on their way, their coat wrapped tight around them and their step quick. The hero watches them until they disappear around the corner. They shut the door slowly, slowly, and when it clicks into place they vaguely realise that they don’t know what to do with themself anymore.

So they do what they always do—they clean shelves, sweep the floor, clean counters. By the time they’re done the house is spotless and they’re out of work to swallow down that gnawing anxiety in their chest.

They flop down on the sofa—they’re not going to use the villain’s bed whilst it’s still warm, they’re not an animal—and let the exhaustion of the work overtake their worry and force them into a light sleep.

Light enough that they wake to the sound of the front door quietly clicking open. They sit up, ready to vocalise their surprise at the villain’s return, until they hear that the footsteps in the hall are decidedly not the villain’s. Too heavy, too slow. Too familiar.

The hero’s on their feet immediately. They want to hide, to run away, to do something, but their body feels like it’s weighed down by stone as the superhero turns the corner into the living room.

“Ah, [Hero].” Surprise is lacking in the superhero’s voice. A small smile stretches at his mouth. “I heard rumours. It’ll be nice to have you back with us.”

With us. For a moment all the hero can think about is those long days in the jail, treated like nothing more than a stain in the agency’s gleaming record. “How—” The hero’s voice chokes in their throat, and they curse themself inwardly. “How did you know—”

“Good people do not hide things from the agency, [Hero],” the superhero says smoothly. “Common civilians are ranking higher than you in that aspect.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything,” the hero spits desperately. “I– I was never one of them.”

The last word comes out a little harsher than they intended. They were never one of the corrupt demons that kindly lets their nemesis hide in their home. No, no, of course not. No, no one would want to be like the villain.

The hero, though, didn’t become a hero without an innate eagerness to please. To prove themself. To show the superhero how good they can be.

“I was never one of them,” the hero repeats, and the superhero cocks his head. Interest. “I– I can prove it.”

The superhero hums a cold laugh, and for a moment the hero feels like they’re back in that awful little basement, chains on their wrists, swearing their innocence, assaulted by the sound of dragging leather behind them—

The hero quickly turns on their heel to avoid looking at the superhero any longer.

They lead the way to the villain’s office, desperate to keep themself a few paces ahead. A belt sits at the superhero’s waist, and they don’t want to get close enough to see him unsheathe it again.

The door swings inward. The superhero looks inside momentarily. His gaze turns to the hero. Disappointed.

Please, no. “This is– it’s [Villain]’s office,” they add quickly. “This is their house.”

The superhero’s eyes linger on them for a moment. His face gives nothing away. Then he turns away to step into the office, and it feels like the hero can breathe again.

The hero stays in the doorway whilst the superhero peruses like this is nothing more than his weekly trip to the shops. He flits through papers, looks through drawers. He taps his chin in thought. His eyes scan across the room curiously. Eventually, after an eternity of the hero trying to figure out whether this is how they repent, he glances back up to meet the hero’s gaze.

“This is a good find.” The superhero offers something of a kind smile, and the hero has to hold back an entirely too genuine grin of their own. “Good. Very good.”

He collects a stack of papers. “Thank you for this, [Hero],” he says as he lugs them into his arms. “Let’s head back to the agency, hm?”

The hero’s evaded the superhero’s fury. There’s no way this is real. They can’t believe their luck. “Y–Yes, sir.”

The hero follows the superhero to his car. Another one waits behind it, a sleek black thing straight from the agency garage. The hero swallows and averts their gaze—of course he knew they were here. Of course he didn’t come alone.

The superhero doesn’t say much on the journey back to the agency. His gaze speaks volumes without the words, continuously slipping to the piles of paper the entire way, a satisfied smirk pulling at his lips. The hero decides to point their interest to the world passing outside in the hopes that they can ignore what they’ve done to the villain to put themself in the superhero’s favour.

It doesn’t matter, their mind promises in sickening whispers. They’ll be dead soon. Step on their corpse to survive if you have to.

The superhero sighs shortly as he pulls the car into the agency’s underground garage. Waves the hero along as he lets himself into the building. Invites them into his office. Lets the door click shut behind him.

“It is nice to see you back where you belong, [Hero],” the superhero says as he settles at his desk. It looks comically small in comparison to the giant room it's set in. “And with documents! You’ve gone above and beyond.”

The hero allows themself the smallest of smiles. “Thank you, sir.”

“To prove innocence I don’t believe you have.”

The smile falters. Their heart leaps into their throat. “... What?”

The superhero smiles lightly. “We don’t do coincidences in this agency, [Hero]. Everything has a meaning. Even if it is a mistake, it is set in stone, and we will treat it as such. You relayed information to a spy. That is all I need to know.”

The hero turns on their heel. Security is already in the doorway, a pair of metal cuffs in his hand. The superhero laughs humorlessly.

“Don’t you worry, [Hero].” The hero whips back to him, their face surely a myriad of pain and horror and betrayal. “Innocence means nothing to us. You’ll make up for what you’ve done.”

The cuffs click around the hero’s wrists. They can’t even find it in themself to struggle against them. They just stare at the superhero, aghast. “You… you tricked me.”

The superhero arranges the villain’s papers on his desk idly. “It is nothing on me if you were foolish enough to trust me.”

The man behind the hero tugs them towards the door. Jail. Right back where they started. The superhero throws them one last smirk. Satisfied, cruel, mocking. Disgusting.

“Thanks for coming back, [Hero]. Really,” he says as his door swings open in a creaking goodbye. “It’s nice to have you back where you belong.”

(next part)

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns

[amberscriminalmind]

panic room (alt ending) 💔🫶

pairing : bau team x platonic!fem ssa reader

summary : what if supervisory special agent alaia saint angelis survived peter saint angelis' torture chamber?

warnings : normal criminal minds warnings, torture, angst, loads of tears 

a/n : whilst i do love the original fic, i of course had to write an alternate ending of her surviving.

ssa alaia saint angelis knew she couldn't stand quietly and let this unsub get away with his crimes. however, with that, she really should have been more thought out with her decision-making skills. most especially as an fbi agent with the behavioural analysis unit.

yet, if agent saint angelis' decision was later questioned, it would be 100% defended by her team and say that whilst it could have absolutely been more thought out, her plan was still the most logical idea as well as the only way in which the unsub was going to meet his end as a serial killer.

now, in her almost ten years with the bau, alaia has been through many a torture chamber but none were as horrific as the one that currently had her hanging by her wrists which was attached to the top of the ceiling of an old warehouse. refusing to show the fear that she didn't have, she put her life on the line so many times at this point that it almost becomes something of a dark joke within the bau that acted like therapy and to make light of all the times the thirty-year-old had been kidnapped and tortured whilst on a case.

however, this torture was the one case that wouldn't ever be a laughable one, even in the far-off future. this was for sure the one case that alaia knew she wasn't going to come out of alive. this warehouse was the panic room that haunted alaia's dreams every single night. and this was with the constant denial to her fellow agents as well as herself regarding the nightmares she'd have about this warehouse.

the unsub that alaia and dr spencer reid, who was also her boyfriend, were tasked to capture was a 60-year-old male, just shy of 6ft tall with shaggy brown hair and dirty brown eyes that looked black at the right angle with the stench of a garbage collector. the unsub's name was peter saint angelis meaning he was related to the bau's youngest agent, alaia's paternal uncle.

it was this reason that had her throwing herself into the danger zone over the rest of her team. but, that didn't mean that alaia threw herself into that warehouse on her own, she had her boyfriend spencer with her as her second. she made a promise to her whole family that even if it killed her, it would be her that would disolve her uncle's 30-odd year reign of terror as a serial killer. restoring the safety to the wider state of virginia and country of united states of america.

"...why is it that you always have to sacrifice yourself for your team, alaia? is this something that gives you a buzz? an excitement?" the gruff voice of alaia's uncle peter made the girl's entire body shiver as she grunted, really showing off her body strength as she held herself up

"now i get it when non-american's tell us we're stupid. this is my job, of course it doesn't give me excitement!" the 30-year-old spat back, not wanting the niceties to be much longer, the man understanding that almost straight away

"how could i forget, alaia! you've always wanted to prove to the family that you could catch me and throw me away for my crimes. only taken thirty years to have anyone to match my intelligence clearly since you don't seem to mind that you'll be my final victory before getting locked up for good!" the man snarled as alaia dryly chuckled at her uncle, reminding her once again of his insanity

"i don't want to nor do i need to prove anything to anyone! i promised my family years ago, even before i joined the academy that i would find you and i would be the one to arrest you. and now that it's finally happening, i'm just happy that you're finally getting locked away for good! i was 19 then when i first joined and now i'm 30 and only one small thing has changed about that statement" alaia huffed out, her attitude really testing her uncle's patience, just like it did when she was younger as the older, grotesque man crossed his arms over, daring to challenge his fed niece

"okay then, enlighten me my dear niece, what's changed in the last 10 years, alaia saint angelis?" peter teased as alaia chuckled to herself, always up for the fun that was challenging her dad's older brother

"the fact i no longer care knowing that you'll kill me tonight before my team lock you away for the rest of your life. as long as the rest of my family are alive to see you be thrown into that dirty and unkept prision cell and finally have their chance to be heard and have justice brought to then, it doesn't bother me that i'll have died. because it'll mean that i died a hero and not for nothing, they'll know that it was me that saved our family and helped them get their justice for the crimes you've commited for 30 long years. a decision you made because you couldn't shut those little voices up in your head any longer, the voices getting so loud that you couldn't handle it any longer, unable to deal with them so you began to murder and torture people just for the fun of it because you are sick!" alaia spat, not caring at all that she was already covered in blood, blood that was dripping from her forehead and feet

the only thing she cared about was her family and all the other families finally getting the justice they deserved years ago. this was the moment when alaia wished that she had eidetic memory since she couldn't even remember that her own boyfriend had come with her into the warehouse, also getting caught by her uncle. though spencer was only restrained to a metal chair in front of her as he opened his eyes, making eye contact with the woman he loved.

a flash of memory then came across alaia as she moved to make eye contact with him. she knew he'd be just as terrified as she would be. wordlessly, without peter realising since he was distracted, alaia comforted spencer, letting him know that whilst it looked like it hurt from the way she was hanging by her hands, she was completely fine and that she was able to handle it. the moment that she got the confirmation head nod from spencer, she focused back to peter, who had seemed to suddenly remember also, that he had kept spencer restrained to a chair sitting right in front of alaia, whilst he had stood slightly off to the side.

"...huh, seems like you hadn't forgotten about spencer like i would have thought you did, i mean, i forgot about him for a second because of how quiet he is..." peter trailed off in a taunting voice as alaia rolled her eyes

when all of a sudden the sounds of the warehouse lights sounded, the burst of light making both agents turn away due to how bright it was and how their eyes still needed adjustment.

"...of course, i didn't, you douchebag! now, what are you going to do to him, peter?" alaia started to slightly panic but didn't show it, hoping the team, whilst wired and connected, were still close by

as well as able to have the opportunity and chance of rescuing spencer, her worry not even about her.

"absolutely nothing, alaia. i mean, it's not like i've forgotten, nor has spencer, the speech you screeched to me and anyone who cares to watch this live feed at the beginning of this whole ordeal..."

"...but in case you have forgotten, let me remind you. you screamed for spencer not to be hurt nor touched and i haven't. i haven't laid a single finger on dr reid and i won't because i'll be too focused on disfiguring you to the point you're unidentifiable to even think about giving that squib a second look..." peter trailed off, spencer letting out a wrangled cry which made the uncle and niece snap their heads

peter moving closer to his niece to move a strang of her hair behind her ear. alaia immediately trying to console spencer. even the most experienced law enforcement officers and fbi agents got scared.

"..ssh, spence, please, it's okay! i'm okay, i promise, he hasn't hurt me!" alaia tries to convince her boyfriend that the torture wasn't painful at all as spencer could only trust her since she hadn't screamed once

"she's right pipe cleaner, she hasn't screamed. not once, not since she begged on her knees for me to hurt her instead of you..." peter's voice was no longer a snicker but monotone which was even worse

spencer's mind relaying that moment back in his head. he had never seen his girlfriend beg like that in their entire time at the bau together and neither had the rest of the team. they were watching this happen via the live feed that penelope hacked into after getting the link by peter since he knew they'd try to hack into it anyway.

🚨

"...please, peter, i beg of you, take me instead and leave spencer alone! torture me, whatever it is you want, do it to me cause i can take it! spencer and the rest of my team have done nothing wrong to deserve this, keep your hands off of all of them, not just spencer!" she begged, tears almost welling in her eyes as she fought against them

she had never sounded so sure but pained at the same time as she saw her uncle drift closer to her boyfriend as though a taunt to his niece. in her almost decade of serving as a federal agent with the fbi's behavioural analysis unit, ssa alaia saint angelis had never begged an unsub for anything. let alone for her boyfriend ssa dr spencer reid to be spared by the unsub.

the rest of spencer and alaia's team; derek morgan, emily prentiss, jennifer (jj) jareau, penelope garcia, david rossi and aaron hotchner watched the security camera live footage with anxiety and uncertainty for their two youngest members. the team was usually so fearless so whenever something bad happened to either spencer or alaia, the team was always at their most vulnerable. the girls had tears blurring their vision and the guys held their tears and their anger as the team sat in silence. none of them making a sound as they watched the live feed that had been sent to penelope for this very reason. making the team's blood boil.

peter was still not budging on his niece's pleas to leave spencer alone. neither spencer nor alaia had been restrained as yet as they had just arrived but peter had already thrown things at them and given both of them minor concussions.

if it took alaia begging on her knees to get peter away from spencer, she would do anything to make sure he stayed safe. and that's what she did. getting down to her knees, alaia raised her hands in the air and placed her gun from its holster and discarded it to the floor. begging her uncle to leave her boyfriend alone and to take her as his hostage, torturing her so that her boyfriend would be safe and sound. having more of a chance of making it out alive even if it meant alaia losing her life.

"come on peter, please! stay away from spencer, don't even think of going near him. torture me and use all your toys because you'll have so much more fun hurting me then you would hurting spencer. please, let me take spencer's place, he has so much more life left to live and new things to research and find out about life. he...he has to take care of his mom, he has to find a cure for her! please, leave him alone!" alaia begged again, this time on her knees as peter finally caved, his mind changed as alaia eased

however, that didn't stop peter from shoving and tying spencer into a chair, right in front of the chains that were about to suspend alaina into the air.

spencer had never felt or seen such fear in his life until this moment in front of him. it wasn't even him being tied up to the chair that terrified him. the thing that scared him the most was having to watch the love of his life, the girl he wanted to marry be tortured and killed right in front of him with a front row seat to the show. their team also helplessly watching, their fellow agent being killed by someone who once loved her and who once would do anything in his means to protect her.

"alaia, what are you doing?" spencer whimpered, his voice unable to mask just how afraid he was, alaia smiling softly

"i'm saving your life, spence. i can't let you die, you mean way too much to me. you've been through so much and it's time i received some pain, i'm lessening the load," alaia smiled, keeping up her strength as peter drew ever so closer to his niece so he could start assembling the torture machine

peter then grabbing her and chucking her against a wall. spencer and the team flinching as they watched, the noise alaia's body made as it connected with the wall wasn't good at all. more blood beginning to pool at the back of her head, matching the blood that now trickled down her forehead from the force of the push.

the metal chains loudly clasped her hands above her head as she hung with her feet no longer touching the ground beneath her as she remained tough and unafraid. a smile suddenly formed on the young agent's face as she suddenly giggled at how unflattering this pose must have looked to spencer and the team at the angle they were watching it at. saying it in a way to make the horrific situation more comedic, however, it of course didn't land as well as she wanted it to land.

"this pose must look very unflattering to you guys right now..." alaia giggled suddenly as she then looked down, the mortified look of her boyfriend, spencer, as well as her team who she couldn't see, didn't find it as comedic as she thought they would have

halting her laughter, alaia quietly gulped, not knowing what else she could say to fill the suddenly eerie silence that fell throughout the abandoned warehouse. peter ignoring the exchange as he continued to set up his torture chamber.

🚨

alaia's begs to save spencer in replacement for her was working. she smiled to herself that her boyfriend was safe, though he was having to watch his girlfriend be tortured right in front of him whilst restrained, he was safe.

no more than a second longer did peter wait before his homemade torture equipment was powered up before it started to tear into and shock alaia's body. the equipment varied from kitchen appliances like knives and screwdrivers and forks to none kitchen appliances like ice picks, and a baseball bat.

an electric wire would end up being bound around alaia's legs as well as other things that burnt into the agent's skin. alaia's entire body was being torn into and was on fire however that gorgeous, loving, caring, bright smile remained etched on her face. not once letting it falter or letting herself scream out in pain for her uncle to switch the torture equipment off.

alaia knew that it bothered her uncle immensely that she wasn't reacting to the torture. she knew he always thrived off the pain of his victims. yet she'd always been known to have the physical and mental strength from the beginning of her life to be able to withstand whatever he tortured her with. so, alaia could tell that her uncle was a firecracker about to explode and about set the whole warehouse ablaze because he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted from his victim.

however, peter wasn't stupid. he was still smart enough to figure out the possible weakness of his niece and that was seeing her boyfriend weak and freak out. alaia's kryptonite was seeing her boyfriend or anyone she loved in pain. whether it was seeing them cry, sick or in pain, seeing anyone but spencer especially in some sort of pain made alaia vulnerable.

it was most definitely her biggest weakness but it was never something to worry about. this was the first time an unsub had a personal connection to one of the agents. so, that was when peter decided to use it against his niece to see how she'd react by turning up the level of pain on the equipment that she was hooked up to. which of course effectively made spencer thrash around in his seat, crying out for peter to stop.

the rest of the team barely able to continue watching as peter turned up the dial on the power grid and they heard it. spencer's screeches for peter to stop. the worst part of all of it was that penelope and the rest of the team were still nowhere near close enough to finding the goddamn adandoned warehouse in downtown virginia.

"alaia! peter, stop it...please, leave her alone! you've done enough, you've hurt her enough! she's bleeding, peter! please, peter....put...put her down! you're hurting her! please...stop...peter!" spencer sobbed, the hot tears streaming down his face as he thrashed around in the restrains that were stopping him from saving her himself

"spence, please, it's okay! it doesn't hurt, i promise, i can't even feel a single thing!" alaia attempted to comfort her devastated boyfriend as peter groaned

both his plans of inflicting the most pain on his niece and making her scream and cry weren't working and it pissed him off. so, that was when he decided he needed to go a step further and bring out the big guns

"is it bad that she can't feel it, hotch?" jj questioned, the tears she had fought hard to keep at bay streamed her cheeks

her head turned away, no longer looking at the screen but at her unit chief, aaron hotchner, the man not knowing how to respond.

"i...i don't know jj but, just trust alania. trust that she knows what she's doing," hotch gulped nervously, only praying that his not-so full proof statement was correct

unable to know how he'd react if one of his beloved agents didn't make it out of this dangeorus situation alive. let alone if she was safe, especially after he promised that he would keep her safe.

whilst hotch was correct that alaia knew what she was doing, it still didn't mean that the hope for alaia to come out of this torture alive was a strong hope. it looked as though in the small slither of alaia making it out alive, she'd be fighting for life in a hospital bed for at least a couple of weeks. then suddenly it seemed, out of nowhere, everything happened so quickly.

it was as though the team and spencer had just blinked before they heard a gunshot ring through the warehouse. spencer's heartwrenching screams from his gut followed shortly after as he helplessly tried tried to free himself from his restraints to shoot peter.

from the time it had taken the rest of the team to locate the banged up industrial warehouse that peter was commiting his murders in, it felt like time had slowed down. it literally felt as though spencer had only blinked before one more shot rang out. derek and emily had rushed in within seconds, derek delivering the shot that shattered peter's leg, slowing the aging man so the arrest would be easier.

emily then quickly rushed over to spencer to untie him from the restraints. however the only thing that accomplished was spencer collapsing to his knees as more sobs and screams left his mouth. derek moved to see if he could discover a pulse from alaia. in his desolate world, spencer thought the worst and that peter's quick and sneaky gunshot trick had killed alaia. emily tried her best to console spencer and it seemed as though the only thing that could console him was the possibility of a miracle. a miracle for alaia to have survived.

it was as though the angels, saints and gods had heard the cries and pleads because morgan did find alaia's pulse. whilst it was weak, it was still a pulse and alaia still had a chance of survival meaning that peter had not won. pulling out of the hug with spencer, prentiss had figured it out from morgan's relieved smile whilst he spoke to the medics on the scene about how they needed to be careful in releasing alaia from her restraints. alaia had a pulse and still had a chance and immediately, prentiss knew she had to tell spencer. knowing that even the weakest pulse would be the best news for spencer to hear.

"...spence, i need you to look at me. derek is with alaia right now with the medics, a pulse was found. alaia is still alive, she still has a chance of recovering, okay?" emily whispers to her distraught agent who perks up slightly

"wait...what? she...she's alive?" spencer stammered, his voice scared and hoarse from his screaming and crying as emily smiles small and nods her head

pulling spencer in for another hug, she reassures him, "yes, spence but she does need to be transported to a nearby hospital for treatment. what peter put her through isn't just something that's a quick healer," emily whispers as spencer nodded his head, sniffling softly as he tried to wipe the tears off of his cheeks 

the rest of the bau had been called into the scene now that peter had been seized and taken into police custody to then be later interviewed. rossi and hotch rushed over to spencer, to take him to safety, which was the awaiting ambulance that was going to patch up the lesions and lacerations on his wrists, and ankles from being tied up to the chair and the cut on his forehead from the concussion he had received. 

emily, jj and derek then had the worst task of all and that was having to turn off every single piece of equipment used by peter over his 30-year reign of torturous terror. including on his own niece in his victim pool. the agents having to wait a couple of minutes so they wouldn't blow themselves up or the entire rusting building. then, after everything had cooled down, derek who was the strongest out of the three agents was able to release the agent from the ceiling restraints. derek also carrying her out to the ambulance to then be transprted to the hospital. and that was where they hoped they could keep her alive and heal her.

aaron and david, with spencer in tow, were now walking over to the second ambulance. managing to successfully coerce the boy genius into getting properly checked out by the medics. making sure his superficial injuries were purely just that and weren't at the risk of infection. usually in a situation like this, spencer would be fighting tooth and nail to be by his girlfriend's side. however, this time, he was way too weak to even scream anymore. let alone even try to fight or cry to be placed into the same ambulance, which had now already taken off to the nearest hospital anyway. aaron and david carefully walking with spencer out of the warehouse and to the ambulance. watching as the other one that carried alaia sped down the street with lights flashing and sirens screeching for the entire block to hear.

"...reid, are you alright?" hotch questions his fellow agent, the younger paying the chief no attention, the only thing he could think about was alaia and whether or not she would stay alive

"hmm?" the younger agent hums as he finally faces hotch's worried look before responding for a second time

"i...i'm just...i hope alaia's okay," spencer sighed tearfully as he meddled with his fingers to keep himself occupied as hotch sighed softly as he sat down next to the boy genius

"we all wish the same thing, reid. but, she's a strong girl, she'll be able to recover and she'll be back on the field with us in no time," hotch smiled softly, placing his hand on the upset boy's shoulder to provide some form of comfort that wasn't too invasive 

"i just...why...why did she have to throw herself in the middle of peter's torture over me? i...i could have handled it too..." spencer trailed off, even though he knew he was lying due to how he reacted watching alaia go through it

he knew there was truly no way he could have handled that torture any better if it was him hanging by his hands and, hotch knew that as well.

"...reid, she put herself in danger because of how much she loves you. i know that you two have said those words to each other and this is why she knew she had to throw herself in danger. because she loves you and she also didn't want anyone, even if the person was related to her, to cause you any harm. she'd rather get hurt by her own family than let them hurt you. she'd always put herself above you because she loves you and would do anything to protect you from the horrors that those in her family can show," the unit chief explains to the boy wonder who sniffled as tears still streamed his cheeks

nodding his head, spencer finally understood why alaia did what she did in place of him and it was all thanks to hotch's explanation.

"oh..." spencer sniffled before looking down at his pair of converse that was now very dirty and needed cleaning 

"we're about to take the suvs to the hospital, do you wanna come with us, spencer?" hotch then asks, spencer's head shoots right up, a hint of a smile on his lips as he nods his head

hotch then smiles at the way spencer stands up to walk back to their fbi issued sport issued vehicles so they could drive to the hospital. whilst he didn't have his pep in his step like normal, he was still able to carry himself without his feet coming from underneath him like they were moments earlier. which, was a very good sign not just for the medics but also for the rest of the team to see that spencer no longer needed someone to help him walk. 

🚨

from the outside, spencer looked as calm as you could look in a hospital waiting room. however, you didn't have to be a profiler to see that his body language was completely different to the calm look on his face. his right leg was bouncing, he was twiddling his fingers and his eyes couldn't stay in the same spot for more than a couple of seconds.

he would also slightly flinch whenever a doctor walked past the group and he stayed silent and didn't want to talk to anybody. he was absolutely losing his mind on the inside which was identifiable by small idiosyncrasies in spencer's body language that he couldn't ever hide from anyone on the outside. 

"family of supervisory special agent alaia saint angelis?" a nurse calls out, spencer immediately standing up alongside the rest of the team, all of them just hoping that she was okay 

"i...i'm her boyfriend, umm, her parents are out of state but her siblings are on a plane as we speak right now to virginia. so...is...is she okay?" spencer stammered out, the nurse smiling softly, for it wasn't her first rodeo dealing with federal agents and their families 

"due to all of her injuries, theoretically, she shouldn't be alive right now..." the experienced nurse trailed off which made the group absolutely terrified, tears building in spencer's eyes yet again after he had only just managed to cease the crying 

"...however, defying all of my team's odds, agent saint angelis is completely fine. she'll need a few more blood transfusions due to how much blood she lost from the two head injuries and the gunshot wound but other than that, all her injuries have been tended to and stitched up..."

"...she is, however, asleep and a bit high on some pain medication but you guys are more than welcome to visit her. she has full recollection of who she is, her job, what happened to her, where she is and you guys. not that amnesia was anything that worried us but, just in case it worried you guys due to her head injuries, i'd thought it'd be something worth mentioning," the nurse explained, a small smile covering her face as everyone exhaled as tears streamed down spencer's cheeks out of pure relief that his girlfriend was okay and that she had, in fact, survived  

the nurse had started walking back to alaia's room when hotch ushered for spencer to follow her, "go, spencer, we'll visit alaia later!" nodding his head, spencer sniffled before following the nurse as she led the two of them to alaia's hospital room 

it was as if he could feel his heart drop to the floor. he hadn't ever seen his girlfriend look so peaceful yet in so much pain at the same time. no matter how many times she had told spencer that she wasn't in pain, they both knew it was due to the adrenaline pumping through her veins. at the time whilst she didn't feel anything, she knew she would eventually begin to feel it since it wasn't her first rodeo on the torture train.

sniffling as quietly as he could, he hesitantly walked over to the hospital bed, "hello sweetheart," spencer couldn't help but feel bad as though his heart had been stomped on 

without thinking, spencer grabbed alaia's hand that laid backside down, palm up, against her hospital bed and just started muttering apology after apology repeatedly until he had found himself falling exhausted and then shortly thereafter, asleep. 

🚨

mumbling and slightly restless, alaia found her eyes fluttering open and looking around as she tried to recognise the surroundings of the hospital room and the person who was loosely holding her hand.

she couldn't hide the smile that formed on her face at seeing her boyfriend sleeping and looking so flustered and adorable. spencer's hair was messy, his hand was holding alaia's and his head and some of his body was resting on the empty part of the slightly large bed that alaia was laying in.

with a slight squeeze of his hand from alaia, spencer's head shot right up. his eyes widening and his pupils dilating, loose tears still trickling down his cheeks.

"al..alaia? sweetheart, you're...you're awake!" spencer whispered frantically as she smiled small and pouted as she watched the new and old tears that littered her boyfriend's face 

she smiled with a small groan, prompting spencer to get up to get the nurse. erratically wiping his face of the tears he'd seemed to be crying all night, he went to get the nurse. 

"i'm just going to grab the nurse and tell them you're awake. i love you lia," spencer whispered as alaia nodded her head, a small smile on her lips as she watched spencer leave the room with the slightest pep in his step

no less than a minute later, the nurse came in and after the rest of the blood transfusions, and some visits from the team, alaia was cleared to be discharged from the hospital. with the exception of returning in a week's time to remove her stitches, it seemed like alaia made herself and the rest of her team promise to each other to steer clear of hospitals now...

at least for a little while. 

🚨

a month had quickly passed since peter saint angelis' trial wrapping up and he was now serving 25-life sentences. that along with the possibility of being placed on death row due to the consideration of him possibly being extradiated back to his original hometown outside of virgina. where the death penalty was legalised.

it haunted the minds of the bau team to think about the fact that they nearly lost alaia during that case. and it was all due to how unstable and sick her serial killer uncle actually was. they're usually prepared for everything and anything but they were not prepared for how erratic and unstabled that man was. especially since he was so different to the rest of alaia's family, meeting them throughout alaia's service with the team.

yet no one was more haunted by that case than spencer. he couldn't control nor help it when his mind would go back to that day. the trial date especially when his girlfriend had to take the stand. testifying against the serial killer that was once her loving and happy uncle on the things he did to her. all in the hopes that he would kill her and come out with one last final victim before his 30-year reign of terror was finished.

spencer wept that day as he listened as his girlfriend took the stand and testified. spencer wasn't the only one, derek cried, aaron cried. as did emily, jj and penelope. but for spencer, this was something that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

"...agent saint angelis, what did peter saint angelis do to you?" the high judge questioned, a worried look planted on his face as the young agent gulped

still not able to mentally comprehend that she was having to say it out loud. she knew she wasn't ready, when would anyone ever be ready to testify against their abuser? but alaia knew this was her only chance to finally have that man locked up forever.

"peter had me suspended in the air, by my wrists that were tied together by rope, at that point my legs weren't at all tied up but i guess they were at some point as they were very red...and itchy. as though they had been burnt by something or lacerated. i...um, i was struck by a baseball bat, stabbed with an ice pick and a couple of butchers knives. i recall there being an eletric wire at some stage that electrocuted me which i think is what my feet ended up being bound by at one point. which is why i think explained the red and itchiness of my feet as though they'd been burnt..." alaia felt ashamed as she testified, all of these things making her feel like she wasn't able to save herself

"...and then...he shot me in the stomach, not so much at point blank range but not that far from it. and this was something when my team and i were discussing in our victimology and his modus operandi, we never came to the realisation that after he had tortured his victims that he would shoot them and that being their cause of death. the other police departments that were put on this case before my fbi team hadn't seemed to make the connection about the gunshot wounds to the stomach either. that was until i was placed into that situation and my partner, ssa dr spencer reid had watched it happen that we finally realised it was this fatal and final torture device, a single gunshot wound to the stomach that was the main cause of death for the victims...i...i think..." alaia suddenly trailed off, she had been doing brilliant until something or someone caught her attention

this someone scaring her, making her unable to continue as she suddenly felt the burning eyes of her uncle watching her from his locked up defendant box.

"...you can continue agent, mr saint angelis cannot do anything to harm you. he is locked in his box, all he can do is stare at you and try to scare you. he is only trying to elicit a reaction, it's a scare tactic that all criminals do which you would be very familiar with. you can continue, darling," the judge spoke calmly, letting alaia know she could continue and was safe to continue, reminding her that she was safe 

"thanks your honour...um, what i was going to say was, i think from the differences in equipment that he used in this specfic case over his 30 years of terror, this wasn't the first time i had been exposed to it..." alaia paused, this was a new piece of evidence that could further peter saint angelis' guilt and crimes

the rest of her team gave her looks of shock. this was the first time they were hearing anything about the possibility of this torture happening to her before.

the judge swallowed, his eyes wide before speaking, "what else has your uncle done to you, sweetheart?" completely disregarding alaia's professional title and any sort of court ruling, the judge was worried for the young agent 

"when...when i was a teenager and still allowed to visit him, i would stay over at his house. i'd have my own room, my own bed. my own wardrobe. heck, i had a whole section of the house to myself everytime i visited him. it was why i loved him so much and why i claimed to everyone in the family that he was my favourite uncle growing up..." she trailed off before continuing as the judge listened

"...it was late one night and it was just me and uncle peter at his house. we were watching a movie together, can't remember which one but, he was so immersed in it and i wasn't that i got up and walked away because i hated it. it had taken me until that moment that i realised the movie was very gross and almost pornographic. i was on my way back to my room when i caught a glimpse of uncle peter's basement..."

"...and that was when i saw it...the bloody clothes of his last victim before it almost became me. i don't even know why i was visiting uncle peter since i'm an adult and no longer feel the need to stay over at the houses of my relatives unless they require their kids being babysat and need a safe person. of course, because of my job, everyone in my family with kids straight away thinks of me. but, i don't know why uncle peter invited me over that night or why i even accepted his offer. i'd been having suspicions for years since maybe high school and the beginning of FBI academy that maybe uncle peter wasn't who he said he was. however, i always brushed it off thinking i was going insane until that day that i saw those bloody clothes in his basement..."

"...what did you do after you noticed those clothes in the basement, agent saint angelis?" the judge questioned as alaia's eyes widened as though it scared her all over again

"...i...i tried to run...i tried to explain to uncle peter that i had forgot that i had invited my team over for a movie night but, he stopped me before i even had the chance to escape..." alaia's voice came out numb as she froze as the judge sucked in a breath before asking his next question

"...what happened after that, agent? did the defendant hurt you physically or sexually?" he questioned as alaia's lip shook as tears began to well in her eyes

"for years, uncle peter would touch me in...in places that made me feel gross and uncomfortable. even in adulthood, even after joining the fbi and bau, he would find his way into my house after i stopped visiting him...even when i moved and changed the locks he still found a way..." alaia's voice shook as the judge was shocked, this man had a whole web of things that he did, more than just the tortures and killings

"...that was how he figured out that me and my team had caught him and were actively searching for him. i had provided some samples of my own clothes as well as the bloodied clothes of the victim i found in his basement..."

"...and what were the results, agent?" the judge dared to ask as alaia shut her eyes and turned her head away

"...the fibers on my clothes and the clothes of the victim i found were a match that led us straight to uncle peter..."

"...were these fibers the same fibers that were found on the door knobs of all the houses you moved to whilst you were running away from the defendant?" the judge asks as alaia nods her head

"yes your honour...his...his fibers were also found on...on me..." alaia's breath was shaky as she revealed that as the judge hated the next question he had to ask

"...did he ever rape you, agent saint angelis?" the judge questioned, hating it since it had been alluded to the entire time alaia had been testifying

"yes...your honour..." alaia was quiet and ashamed as her head looked down to the floor as tears spilled down her cheeks

"...was it over the course of your childhood and adulthood or just once?" the judge asked again as alaia sniffled before responding

"as a kid, it was very regular since i'd visit him up to three to four times a week but as i got older, one day, he just stopped..." alaia struggled to explain as the judge was afraid to ask

"when did the raping end, agent saint angelis?" spencer closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he heard the judge ask another question

"the day i joined the bau, your honour," alaia whispered as she couldn't bare to look anyone in the eyes as her team all cried silently

"did you ever find out why he stopped or were you just grateful that he had finally stopped and was no longer hurting you, especially knowing that you were now a federal agent at that point?" the judge almost cried as he asked that question as alaia finally had the courage to look into the eyes of her team, her unit chief and spencer specifically

"i...i didn't think to ask because i knew i wouldn't see him again for years after and i...i was just so relieved that it was finally over. i no longer had to rub my skin raw and red to feel clean again that i just didn't ask him why. and i just didn't tell anyone because...because i knew i couldn't tell my team since reid and i had only just started and they'd straight away start asking questions. my family...if i told my family, they'd know straight away that uncle peter had something to do with it..." alaia's voice wobbled a little but refused to let herself cry again as the judge nodded his head

"...agent saint angelis, even though he's taken away your childhood, your adulthood and further tortured and abused you and those you love, you still refer to him as your uncle. why would you degrade yourself like that all for a man that wasn't your uncle in the first place but a serial killer and torturer?" the judge felt sick to his stomach, why did alaia degrade herself so low for her uncle? at this stage, he didn't even deserve that title and hadn't for years

alaia smiled sadly as she huffed, finally having the courage to face her uncle, staring straight into his souls. tears no longer filling her eyes as she just hoped what she would say next would just get through to the man who caused so much pain and trauma to so many people.

"because...as much as he doesn't deserve it, he is still my uncle. and there is still that little 3-year-old alaia somewhere in me who loves her uncle peter. and somwhere, inside of that horrible man, there is the uncle peter who loved his niece and did everything in his power to protect her from people like him..."

despite the pain and heartbreak peter saint angelis had caused to so many people, his own family included, alaia couldn't help it. she couldn't help it but still find that little girl that still lived inside of adult alaia saint angelis who loved her uncle.

whilst he caused so much pain, hurt and trauma for the abuse, murders and tortures over 30-years, he was still a man who was once a family man. a man who once truly cared and loved his family, putting his life on the line to protect them. but, that also ended up being his downfall as that was the whole reason he turned into the monster that became him. and why he was now in jail for the rest of his life or until his death row sentence. and this was something that comforted the bau, the saint angelis family and every other family who had been affected by peter's crimes.

fin

part two is now completed! wowzers that was a lot but once again, very proud of this rewrite for tumblr and i hope you guys also enjoy it. especially after part one took ages to finish.

©⠀amberscriminalmind's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2025

[sleepy-the-loz-enthusiast]

Debating whether or not to start writing an oc x lu story because on one hand it's an interesting concept and the specific oc I have in mind would be interesting to see in a fantasy setting,

But on the other hand I need to write many many things for this fandom...

Fuck it, let's do a poll-

[todomemolesta18]

Little bit rewrite this is coming out spite how helluva boss done dirty character who are being oppressed and marginalized. Also for stella character

So striker plan to kill stolas but more privately. So he doesn't storm on stolas but infact stella ask to talk about the issue in much more private place. So she put sleeping pill on stolas drink with that he fall asleep immediately and she told striker to wait for her command. She told striker he can do the job now, striker took stolas phone. When stolas wake up he confused why he being tied up and striker is there infront him. Striker offer him a choice who he will call the first thing in he's is blitzo, he believe he dear blitzy will come. Blitzo answer but blitzo said he tired helping stolas so blitzo said he didn't need the book or stolas money so any danger thing happen to him he should put he's legion instead of counting on him. Striker calling him pathetic how the great prince of hell can't save himself? Isn't he have the power but yet he barely used he's power to freed himself

So striker approach him asking him does he care about he's family. Stolas stated he does then striker pointed out is he really that good of father he like to believe because he just constantly harassing blitzo. Striker want stolas slowly death. Moxxie and millie come but they're not there to help stolas they come to torture stolas. Millie stab stolas crotch moxxie cut off stolas hand and striker cut off he's tongue. They finish so striker inform stella and stella tell him the reward is soon send to them

Blitzo receive text from striker they tortured stolas so he won't have fo fear him again. Stella is satisfied she can't wait to see stolas tongue

Oh my~ This was so sadic.

[jackass-jones]

Starfire teen titans my best friend Starfire id burn alive for you

[llycaons]

im finally feeling awake now so @pharahsgf this is the post I was talking about

foolish. reductive. immature. disrespectful. willfully ignorant. WRONG

[silverwingborn]

//I am spiraling so hard right now you could call me a helicopter~

[averyxvaughn]

Five Stages // self para

The floorboard underneath Avery's foot released a foreboding creak as she closed the door behind her and set down the canister, gaze fully absorbing a living room she hasn't completely set her sights on since that night. Her house, her childhood home, bathed in a brilliant orange from the sunset peeking through the barely covered windows. Griffin may have torched his own mansion, but Av remembered how hard she fought begging him to spare hers, especially the first few weeks after their healing process when she couldn't bare erasing the memories of her parents as he tried with his and Calliope. No, the Vaughn household stood as a beacon, a memorial, of the tragedy befalling their families. Of lives lost. It was also the day that she watched her cousin break.

The bodies of her parents and what remained of the council were long gone, but nothing could scrub the echoes of blood staining the floor. She could even smell the irony tang still burning her nostrils as strongly as it did years prior. Avery personally avoided this place at all costs for that reason alone, but with the conversation between her and Olivia still ringing starkly in her head, she knew one last visit before cutting out her heart with resignation became the final nail. No pack could offer a sense of familiar support when they all would look at her with such pity, no one she ever fell in love with would truly be safe, so this is what she could control. Her choice, one aspect of her life, on her own terms. Keeping them protected meant relinquishing her freedom. Give Griffin what he wants, true safety for his cousin.

Avery grazed a hand along the back of the couch, inadvertently kicking up a plumb of dust particles that sent her in a brief coughing fit. Everything in the house, from tables to the picture frames hanging on the walls, were coated under several layers from disuse, covering the good memories etched in every surface. Despite that, the whole of the room thus far looked the same, even the knife marks on one wall she made when she was ten years old after flinging a butterfly knife trying to impress her parents. They both took it in stride, reaffirming she was her mother's daughter. Mac attempted to plaster over the spot as he tried with the few others dotting the same wall, but anyone could tell something looked amiss. It's the little moments she longed for with her mom and dad, things one forgets when you feel imprisoned and sequestered.

She adjusted the strap of the empty backpack hanging from one shoulder as she climbed the stairs, smearing her hand in dust again while she gripped the banister rail. There were a few rooms on her priority list to see first, no one could claim Avery was never a girl on a mission, but none wouldn't fill her with any less sorrow than the last she would glimpse on her journey. Like the Thornton-Watt mansion, the Vaughn residence spawned a half dozen or so rooms, a working study for Mac during his council hours, guest bedrooms, even a training space where she and Harley could release some steam and placate the young werewolf's human side. Much luck a training area did to prepare her in protecting those she cared about in the end.

Avery made it to her bedroom first, kicking the door open with the toe of her combat boot and watching the chunk of wood bounce back as it connected with the spring doorstopper. A moment passed where she could simply do nothing but stand there, taking in a room that became a time capsule. A room of a fifteen year old girl left just as it was, undisturbed. Avery could have laughed at the fact she still left the bed unmade, sheets crumpled in a heap and duvet hanging on the edge of the mattress for dear life. The band posters plastered on each wall by flimsy tape were peeling like the layers of a banana, hanging sadly enough that she almost wished it was possible to save one of them. Av walked over to her vanity and slowly reached over, using the palm of her hand to wipe a clear streak across the mirror. Oh, how her reflection seemed to have changed since last laying eyes on it in this room. Now in her mid-twenties, her blonde tresses were free-flowing over her shoulders, the ripped jean jacket Mac gifted her years ago loosely hung on her frame, yet Avery noticed her facial expression. Slightly pale skin, sharp cheeks, and a haunted look most would fail to spot.

She looked away in shame, finding her attention drawn to the ornate metal music box that contained what little jewelry she wore as a teenager well within her rebellious years. Wow, no looters, Avery sarcastically thought to herself as she opened the lid and set sight on the jumbled mess. Her rings were strewn everywhere in the middle compartment and earrings, stud or otherwise, had been mixed haphazardly on either side with no organizational method. Her fingers nimbly picked up the tray to reveal the even bigger incoherent mess of her bracelets and necklaces tangled together. She could've rifled through it if she had all night, but that was a lost cause. "Definitely not leaving you here." A shine of something gold caught Avery's eye, however, and after she carefully pulled it from the bunch, she remembered what it was. A small werewolf charm given on one of her birthdays by her Uncle Wilburn. It was a cheesy gift, a little on the nose, but it's exactly the kind of present she would expect him to give. As difficult as Wil was on Griffin, he seemed to possess at one time a shred of a soft spot for anybody who could challenge his reign as the family food vacuum. They were bonded as werewolves running with the same pack, but food was their special little language. Av's thumb traced the wolf's outline fondly before slipping the black leather cord over her head, returning the contents of the jewelry box and then stuffing the entire thing in her backpack.

Avery moved around the room and grabbed a couple mementos, a favorite book here and there, a few old CDs even if they were a long-dead art form, before making her way out into the hallway. She peeked in one or two rooms as she passed them, only briefly looking in for the sake of nostalgia, until finally reaching the room she found the most hesitance entering: her parents'. Even as she stepped through the doorframe, Av sensed how empty of a shell this place was without her dad's playful jokes and laugh or her mom's sarcastic quips she could spit with a hint of fondness underneath. It could have been enough to break her down right then, just to sit there on their bed and sob until the sun arose or whenever Griffin found her as he always did somehow. No more crying over her parents or her lost family or even Jace for that matter. All there ever could be was Griffin and herself, following every rule he put into law.

With a head shake, she stepped around on Harley's side of the bed and stuck a hand underneath her pillow, removing the knife she kept for emergencies and placing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Harley and her weapons...even while she was married to a werewolf, how typical. Avery made a half circle to her dad's side and quickly checked under his pillow too just in case he thought the need to conceal like his wife, but finding nothing. It felt weird, really, like she was snooping into her parents' private possessions, but they were never coming back to claim them. Where's the harm? Av began working on yanking open Mac's nightstand drawers, discovering nothing of import until she came upon the very top drawer. Even in its folded state, she could see the splash of color peeking through the yellowed parchment. Avery picked it up and unfolded the paper while the cold melancholic splash washed over her in full force. The drawing wasn't quite a masterpiece, it wasn't a complete drawing pare say, just two stick figures representing her and Mac that she ended up tarnishing by placing her paint-covered palm over the figure that was her dad on accident. Mac had found his five year old daughter pouting, seconds from tearing up the painting, but her father had another idea. Painting the palm of his own hand, he had created a similar imprint right next to hers. At the time, Avery was only half-convinced he truly fixed it, yet, that was the special gift her dad had. She was willing to believe anything he told her.

The fact he kept the painting and so close where it could be reached didn't shock her in the least, but it was nonetheless surprising he didn't throw it in the garbage after all these years. The edges were ripping, the paper looked severely aged, and the folded creases were seconds from creating a hole. Avery slowly lifted her hand and placed it over the outline of her father's, fingers not even close to reaching the top of his, but she couldn't give a shit. For a moment, she could hear Mac's voice ringing in her ears, could see her mom seated at the kitchen table offering her a fresh milkshake with a smile only her mother could give that made the world feel okay. Made her feel safe. For that moment, her parents were alive. Then the reality would crash down eventually until she realized they were waiting until she joined them. Some days, the low days she'd never reveal to even Griffin, Avery wished that were a lot sooner.

The thought replaced the mourning with anger knowing she cannot help laying blame on the council, on anyone who held the responsibility for what she and her cousin lost. Griffin took the revenge path for them both which left nobody else she could direct her frustrations at, but the fact of the matter is, would she have been capable enough to take them all down on her own? At the time, Avery was only fifteen years old, a supernatural, yes, however merely a werewolf in training who still had not yet found the control on her abilities. She'd been recently tortured, newly an orphan, and injured with no alternative that could've been utilized to heal herself, not in the way Griff had. He made the sacrifice, not her. He tarnished his soul black for himself, for his family, for her. If there is one thing Av placed her absolute certain trust in, it is Griffin's determination to go the extra mile sacrificing his life for family.

Avery dropped her hand from the outline of her father's and gingerly folded up the piece of paper, careful to avoid tearing any edges, before stowing it in the front pocket of the jean jacket she inherited from Mac. Enough reminiscing, she came here specifically for a purpose and there's no fucking way the wolf can ever allow one second of hesitation cross her mind. Av made her way out of her parents' bedroom and stalked down the hallway with determination marring her features before traveling down the stairs for what will be the final time. It wasn't until she made a beeline for the front door where she stored the gasoline can did the notion concerning Griffin's involvement enter the young blonde's thoughts. A snap of his fingers and the house will become a pile of ash, but where was her satisfaction? Where was her moment to close a chapter? Av left behind everyone for Griffin. No packs, no dead boyfriends, no Vanwarren twins offering a form of levity during her darker periods. No parents or Cassie and Wilburn, no more Calliope keeping her brother's humanity intact. Avery had to be his humanity now, despite how little of it remained.

Placing the backpack down, Avery untwisted the cap and began creating a meticulous trail around the living room carpet, splashing it on every piece of furniture that would add kindling to the flames that would consume her childhood home. She only spared enough for the downstairs area, figuring the fuel could finish the job when she was long gone. Okay, maybe she should've taken her cousin's help because this shit...already smelled pretty foul. The scent scorched the inside of Av's throat as its fumes started drifting through the air, however, asking for Griff's assistance meant spilling the beans on what she was doing and with that, came the uncertainty on his reaction. A part of Avery figured he'd understand her reasoning since this is what he did to the Thornton mansion, and another side of her thought pouring gas just to set her house aflame would have appeared almost ridiculous when his powers offered the same solution without the hideous stench. Scrubbing the idea from her brain, the wolf entered the kitchen and tossed the liquid over the linoleum floors, growing completely lost in her thoughts.

"Where's the fire fucker when you need him, huh, Avvie Av?" Avery immediately stopped dead in her tracks and slowly looked up, feeling her entire body nearly freeze at the sound of his fucking voice as the girl's gaze landed on Max Lieberman. Or, at least, an imaginary version of Lieberman that wasn't a collection of nothing after Griffin obliterated what was left of him. Either the gasoline fumes were seriously fucking with her mind and creating hallucinations or her worst nightmare had magically been resurrected. Or, on a completely different theory, she was officially going batshit crazy. Everything about this version of Max contradicts how he appeared in life. He still wore his varsity jacket, but Avery could see the gray pallor of his flesh were dotted by bruises and large scorch marks, beginning from his neck and covering his hands. It was an almost grotesque sight, but Max seemed relatively unbothered by the new look.

"I don't need him fighting my every battle. Now, leave me the fuck alone." Av rounded the kitchen island and created a line over the wooden stools. She caught a quick glance of the vision tilting his head to the side, hearing a mocking sigh leave Max's lips. "Don't be a goddamn brat, of course you need him fighting your battles." She refused to make any response toward the statement, hoping ignoring the bastard will make him go away, but he remained even while she coated the refrigerator with petrol. If she knew Max, though, the asshole cannot deny a single moment forcing the last word in. "Do you honestly think turning this ugly ass mcmansion into a shitpile of nothing will magically cure what's wrong with you? Our time together doesn't go away with a single match, Avery, you should've accepted it a long fucking time ago." Av clenched her jaw tightly with immense restraint, leaving the kitchen in a hurry and predicting Max would follow hot on her heels as she reentered the living room with him close behind. "Says the one who doesn't have to live with what you did, you fucking psychopath. That's the difference between us, though, isn't it? You're worm food and I'm still here."

The sound of a sickening chuckle Avery did not miss fled from Max's mouth, his head slowly shaking. "Now you're trauma dumping. Oh, boo fucking hoo, I'm just a little wolf who can't handle her wolfsbane and a few shocks. Oh, golly, woe is me, I found my fuck buddy boy toy with his guts spilled all over the floor and his best friend's heart ripped out. My life is so goddamn tragic." He mocked her with a whining tone, spitting out the last statement venomously. She hated him, she hated every last inch of him from the top of his head down to his feet. Almost ten years and that will never change for as long as she breathed. "Good to know you're laughing up at my personal pain from Hell, Maxie Poo." Avery grabbed the strap of her backpack and slung it over her shoulder before the hallucination's scoff carried across the living room. "Grow up. At least I didn't run from my problems...at least I'm not running from the truth."

The wolf yanked the front door open, blanketing what remained in the canister to start a stream that would lead down the concrete pathway, slowly making her way across the front porch and down the steps. "And what do you think I'm running away from, Max?" Avery spun around angrily once she reached the bottom, watching as he nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe and arms folded across his chest. "Is it the time you kidnapped me, forced a shock collar around my neck, shoved literal poison down my goddamn throat, pursued my cousin without her consent? Or what about the fact you are the one person responsible behind why I had to sit and watch my parents die? Point the finger at the council, sure, but when you actually think about it, Maxikins, you're the common thread." She hissed vehemently. "You manipulated a vampire into turning you, you compelled Andre, you became such a dangerous threat that Griffin had to put you down like a fucking dog. It all comes back to you. So, tell me why I'm running, Max, tell me what I'm afraid of, because it's certainly not you."

"I mean, obviously you made your lack of shits about me clear when you threw the so-called badass brave girl routine in my face." Max pretended to yawn from boredom and glanced down at the faux watch on his wrist as if this conversation was taking up too much of his time. He lifted his eyes after a moment too long, enough to piss off Avery further. "You can lie to your friends, you can lie to yourself, but not to me. We know each other better than that, don't we, sweetheart?" Av saw the same psychotic look in his dark gaze he displayed that night in the locker rooms, something untamable and downright evil beyond measure. A bullying tormentor relishing his handiwork. "Do you know what I think you actually fear, Avery? It's not me. Well...it kind of is if I'm here."

"God, do you ever shut the fuck up?" Av interjected in sheer irritation. She didn't need anyone psychoanalyzing what they thought were her fears, choices, all-around personal business, and most importantly her relationship with Griffin when not a single person knew a damn thing. And the person who really shouldn't allow his cockiness force him under an assumption the wolf's mind was open for business is Max fucking Lieberman. A dead guy making a special appearance as a last 'fuck you' middle finger to Avery.

"Not really." He crossed the porch's length and took each step one at a time patiently, quirking a smirk as the blonde pooch instinctively recoiled as if her body after all these years could not help the reaction. "You spent nearly a decade playing sideline to a cousin who destroyed one superpower and rebuilt Killgrove to his tyrannical image. He's controlled your life, locked you up like a pretty little princess, and made you believe no one else protects you better than he can. Griffin makes play he isn't too far gone, that you believe you're the one significant piece left of his humanity, but the truth? There is nothing good left in the fire fucker just as there isn't in you with what you've been dealt." Max raised a wide shrug and clapped his palms once together. "Just the two of you, side-by-side, you'll be just as bad as him or me if we're being honest with ourselves. And who knows, Pup, maybe one day soon, there's going to be another body found and you'll be the one who put it there."

"Don't you think I know that?" Avery blurted out without considering her answer. Without a trace of hesitation or a denial that she was a good person. Before the Max Lieberman saga even happened, it's understandable to wonder whether her bloodline ever produced any purity. Her mother had her demons as did her father, both traumatized by their respective childhoods. Then there is the Thornton bloodline and their prejudiced ways being the death of her Aunt Cassie's sister. Which always rested her case at Griffin's feet. Even while Avery helped orchestrate Max's doom and although Calliope tried denying it by forcing them to try her righteous way first before it all went to shit, the werewolf saw how easily Griff would have jumped at getting rid of Max on his own preference. It was a foolish errand to think turning the vampire in and allowing the council do with him as they saw fit wouldn't cost a heavy price, but she and her cousin knew the only solution ridding the town of the problem was Max's demise. After all, Griffin made a promise and he fulfilled it. Av didn't shed a tear. In fact, beyond the devastation losing their family, she was glad he was gone. Who isn't to confirm the darkness connected an invisible tether between the two? Avery shared his dark humor, his shamelessness making clear threats, and the Watt temper. They were alike more than different. "As scared as I am of him sometimes, I know that." The girl repeated softly in defeat.

"At least you admit what you are now to your core, Avery." His voice pierced her skull like a jackhammer as she created distance between them once more, finishing the last strip of gasoline and then tossing the can to the side where it came to rest in the grass. Max moved from his spot and walked up the same path alongside the liquid seeping into the ground, rearing to a halt at Avery's side. "I don't have anyone else. Except him." Av reached into her left pocket and revealed a zippo lighter. She couldn't remember who in the Chamberlain pack she stole it from or if it was Jace's since smoking had been his only vice, but either way the dice rolled, the poetic irony wasn't lost. "Then you know what to do next. Light the fucker up." She opened the top with a click and flicked the flint until the orangish flame sparked to life. It was oddly beautiful when you know how destructive fire can be once it grows, her cousin knew that well. In the moment, she didn't appreciate his gifts more than she had now. Avery tossed the lighter forward and observed as it landed on the gasoline tip. The chain of events was like a domino effect, working down the walkway and crawling up the steps, the fire licking every which way as it seemingly searched for the fuel. Until finally, finally, it hopped over the doorframe and set off an explosion that wreaked havoc on every floor. The glass in all windows instantly shattered from the pressure, pushing the flames out from the missing panes. Avery knew the living room and kitchen, the guest rooms and all bedrooms, including hers and what's left now but a memory of Mac and Harley Vaughn, were no more. Their murder scene was destroyed. Everything her parents built for the family is nothing and it forever will be just nothing. An empty lot the townsfolk will pass and gossip about, future generations will wonder what became of what once stood a beautiful home.

She and Griffin were like the five stages of grief. There was the denial first after her parents had been murdered during the early days living with her cousin where she pretended everything was fine, that he would eventually be fine. Next came the anger and fuck, was there a mountain's worth of it between her and the last remaining Thornton witch. Then there is bargaining, which most would have been accomplished placating Griff's actions by promising to abide by his restrictions. Avery experienced depression from the jump, the next step, especially when she spent hours locked in her bedroom waiting until she was released. It appeared she hurdled through the stages day by day, but there's one the werewolf did not ever reach until this moment.

Acceptance.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

academic rivals request! viktor x fem!reader, nsfw

request: @4-leafed pls... if u have time pls write a viktor x reader that r both geniuses at the academy but very much toe the line of rivalry and sexual tension...i love competitive smart people that fall in love when the rivalry becomes respect ... and they FREAK IT!!! possibly in a lab ! up to you : 3c

i liked this request so much that i ended up writing a decent-ish one-shot….

update: i wrote a part 2 because it was highly requested! you can read it here :)

rating: explicit

word count: 3,5k

warnings: academic rivals. LOTS of dialogue and bickering. dubious science because i skipped it in school, had to do some basic chemistry revision to write this pornographic catastrophe, so please pat me on the back. rough sex? rough… foreplay, that’s for sure. dirty talk, if you can call bickering that. penetration. reader tries to slap viktor, spits in his mouth and he cums in his pants. normally, i only write vanilla stuff, so i have no idea how it turned out THIS kinky (at least for me okay). not proofread (yet). nsfw under the cut:

—

“How do you take your coffee?”

His voice betrays the feeble intention of civility, fusing that polite inquiry into a hiss—a phonetic torture you didn’t even know could occur before. So much for killing you with kindness. Outstaging quips by desecrating courtesies. 

“I don’t care,” you mutter on autopilot. Can’t let him in on any personal preferences, no matter how insignificant. “Just don’t put arsenic in it.” 

Viktor scoffs. Puts the kettle away and peers at you over his shoulder, all wretchedly complacent. 

“So the rest of the periodic table is welcome, I presume?” 

Viktor. The local Nikola Tesla knock-off. Never a moment of peace with him; and the fierce taste of competition grows coppery in your mouth whenever he’s in your sight—the most handsome trigger of your cheek-biting reflex.

His name is an insult on your lips and you want to taste it. Chew it, crush it with your teeth and spit right out, preferably aiming for those poignant eyes seeking you in every classroom—so eager to light up with objection the second your opinion differs from his. 

Always the first prick to disparage your input. A never-resting generator of all the meticulous ways to denounce your projects. 

“If I may.” 

Sickeningly polite, too. With that lithe finger pointing in the air— so irritatingly comical. He may not, but there isn’t a chance he’ll shut up, now, is there?

And so he’d clear his throat, straightening his tie in that ridiculously solemn fashion. As if stepping on a pedestal to deliver a life-changing speech—not some shallow nitpicking regarding your circuit breakers. All eyes on him while his kept staring only into your soul. Special treatment, if you will. 

You will not.

“Using magnetic frames is careless,” he’d state. With his hand imposingly pointing to the blueprint on your slide. “Copper coils may oxidize. Not to mention the overheating. I would use thermoplastics. They’re significantly more efficient. And heat-resistant.”

Oh please. Like someone here gives a shit about what you’d use. 

But you can’t say that. Not in a room full of professors. And, judging from the countless nods of approval, the shits were, in fact, being given. 

“Too risky,” you oppose. “Thermoplastics often degrade at high temperatures. Electric insulation is not worth the damage of releasing hydrocarbons. I assumed that you’d be aware of that, Viktor. But I suppose that was an omission on my part.” 

More nods of approval, now in your favour. Here it goes again—the ever-lasting spectacle of hatred. Elegant, when entertaining the audience. Anything but discreet, in private. A perpetually drawn game of chess. By repetition, not agreement. Both of you refuse to retreat until checkmate. 

Oh yes, the sentiment was mutual. You and Viktor were notorious for tearing at each other's throats. The things you’d sacrifice to make that more than a mere metaphor, though. To pull him by that neat tie to sweet asphyxiation and hear him rasp for mercy with eyes full of pathetic condemnation. And he dreamed of that, too. His cane was itching to give you a smack—to paint your behind a plum so deep you’ll have troubles sitting without wincing. When it came to making metaphors literal, he’d pick being the pain in your ass.

However, your mentors couldn’t care less about the rivalry. The Collegiate Inventors Competition was coming up. And who could possibly make better candidates than two greatest minds of the engineering department, with academic excellence so accurately neck and neck that both of your names now occupy the honorary first place in every ranking table? 

That’s how you ended up with your sentence—three weeks of after-hours cooperation in the lab with the incorrigible bastard himself, a quarter of which you’ve already wasted on pointless bickering. Well, not without achieving some common grounds. The choice of prototype landed on one of your personal ambitions—a wearable exoskeleton for post-surgery rehabilitation, with plenty of robotics involved. Endorsed by Viktor, for once. The greater good must have swallowed even his dispute. Off to a nice start, if someone were to ask you.

However, the first issues struck early: on the very stage of development. Viktor volunteered for modelling: meaning, the framework would be custom, to accommodate his spine specifically. An object lesson for everyone involved, it would seem—but only in an ideal world. Which, considering what you had at hand (acrimony, bitterness, an entire picky bit of gall), was filtered out by default.

Now, five gruesome days and who’s-even-counting-anymore restarts later, you’re nowhere near close to at least a draft, yet borderline keen on murdering each other. And you’re certain the latter is approaching. He did just contemplate putting arsenic in your cup, after all. 

Viktor stirs the coffee. Watches his reflection smudge in the dark, whirly water, shooting you an askance glance from beneath thick brows when you start stirring yours—the spoon clanking a tad too loud, as if you were doing it on purpose. Which, you undoubtedly were. 

“Stop that,” he groans, almost leaping out of his chair. His heavy, disturbed gaze meets your cheeky simper. “You don’t have to stir it so thoroughly. It’s not like you take it with sugar anyway.”

“Of course.” You shrug. “I don’t drink slop.”

“Oh, I figured. There’s nothing sweet about you, so why would your coffee be any different?”

“There’s plenty of sweetness about me. I simply don’t squander it on entitled pricks.” 

That finally grounds him. And you’re giddy for the way his sturdy hand grips the cup so hard that it almost shatters into his palm, knuckles growing pale enough to match the porcelain. More so when you take a loud, languid sip, feigning innocence. Fully wallowing in his darling, defeated speechlessness. 

“Excuse you,” he mutters. “Entitled?!” 

“So you agree with the ‘prick’ part?” 

“Yes, and I take great pride in it. You may mark me flustered.” 

“Don’t forget to bust in your pants.”

Viktor sneers: chapped lip twitching, scowl growing defensive. Lanky legs untangle as he rises to his feet, towering above you in an angry lean on his cane—long frame transforming into your personal, scrawny menace, pissed exhale sharp and nasal above your head. And you admit to looking small beneath him—all hunched shoulders, weak smile finally tumbling lopsided. 

“Don’t you dare call me entitled,” he demands—and means it. It’s palpable in the way he twists the handle of his cane, the squeaky sound violently scratching your brain. “I sweated blood to achieve my privileges in this establishment.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “So did I, and yet you keep ordering me around as if I’m some braindead apprentice. We’re counterparts, Viktor. You’re supposed to be mindful of my perspective.”

“I never see you being mindful of mine,” he counters.

And, well. You can’t argue with that. 

Your coffee break continued in avoidant silence, but the ambience simply reeked of hostility—stifling enough to make you leave the lab feet first. The deadline’s chokehold besieging your neck wasn’t of any help, either—you had to submit the draft for approval by Sunday. And, so far, you haven’t even agreed on the design plan. 

You shoot Viktor a reluctant glance. Pensive, he sat slouched over his parchment, emitting pure peril. Like his shoulder blades might stab you if you attempt a single tap, belligerently peeking through the thin shirt. You tucked your lip under your teeth, chewing hard, tongue running over every small, neurotic wound inside your mouth. Fruitless negotiations held a special spot amongst your least favourite endeavours, but this conundrum called for a desperate measure.

“Viktor.” You winced at how chocked up it came out. He noticed that, too—because of course he did—turning in his chair to nod at you, ever so shit-eatingly. Lancing eyes scrutinised their way up to your face. What an affront. 

“Yes?” Always chiding in that condescending tone of his. Hissy ‘s’ echoed in the lab, gnawing at your nerves. 

“We have to submit something by the end of this week. Let’s at least decide on the blueprint.” 

“Fine.” He shrugged, returning to his sketch. “We’re going with mine.” 

“No!” You snapped. “We’re coming up with a new one. Together.” 

Viktor hummed in mock consideration. The strand of hair he’s been twirling unraveled, claiming more attention than you deemed him worthy of. Sighing, he lazily reached for your graph, frowning as his eyes started skimming over the scribbles. You made your way to the desk, claiming a spot behind his shoulder. That required a tacit truce. 

“You really want to wield… hydraulic actuators?” He winced, looking up at you. Had your breath hitching at that respectful attempt, the effort prominent in the very way he uttered those words—as if struggling to filter out swear ones. 

“Yes,” you mustered. “For high power.” 

“But they’re so heavy.”  

“Well, what would you use?” 

He chuckled—rich and malicious. Flipped the page and finally averted those curious eyes, arching a bushy brow. 

“I thought no one gave a… crap about what I’d use.” 

Oh, well. It felt nice while it lasted. 

“How did you even—“

“You ought to be more discreet with your vitriol,” he retorted. “I’ll let you know that I’m a decent lip-reader.” 

“Then don’t stare at my mouth next time. What would you use, Viktor?” 

Now that left you both startled. His fingers stilled above the diagram, flexing in disbelief, hollow cheeks hued a puzzled rouge as you almost chomped your tongue off, showing an embarrassed curse back into the depth of your throat. 

“Ahem. Electric motors,” he chanted, pretending to overlook the slip-up. And for once, you were grateful for his tact. 

“I see. Well, er… put that down, please.” 

He instantly complied, fetching a pen. Left you to reflect on your misery to the rhythmic sound of his scrawling, pressing a sweaty palm to his forehead. 

“Right.” He sighed. “What about the power supply?”

“Rechargeable batteries?” You suggested weakly. “Lithium-ion.”

“Very well. Frame?”

“Something durable. Titanium?” 

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, pushing the notes away. “Why must you always insist on using the heaviest equipment?”

“I don’t know, corrosion resistance?” You muttered back, hovering over him. “Biocompatibility?”

“That’s perfectly manageable with carbon fiber!”

“So it shatters after the tiniest bump? Bravo, Viktor, how ingenious.” 

He lurches forward—rigid breath quivering over yours. Close enough to crush that thick skull with your forehead—if only you ventured, that is. But, alas, you’re not as brave just yet. Some brief eye-stabbing is about all you’re good for. 

“Fine,” he agrees, pulling away. “We’ll use aluminium alloys. Corrosion resistant and easy to machine. No one wins. Does that suffice?” 

“Yes. Now will you finally let me take your measurements for the sketch?”

He doesn’t answer—at least not verbally. Merely stands up and nods to the measuring tape, face still heavily contorted with displeasure. But you don’t oblige just yet. How can you, when Viktor’s fingers suddenly reach for his collar, fumbling with the button? And—oh no—now they’re sliding lower, reiterating once, twice, thrice, until his chest (flushed, but that might just be wishful thinking) is fully peeking out, teasing the smooth scrap of ivory skin. 

“What… are you doing?” You mumble, utterly startled. 

“…Undressing?” He says matter-of-factly, looking up at you so askance as if you’d just asked him if the sky is blue. One more ministration and the shirt is neatly folded next to the parchment—waiting for you to be through with the measurements to be slid back on his bony shoulders. 

“That, I can tell,” you mumble. “Why did you undress?”

Viktor’s gaze daggers into you again. “Don’t tell me you were actually intending to measure me clothed? Can you not comprehend precision?”

“Precision?”

“The prototype is expected to cling to me. I don’t see how that’s achievable with my shirt on— I assumed that was rather obvious.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Ah, sweet civility. I even started worrying that other entitled pricks must’ve depleted your decorum, but it seems like you saved some up for me after all. I’m flattered, really—“ 

You don’t even register when it happens.

Next thing you see is Viktor seizing your wrist—sternly yanking your slap off his face before it gets the chance to land there in a flared handprint. Nothing but pure rage and prickliness—right where his short nails are lancing your skin, engraving an ugly bracelet you’ll wear for hours.

Well, maybe there is something else. Something inexplicable, and tremendous—deep in the way your eyes keep drifting south—where his pants sling low on defined hips, and the pretty trail of dark hair runs from navel to waistband—no doubt circling exactly what you manage to make out in the convex slope of his crotch. And you want to slap him for that, too—sonorous, and frenetic. Going in again with full force, but his force always turns out to be fuller—and in an instance he firmly twists your arm, pinning it behind your back—pale face barely five inches away from your flushed one. 

What happens next is beyond any explanations. Later, he’ll blame it on inertia—that stupid urge to maintain the speed, to stay in motion with your messy antics until some external force stops him—a simple need to claim you before the inevitable collision.

But there’s no inertia in escalation. In the way his free hand grabs you by the nape and clashes agape mouths together, teeth bumping hard enough to make you consider booking a dentist appointment later. Not a sign of inertia when you grab him, either—a little clumsy through the sharp pain in your twisted arm—bold fingers raking his scalp in a vengeful tug on his hair. 

And it’s more than a kiss. If anything, it looks like you’re trying to eat him—tongue out and thrusting into his throat so fiercely that he gags on it, almost tearing up. Now you know what sheer desperation sounds like, and it’s grunting against your mouth, suddenly pitching to a pathetic moan when you grab a handful of chestnut hair and pull so hard that his eyes roll back, lean frame shaking under your violent approach. You use that startled momentum to try and pry your arm free, but he still keeps it in place. 

“You’re hurting me!” You hiss, attacking his neck—the very one you always shamefully admitted to finding the sexiest any man can possess, and your teeth roughly pinch at his voice box, coaxing another whine. 

“Good.” He groans with spite. “I hope I am.” 

And yet, he releases your aching arm, trading it for a calculated squeeze of your waist. But the audacity overshadows his little mercy. You instantly use the unrestrained privileges to force a finger into his mouth—astounded at the way he instantly opens up, almost mockingly pliant. More so when you spit on his tongue, sparing no shame—as if trying to rile him up beyond recognition. Grinning, when your saliva dribbles down his chin. 

“Ah.” He huffs, instantly licking up the remnants. “Thank you. Ever so disrespectful.”

“You haven’t earned my respect,” you lie, nudging him towards the chair. Not even bothering to wait until he lands, impatient hands already messing with his belt—so treacherously earnest as you shake, unfastening the buckle, and the bastard chuckles at that, looking down at your eager work. 

“That’s a new low, then,” murmurs coyly, helping you into his lap, heavy head leisurely thrown back. “Sleeping with someone you don’t respect.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh yes. You’re about to.” 

You glare at him from under heavy lids, but the anger refuses to linger—not when he stares back full of indignant awe, so clearly basking in your attention. With his cock half-springing out of undone pants, shamelessly twitching against your palm. And not a single breath was hitched to conceal his excitement. 

“Must you always be so insufferable?” You reproach, pushing his hair back—too domestic for your own liking, and yet it doesn’t feel unfitting. Especially when he leans into your hand, welcoming your touch on his sweaty forehead—like he wanted you to feel it fever up with want.

“No.” He shakes his head. “But if it can grant me this, I’ll triple the effort.” 

“What happened to new lows? You don’t have a fraction of respect for me, either.”

“You’re right.” He shrugs. “Fractions could never encapsulate my tribute to you.”

And his hand slipped under your skirt, shakily crawling home—precisely where you’d never confess to needing him a mere minute ago. But the sentiment did a decent job at diluting your rancour. There came no protest when he introduced two long fingers into your underwear, openly gasping at the evident dampness. And you allowed him that with no regrets. Moreover, you helpfully sank yourself knuckle deep, wincing at the brief burn, arms wrapping around his neck as he sweetly looked up, seeking your  permission. Which was instantly found in the pretty moan you spilled into his mouth, slick tongues back at their futile attempts to strangle each other. 

However, your patience was running thin. As much as you wanted to indulge in proper foreplay, whatever masochistic dance he exposed you to had you in agony ever since it started—and it was getting unbearable to ignore the ache, no matter how bad Viktor  craved to postpone the main course. 

Your thighs clenched hard as you crouched above him, fingers wrapping around the hilt to awkwardly line the tip up with your cunt—the slick sound of it slowly sliding down suddenly igniting some tender bashfulness. Like you didn’t just spit in his mouth with a vile smirk. Like he never had to confine you from slapping him in the face. 

That stretch felt different from the one after his fingers. Significantly richer, it made you whine—a pitiful sound reverberating against his skin as you held on tighter and allowed him to bottom out, savouring every little crevice inside you. Raw, yet neither of you seemed to care—that concern was pushed alongside your underwear, then forgotten altogether when your walls clenched him, offering tight bliss. 

“Move,” you demanded, grabbing him by the chin. Viktor rasped something back, but you didn’t catch it—already too busy tongue-fucking his pretty neck, turning your teeth into sharp tools ready to stain it mauve with bites. 

And he complied again. One hand trembled on your hip while the other crawled between your legs—first missing your clit in the chaotic pace of thrusts, then finding it again as it grazed his fingertips. So cheeky when he dared to pinch it, avenging every pull on his hair. Though, he couldn’t gloat in your wince. Not when it clearly was one of the pleasured kind. 

But you didn’t feel like letting him regain composure. You already missed his husky groans—ached to test what else fucking you could make him mutter. Fogy gaze found his face again, softening at the sight—all wet forehead full of concentrated creases and thin lips bitten to bloodless paleness. 

You took over. Let him lean back and rest as you roughly rode him into the chair—and for that he gave you a grateful moan, the insistent thumb toying with your clit never stopping even for an instant. Good with his hands, and he knew it—proudly grinned when you struggled to keep going, taut legs treacherously giving up astride him. 

That didn’t please you in the slightest. You wanted him to be close, too: slid a hand up his chest and angrily tugged at one nipple—chortling when his mouth dropped in a stunned gasp. Bewildered, but he didn’t mind it—amber eyes squeezed shut when his head lolled, and you finally got his lovely moans back—raspier than before, ravenous enough to make your head spin. 

You could already feel it, pulsing somewhere deep within. Blurry vision couldn’t make him out anymore, the lab smudging into a mess of weird shapes—you were about to cum, hard, and Viktor threatened to follow suit any second—his thumb failing to hold steady, and yet the pressure was still there, courtlesly helping you chase that sweet relief. Such a gentleman. 

“Close,” you chanted. “So, so close.” 

“I know,” he answered, choking on a groan. “Me too.” 

And you melted, almost crushing him with your weight. Quivering in a spasm so intense that it had him struggling to keep moving, and yet he was mindful of the risk—used the last fractions of his brain capacity to gently nudge you off his cock and pump it fast and hectic. Cumming in one endlessly thick rope, with a moan so vocal that it reached you even through the layers of foggy, ear-buzzing aftermath. Had you shuddering when you clung off his shoulder, glassy eyes wide with trembling astonishment. You stared at him through the approaching wave of disbelief. 

No signs of regret so far, or maybe it was simply still forming—for now, you silently admired not a snarky bastard, but a pretty, fucked out boy beneath you. 

“Oh, would you look at that.” Viktor chuckled, sheepishly looking down. “I didn’t forget.”

“What?” You mumbled in confusion, following his gaze.

And when it finally caught your attention—sticky and relentlessly staining his pants—you slammed a hand over your mouth, muffling the hysterical laughter. 

“And here I thought I finally fucked your remarkable memory out.”

“Oh, by no means. As, eh… intense as that was, that misery of mine is not going anywhere. However,” he trailed off, his hand skittishly moving towards yours, “sex clearly proved beneficial for our… dynamic.”

You smile, sliding your palm into his warm grasp. 

“Can it ensure us enough civility to win the competition?”

And Viktor scoffs, coyly looking you in the eye. 

“Why should we limit it to just that?” 

[yzzart]

I read your stuff for Dante and ohmegosh!! Just the kind of fluff one can enjoy after a grueling day ^-^

If you're still interested in Scenarios, how about one where his girl is in danger?

I don't know, I just can't help but picture a scary calm Dante going in to save his girl (maybe even angry enough to activate Devil Trigger) and his girl, safe, if not still freaked out- sees he's still angry, and tries to crack a joke just to help bring her boy back down from the rage- then him just laughing weakly at her joke before pulling her in for a tight but still gentle hug

WANNA KEEP ON ROLLIN', BABY! ── DANTE

── content warnings: F!reader, reference to the anime, mention of Devil Trigger and Sparda, words mentioning violence, jokes and puns.

── word count: 824!

They came to you. — Capable of being neglected, wicked to execute any malevolence, cruelty for exultation, will; sustaining the pure hatred that ran in their blood and determined and unwilling to spread torture and killing to anyone. — And with the assistance of an organization.

It was funny, ironic, in that case, that the characteristics mentioned could, without thinking, fit DARKCOM. — And Dante suspected, knew, that they influenced his location to those damned ones.

The so-called “Lieutenant Arkham” mentioned your name in Dante’s ears as she unnaturally tried to kill him. — She expressed and articulated questions related to you, without conveying the disgust and anger she felt for the demon hunter. — This man held himself back from ripping off, at the very least, her skin entirely.

You have been kidnapped. — Involved, attached to an ambush and enduring, being subjected, to the role of hostage; trying not to go crazy, to convey a horrified and weak reaction. — The weird and wretched white rabbit warned that he would stab the half-demon's weaknesses; from the amulet to the woman he loves.

Sparda's son — a reality that would need time to gain recognition — would not make his father's mistake, leaving and causing the lack of protection and death of his wife. — Even if that means eternal destiny in the underworld or the end of possible humanity.

Damn, that would be, respectfully, extraordinary with a soundtrack in the background. — He couldn't help but think; that was so cheesy, it was Dante's kind of thing.

These things, uttered by the merciless mouth of the disproportionate easter bunny, of “devil trigger” or “true form” that ran through Dante sounded like pure nonsense; something that he, even being a dumb chatterbox, would not think. — Until they revealed themselves to him, they reciprocated his fury, hatred and transformed him into a certain creature that he did not recognize. — However, he feared that his appearance could be a part of who Sparda was.

Dante never saw, verified — or created, relatively, with his imagination and creativity — the true appearance of Sparda; obviously, he heard stories or narratives about him. — But, he heard from those stupid brutes that he looked like the traitorous demon.

Deep down, if he ended up alive, he would delve deeper, searching with efficiency and interest, into the true story of his father. — Without having something trustworthy, or a living witness who wouldn't want to end his skin, Dante would have a long road ahead. — Everyone wanted a piece of him, what a desired man.

Recovering his honesty with himself, Dante only hoped that you would get used to his new image; and he hoped that you would like it too. — He has wings, rocky structures of pure red and lava predominated his body, horns and eyes, terribly, yellow. — It was still him.

It was still Dante.

“Dante?” — ​​Your voice determined strangeness, at the same time, fascination and not insinuating a panic or disgust of the demonic creature before your eyes; carrying an impetuous composure in the environment, which was, totally, destroyed. — “I can’t believe it…?”

“In flesh, bone and claws.” — The altered voice, barely recognized, conveyed feigned enthusiasm, displacing the fury of the previous moment, the man suggested a pun. — “It’s all kind of new to me.” — He tilted his head, feeling the weight of the horns; Dante was taller, not that it changed anything between the height difference between you before his transformation. — “Very new, actually.”

It was recognizable, and somewhat indescribable, that there was a deep mixture of emotions rising in Dante's chest; just as his voice determined frustration and bitter anger. — A disturbance that he began to feel the first second his amulet was taken from him. — And they had almost done the same thing to you.

Sliding your eyes over your boyfriend's robust and impressive, hellish body, you captured lines, reminiscent of lava, shining as he breathed; enraged reactions remained in Dante. — You couldn't judge him, but you also couldn't leave him like that.

“At least you won’t have to worry about transportation, will you?” — Not knowing what to actually do to help him, you had to use his own weapon: his lame puns. — “Is it faster than a plane, big boy?” — ​​You were referring to the wings, which made Dante’s body like his coat.

Sparda's son laughed, exclaiming a sudden and sharp laugh, making your skin crawl as he listened and he could not believe that you would be subject to consuming your comedian side at a time like this.

“I don’t know, ma'aam.” — He moved his body, showing off, and with reason and without problems, your eyes contemplated more than they should, planning something. — “Do you want to find out for yourself?” — Taking control and opening his wings, signaling that he was about to take you out of there, Dante suggested putting the plan into practice. — "Why don’t demons fly first class?"

Yeah, Dante was still Dante.

[joshujihan23]

You’re safe with me

☆ pairing: mafia boss!seungcheol x girlfriend!reader

☆ synopsis: the mafia scene was something that isn’t unfamiliar to you since your boyfriend is THE mafia boss, so is it surprising that you got involved as well?

☆ trigger warning: mentions of violence, abuse, torture, blood, degrading terms such as weak, mentions of injuries such as bruises, cuts, scars.

☆ author’s note: my LONGESTT fic yet. not sure how i feel about this.. do let me know how it is!

————————————————————————

you were overwhelmed with fear, your eyes shielded by the numerous tears filling your eyelids, dripping down your cheeks simultaneously.

you were exhausted. frightened. nervous, anything relating to fear.

your hands were tied with thick, rough rope, and trapped behind the chair you were sitting on. your legs scarred, filled with bruises and cuts from the whips given by his enemy’s subjects. their sinister laughs, their amused expressions, were printed in your brain.

and the scene when you got kidnapped, was replaying again and again. apparently seungcheol betrayed his best friend, alex. and his revenge? kidnap his love of his life, torture his beloved, until seungcheol strikes a deal with him.

and best believe, you knew who the enemy was. the person that ‘fought for you’ against seungcheol.

which in the end, seungcheol won.

and he is here today to get his revenge, after he has risen in placings in the mafia scene.

but whatever that got you in this situation didn’t matter to you at that point. the pain, the fear in you, took over your mind, leaving you to dread whatever that was coming up next.

you heard footsteps approaching, slowly but firmly. you sighed with a shaky breath, preparing yourself for the worst.

it has been hours, and seungcheol hasn’t arrive.

and that is killing you slowly but surely.

just then, you felt a hand, rough and callous, grip onto your cheek. you winced, looking up at him weakly.

only to see that it was alex, with an evil smirk plastered across his face.

you gulped, trying to move your face out of his grip.

only for him to return with a harsh slap across your cheek, making you yelp in pain.

“your prince charming isn’t coming, love. just give it up.” he snickered.

“he will, he definitely will..” you mumbled.

his eyes gazed down your figure, his smirk widening as he does so. he took a step forward, his tall figure standing before you, making you gulp. he grabbed onto your cheek harshly, his cold hand come into contact with the small bruise forming on your cheek from all the torture you’ve been facing, making you wince.

that made alex chuckle darkly, giving you another slap across your cheek.

“such a weak woman, are you? need your knight in shining armour to continuously save you. guess what, pretty? he isn’t coming.” he said in a mocking tone, his eyes shifting to the orange glow at the corner of the dark, eerie warehouse.

the sun is setting. is seungcheol not going to come soon?

before you could even turn to face the sun ray creeping into the warehouse, you felt alex harshly gripping onto your chin.

his face inched closer to you, his breath hitting the tip of your nose gently, a stark contrast to his menacing gaze.

“i fought so hard. i fought so hard so that you could be mine. but what did my dear best friend do? steal you from me. if you were mine, we won’t be having this issue here, darling.” he spoke, his voice low and dark.

he let out another dark chuckle, his other hand gripping onto your thigh tightly.

“now, let me enjoy this time with you. the time which i longed for for all these gruelling years..”

his voice lingered at the end of the sentence. before you could even say anything, he smashed his lips onto you, making you yelp. panicked, you started to fumble on the chair, making some efforts to remove the string that tied both of hands behind your back.

but alex didn’t back down. in fact, he grabbed your cheek harshly with his hand, while using the other to hold your body down on the flimsy chair.

before you knew it, you felt his cold hand playing with the hem of your shirt, as it creeped underneath it. feeling the chills going up your body from the sudden contact, you yelped, but was quickly silenced when he bit your lip recklessly, penetrating his tongue into your mouth, exploring every single inch of it.

you tried, you tried everything in your ability to stop him. you wanted to yank your leg forward to kick him, but his grip on your thigh was so, so strong.

and that’s when you heard a rip.

puzzled, you looked down, only to see that your shirt had rip, due to how old the material was.

alex cackled, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“lord and behold, such smooth and milky skin. tempting, are we?” he growled.

his lips returned to attack yours, his fingertips grazing against your chest, making shivers go down your spine.

“don’t be scared, sweetie, let me take care of you.”

and that moment, you hear gun shots fire right outside the warehouse. cursing under his breath, you could almost see the screws in his brain turning, as he continued to make out with you.

“shh, don’t be frightened, princess. let me just feel you a bit more.”

his hands creeped down your body, reaching against your thigh. he squeezed it harshly, making you flinch. he hiked your skirt up swiftly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

no. he can’t do this. he just can’t.

you tried to shake him off, but he just won’t budge. feeling the tears trickling down your cheeks, you heard the large, wooden door burst open.

“get your hands off her.”

startled, you saw that alex turned his head, his smirk widening.

your eyes glanced to the door as well, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

seungcheol, standing right there, with all his other members.

alex got off of you, brushing his hands together, while walking towards seungcheol with a menacing grin.

“well, well, well. look who we have here?” alex announced.

you saw seungcheol whispering to his other members, as they began to scatter.

“let’s end this with a duel, the first to surrender, loses.” seungcheol declared, his right hand playing with his gun skilfully.

“fine, but no weapons, fair and square.” alex rebutted, throwing his gun aside.

“deal.”

and it all began, the fistfighting. the two men began throwing punches at each other, kicking the other with full force. seungcheol swung a fist against alex’s cheek, making alex return with a strong kick against his legs.

invested in the fight, you didn’t realise that your hands were free, and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

you turned around, to see that it was jeonghan, seungcheol’s most trusted member, and certainly your favourite except for seungcheol.

he placed a hand on your head, trying to reassure you as much as he could.

“you’re safe with us. your injuries, does it hurt, how much does it hurt.”

with this many questions, you could guess that he was trying to distract you from the fight. but your eyes remain glued onto the two men, who behaved relatively animalistic.

seungcheol seemed like he was winning, until alex kicked onto his leg harshly, making his knees buckle. he knelt in front of him, before alex pulled out a knife from his pocket, grazing it against seungcheol’s neck.

“it’s over, buddy. just give up and give me your girl, and we’ll be all good.”

your eyes widened, you wanted to go to him, but jeonghan pulled you back, telling you that it was too dangerous. but seungcheol kept his menacing gaze, his eyes fixed onto alex.

“you will never get her, you aren’t good enough for her.”

you heard seungcheol wince, watching closely, the knife dug deeper in his neck, blood dripping onto the knife slowly.

frightened, you did the thing that only seemed right to you, although it might be deemed as rash.

you escaped from jeonghan’s arms, scurrying onto the floor, and

BANG.

the shot fired, silencing the entire room.

the entire room stood still, almost as if time has stopped.

the body fell on the ground, limp and bleeding, but he was still breathing, since his chest was still rising, slowly but surely.

your hands clenched onto the pistol, your hands shaking from the shock you have. your eyes darted around, only to land on seungcheol.

his facial expression was unreadable, the blood on his neck still dripping.

and that made a wave of fear rush over you, as you watch seungcheol walk towards you.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t know why i did that i-i was just so scared i’m so-”

and that’s when you felt his soft lips on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist gently. his kiss was so soft, so gentle, yet there’s a lingering feeling of possessive, protectiveness.

at the familiar touch, you gave in immediately, returning the kiss.

breaking away, he placed his forehead against yours, taking that moment to calm his breathing.

“you did the right thing, princess. if it weren’t for you, i would have lost you completely. you’re so brave, so so brave.” his hand ran through the strands of your hair, brushing it away from you.

he looked down, seeing the complete mess that you were in. the torn shirt, the crumped skirt, and most importantly, your injured body, his heart broke almost immediately.

he took off his jacket, wrapping it around your body, making you wear it.

“it’s going to be cold, wear this so that you won’t fall sick, alright?” he mumbled, his sweet tone lingering in the air.

“cheollie..” you sighed shakily, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. you buried your head into his neck, feeling his blood trickling on your neck. you held onto him tightly, your breath becoming more and more shaky from fear.

that absolutely broke seungcheol’s heart. the only times when you actually called him ‘cheollie’, was when you were scared, when you had so much fear in you it hurts his heart. that made him pull you closer to him, as if he was protecting you from the rest of the world.

“you’re safe with me now, princess. i’ll protect you better, i swear.” he mumbled, his breath tickling your ear gently.

“sorry to.. ruin the moment. but what are we doing with this animal?”

the both of you turned around, to see joshua leaning forward, watching alex carefully while kicking his unconscious body.

“leave him here, we’ll teach him a lesson.” seungcheol spoke, in such a simple, yet evil tone.

he turned his attention to you again, his eyes softening at the sight of your tear-filled, doe eyes.

“i have one favour of you. tell me everything he did, and that will determine my punishment for him tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

the soft music of the movie played in the background, the sweet scent of the candle he lit up filled the room.

after the both of you got home, he immediately carried you in bridal style, and towards your bedroom. he sat you down on the mattress, while examining the state that you are in.

the bright, bruising red mark on your cheeks, the ones that he always hold on to seek comfort. your torn shirt, the shirt that you always told him not to throw away because it meant so much to you, but because of today, it got destroyed. your thigh, covered in red marks, with bruises and cuts trailing down your leg, the pair of legs he just loves to touch because it was just so, so soft.

and most importantly, your lips. the pinkish, soft lips that he loves to connect his lips with, was now bruised, swollen, and split.

he cupped your cheeks, gently so that it won’t trigger any pain when he did so. but seeing you wince softly at the touch, his heart immediately broke.

he placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky sigh.

“fuck, i didn’t want this job of mine to danger you. what did i do.. i’m so sorry princess. i’m so sorry..” he mumbled gently, his eyes tracing your face.

your gaze was locked onto his, watching his eyes soften as he examined your injuries. seeing the guilt building in him, you quickly placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

“don’t be, at least i’m safe with you now, right?” you replied, your lips brushing against his.

seungcheol let out another shaky sigh, placing a peck on your lips, giving himself a reminder that you are actually safe with him.

“you’re right, you’re so so right. let me take care of you, please. i need to see you feel better before i can do so myself.” he whispered, his hand grasping onto yours gently.

seungcheol stood up, taking one last look at you, before he walked off to the bathroom. a few moments later, you see him walking back towards you, with a basin filled with water and washcloth in one hand, and the first aid kit in the other.

he sat in front of you, his weight sinking the bed down slightly. he placed the basin on the bedside table, dipping the cloth into it. he wrung it gently, as he brought it closer to your face.

“this is going to sting, be strong for me, okay?” he mumbled gently, waiting for your approval while he continued to stare into your eyes.

when you nodded, he sighed softly, dabbing the wet cloth onto the wounds on your face. feeling the sting, you hissed, your hands clenching onto his arm.

he stopped for a moment, watching how your face clenched up, your eyes closing a little from the pain.

“i know i know, it hurts right? i’ll be quick, i promise.” he said reassuringly.

he seemed to treat your injuries pretty quickly, and before you know it, he was already done. your body was filled with bandages, small plasters, and oilment to treat the bruises. he placed the cloth back in the basin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“you did so well, princess. so good for me.” he praised, a small smile forming on his lips.

you gave him a smile in return, before kneeling forward, while placing a hand on his chest. your eyes was fixated on the scar on his neck, the one he got while he was in the fight with alex.

“relax baby, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” you said softly, holding onto the wet cloth, the same one he used to wipe off the dried blood.

your actions made seungcheol chuckle, his eyes glued to every little detail that you did.

“alright princess, i’ll be good.” he replied, another chuckle escaping from his lips.

————————————————————————

you treated his injuries pretty quickly, while he took the moment to order some food for the both of you to eat.

after all, after a day of fighting and torture, the least the both of you could do was to eat.

and the food came pretty quickly, with the both of you sitting on the couch in the room, with a movie playing in the background, cuddled in each other’s arm, while eating the fried chicken from your favourite restaurant.

taking a piece of chicken, seungcheol placed the meat at your mouth, waiting for you to eat it.

“say ahh~” seungcheol cooed, making you giggle, as you at the chicken.

“i’ll never believe how the most powerful mafia in this country is the softest person when it came to his girlfriend.” you teased, placing your head on his chest.

seungcheol chuckled, his fingers running through your hair, while he admired your facial features.

“well, although you had the mafia boss wrapped around that little finger of yours, you should know that you are in fact, the safest person that anyone can be on this planet, when you’re with me.”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus:

seungcheol walked into the warehouse, seeing that jeonghan and joshua has already tied alex up on the chair, the same chair you sat on yesterday.

“p-please let me go! i’m so sorry for kidnapping y/n let me go please..” alex begged, his eyes desperate and pleading.

seungcheol only let out a mocking laugh, his hand twirling the gun in his hand around.

“y/n shared with me everything that you did, now let’s do the punishment according, shall we?” seungcheol looked at jeonghan and joshua, who gave a knowing, yet menacing smile.

“should’ve known before you kidnapped the girlfriend of the most powerful mafia.” joshua said, while trying to hold back his laughter.

“and trying to win her back? you’re pathetic, even for a normal human being.” jeonghan added, while cracking his knuckles.

seungcheol walked closer to alex, his eyes eyeing down at the man, who seemed smaller, and more afraid, making him laugh once again.

“let’s make it quick and easy. i need to get back to my love. where should we start?”

[cryptidwithaninternetconnection]

How’s the vet going?

It went ok! The vet confirmed that Blueberry is ok aside from some malnutrition, the blue coloring is because their a demon! But while I was heading out a brunette kid stopped me and asked if I was Dark, I said no but I think he knew I was lying because he tried to grab me, thankfully I ran! Who knew megapolis knew I existed? I remember Red telling me and RDC that people may try to kidnap us because of us being his siblings and thus can be held for ransom and to be very careful, I think the brunette kid and his friends knew this because they kept yelling that they weren’t gonna hurt me, but I know a lie when I see one!