#all of them radiate an unsettling dark aura too

[lytters]

i cannot for the life of me stop thinking about bakusquad giving your s/o the shovel talk fkrbkfjf

[call-sign-shark]

The Woods Whisper || 2/2

Summary: After a terrific nightmare, your and Arthur’s life change for good. You start to suffer from a mysterious and excruciating hunger, which always seems to lead you to the forest.

Words: 3.5k

TW: Extreme violence, angst, cannibalism, graphic depiction of mutilation, graphic depiction of murder, gore, ehh dubcon

Notes: written for @peakyswritings's 2k celebration and Halloween. Nina belongs to her. + important notes at the end and no proofreading because we read like warrior here.

Reader is Heaven from the series Heaven in Your Eyes.

When the heavy doors of Arrow House opened, revealing your dainty frame bathed in the pale moonlight that reflected on both your silvery mane and the whiteness of your fabulous outfit, all the guests' eyes opened wide in surprise. If there is one thing they did not expect it was you participating in the dinner Tommy's new wife, Nina, had organized. While not particularly comfortable with hosting an event, the young Italian lass had wished to consolidate the family ties, missing the warmth of her own since she moved to Birmingham.

The shock of your presence did not come from resentment but rather surprise since you carefully did your best to avoid any social contact for the last couple of weeks. Getting used to Arthur coming alone to family meetings or celebrations had been utterly odd considering how symbiotic your relationship was, to the extent of becoming a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling. Yet, they never dared to inquire much about the matter.

The reason behind their discretion wasn't a lack of curiosity, but rather how the lanky gangster waved off the questions by replying with vague and stern explanations about some unnamed sickness that kept you in bed. Moreover, his dissuasive growls and murderous glare had been enough to keep tongues shut. But among the family and acquaintances, one soul couldn't be fooled by empty excuses and it bore the name of Nina Ferrante Shelby. The cunning dark-haired girl reckoned that the two lovebirds had been trying hard to hide an ugly truth she couldn't pinpoint yet, but her sharp eyes noticed a few details everyone else had missed.

It had started with Arthur, whom she saw compulsively readjusting his shirt's collar in an attempt to make sure that most of his flesh was well-covered, protected from indiscreet eyes. Where Tommy believed he was hiding some hickeys, Nina's honey glance caught sight of the swollen and reddish edges of a deep wound carefully hidden under the fabric of his shirt the moment Arthur had turned his head to look at Finn and rebuff him in a condescending older brother way. When his steel blue eyes met Nina's, he understood that she had seen the scar and quickly readjusted his collar, clearing his throat in embarrassment before bringing her attention to another topic but it was already too late. He had just confirmed her suspicions by doing so. The second alarming detail she caught was when she came to your house following Arthur's announcement that you were sick. She noticed how your eyes had changed since your last encounter, shivering at the way their aquamarine color had mysteriously turned one shade paler. Not only did they become almost white, but their black pupils were covered by a milky veil that rendered them as blank and glassy as a decaying corpse's. As much as Nina liked you, connecting with the wild and untamable nature you both shared, her blood would instantly run cold in her veins each time her gaze met yours: the loving and knowing looks you would often give her had turned into a dizzying void: all she could find in your eyes was emptiness.

But what had startled her the most hadn't been Arthur's odd behavior nor the disturbing abyss of your clouded eyes, but rather the frozen and disturbing something that radiated off you. In truth, you had always been surrounded by an ethereal, cold, and otherworldly threatening aura. A part of it was certainly due to your unusual appearance and your frozen beauty though. Yet, as you passed by her tonight, Nina knew it was different. You might have looked the same, dressed in a seductive and revealing dress adorned with expensive gold jewels, but apart from your familiar appearance the Sicilian nymph couldn't recognize you anymore. Worst than not recognizing the only friend she had made in England, Nina couldn't understand why her whole being reacted with unexplainable spikes of panic each time her skin grazed yours. It was as if her unconscious could foresee the monster that was lurking behind your seraphic complexions even before her eyes could.

As the dinner dragged on, Nina grasped the visible discomfort that had been growing on your face. The more minutes passed, the more you looked as if you were about to snap.

"Are you okay?" The Italian beauty mouthed, but the only reply she got was sheer silence. Overwhelmed by your bottomless hunger, you were trying your best not to let the delicious scents of human flesh get the best of you. Staring at the void, you nervously rubbed Arthur's thigh under the table and completely ignored Nina, far too busy trying not to think about her exquisite tan skin. Would she taste as sweet as the honey of her eyes? With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. He knew you were starting to lose your patience.

"Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" Your siren-like voice, colder than Everest's snow, echoed in the room with such a caustic tone that Ada opened her eyes wide, an expression of pure shock on her doll-like face when you cut her off that bluntly. So bluntly even Nina, who was aware of the colder nature you hid from the rest of the world, couldn't help but almost choke on her wine.

"The hell is wrong with you, Heaven? She's a baby and sometimes babies cry! What a surprise!" Ada was quick to reply, instinctively hugging her newborn daughter closer as she cradled her. Elizabeth had been uncontrollably sobbing from the moment her big brown eyes had met your dead gaze. They said babies are more sensitive to silent threat, you know. Agnese once told Nina. Her cries, piercing and nerve-racking, had worsened the insufferable famine that howled inside of you. Not hiding your annoyance anymore, you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension of your stiff body but it didn't work, "I'm serious Heaven. You should consider getting used to it if you want to give children to Arthur one day." Ada lectured with one raised brow, making Elizabeth hop on her thighs to try to hush her. It didn't work. You dug your sharp nails into Arthur's thigh in reply, feeling your self-control break down at the child's exciting sobs and Ada's mouth-watering perfume. Arthur let out a low-key growl and squeezed your cold hand tighter.

"She's been screaming into my damn ear for God knows how long, Ada. Don't you think I've been patient enough? Isn't it enough for you to calm her down?" Your voice was hushed, barely above your normal tone, and yet its anger resonated loudly. Each word was carefully pronounced with a tense stillness between them, cold, sharp, and cutting like a razor slicing through the air, "So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!" You suddenly commanded, standing up so violently that your chair fell behind you in a noisy thud.

" Arthur!" Ada screamed, astounded and furious at your insolence.

"Arthur! Can't you control your wife?! Oh Arthur! Can't you put a damn leash around her neck?!" You cut her off, hitting the dining table with your delicate palms. All the plates and glasses clinked. Silence fell upon the room, the family now looking at you in a combination of fright and surprise. Even Tommy, who never missed an opportunity to fight with you, found himself petrified by your rage. It was even more surprising considering how you weren't the one to lose your temper easily, rather leaving this behavior to your husband. In other circumstances, Nina would have giggled for when she talked one could often hear revolution, but it didn't make her laugh. Quite the contrary. She stood up at the same time Arthur did, and gently put her warm hands on Ada's shoulders while the lanky gangster wrapped your waist protectively and pulled you closer.

"Please Ada, don't take it personally," Nina started, "Heaven's been struggling to sleep for weeks, that's just the fatigue talking. Right Arthur?"

"Right." The oldest Shelby brother mumbled, "C'm'here angel, you're going to rest a bit in one of the guest's bedrooms ay." And without further ado nor apologies, Arthur hurried on and led you out of the dining room, quickly climbing the stairs of Arrow house to lock both of you in another wing of the mansion. "Okay you calm down now. Told ye it was a bad idea." He urged, his calloused hand cupping your face to keep you focused.

"But Nina worked her arse off for this party. I had to come." You grunted through gritted teeth, all of them sharp and pointy except for the upper and lower central incisors, "I feel like I'm becoming crazy." Pushing Arthur away, you started to pace in the bedroom while pulling your hair back. The gangster's eyes followed your every move, heart racing in his chest as he witnessed you becoming more and more feral and mentally unstable. He knew he had to do something before you slipped into another murderous craze, as you did the night you came back covered with fresh blood.

When Arthur exited the room he was as white as a ghost. Wobbling on his long legs, the gangster made a few steps before he had to lean against the wall so as not to fall on the wooden floor of the corridor. He had lost so much blood that he was pale and sweaty, a confused look etched on his face. With his breathing shallow and ragged, Arthur knew he was about to faint at any minute. After a quick but rough fuck, he had cradled your dainty body in his arms while your teeth broke his skin and muscle — He didn't let it show, but he had almost passed out twice. Bringing one trembling hand to his forehead, the gangster let out a shaky sigh as he relished the cold sensation of his rings against his burning skin.

"Take." A ghostly female voice resounded in the hallway, making him turn around in one vivid movement that instantly made him regret doing so. He grunted, the drowsy feeling worsening, but as black dots appeared in front of his eyes, he could still recognize the charming silhouette of Nina who was handling him some chocolate squares. Her magnificent amber eyes curiously gawked at him, then at the red stain on his disheveled shirt he didn't even button up properly, "It would be a shame for you to die the night I hold my first party here. And Tommy wouldn't be happy about that."

"Fookin' hilarious, eh." Arthur grunted but still took the chocolate, quickly putting two squares in his mouth. Not that it would be the first time Nina would see him collapse on the floor, usually drunk as fuck, but it just wasn't the same. Fortunately for him, sugar did its miracle and he soon retrieved color.

"Eat everything, stùpitu. It will do you good. My whole lineage would probably pray for you if they ever see how slim you are." Nina stated quietly, but asparkle glowed in her cunning eyes. Her brother-in-law raised a brow but obeyed, eating the rest of the chocolate before quickly slicking his hair back to tame the wild locks that had fallen in front of his face. "Now you gotta tell me what's wrong with Heaven."

"For fuck's sake," Arthur growled and rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by Nina's insistence, "Told ye, she's sick." And that was all he said, already turning his heels to leave but Nina managed to grab him by the wrist before he even moved, her small hand firmly tightening its grip around him.

“Enough with the bullshit, Arthur. I heard uncle Charlie and Curly talked days ago. They said you came at night with three half-eaten corpses, asking them to help you hide them!” She retorted more bluntly than what the gangster expected. Astonished by the girl's temper he shot her a murderous look from over his shoulder. It didn’t seem to impress her — not in the slightest. Danger wasn't Arthur Shelby to her, it had been Stefanor Spinetta and a forced wedding. Now that she was far away from those two threats, nothing seemed to sincerely scare her anymore, "Look at you! Do you think I'm stupid or blind?" Her fingers clenched around his wrist even more, clinging to his warm freckled skin, “She’s not herself and you know it! Look at what she did to you! What happened to her?”

“Piss off, Nina! That's none of your fookin' business ay.” He snarled, teeth bared like a rabid animal about to bite. If she hadn’t been family, he would have probably gone for her throat but, instead, he just snatched his wrist from her with one violent movement that almost made her trip on her own feet.

“Vaffanculo!” Nina not being afraid of him was one thing, but her throwing herself in his arms to tear his shirt apart and expose his chest was another. He had tried to push her but she had been too quick. Arthur stood there motionless in the dim-lit corridor, mouth agape, and steel blue eyes wide open as Nina stepped back, one of her hands covering her mouth as she saw them. The dozen red and swollen bite marks on her brother-in-law's neck, shoulders, and torso. A whispered prayer escaped from her charming lips as her honey-pools eyes surveyed the wounds, some of them indicating that his flesh had been ripped off. It was a miracle Arthur didn't already die from pain, blood loss, or infection.

"Nina, love." He started, his voice soft and quiet as if he was cautiously trying to approach a wild animal, "You shouldn't tell anyone alright?" Arthur made one step towards her but she backed off in reflex, terrified, "Not even Tommy alright? You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes."

Arthur and you left Arrow House in a hurry, right after Nina had lent him one of Tommy's shirts. She didn't know why she helped, but she did, probably feeling guilty of discovering something she shouldn't have.

It has been three days since the disastrous party, and since then you refused to leave your house, afraid of losing control again. Three days during which you remained curled up on the sofa, your blank eyes staring at the hearth. Arthur had been outside since the early morning doing God knew what, so all you did was keep watching the fire and trying to ignore the whispers. Its dancing flames, casting their orange glow on your face, didn't even manage to warm up your dying body. Absent from your own mind, you didn't even hear Arthur coming, nor leaning against the door with his arms crossed, observing you with undescribable worries shining in his loving eyes. His throat tightened with frustration at how powerless he was starting to feel, not able to do anything except watch you slowly disappear until all remained was an empty carcass only animated by hunger and bloodthirst. Somehow, he hoped what he did in the forest would soon bring you some comfort.

"Angel," he called, walking towards you and putting one gentle hand on your shoulder. He had barely touched your skin when he backed off, your iciness biting him as if he had just dipped his hand in liquid nitrogen. You looked at him, offering him a tired smile -- a smile that was only expressed by your lips curling, for your cloudy eyes looked desperately devoid of life.

"Oh, your skin's warm. It feels good."

"Come on, we'll take a hot shower." He said, pressing a kiss on your head and helping you stand up.

"Hm." You didn't protest, in fact, you let him handle you as easily as a lifeless doll until you were both in the bathroom, Arthur's skilled hands running down your shoulders and making your nightgown fall at your feet. All you did was shiver with cold, goosebumps adorning your marble skin at the frost that had settled in your bones. "I'm cold, Art..."

"I know, love." His gravelly voice slightly trembled as his fingers roamed over your protruding ribs. With thick eyebrows knitted together, Arthur let out a long sigh, "You really need to eat." He said, the palm of his free hand caressing one of the pointy bones of your hips. Still, he found you as stunning and mesmerizing as he always did.

"No, I don't want to kill another family." You retorted, pursing your juicy and glossy lips together like a sulking teen. Not that you felt any kind of emotional empathy towards your victims, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either if omitting the gargantuan pleasure of finally feeling satiated for a while. The most annoying part had been eating their daughter, no matter how tasty, fresh, and juicy her flesh had been. With that being said, you turned your head to the other side to deny him a kiss. Arthur grunted and pushed you a bit more impatiently into the shower, frustrated by your bratty behavior, which didn't disappear despite all the changes you've been through lately.

"And I don't want to see ye starving yourself," He scolded, joining you.

“It’s freezing!” You hissed, not even noticing the suffocating steam that accumulated in the shower nor how reddened your husband's skin was at the places where the burning water rained down. The feeling of it on his freshest wounds made him grit his teeth but the pain didn’t keep him from staying in the shower with you.

“It’s burning hot, love,” Arthur replied, his gravelly voice softened, filled with undeniable concern at your inability to properly feel the temperature. Noticing that you were quite literally shivering despite the hot water pouring on the two of you, the gangster’s slim arms wrapped your waist and pulled you closer to interlock your bodies. Each of your curves and shapes perfectly melted into each other, like the pieces of the same jigsaw. Only when you crashed against him you let out a sigh of relief, your shivers suddenly disappearing, and Arthur’s natural warmth spreading under your skin, crawling to your icy heart.

You hugged him back softly. Then tighter. More, I need more of him. Then so hard that your nails broke the skin of his back, scratching him until his crimson blood stained your growing claws. A hoarse whimper escaped from his trembling lips, halfway between pleasure and pain. Lately, your relationship has been filled with pain. So much pain. So much blood. You hurt him with teeth and claws, and you ate his very flesh, but to Arthur and his mind, which was sinking as deep as yours, it felt like true love.

"You don't want to kill ay," He mumbled between two kisses, "Fine, I'll do it for ye hmm?"

"No, it's not your role to do th—" He didn't let you finish your sentence, moaning as you scratched his back again, leaving long and red cuts on his flesh.

"Listen, little one," He grunted, one hand pressing against the wet wall of the shower to keep his thrusts steady, the other grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him right in the eyes, "I'll do anything for ye. Any-fucking-thing."

"Ow!" You winced when Arthur hit a painful spot inside of you but suffering quickly blended with pleasure.

"I'll let you eat me own flesh y'know." He growled again before stroking the fragile skin of your throat with his hungry tongue, the caress of his mustache sending shivers down your spine, "But you don't want that ay? And ye don't want to kill either but love, the truth is ye need to eat fookin' human flesh hm. Fuck—" He slammed his hips more fiercely, your love-making looking more like savage breeding than anything else lately. One might even wonder if pleasure was really the goal behind it, or if you were trying to see who could hurt the other the most, "So I'll —slam— fookin' —slam— hunt fresh meat —slam— for you. For us."

"Arthur! St— Stop." His sudden roughness startled you, making you momentarily snap from your emptiness. Surprised and overwhelmed, you tried to gently push him away in order to make him stop, or at least, to make him slow down his merciless pace but he didn't.

"Don't." He hissed in your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your cheek and his scorching breath fanning over your skin. The faint and familiar whiskey scent would have usually lulled you if your sharp senses hadn’t grasped the metallic smell of blood. "I said don't.” He repeated on a firmer tome, letting go of your chin. His free hand was now firmly grabbing one of your butt cheeks to keep you from pulling your hips away from him.

You screamed at the sharp, searing pain that jolted through your body like lightning, sending a wave of raw sensation crashing against your neck. The violence with which Arthur had bitten your flesh was a shock, the intensity so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment, you felt lost in a world where pain was the only constant. His lips curled as blood gushed from the bite, tainting your immaculate marbled skin with red trickles. Eyes rolling back into his head as pleasure washed over him, Arthur hummed. "No..." You whined, panic coursing through your veins as you slowly understood the reason behind his absence earlier and the erratic behavior he was displaying. "What the fuck did you do?!" You yelled at him, struggling in his arms and whimpering at the same time, assaulted by his relentless thrusts and trapped between his body and the shower wall.

Nevertheless, you managed to slip one trembling hand on the back of his head while he relished the sweet taste of your ambrosia blood and the tightness of your sensitive walls around him. Gathering your remaining strength, you pulled him by his wet hair to free your neck from his bleeding and starving mouth. He hissed like a wildcat it reply. "Why?! Why did you do that, you bloody idiot?!" Your agonizing and furious screams seemed to work some sense back in his head though. He finally slowed down, now barely moving. In fact, he just rolled his hips sensually against yours, which resulted in a wave of pleasure that eased your pain and made you feel comfortably full.

" 'Cause I love you.” He stated, “Remember what we said when we decided to get married?" His crimson lips curled in a twisted smile, beads of blood clinging to his mustache. "If you suffer, I'll suffer. If you die I'll die," He repeated, like a proud schoolboy who had learned his lesson by heart. A gloomy and obsessive one. "And if you starve, I'll starve..." A glimmer of madness sparkled in his eyes. As the moonlight enlightened his face through the window, its deathly glow casting antlers-shaped shadows behind him, the darkness of his pupils faded from his eyes, losing their usual depth and color for an empty fog. “And if you hear them, I’ll do it to.”

“Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.

“The woods’ whispers.”

notes: You’ve reached the end of this story, congratulations! Admittedly it didn’t come out as I wanted first but it would have been far too long and I didn’t feel like writing a whole new series. Also it was supposed to be more graphic. When referring to the Algonquian myth of the Wendigo there are two ways to turn into one: either by dreaming of it like Heaven, who was plagued by its spirit since she was young, or by eating human flesh. This explain why his transformation is faster than Heaven’s. Upon discovering what she suffered from, Arthur decided to eat human flesh and turn into one not only to share her pain, but also to remain by Heaven’s side forever. He knew that her new condition meant she would live quite eternally and didn’t want to leave her alone. The ending is open: it’s up to you to what the woods are whispering to them and also what happens to both of them after this. Thank you for reading this disturbing Halloween AU!

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996

[thedo0zyslider]

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Twenty Four: Magical Mistakes - 3k words

Scott and Fwhip both make some mistakes, but one of them is more egregious than the other

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Fwhip lands in the cold mountains of Rivendell, the snow crunching underneath his boots as he does so. He is here for one reason and one reason only, because Scott had offered to give him the crown. Well, it was more like insisting he takes it than giving it up to him, really.

The Count was a little unsure of what he'd do with the crown once it was back in his hands. He wanted it for himself of course, every ruler did. But Scott had just seemed so desperate to be rid of it, the elf having practically begged him over their communicators.

He had started to wonder that maybe Jimmy's weird behavior at the last meeting or two had been related to the loss of the crown after all. That just maybe the Count had somehow made a horrible, cursed object then passed it around to all his friends for fun.

Scott was waiting for him, outside the small, private residence the elven king had constructed for himself at the start of his rule. He said it was for personal storage, and for when he wanted to get away from the palace. (And, according to Jimmy, it was also for when he, erm, had visitors who weren't there for any kind of formal business. Though that secret wasn't going to be leaving the Count's lips anytime soon.) The house had a very warm look to it, which was a stark contrast to how the man standing in front of it is currently looking.

There is something…. cold about Scott, much more than there normally is. His skin looks paler, and the tips of his fingers give off the impression that they are hardened with frostbite. His eyes are sunken, and shrouded with dark circles, like he's been missing sleep. The whole area around him seems colder too, and usually Rivendell's weather does reflect its ruler's emotions, but today it is different somehow. Like this cold is fueled by something more than Scott's sour mood.

The elf doesn't even greet him, he just removes the crown off his head and shoves it into Fwhip’s hands. He's not even smiling either,and Scottt normally smiles all the time, whether it be for business, or a genuine one, the eleven ruler is normally full of smiles and teases. To see him so…downtrodden is unsettling, especially when the reason isn't his demon sibling trying to kill everyone.

“Here, take it!” Scott says, and Fwhip fumbles to grab a hold of the crown before it drops into the snow below. His voice sounds off, more raspy than it was before, and when Scott spoke he lacked any of his usual energy. The elves’ hands briefly brush his, and it is then he feels how cold they truly are. And he doesn’t touch Scott very often, but he does know his friend is never usually that cold. Scott has a normal body temperature half the time, maybe one slightly colder, but not one as cold as the damn arctic ocean.

“Dude, are you okay?” The Count asks, his own creation now firmly clutched in his hands for the first time in almost three or four months. It was still as heavy as it had been when he first placed it on that festival table, but not enough to hurt someone’s neck if they wore it for too long. He was mostly just glad it seemed to be free of scratches, even with the magical aura he could now feel radiating from it. “You look like a hot mess, not gonna lie.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Scott reassures him far too quickly, and the Count narrows his eyes with every word that comes out of the elves mouth. “Just, had a bad day or two is all.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Scott.” Fwhip responds, not feeling comfortable just… leaving when his friend looks like that. Now that he was closer he could see just how unkempt the eleven king truly was, his hair being a mess and no jewelry adorning him. And Scott always had jewelry, or makeup, or something that enhanced his natural beauty on.

“I mean it, I’m fine-!” Scott begins again, and is cut off by the sudden sound of elytra wings swooping downwards and a startlingly familiar voice yelling out a premature apology right above the two rulers' heads.

The interaction is cut short by Joel, who had apparently been spying on them the whole entire time, swooping in and taking the crown from Fwhip’s hands. How the Mezlean knew they were there, the Count had no idea. But maybe he had just been lying in wait, and had walked into a perfect opportunity to get what he wanted.

Regardless, it ended up with Fwhip trying and failing to chase the little menace of a man down, and Scott retreating to his cabin; with no one quite knowing why his empire was so stupidly cold, or what terrible thing had befallen him to make him look such a way.

Fwhip finds out just exactly what’s wrong with Scott a few weeks later, when he goes to visit his sister in the cliffs. The mountains that surround her empire are cold, unusually so, but he figures that the wind is just extra strong that day, or maybe they had a heavy snowfall the night prior. It’s nothing he can’t handle, and certainly nothing compared to any of his prior visits to Rivendell.

He didn’t expect it to be because of Gem, with a white streak in her hair and looking like she was frozen half to death. She’s standing with her back to the door, and the air around her is chilly, just like it had been at her neighbor's empire barely a fortnight before.

“Gem!” He yelled upon opening the door to the bottom floor of her house tucked away in the mountain side, making his way over to his sister in an instant. “What happened!?” His voice is loud and high pitched with worry, brows furrowed as he examines the change in his sister's hair and the dullness of her skin. Concern and anger wash over him like a wave, drawing out any reasonable thought that would have maybe crossed his mind about all this.

“Oh, Fwhip! God!” The wizard turned around at the sound of her brother's voice, the half dragon at her side in an instant. “It’s nothing! It’s fine!” Her words were quick, and rushed, and the wizard frantically tried to hide the now white parts of her hair. But Fwhip grabbed her wrist gently, stopping his sister and flinching at how cold her skin had become.

“Who did this, Gem?” He asked, holding on to his twin despite the near unbearable cold seeping from her and through his gloves.

“It was Scott—but he didn’t mean too!” Gem said, voice slightly panicked, as if she had anticipated her brother's quite negative reaction to the news. Which she probably had, the wizard having had plenty of experience with her brother and his rather short temper at times. ”His ice magic has been acting up, and he wanted to control it more. When we were practicing he hit me with an ice beam, that’s all!”

“He what!?” Fwhip yelled, grip on Gem’s wrist tightening unintentionally. Though he loosened it once he realized, the half dragon's tail now flicking angrily against the wooden floor below them.

“It was an accident! It’s all gonna be fine! We’re already working on a way to fix it, okay!?” Gem broke free of her brother’s grasp, and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm. Though it was already too late for that. As soon as the Count had seen what happened to his sister, he’d become determined to hunt down whoever had done this to her. And he knew that was probably why Gem had seemed so startled at his arrival, and probably hadn’t wanted him to find out until it was fixed, but it was too late for that now, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay, Gem! He hurt you!” Fwhip yelled again, slowly beginning to shuffle towards the same door he entered from.

Gem caught what he was trying to do, and shuffled after him just as slowly. “He didn’t mean too, Fwhip! For the last time, it was an accident! ” She protested once more, though they both knew it was in vain. Once the Count’s mind was set on something there was very little anyone could do to change it.

“He still hurt you!” Fwhip growled, already turning the doorknob and throwing the door open. He shoved his goggles over his eyes, a low growl seeming to permanently be coming from the back of his throat.

“Don’t do anything, Fwhip! He didn’t mean it!” Gem called after him, her brother already out the door and equipping his elytra again. She moves after him, trying and failing to grab his arm and drag him back inside.

“ Fwhip! Fwhip wait! ” Gem’s call falls on deaf ears, for her twin is already gone and out the door. The Count is heading down the mountain, on his way back to his own empire to grab a little something. A little something to do a bit of damage to his eleven friends' empire. Not a lot, just enough to send a message.

He lands near his storage system, blindly grabs a random amount of TNT he had stored away some time ago, and starts flying back towards the mountain range.

Fwhip arrives at the eleven empire the fastest he thinks he ever has. Usually, the flight takes a good hour or so, and this one probably takes much less time, with the borderline dangerous amount of rockets he’s blowing through. But Fwhip’s flown this fast before, and is pretty confident he’s not going to be the one blowing up anytime soon.

Once the Count’s landed he does a quick search for Scott but gives up rather quickly. Of he can’t lay into the elf for hurting his sister, he’ll just have to go through with his original plan after all. Not that he;s complaining, the half dragon had been itching to blow up something for some time now, to hear the sound of TNT go off and watch the land be destroyed by the explosives he himself had made.

He lands in front of Scott’s house once again, and takes out the TNT, not caring who sees him. The Count places it in a way that would do that most damage, that would explode the most area, knowing exactly where and how far apart to place each one precisely. He was well trained in the art of exploding asshole’s’ houses, afterall.

Though Fwhip doesn’t get far in the end, because there’s the sound of boots crunching in now behind him, barely five minutes after he himself has landed. And with the sound of footsteps falling behind him, there comes a familiar voice that, in the moment, the Count wishes would;ve never showed up.

“Fwhip!?” His brother's voice is directly behind him, and the half dragon turns, startled by the sound and with white hot anger still coursing through him. “WHy are you placing TNT around Scott’s house!?”

“He hurt Gem.” Fwhip spits out the sentence rather harshly, and quickly turns to resume what he’d been doing a moment prior. But Sausage is determined, and moves to grab hold of the others arm, jerking him back and away from the TNT rather harshly.

“What are you doing man!?” Sausage pulls him back further, and Fwhip is not in the mood. So he thrashes his free limbs and his tail wildly, trying and failing to dislocate himself from Sausage’s strong hold. It reminds him of when they were both children, and things like this were just harmless and innocent play fights, and not his stupid siblings getting in his way.

“Blowing up an asshole’s house!” He responds, and fishes for something in one of his coat pockets. AN item he normally would have on him, and hoped he did now, or else this plan wasn’t going to work, and nothing was going to be blown up.

His fingers brush it after a moment, and the Count brings an already worn and used piece of flint and steel into the air. The man next to him sees what he pulls out, of course, and all his dam yelling and protests seem to get ten times louder at the sight of it.

“Wh—put the flint and steel down, Fwhip!” Sausage says, and tries to wrestle the item away from him. Fwhip unfolds his wings behind him, unbalancing the both of them with a growl and almost smacking his brother directly in the face with one. He moves back to his work, balance regained quickly, and goes to throw the flint and steel that he’s already set on fire, towards the red mass of explosive in front of him. If the Mythlander won’t let him get close enough to light it himself, the Count will just have to do it through other, probably more risky methods.

“Fwhip, don’t!” Sausage warns him, and tries to get in front of the Count, but it’s already too late. The flint and steel was already thrown. One piece of TNT is already beginning to ignite, and all the Mythlander can do is grab the others before the first goes off and sets off the whole lot of them.

There’s a loud boom, and Fwhip closes his eyes and covers his ears for a minute or two. Considering how close the two of them are standing, he hopes Sausage does the same. When the noise is done he opens all his senses again, and the outcome isn’t the best, but it’s also not the worst one that could’ve happened.

Only one TNT goes off, thankfully, somehow, maybe because Sausage managed to grab the rest of them in time; but it still causes a good deal of damage. It’s still enough. Half of Scott’s house is gone, the stuff that was held inside now being torn and scattered across the ground, and some of the ground surrounding it has caved in. There are screams for the civilians nearby, and Fwhip figures it's probably too late to turn tail and run. Especially with Sausage yelling at him like he is.

“ Fwhip! I told you not too! What the hell man!?” It’s a rare thing, to see Mythland’s King close to genuine anger. Fwhip knows this all too well, and it’s what sets in just how badly he’s messed up here. Sausage keeps yelling, though the Count barely hears it, as his ears are ringing from something. Maybe the amount of sounds that had just happened, he doesn’t know.

When the rining clears and the Count can think clearly again, it hits him just how badly he fucked up. It hits just how badly he’d let his anger get the best of him, how carried away he;d gotten, and what exactly he’s just done.

Fwhip comes to his senses fully when Sausage finally finishes tearing into him after a good five or so minutes, and stands there, awaiting a response. The Count looks at his brother's expectant gaze, and just blinks back unknowingly. He doesn’t know what answer Sausage wants from him, and couldn’t even give the right one if he did know it. Because there is no right answer or any good reason for any of what just happened.

Sausage repeats the question he’d apparently already asked a moment ago, voice trembling with barely restrained anger. It's enough to make Fwhip flinch, and then stop himself from doing so, because he has no right to act scared in this situation. Not when he did this, and he’s the reason Sausage is so mad in the first place. “Why, why did you do it!?”

Fwhip can only give one reason, a sad reason all things considered. A bad reason. The exact same shitty one he’d given before.

“He hurt Gem.” Even to the Count that reason now sounds weak and flimsy, he can only imagine how it sounds to Sausage. His own voice is small, a newfound shame gradually starting to leak into the edges of it, and it’s certainly a stark contrast to how his brother speaks at the moment. It reminds him of Gem desperately begging him not to be stupid barely an hour before.

“That’s not a good reason to blow up his house!” The Mythlander yells again, throwing his arms up in the air. Fwhip just blinks at him, the coldness in the air enveloping him by the second and sinking into his bones. He can’t tell if the coldness is from the empire around them, or the man in front of him, but regardless it is all becoming just a bit too much for the ginger to handle at that second.

“I….I need to go.” That is all the half dragon can muster out, before he’s turning and opening his elytra and leaving the mountains for good that day. He just…he needs to go home. Get his head straight, properly process this without a sibling angrily yelling at him and telling him just how wrong he was. That part can always be saved for later.

“What , Fwhip!” Sausage’s yell, all the ones telling him to come back, follow him until he’s out of hearing range. They keep doing so all the way down the mountains, into the Grimlands and all the way into his bedroom back in the manor.

He’d messed up big time, and the Count could only dread how the next monthly meeting would go; considering how it was less than one week away. There’s not enough time to hide this, to sweep it under the rug, because it;s going to be brought up regardless of however it's handled. His mistakes are going to be laid out for everyone to see and blame him for, and Fwhip has dug himself into a hole he can;t get out of; he’s made a mistake he can’t even think of a way to fix.

He thinks about how Jimmy’s going to react, and knows that will be the worst part to endure.

[starstwinkleplanetsshine]

Daughter of the Sea

Chapter Fifteen: I Meet a Shadow (Read on AO3 here)

It took a little work to convince Paul that Poseidon had left via the fire escape, but since people can’t vanish into thin air, he had no choice but to believe it.

We ate blue cake and ice cream until we couldn't eat any more, then we played a bunch of party games like charades and monopoly. I won charades, which Tyson didn’t get, but it turned out he was really good at Monopoly. He knocked Percy out of the game in the first five rounds, me two rounds later, and then he started bankrupting mom and Paul. 

Percy disappeared into his room, but I stayed and watched for a while. I wanted to soak up all the information I could about my new family. I learned that Tyson had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ruthless when it came to board games. Paul was smart and calculated, but also easy-going and fun. Mom was…well…perfect. Watching her did make me miss my adopted mom, though, but having Sally there made me feel warm and protected, and most of all, loved. 

It was hard for me to believe I had just met them. 

After a while, I figured I should see where Percy went. I walked down the hall, hearing Paul protesting as Tyson took over another one of his properties, and took a turn into Percy’s bedroom. He didn’t notice me, since he was standing on the fire escape outside the window. His back was to me, and I watched as he planted a small seed in a planter box, the full moon shining down on him, casting a silver tint on the world outside. He poured something from his camp canteen on the dirt, and he waited.

Nothing happened at first, but then a tiny silver plant sprang out of the soil, shimmering in the dark night. It seemed to radiate its own silver glow, and something about it reminded me of the dreams of that beautiful island I had while Percy was missing. 

“Nice plant.” A voice said from outside, and I jumped at the same time my brother did. I couldn't see who was there, and my fingers made their way up to my new necklace all on their own, ready to strike. When you’re a halfblood, any unknown is potentially dangerous. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” I could barely make out the voice saying. 

“That’s—that’s okay. I mean…what are you doing here?” Percy responded. I relaxed a bit. If my brother wasn’t afraid of or threatened by the voice, then I figured I shouldn't be, either. 

“I’ve done some exploring. Thought you’d want to know–” he stopped short, and I was just starting to wonder why when he spoke again. “You’ve got a shadow.” 

I didn’t realize he was talking about me until Percy turned around, his face concerned and ready to fight. He relaxed immediately when he saw me, even smiling a little. 

“Come on out, Ange. I want you to meet someone.” 

I sheepishly made my way out onto the fire escape, feeling caught. Percy didn’t seem to care that I had been watching, though. He helped me out of the window and once I was standing next to him, he spoke. 

“Angie, this is Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. Nico, this is Angie. She’s my sister.” 

My eyes and Nico’s went wide at the same time. He spoke first. 

“Your sister? What do you mean?” 

“She’s my sister, like, my actual sister. Her dad is Poseidon and, uhh, we have the same mom.” I let Percy respond, and I stood staring at the boy in the shadows. 

“Huh. Why not?” Was all Nico said. If he had more questions, he didn’t ask them. 

“It’s, uhh, nice to meet you.” I said with a weak smile. “How did you get on the fire escape?” 

“Shadows are kinda my thing.” He said flatly. I nodded—that makes sense, I thought. He looked just like I would expect a child of Hades to look—dark messy hair, dark eyebags, black, tattered clothing, and eyes so brown they were almost, you guessed it, black. I realized he had been the emo kid in the battle, the one who opened a fissure in the earth. There was something unsettling about him, too, as if his very aura radiated death and decay. The shadows seemed to bend toward him, like they were trying to swallow him whole. Just being around him made me wanna turn and run, but I steeled my nerves. Percy didn’t seem scared by him, and I trusted my brother. 

“Like I was saying,” he started playing with the silver skull ring on his finger. “Thought you’d wanna know, Percy, Daedalus got his punishment.” 

“You saw him?” At the mention of the events of this summer, Percy seemed to forget that I was there. 

Nico nodded and filled Percy in on the details he saw down in the underworld. Just the thought of that place made me shiver. I knew that Percy had been down there before, and I didn’t know how he did it. Being surrounded with so much death and sadness would send me running. 

Nico tapped at his silver ring. “But that’s not the real reason I’ve come. I’ve found out some things. I want to make you an offer.” 

Percy perked up at this. “What?”

“The way to beat Luke,” he said. “If I’m right, it’s the only way you’ll stand a chance.” 

I saw the color drain out of Percy’s face, and in the moonlight he looked like a ghost. I could practically feel how much pain the mention of Luke caused him, but he took a deep breath and his eyes went steely. 

“Okay. I’m listening.” Percy said. 

Nico glanced inside the room, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Is that…is that blue birthday cake?”

He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. It sounded like he had never had birthday cake before, or even been to a birthday party. I knew what Percy was about to do before he opened his mouth. 

“Come inside for some cake and ice cream,” he said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

He looked uneasy, and he opened his mouth to (I assume) protest, but then his stomach growled. Percy cracked a smile and began to climb in through the window, so I followed. He offered nico his hand, who looked at it for a few seconds before taking it and climbing in the room after us. I handed Nico the slice of uneaten cake from the dresser, and he began eating it before we were even in the hallway. 

Percy and I walked into the living room as Paul flipped over the Monopoly board. Tyson sat there with all the colorful money, beaming. My mom was laughing as she turned to look at us, but her smile faltered when she saw the small, skinny boy behind us. 

“Mom, you remember our neighbor Nico who lives a few doors down and likes to climb the fire escapes, right?” Percy spoke in a way that made it clear to me that Sally had never met the son of Hades before. Luckily for Nico, she was a quick thinker. 

“Oh of course!” she said, putting on her smile again. “Percy mentioned you might stop by.” She was on her feet in moments, and Paul only looked mildly confused. 

“Hello, Ms. Jackson. Nice to, uhh, see you again.” He stuck out his hand for a handshake, which mom accepted. He may have been a son of the underworld, but he knew his manners. 

“Your fire escape seems to see a lot of action.” Paul said with a raised eyebrow. Percy just shrugged. 

“Keeps things interesting.” 

Paul left shortly after, so we didn’t have to keep the charade up for long. As soon as the door closed on him, the mood shifted and everyone dropped their smiles.

“Thanks for the cake and games, but we should probably go somewhere to talk.” Nico said to Percy, breaking the silence. He seemed to be having a genuinely good time, though, and it was nice to meet another child of the Big Three. 

He also seemed to carry a weight around with him, a burden that he shouldered all on his own. A burden that should've been too heavy. I recognized the sadness in his eyes—I had seen it in my brother. I had seen it in my own reflection. 

The two boys disappeared into Percy’s room for a long time. I helped mom and Tyson clean up, but soon my cyclops half-brother was asleep on the couch and I was laying on the floor reading my favorite book. Percy and Nico still hadn’t come out. 

Mom was starting to get worried, so I offered to go check on them. I could tell she wanted to, but didn’t want to interrupt whatever serious demigod business they were discussing. 

I had no problem interrupting. 

As I approached Percy’s closed door, I started to hear snippets of conversation. Percy sounded agitated, while Nico remained calm. I paused outside the door to listen. 

“No way, Nico. It’s too dangerous.” 

Nico’s voice was muffled, because his tone was lower, so I could only make out a few words. “...the only…explain…invincible.” 

“That’s just crazy!” 

“...done before.” 

“I can’t. I won’t.” 

“You don't have a…wait a minute.” The boys were quiet, and I heard footsteps approaching the door. I tried to turn and stealthily make my way down the hallway, but Nico was too quick. I was only a few steps away when he flung the door open. 

I turned, expecting to see the blazing eyes of the angry son of death, but instead I saw a lopsided smile and warm eyes. 

“I told you shadows were my thing.” Nico’s tone was playful.

“Our mom, umm, she was starting to worry. She wanted me too…” 

He chuckled and then sighed. “Come on in. You should probably hear this, too.” 

I walked in the room to see Percy sitting on his bed, his hands on both sides of his head, tangled in his hair. He looked extremely stressed out. 

As soon as Nico filled me in on his plan, I understood why. 

After a couple of minutes, there was a tentative knock on the door. I offered to get it, since Percy was still processing and this wasn’t Nico’s room. I opened it to see a very concerned Sally Jackson. 

“You didn’t come back. I was starting to wonder if you three had taken off.” By the worry in her voice, I could tell that sort of thing had happened before. 

“Sorry, mom.” Percy piped up. He tried to smooth his hair and make himself look like he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. “There’s just…a lot Nico had to fill us in on.” 

Hearing him say us made me happy in spite of the tense mood. 

“It’s okay.” Mom replied, sounding relieved. “I understand. Things are happening in your world that I can’t help with, even though I wish I could.” Her eyes were kind and sad, and for the first time I thought how hard it must be to be the mortal parent of a halfblood. To have your children be a part of a world you never could enter, to fight battles you didn’t understand and carry burdens you didn’t know about. No wonder she sounded so scared. 

“I should go.” Nico said, shifting awkwardly. “There’s more work to do. I’ll stay in touch, Percy. Think about what I said.” He started to walk towards the fire escape before turning back around. “Nice to meet you, Angie.” He then turned toward my mom. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Jackson. The cake was delicious.” And with a small smile, the boy climbed out the window and disappeared into the shadows.

[writermask-0807-backupblog]

CHISAKI KAI X READER {"TELL ME, FILTH, DO YOU FEAR ME?" or: "THESE ARE THE EYES OF A KILLER."}

A/n: me going crazzyyyy. This is basically sort of a series, ig. I was dying to write and this is what my last remaining brain cell came up with 🙂.

Warnings: Overhaul is basically a major red flag in himself, ooc Chisaki, and vague implications of abuse. U basically have to squint to find them, tho. Sort of dark content??

HIS eyes are gold. 

They're an unnatural shade- glittering bright and pale underneath the flicker of fluorescent lights glaring above you, and there's small flecks  of honey in them like the very essence of the sun, molten pools of liquid gold staring into your own eyes with thinly veiled cunning and the rim of sheer, unadulterated power that you feel radiating from his very presence- like a buzz of static in the back of your mind that you simply can't ignore. 

But despite the warm color of the sun in his eyes, you know this man is nothing but warm. If anything, you know he's more cold than anyone you've ever met. 

His gaze is sharp and knife-edged, and it feels like he's peering into your very soul, weighing your worth, and something cold touches your core, skitters your skin with chills as you begin to comprehend that this man has eyes like no other you've seen. 

(His eyes are more colder, more fiercer, more hungrier. Always desperate, always wanting. Selfish.) 

His eyes are gold, and they're the eyes of a predator. Always calculating, assessing, planning. Always dangerous. There's a blade's edge to the way he looks at you- like you're nothing but filth beneath him, a simple insect he could crush underneath the heel of his shoe if he chose to do so, but you get the uncanny feeling that in this filth he finds a particular, morbid interest, and it sends a shudder crawling down your rigid spine. 

His golden gaze is narrowed on you, locked and scrutinizing your every movement and motion, trailing hotly over your trembling, petite frame, and it’s honed sharp by the ripple of dark hostility trickling into the warm atmosphere, corrupting it with the trail of darkness that follows him in its wake, and there's a sheet of ice misting his bright, bright eyes over. 

Discomfort coils around your spine as you squirm and fidget uneasily underneath the heavy weight of his steady, unsettling stare, and you can taste the sting of bile erupting at the back of your throat, feel the collecting of dread pool in the pit of your stomach, because you can instantly recognize these sort of eyes. 

There's a kind of insatiable hunger lurking beneath those sun-soaked depths- the sort of hunger and rage and hatred that's never quelled, no matter what they devour and destroy and take and take and take until there's nothing left. 

(These are the eyes of a killer.) 

You don't need your usual hunch to tell you that this is someone not to be trifled with- you feel it in the air, taste the weight of its bitterness on your tongue, feel it in the way the atmosphere around you is terse and strained by his very presence, and there's an aura of gloom clouding your senses- a storm of tension rolling in thickly through the pregnant silence, a flood of killing intent oozing tangibly off of this tall, intimidating stranger. 

It suffocates you, stifles you to the point where you can't even breathe, throat suddenly dry and your tongue a heavy, iron weight resting inside your limp, unmoving mouth. 

You're painfully aware of the way your pulse hiccups and gallops underneath the pressure, the way your breath stutters and hitches in your throat, lungs straining and burning and feeling as though they're being doused in liquid fire, ribs constricting tightly around your pounding heart. 

But despite all that, despite the roll of gooseflesh peppering all over your flesh, you struggle to maintain professionalism the best you can, even though your breath's coming out a little too quick for your liking, as sweat beads on your temple. After all, he is your customer, and you must serve him as the best you can, no matter how intimidating he is. 

(You still eye him warily.) 

You swallow thickly, stifling the impulse to squeeze your eyes shut and curl in on yourself for comfort- wait for the storms to pass like you've done in the past, powerless and hopeless against forces beyond your control. But you're no longer that person now- that child, that victim, and because there's nobody here to offer you any semblance of protection, you must learn to fend for yourself. It's always supposed to have been that way, and probably always will be. 

(Swallowing down the bitterness that comes with this harsh reminder, you squash down the urge to just run, run, run far away from everything and everyone.) 

Taking a quick pause to regain your bearings and recover from the initial terror that’s still pulsing through your veins, you brave a bright, loud smile that hopefully doesn't speak about your nervousness and anxiety, and check his things out- two large sanitizer bottles and a pack of paper napkins- before piling them neatly into a plastic bag. 

Your hands are nimble and fast at your work, but maybe that's because you're eager to be rid of this particular customer and his dark, stifling presence that stirs up too much of an inner turmoil within you- memories and thoughts and feelings you've so desperately tried to oppress. 

"That'll be 267 yen. Thank you for shopping at Melissa's, sir!"

You chirp brightly, forcing your unmoving tongue to work, for your lips to form the words, trying to conceal the lump growing hard in your throat, and the tremors shaking in your hand as you hold out the  convenience bag out over the counter and towards the golden-eyed man, a bubble of helpless hope and fear swelling inside of your chest, as a silent prayer lingers on your breath that he would just accept his items and leave just as quickly as he'd appeared, stealthy and shadow-like, here one moment, and gone the next. 

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, fluttering pulse roaring as your blood crystallizes through your veins, accompanied by the feeling of nauseating unease as your hands brush together with his, and even through the fabric of his gloves, you can feel the unnatural frigidness of his temperature- like his skin is unbearably cold to the curious touch, and you don't want him to stick around long enough for you to find out if it really is. 

But of course, the universe decides to ignore your pleas at this exact moment, like it's always done before. And how mockingly cruel it is, too. 

To your absolute and utter horror, the man leaves his gloved hand draping over yours, and this time, you can't help the shudder that sweeps down your stiff spine, and you feel panic flare up from the inside out, a dizzy spell clouding your consciousness as your heart stutters underneath your ribs, your breath growing shallow and thin. 

(You especially don't like the way his hand seems tighten over yours, slender digits feeling for your flesh and grasping for purchase, and it almost seems like he's enjoying your reaction, relishing the raw fear that contorts your features, but you can't read his expression behind the gaudy mask that conceals the lower half of his face.) 

Amber hues meet your petrified gaze readily, like he's not in the slightest fazed by this reaction, and the man hums thoughtfully underneath his mask, his rich, sunlight-hued eyes gleaming sharply. 

"It's funny, how I normally despise touching filth like you… " He says casually in a steady, easy voice- like he's discussing the weather, and you feel the thrum of something heavy and powerful pulse through your veins, a sort of sizzling heat emanating from the confident hand imprisoning yours as his grasp on your skin coils tighter, and you can't even flinch at the coldness his touch ensues, despite the smattering of shivers you feel humming across your skin, frosting to a raw, tender place deep within you. 

Horror sinks it's talons into your heart as you feel it- and you know, know deep within the marrow of your bones, that this is destruction, havoc, chaos in the purest of forms, this is his power over your frail self- buzzing and pulsing and writhing like the scuttle of insects underneath his false human skin (because you know his kind, know his kin- the type of parasite that burrows itself deep underneath the guise of human, when they're truly monsters underneath, monsters monsters monsters), sheer, undiluted power lying dormant at the very tips of his fingers, able to fully crush you to your core and leave no trace if he chooses to do so. 

A heartbeat too late, you realize that feather-light touch has trailed upwards, carefully, cautiously caressing the length of your arm to the curve of your cheek as he now cups your face in the cusp of his broad palm, and you can't move- move move move please move please please please MOVE-! 

Your mind is screaming, blaring with alarms of danger, but your throat has gone as dry as a desert, clamping shut, and there's not a scream nor a sob available as you try to wrestle out a gasping, shuddering breath. 

The soles of your feet are rooted to the floor, and you're frozen, absolute mortification dawning on you, and here you are- a humming mess of frazzled nerves, each vein inside of your body lit up by the burn of adrenaline and instinct, but your mind blanks of all coherent thoughts, and your body feels like it belongs to someone else, refusing to move beneath the touch of this killer. 

You try desperately to breathe around the knot of panic squeezing at your chest, at the anxiety-induced bunch of your insides knitting together, but you feel cold on the inside- like you've been drenched with a bucket of icy water. Shock and horror gnaws at you, holding you captive as you shudder under the soft press of his flesh against yours. 

You blink back the hot tears that swarm your vision, and then, the glove is no longer there, scattered carelessly on the surface of the counter along with the gaudy, bird-shaped mask. His hand is bare and soft and warm against your cheek, and your pulse races underneath this deceptively gentle, gentle touch, utterly repulsed by the skin resting on yours. 

"But oddly, when it's you, this lowly scum, I don't seem to mind as much."

He finishes delicately, slender fingers stroking your cheek almost affectionately, and amusement touches the corners of his lips when he sees you trying so hard not to fade and disintegrate underneath his palm. 

Without the mask on, his face is as normal as they come and you would've passed him as any other random customer- with ivory skin and sharp cheekbones jutting deep into marble flesh, a strong jaw and an elegant nose, and thin, almost plump lips forming into a vague, wispy suggestion of a smirk. You might've even considered him handsome, had it been under normal circumstances, but the sting of his nails biting white hot divots into your cheek reminds you otherwise. 

(Right now, he's the predator and you are his prey. He likes playing with his food, it seems.) 

Pale eyes lazily peer down into your terrified ones, and there's goading in them- victory gleaming sharp and amber in his cat-like gaze as his ungloved thumb grazes your bottom lip, and you feel the salt of the tears pouring wet and hot down your cheeks as a sob builds up in your chest, a whimper staying locked in your throat, heavy on your tongue. 

(And there it is again, that half-smile tucked away secretly in the corners of his mouth- like a rare present only meant to be glimpsed by you, lips curving a subtle, dewy pink and kissably-soft against his pale flesh.)

And then the bell rings, signaling the arrival of your new customers- your saviors, your heroes, and the mask's suddenly back on his face, and his pale, pale hand is gloved once more, no longer caressing your face like you're some delicate, enchanting, fragile thing. 

(And perhaps you were, still are, underneath his hand, because in that fleeting moment, your life had been his to toy with, before he'd been stolen of that chance.) 

He silently takes the bag from your still shaking, limp hands, and places crisp notes in payment before he straightens, pivoting on his heel to leave, like nothing's ever happened. 

But before he completely exits the line of your blurring vision, he turns back and flashes you another sinister, promising smile- and you know he's smiling, see the way the edges of his eyes crinkles into half-moons underneath the horrid mask- before he disappears as quickly as he'd appeared, stealthy and shadow-like, here one moment, and gone the next, leaving you a shuddering, writhing mess of frazzled nerves and shaking horror and tears and shock. 

There was only one thought occupying your mind after the horror of what had transpired had settled in your bones, and it was that 

(those were the eyes of a killer killer killer) 

You really, really needed to get a new job. 

[slashbitch2]

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here?  It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

[enhyupn]

start of it!

pairing: jungwon x fem!read (ft a little sunghoon)

disclaimer: there might be a few mistakes here and there since it’s not fully proof read. swear words are mentioned too!

word count: 7.1k+

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, best friends to lovers!au, rich kids!au, slow burn kinda?

a/n this took a while to write but i like how it came out :) i think i got a little carried away but it’s fine i suppose!! i hope you enjoy this longer than necessary fic :]

jungwon and you were always together, then and now. maybe being the children of two most influential families korea helped that, the constant underlying jealousy between the two families made for some interesting dinners. you two were the stereotypical rich kids, top of the class, class president and extremely involved in school. your image was the type other chaebol families would use to compare their children to. maybe that’s why every time you stand at the top of your class to make announcements, all you get are sneers from your classmates as they not so subtly laugh at you. it was inventible nonetheless, if you were in their situation you’d do exactly the same. it didn’t help that you were strict and blunt with your classmates, staying true to the cold and distant chaebol child stereotype.

jungwon the next class over however, was incredibly popular with the people in his class and even yours. you didn’t know how he did it, balancing his studies, taekwondo and still maintaining a good relationship with his class? you looked up to him immensely, even with your parents constantly reminding you that jungwon wasn’t your friend but a pawn from his family to get information on the company. obviously you never believed them, how could jungwon get information from you when all you talk about normal things. normal things like tv shows, books and his taekowndo matches. you wouldn’t know what to do with jungwon, he was your other half and you’d never be able to function properly without him.

dinner was never comfortable at your house, the silence only being broken up by the clattering of utensils and chewing didn’t even help the gloomy and dark aura your father always seemed to radiate. you were the only child and the heir in training to take over the family company. everyone around you had high expectations for you, being number one in everything you ever did allowed people to believe that you were going to skyrocket your family’s company to the number one spot.

“y/n, how was school” your mother always tried so hard to make conversation with you and your father every day. as much as you wished to be close to her, you couldn’t help but feel forced and awkward whenever you replied to her.

“it was good, we got our ranks today” you slowly chewed on the piece of duck you were served, not having the heart or energy to tell anyone that you never really liked the taste of it.

“i’m assuming it’s first place” your father butts in, the serious look in his face never fails to make you flinch in your seat.

“yes father, first place in my class and in school” you couldn’t help but gulp at the mood of the dinner table.

it was always like this after exam season, tension so tight that it was suffocating to be around. even the maids and butlers around the place hated being around your family every time results were announced, the thought of what would happened if you ever got anything lower than first place was terrifying.

“wonderful” a nod from your father was enough for your maids to stop holding in their breaths.

not even a good job? you had grown to learn that your father wasn’t someone that praised others easily. sadly, you had to learn it the hard way. countless memories from your past of you desperately wanting your father’s attention and praise flashed through your eyes. even so, it still hurt every time he wouldn’t acknowledge your achievements.

the ice rink was your special place, second to jungwon undoubtedly. still, you loved being there. it made you feel so free and happy, like all your worries had disappeared whenever you skated. you weren’t the only one that loved the rink, jungwon adored the moments when you would show off a new move you had finally nailed. the look of you being so carefree made him feel overjoyed, knowing he was the only one that could see you like this.

“jungwon did you see that?” a radiant smile appearing on your face after you landed an axel. the sound of your slightly hitting the rink’s barrier slightly scared you before looking up again at the boy.

“yes, and i’ve also seen the other five times you’ve done it” the pout formed on your face from his teasing only brought a larger smile on his face. jungwon’s face suddenly twisted into a confused look as he suddenly remembered a conversation you two had the previous week. “weren’t you struggling on that last week? i remember you telling me that”.

“oh i was!” the pink tinge from your cheeks due to the cold temperature in the air added to your cheerful chatter. “but sunghoon helped me with it”.

“sunghoon?” the name sending an unsettling feeling throughout jungwon’s body. the boy shook it off when he had made eye contact with you once again, your eyes wide with spirit. it was a shame that your classmates couldn’t see this side of you, the cold and scary y/n unironically melting when on the ice.

“sunghoon’s a really talented figure skater in my class!” the admiration in your voice and eyes churned things in jungwon’s stomach. “his triple axel is the most beautiful thing jungwon, you should really see him in action. he gave me some tips and they really worked!”.

“that’s great” jungwon couldn’t understand why he couldn’t feel as elated as you were. shouldn’t he be happy? his best friend perfectly landed something they were working on for a while and he couldn’t even be sincere with his praise? no, it was that boy sunghoon. that’s what was getting him annoyed and bothered, was it jealousy?

“look there he is!” you showed jungwon. the boy had proportions that were perfect, he towered over you and had undeniably incredible looks. jungwon watched as sunghoon’s eyes shined in delight when noticing you. the boy skated over quickly to you in excitement, anyone could tell that he was over the moon to see you.

the jealous feeling jungwon had in him only grew more watching you two. when sunghoon’s skates accidentally took him at a too fast of a pace, you lightly bumped into you. the countless apologies he spit out while you laughed loud and glowing at his ridiculous accident only made jungwon chew his cheek in spite. the unnecessary skin ship you two made didn’t help too, you were holding onto sunghoon’s shoulders in an attempt to stop him from falling again. that’s when jungwon had enough.

“y/n” he called out, catching the attention of the both of you. you turned around holding the same smile you gave sunghoon.

“jungwon?”

“i’ll get going now, dad wants me back home” a pretend smile placed nicely on his lips for you to not suspect something was wrong with him.

“sure!” the corner of your eyes crinkled, you lifted up your hand to wave him off. he was incredibly thankful that you weren’t observant enough to catch his cheerful facade. “tell him my father wants to have dinner with him again too!”.

“i promise”

standing from his seat he lifted his hand to wave you off. the disappointment in his eyes becoming more visible when he realised that you had already turned around. the dejected frown on his face showing up when he caught a glimpse of the boy beside you, laughing and chatting with you with a wide grin. you too having the exact same grin.

you were always the same at school, a blank face while in class and during after school activities. your parents always told you that school was never the time to make friends or have fun, it was for preparing yourself in the future. they drilled into you that everything you did in school would only add to you in the future. if you were to ever fail or do anything that was the opposite of what you were meant to be doing, you would inevitably ruin your future. the unimaginable amount of pressure your parents had given you slowly turned you from crying silently at night in your room to dealing with it with a blank stare on your face.

the only thing that made everything the slightest bit bearable was jungwon, you met him during breaks and lunch and even walked with him to your after school programmes. the feeling of being isolated by your class could only be ignored when you were with him.

“i don’t get how you do it” you stared at him in admiration. jungwon was practicing his taekwondo as you watched him, it was a routine you had every morning before school started. the boy chuckled as he continues doing his warm up.

“says you, you’re number one in our school plus you skate pretty too. everyone would love to be you”.

“no! that’s different” a growing blush tinted your cheeks, the small compliment makes you shy due to the fact jungwon never compliments you. “i don’t get how you balance taekwondo, your social life and still get good grades? plus have a good relationship with your family”.

“oh” jungwon’s smile faltered at the mention your parents. he always has felt guilty knowing the fact he can’t do anything to help you besides distract you from your parent’s extreme expectations. “i don’t know, maybe i’m just lucky” he tries a joke to keep the mood up.

“so it’s luck?” your laugh giving enough confirmation to jungwon that you weren’t affected by his comment.

your phone ringing distracts you from the conversation you and jungwon were having, even scaring you a little in the process. the bright expression coming from your face made jungwon notice that it definitely wasn’t a call from any of your family members. letting himself breathe again with the positive mood in the air, he decides that he needs to stretch before testing out any moves.

“sunghoon!” suddenly maybe the mood wasn’t so positive for jungwon. you turned to jungwon mouthing it’s sunghoon! happily as he tried to share the same excitement you had. “no i’m not busy”, you looked over at jungwon sending him an apologetic look as you stood up from your seat. “i’ll just be outside jungwon!” you covered the microphone as you told him before quickly walking outside.

what was that about? jealousy was creeping up behind him even if he didn’t notice. he never wanted to feel possessive when it came to you. truthfully, he was waiting for this day. the day that someone saw past your shy personality disguised with a cold and blunt front and saw you. he couldn’t stop the lingering feeling in his stomach, he hated it. but who was he to think about your relationships with other people?

that’s when he remembered the smile on your face when you mentioned him, the glee in your voice and expression when you were around him. you two were even close enough to call each other out of nowhere? maybe that’s when it clicked in jungwon’s head, did you like sunghoon? you were entitled to like anyone you wanted to, it shouldn’t be jungwon’s problem if that person just so happened to be sunghoon.

but why did the thought bother jungwon so much?

from the way you were dressed people would think that you were attending some special dinner with the president. however, your prettily styled hair and your best outfit and shoes seemed to only be reserved for the yang family. there always seemed to be an unwritten rule between the two families that you had to go all out when visiting each other, however you and jungwon just suspected if it was just a way to show off all the newest jewellery and clothes subtly.

there you two were, standing by the side of your parents in the hallways of your house. the size of it was unimaginable, maybe even being the length of an average apartment in a middle class area. the hallways was adorned with expensive paintings and sculptures being used to write off taxes, a large rug that might of costed more than your high school tuition placed right in the middle of it all. it was visible proof that your family was disgustingly rich, just how your parents wanted it to look.

there wasn’t an answer to why the two families stood in the hallways to speak when you had an equally, if not larger living room a door away, the room also being adorned with expensive paintings with a large tv nobody in the house used. jungwon and you always had trouble staying serious while your parents spoke to one another. you two would usually mouth things to each other, not even understanding what was being said. the small grins you two held were enough that if one of you let out a laugh, the two of you would be on the ground laughing your heads off.

“the food’s ready” your cook interrupted your father’s reply to jungwon’s parents. your father sent him a small grin and a nod as he signalled everyone with a extended arm to the dining room.

the dining room gave a view to the kitchen, it was like a performance for everyone in the kitchen whenever you had guests over. your favourite activity to not bore yourself besides talking to jungwon, was watching your cook plate everything while your parents conversed about business or what type of wine they were having that night.

“steak again” jungwon joked quietly at your side. you two always sat beside each other, while the parents talked the whole night you two would try and not cause a huge mess. it usually ended up a mess, remembering the time you two dropped roast potatoes all over the ground in an attempt to entertain to each other. now when you two are finished eating you are excused to go back to your room where you two can actually talk.

“be thankful it isn’t salmon” you giggled quietly. the memory of jungwon’s parents scolding him at the dinner table for not eating his salmon reappears back into your heads, the thought of it making you laugh a little louder than you were. “sorry” you politely said, noticing the silent glare your father had sent you for making a ruckus at the dinner table.

“i would of answered properly if you weren’t laughing silently about it in the corner of my eye” the main reason why the memory was so funny for the two of you was the fact that the reason he was scolded was due to the fact he couldn’t even attempt to pick up the piece of fish without you two laughing. you two were incredibly easy to make laugh as there is nothing more entertaining than your best friend doing absolutely nothing.

in the corner of your eye you noticed your father staring at you and jungwon, while at the same time participating in the conversation the adults were having. it was unsettling, knowing that in the next five or so minutes he’d ask you a question regarding anything to seem like his family is better than anything the yangs do.

“y/n” an automatic faux smile was placed on your lips when you heard his voice. placing down your cutlery before turning to him you captured the sickly sweet smile on your parents smiles, a sign they were trying to milk your achievements out one by one.

“yes father” the pitch in your voice going a little higher than what jungwon usually hears, but was used to it due to the many times he’s heard you talk to your parents.

“we were just talking about the fact that you’re starting out figure skating!” the tone in your fathers sudden cheery voice was so obviously fake to you, he never liked the fact you took precious time off to practice figure skating rather than studying to get into a seoul university.

“i am” you turned to the yang parents with the innocent well put child facade. “i started six months ago, my trainer told me that i was improving at a great speed!”.

“how beautiful” jungwon’s mom commented, “i’m sure jungwon’s watched you skate before, right sweetheart?”.

“they’re very graceful on the ice mom” the flattery turned your cheeks a soft rose colour. you turned to him to give a thankful smile, not noticing the growing red on the boy’s ears.

you turned around to glance back once again at your father, the look of his smug grin made you want to get up and leave. you hated feeling like just a trophy to show off to others, you longed for the feeling of being praised for the person you were.

“i’m sure jungwon’s doing excellent in school” your mother continued, looks like they’re about to hit them where it hurts.

“not as well as your daughter i’m afraid” a bitter smile was obviously placed on his father’s face, teeth gritting as he let it out. “jungwon’s told us quite a lot about y/n’s rank in school, number one right? a terrific achievement”.

“yes, it’s a shame that jungwon can’t seem to reach the same” jungwon’s mother continued. your father took a sip from his glass of wine. what was it and using your children as weapons to bring down one another? in the corner of your eye you could tell jungwon didn’t feel comfortable with any of this at all, he stiffened his body as you chewed slowly on his steak.

“he’ll get there some day” your mother was simply just adding fuel to the fire, it made you feel terrible for your best friend. you looked over to see the boy’s blank stare, the small frown on his face made it seem that it was almost begging you to go comfort him.

“can jungwon and i be excused?” you knew that you two needed to get out of there immediately, you weren’t going to let your parents excuse any of this. “i feel a bit queasy from the steak, jungwon can keep me company”.

“do what you wish dear” your father let out quite bitterly. you bowed in response before standing up, placing your hand on jungwon’s hand. you shook it a little as a way to signal him that you two were about to leave.

the oh he let out was all you needed to know that jungwon was going to follow you up to your room. you watched as he bowed for everyone in the room, before silently following you as you gripped onto his hand. the mood you two were letting out was unreadable, was he thankful for you? or was he completely and utterly embarrassed at the fact you did that.

“thank you” he whispered behind you, the warmth in his hand was all you needed to feel the comfort you were longing for at the dinner table.

“don’t sweat it jungwon” a smile forming on your face as you turned towards him. “it was suffocating being in there anyways”. he laughed to himself, understanding what you were saying as you dragged him forwards once you reached your room.

your room was unnecessary big, like every other room in your house. your bed was double the size you actually needed and you had a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. your ceiling also had hand painted flowers decorating it, simply adding to the beautiful chandelier. there wasn’t any expensive paintings or rugs in your room however, just a large vanity as well as a desk and a huge bookshelf with every book imaginable. you also had framed pictures of you and jungwon as children dotted around your room.

“look” jungwon picked up a picture of you two when you were in first grade. you were crying while jungwon was right beside you laughing, beneath you two was a broken sandcastle who you could distinctly tell who it belonged to. “i was so evil as a kid”.

“tell me about it” you looked at the picture in admiration. “i swore to myself that day i would hate you for a million million trillion hundred years” a chuckle left your mouth at the loving memory. memories with jungwon always left you happy, even the ones that weren’t as nice to experience firsthand.

“and this one” he picked up another picture. this time it was you and him maybe around three years ago at your family’s lake house. “you ignored me for the rest of the trip after i did this”. the two of you were on the balcony as he lifted you from the legs up, the scared look in your eyes made it obvious that the whole thing was a surprise. you were fond of that memory, you realised something that day about jungwon you never realised before. the thought of dating your best friend popped up in your head for the first time when that picture was taken. the thought horrified you so much that you ignored him for days on end after, making up the excuse that you were mad at him for scaring you that.

“look at my face oh god” the pink tint coming back to your cheeks remembering the story behind that picture. “that day i started—”. you shut yourself up quicker than expected.

“started what?” jungwon looked at you confused. you start curse yourself in your head for your mistake.

never in your many years of friendship could of prepared you for this. the you three years ago was exactly the same, except the fact that three years ago you found out you had feelings for jungwon and now you were about to accidentally spill the beans about those exact same feelings.

“it’s nothing” you shook your head dismissively . trying to distract yourself, you looked at the corner of your eye and noticed a picture of you two at your middle school graduation. your features softened at the happy grins on your faces, both holding a pretty bouquet of flowers the two of you gave each other. “i love this day so much, look we’re so happy”.

“our graduation?” jungwon moved closer to you to get a good look of the photo. “we look so cute”.

turning around to jungwon with a grin of being reminded of the special, you stopped abruptly. noticing how close he was you stepped back quickly, in a quite panicked manner. his eyes widened noticing your frantic moves, unsure why his stomach was churning at your panicked face.

“sorry” you play with the hem of your sleeve, embarrassed at the fact you were so close to him. you feel you face heating up and you weren’t so sure if you were blushing at the fact his face was almost touching yours or embarrassed by the way you staggered away from him. “you were really close to me”.

“sorry did it make you uncomfortable?” jungwon asked you with a concern expression on his face. you couldn’t tell him the reason you were so panicked was because your crush was so close to you. “i’ll be more careful next time”.

“no! you’re fine” a reassuring smile spread across your face in an attempt to calm him down.

the awkwardness following that incident was undeniable. you sat on your bed unsure what to say to make conversation with him, the problem was that you two usually had a lot to say. the situation right now was not how the two of you usually acted, the voices in your head silently yelling at you for being dramatic at the fact jungwon was so close to you.

jungwon on the other hand couldn’t stop replaying the image of you being so close to him. an unfamiliar feeling kept reappearing in his stomach, he’s never looked at you in this way ever. maybe the feeling sunghoon gave him was similar but at the same, it was far different.

“i don’t think— be careful” in rich kids fashion, jungwon was playing tennis with his equally as rich friend ni-ki, a transfer student in his class studying in korea until he graduates from a seoul university. a big emphasis on seoul due to the fact every rich child in korea have parents almost begging them to get into a seoul university or an ivy league.

the ball accidentally almost hitting jungwon rolls behind the boy, he could feel the exhaustion finally catching up on him from the non-stop moving he had done. he holds a hand up with a drained expression signalling his friend that he was done for maybe another thirty minutes or so.

“as i was saying...” ni-ki walked towards the tired boy holding out a water bottle. he quickly grabbed the drink from him before taking a large gulp, wiping off the excess water from the sides of his mouth. “hey! don’t drink all of that”.

“sorry” an exasperated gasp escaped jungwon’s mouth as he tried to catch up with his breathing. “carry on”.

“i don’t think you have the right to be jealous on who y/n likes” ni-ki takes a sip from the water bottle he took back. “isn’t kinda weird too? that you’re jealous about all of this”.

“i’m not jealous” he corrected him. “i don’t know, that sunghoon guy gives me a bad feeling”.

“that’s definitely jealousy” ni-ki let out a laugh looking at him. jungwon sent him a scowl before taking back the bottle from him. “anyways i thought you always had a thing for them” he starts to say as jungwon takes yet another sip, the boy looks at him in a confused way before pulling the bottle away from his lips.

“what are you trying to say ni-ki?”

“what i’m saying is that you can never go a day without mentioning y/n” he raised his eyebrow to try and convince him further. “plus you look at them with hearts in your eyes, and the fact you’re so bummed out about this sunghoon thing just confirms my suspicions”.

“i’m not following” jungwon looks back at ni-ki with a blank stare. the younger rolls his eyes before lightly hitting him on the shoulder. “no, seriously”. the boy sent him a glare before sighing.

“are you genuinely this oblivious or you just don’t want to tell me you like y/n?”.

“what do you mean like?” the word like seemed so unfamiliar to him at that moment. of course he liked you, you were his best friend. although from how ni-ki was speaking, he understood that he wasn’t talking about the best friend sort of like.

“you romantically like them” ni-ki said it casually, “here, i’ll ask you a question and you, silently, in your mind answer it. i want you to do it silently so you can have a realisation of some sort”.

“what do we need questions for—” he was quickly shut off by ni-ki’s shhhh as he continued his conversation. rolling his eyes at his friends antics, he quickly shuts up before listening to what he was trying to say.

“do you think about y/n when they aren’t around?”

yes? isn’t this normal though

“do you miss them when you aren’t with them?”

yes? again, isn’t this a normal thing?

“do you get happy when they achieve things? like you want to hug them or like... that thing people do why they lift someone up and spin them around”

yes?

“do you get jealous when other people get more attention than you?”

yes...?

“when you see them do you get butterflies?”

sometimes, i do definitely get nervous though

“i feel like all of those should more or less answer your question on if you like y/n or not” ni-ki finished off his short quiz. jungwon gave him a puzzled look, he thought everything he had mentioned was a normal thing that every feels with their best friend.

“aren’t these just normal things?”

“i mean they’re just the basics jungwon” he started out saying, “everyone’s different when they have a crush”.

“so that could mean i have a crush on you?” the joking smile placed on jungwon’s lips only made ni-ki roll his eyes at the corny joke.

“i’m flattered honestly but i’m sadly not y/n”

the sunset was a pretty shade of pink and orange, it made you feel light and at a sense of peace watching it. the thought of taking a picture suddenly appeared in your head, quickly reaching for your phone in a frantic action before the sky changes in colour. you felt embarrassed at the fact you were standing at the end of the sidewalk patting the sides of your coat in an attempt to find your phone, a confused expression spread across your face.

“aha!” you felt a familiar shape in the back pocket of your jeans. lifting up the object, you felt it slipping slightly. your eyes widened noticing a small thud behind you on the ground. turning around to reach your phone in hopes it wasn’t broken in any way, you noticed a familiar figure hovering above you holding out your phone in his hands.

“you dropped this” a playful tone rolled off sunghoon’s tongue. you happily take it off his hands before looking back up at him.

“sunghoon!” you beamed gleefully at him, “i thought you went home already?”.

“no” he rubbed the back of his neck, “i missed my bus so i had to wait here for a while. turns out there was an accident twenty minutes away so everything’s delayed”.

“oh no” you frowned at his words. your brain scanned through all the possibilities you could do to help the boy, your eyes lit up having the realisation on the perfect solution. “do you wanna walk with me? where do you live? i can just tell my friend that he doesn’t need to pick me up”.

“no no it’s fine y/n” sunghoon waves his hands dismissively. “you don’t have to do that, plus i bet you’d rather walk with your friend”.

“don’t be silly” you chuckle as you unlocked your phone, pressing jungwon’s contact you typed in many apologies telling him that you can’t walk with him since you’re walking with sunghoon. “i already told him”. your phone lights up again, a notification showing a reply from jungwon saying a simple okay.

“he doesn’t seem very happy” sunghoon stares at the notification. he looks back at you with seriousness in his eyes, “isn’t this the jungwon you and i were talking about?”.

“well yeah” you avoided eye contact with him, embarrassed that you were probably about to get scolded. not only does sunghoon help you with training but he also helps you in your love life. you two have probably talked more about jungwon than actual figure skating, sunghoon always sighing at you for once again not being able to tell him your feelings. “he’s been like that ever since last week, i thought this was normal. don’t boys also have puberty mood swings?”.

“what happened last week?” you two started to walk towards your destinations. sunghoon luckily lived quite near your house, well if you count just twenty minutes away from the gate of your gated community. you two have walked home together before, the action usually having a romantic undertone but you two never felt that way. you always have seen sunghoon as a friend, understanding that he’s never really given you the same feeling jungwon does. it goes the same for him, he sees you more as a younger sibling than anything.

“well, he started acting a little weird when you called me that morning”

“the morning i asked you how you and jungwon were doing?” sunghoon raises an eyebrow.

“yeah” you nod, confirming his guess. you let out a sigh before moving on to your next point, “and you know when i told you about that thing that happened when his face was really close to mine?”.

“the one where it was really awkward?”

“you didn’t need to mention it was awkward” you shiver in embarrassment remembering that night. “and yeah, after that he wasn’t really the same. plus do you know the weirdest part?”.

“what happened” sunghoon chuckled at your embarrassed pout silently to himself. you turned to him with your eyes wide and hands in the air about to animate your following words.

“his friend messaged me, his friend! the transfer student nishimura riki” your nose scrunched in confusion and frustration. your arms too also expressing your frustration. “his message was so weird too!”.

“what did it say?”

“i know who likes you” your frustrated expression was even more prominent. “it was so childish! i even replied with a question mark and he just sent me a sticker of a cartoon animal giggling!”.

“maybe he does know who likes you” sunghoon raises an eyebrow.

“he wouldn’t, nobody likes me” you frown at your own words. “he’s probably just messing with me like everyone else at school”. sunghoon stops in his tracks when he realised your miserable mood.

“hey—” sunghoon bent down a little to get a look at your face. “what’s wrong?”.

“it’s— it’s silly” you wipe your tears away. you weren’t expecting yourself to cry on an evening like this, especially not on the day you were walking home with sunghoon on.

“no y/n it’s okay” sunghoon looked around the area to see if there was anywhere to sit down at. noticing a bench near the two of you, he held onto your wrist bringing you to sit on it. “you can tell me anything y/n, i hope you know this”.

“i know” you sniffled, sadly smiling at the situation at that moment. “it’s just that i’m so tired of everything. jungwon acting weird with me was just the tip of the iceberg. i can’t help but think if i did anything to make him act like this”. sunghoon listened in silence, nodding at your words as he watched you in pity while tears streamed down your face.

“the fact that my classmates still ostracise me even though i try so hard to get to know them hurts so much. even though my parents tell me school isn’t for making friends, i desperately want to. i mean jungwon was there to help but like what i said before, he’s being really distant” the pace of your tears slowing down. “plus what his friend said didn’t help, it just felt like i was just the pit of a joke i wasn’t even aware of”.

“y/n i don’t know if i should say this but i think jungwon really—”

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut off sunghoon’s words. “are you okay? why are you crying?” you look behind sunghoon and realised it was jungwon saying all those things. you watched as his concerned expression warped into a furious one, his focus on sunghoon’s hand still on your wrist. you felt your eyes widen as you quickly shook off his grasp, standing up from the bench as you wipe the excess tears on your face.

“what did he do to you?” his words directed at you but his glaring eyes didn’t leave sunghoon. the realisation that jungwon misunderstood the whole situation dawned over you. taking a step forward you tried to open your mouth in an attempt to calm him down, only to be stopped by sunghoon who had his arm extended out, blocking your path to jungwon.

“i didn’t do anything” sunghoon explained calmly. he turned to you before looking back at the enraged boy. “i understand why would think that but honestly, it’s you two who need to have a talk, a long talk” he chuckles silently to himself before standing up.

“i wasn’t done talking to you—”

sunghoon gave him a smile before patting his shoulder, “just listen to what they have to say”. you watched as he waved you two off as made his way home. you stared at sunghoon’s walking figure in shock, not sure if you were entirely thankful he left you with an angry jungwon.

“did he do something to you y/n?” he made his way to you in a panic, his eyes scanning you to see if there was anything wrong with you. “i swear to god, i knew there was something wrong with him” he tried to look at your face, your head facing the ground blocking his view. “hey, look at me” his voice softening as he tried once again to get your attention.

“i’m sorry” tears welled up in your eyes again as you made eye contact with him. you couldn’t understand why you were crying, maybe it was all the emotions building up to this moment. even so, you were incredibly happy that jungwon was so concerned and even came to look for you. “sunghoon didn’t do anything, i was just venting to him”.

“y/n... did something happen?” his worried eyes looking hard into yours.

you played with you fingers as you tried to think hard on what to say next, is this the right time? i mean, in all honesty you had nothing to lose. in fact it was the perfect moment to confess your feelings, well after you explain everything to him.

“no” you sniffled, wiping away more tears you turned to him with a small smile. “let’s get home, shall we?”. he looked at you with bothered feeling, noticing it you frowned. “maybe i should tell you” you quietly let out, a silent chuckle following it.

“please tell me why you were crying y/n” his soft voice had hints of distressed tones in it, he was so visibly concerned about you. it’s possible that’s when you were reminded why you love jungwon, he cared about you so much that it felt like he could do anything for you. you gulp before opening your mouth, instantly closing it when words couldn’t come out. “hey... y/n?”.

“i can’t explain” that’s when you opted out of telling him how you felt. you thought that he already cared about you as a best friend, if he didn’t like you back. it was break down everything you had. you sigh before facing him once again. “we should really get going—”

“when— when you sent me that message, telling me you didn’t need me to walk you home because of sunghoon, it made me so upset and mad” he laughed to himself, the stutter in his words making him realise how nervous he was. you jump a little in shock when you realised his hand found its way to yours. the warmth of it soothed you, a pink tinge finding its way to your cheeks, an occurrence that always seems to happen whenever you were with jungwon.

“i stayed home sulking about it, messaged ni-ki about it and he was so mad at me” his eyes looked sincere, the pink tinge suddenly growing into a red one. “he told me if i didn’t, and i quote, get my ass there and walk you myself, he’d tackle me onto the ground”.

“i don’t get why you’re telling me this—”

“so i did” he continued, not stopping to explain anything to you but his own story. “i got up from bed and started travelling on the street you usually walked home on. i don’t know what i was expecting, but seeing you cry on that bench with that sunghoon guy beside you made me incredibly upset. i thought he did something to you! i can tell that i misread that completely”.

“jungwon” you speak up. you had no idea why he was reciting any of this, what was this even leading up to? a grin lights up on his face, the feeling his hand squeeze yours lovingly confusing you even more. “please tell me what your telling me-”

“i like you y/n” a sudden serious tone appearing. “not even like, i’m probably in love with you”. the shocked look on your face made him laugh endearingly, he pulled your hand lightly to bring you closer to him. “i mean it, honestly. it took three days of me thinking about what ni-ki had told me to even realise it”.

“so he wasn’t lying” you let out, still not recovering from the shock. you slowly move your head up to catch a glimpse of jungwon’s face, who quite literally snapped you back into reality. “wait, you like me really?”.

“yes!” he laughed as he pulled you into a hug, sending butterflies to your stomach. “why? do you not like me back?”.

“no!” you look at him in surprise. “wait! i do like you, it might be love too. i figured it out three years ago, when we were at my lake house”.

“three years ago?” the surprised look on his face slowly morphed into an endeared one once he caught you looking up at him with a cheesy smile. “you win with that one i guess”. the smiles on you both of your faces didn’t seem to falter while looking into each other’s eyes, the warm-cold breeze and the lightly tinted pink on both your cheeks adding to the scene.

“are we dating now?” he jokes as he takes out leaf from your hair.

“when did that get there” you place your hand on the spot the leaf was on. laughing it off, you look back up at him. the feeling of you in his arms still made your stomach flip, in a good way of course. “and yes, i suppose so?”.

“so now i can tell my parents i’m dating the smartest person in the country, as well as the prettiest?” he squeezes you tighter in a loving hug.

“so you’re just with me for my brains and looks?” sarcasm dripping from your words as you let out a loud laugh. “i’m kidding jungwon, yes you can tell them if you want to”.

“what are you gonna tell your parents?” a curious grin placed on his face.

“i’m dating my three year long crush”.

“as if they’d believe i’d be their precious child’s crush” he laughed as he loosened the grip on you. holding out his hand, you realised quickly that he wants you to hold it. “let’s get you back home before your parents send the police to look for you”.

“sure” you take his hand as you two walked down the street. both your sides looking as if you two were glued together from how the space was closed between the two of you, leaving no gap in between.

you always dreamt about your high school love story, even with your hectic schedule crushing you down everyday.

what you never expected was that your best friend was the start of it all.

[eyesofophelia]

surrender || aizawa x reader || sloth

➼ chapter six of fern’s dante’s inferno collab: sloth ➼ masterlist for collab! ➼ banner credit: @sightoru ➼ word count: 5.3k even ➼ warnings: dark content, noncon, self doubt, death, guilt.

                                      ‘thou seest how sloth wastes the sluggish body,                                              as water is corrupted unless it moves.’

struggling gears groaned against their rusted neighbors and rattled through the elevator shaft. you had thought that you would have been immune to the sound by now,  but each screeching grind of metal pierced through your eardrums and sent shudders down the length of your spine. not only did you wrap your arms around yourself to quell your fearful tremors but to find some sort of warmth. the farther down you went, the colder and colder it became. the creaking elevator was beginning to seem more and more like your designated spot in the mortuary cabinet rather than your transport. at least you were not alone, although, you may as well be. 

your companion was not ideal. 

you couldn’t tell whether or not sir nighteye was a comforting presence or a chilling one. his tepid demeanor unsettled you while still bringing you some sense of relief. 

so lost between the flashing images of your previous encounters and the fear of those that have yet to come, you hadn’t noticed the slowing of the elevator until it came to that familiar albeit jolting stop. it bounced for a moment, each vibration sent through you acting as an ominous countdown. dread bubbled deep within your core, threatening to release the bile just waiting to come up. what were you to expect? you were triumphant in the prior circles, but your ‘victories’ thus far felt hollow at best. while physically you had escaped each circle, you couldn’t help but feel that bits and pieces of your soul had been left behind along the way.

finally, the elevator’s motion slowed to a stop. you swallowed hard, balling your fingers into fists against your sweating palms. trying to center yourself, you forced your focus onto sir nighteye’s voice as he began to speak. “this,” a long, skinny finger gestured to the glowing red six above the elevator door, “is sloth.  you must remain vigilant here. whatever you do, you must not give in.”

his words were almost as chilling as the shrill screech of the elevator doors parting ways.

“oh, and,” that ominous glower appeared in his eyes once more, “good luck.”

you turned over your shoulder some, feeling the resolve you had tried so desperately to build crumbling away now that the doors were open. with a deep breath in, you willed yourself to move forward into the darkness. 

remain vigilant.

you scoffed internally at his words. easier said than done. the least he could do was give you some sort of help. he was the one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place, right? he should have just left you in those woods, you could have figured out--

you stopped dead in your tracks as you started to take notice of your surroundings. fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, some of which were shattered while the rest flickered and buzzed. a wall of broken windows laid to your right with only a vast darkness behind them. it was abysmal. in the reflection of the shattered panes, you saw the image of yourself scattered within jagged pieces. for a moment, you could have sworn you saw someone standing behind you but found no one when you turned. 

looking around once more, you continued on down the hallway, keeping an eye on the doors to see if there was anyone around. each door was marked with letters and numbers. you couldn’t help but be reminded of a school with each room that you passed. the further down the hall you went, the heavier the air felt. goosebumps infected your body and made every hair stand up on end. even your legs were beginning to feel weighted, as if they were starting to sink down into the floor with every step.

you must not give in. sir nighteye’s words pushed you to persevere against the gut instinct telling you to turn back. you had already come this far, you couldn’t stop now. to stop now would mean that every trial and tribulation you had faced already would be all for naught. you had to get to your mom. if she was somewhere in this place, past all these damned circles, you would find her and take her home.

your thoughts were halted by the sound of footsteps behind you. whipping around, your eyes searched frantically through the flickering lights to find whoever may have been following.

it was empty, save for the shattered glass and crumpled papers littering the floor. the pounding of your heart within your chest was deafening, but you tried to swallow it down with the lump in your throat. you just couldn’t shake the feeling that someone or something was watching you. a malevolent, foreboding presence. having to resist the instinct to call out for whoever--or whatever--was shadowing you, you started to turn before you heard more footsteps coming towards you down the hall. they sounded close, too close to not be able to see the source, but the hall still remained empty. panic gripped your core and forced you into flight. your eyes just barely caught the chipped, red markings on the wooden door as you pushed your way into the classroom closest to you.

1-A.

muttered curses spat past your lips as you practically flung yourself over a desk after barreling  into the room. it slid across the linoleum with a jarring screech, causing you to wince both in pain and with fear that you had definitely given away your location. your body lay frozen, heaped over the desk in tense anticipation for the sound of the door opening. frantically your gaze tried to adjust to the dark, only having the light coming through the window in the door to illuminate the room.

it was definitely a classroom. desks were scattered all around in some sort of disarray. some of them were broken and laying in pieces while others were still assembled and in their rightful places. you slowly pushed yourself up from the almost toppled desk, subconsciously brushing the dust and dirt from your front. for now, you felt as though the danger had passed. no longer did you hear the phantom footsteps, only the familiar buzzing of the lights outside of the classroom. with a sigh, you turned to leave.

as you turned to step towards the door, you froze in place. a strange ruffling sound started from the corner of the room. cold sweat formed on your back as the sound just seemed to get louder. as you got the courage to turn around, your knees started to buckle. a tall, looming figure was slowly emerging from a yellow cocoon. a mass of inky dark hair shrouded his face from you. you squinted in the dark to make out whatever details you could, but jolted back when his gaze suddenly pierced through your own. it was glowering and red, baring down at you like the famished glare of a wolf. the thick locks of hair started to stand on end, giving him a much more malevolent appearance as he remained half hunched in the corner. a straight row of glimmering teeth were bared to you in a menacing smile, causing you to gasp and turn to make your way to the door. again, sir nighteye’s message rang through your mind: 

remain vigilant.

a material that was both metallic and malleable shot forth from the darkness behind you, wrapping around your ankle and dragging you back. you cried out as you fell hard into one of the desk chairs, struggling to see what had pulled you down through the darkness. your eye finally caught something, trailing it back to the figure encroaching on you as he stepped fully from the yellow sack.

eyes like embers pierced through you, anchoring you to the spot. you hadn’t noticed it in the corner before, but you cursed yourself for not looking more carefully. as he stepped forward, you felt your breath hitch within your throat, fingernails biting down into the wooden desk surface. your mind screamed for your muscles to move. internally, it begged for you to run or hide away, but the closer he came, the more you sunk down into the chair. 

you must not give in.

“so, you’re the one he sent.”

deep, gruff voice filled your ears and sent a shiver down your spine. it was flat and lifeless, but still holding the same baleful aura that radiated from him. it felt as though there was no effort behind his words, no emotion. just a cold, detached voice that glued you to the seat beneath you. as he stepped forward, you noticed his hands in his pockets. he was wearing some sort of dark jumpsuit that hung loosely around his form with a long, coiled material around his neck. it was stretched out on one end, leading down to your ankle.

he pulled me down with that? you thought, blinking up at him with parted lips. though you wished to speak, your throat was closed up in fear. he seemed familiar somehow, as if you had seen him before, but you were unable to place it. all you could do was stare at him, which only seemed to displease him further. the grip around your ankle tightened enough to make you wince, watching as he moved to stand just in front of you.

“why are you here?”

subtle disgust laced his tone, watching a very slight sneer form over his face. suddenly, the room came to life. a low buzzing hum started from above you both before the fluorescent lights flickered on. you squinted through it, blinking to try and adjust your vision to the sudden change. a hand raised instinctively to block your eyes, peering through the slits in your fingers to the man that had appeared from the once shadowy corner. now, you could make out the golden sleeping bag slumped against the walls, laying unzipped and deflated.

your attention was snapped back to him as he stepped directly into your line of vision. you could get a good look at him now, noting the way his long dark hair fell back down around his scruffy face. there was a scar beneath his eye, both of which were now just as dark as the vacant space outside of the windows in the hall. like a blackhole, you felt yourself getting sucked into the intensity of his stare. somehow, you finally managed to break away from his magnetism and force the words from your lips.

“i need...to find my mom.”

he noted your hesitation, something resembling disappointment reflecting in his eyes. for what felt like an eternity, he stared down at you, as if daring you to try and move. even if you wanted to, you weren’t sure that you could. the longer you held his gaze, the weaker your muscles felt. even willing a finger to move seemed to take more energy than you could expend. still, you tried to cling to what little strength sir nighteye’s words had given you before. you got through the other circles, you could get through this one…

....right?

“it’s too late for that.”

finally, his response came, and you couldn’t help the twinge of pain from within your heart. the devoid tone he held threatened to suck away the small sliver of resolve you had just made for yourself. you watched as he stepped around to one of the desks beside you, leaning back against the top much too nonchalantly. his movements were sluggish and tired, he too seemed bogged down by the energy of this place. it was a crushing weight that only seemed to grow more and more intense the longer you spent here. 

and it didn’t look like you would be leaving anytime soon.

“your mother is in the ninth circle. you won’t make it past here.”

the matter of fact manner in which he spoke sparked annoyance within you. with furrowed brows, you spoke determinedly against the crushing weight. your eyes narrowed at him, forcing yourself to meet his bloodshot stare with this newfound façade of bravery.

“i’ve made it so far. who are you to say i won’t make it out of here?”

you couldn’t tell whether your words displeased him or surprised him, for his features remained flat and lifeless the entire time you spoke. it was only the slight twitch of his brows that gave you the sense that his own annoyance was brewing. 

“you lack the conviction.”

his words took you back for a moment, lips parted and jaw slacked in the shock of his declaration. the...conviction…? did he think that you didn’t truly want to save your mom? your eyes remained narrowed slits as they stared at him, finding the strength to speak to him again.

“you don’t know me.”

“i know all who enter here. this is my domain.”

anxiety pooled in your stomach as he revealed himself. so, he was the one in charge of sloth? you had not expected to find him so quickly, but you also hadn’t expected someone quite so...gruff? was he supposed to be a teacher here? he looked...homeless. shaking the thought from your mind, you tried to focus on him again. for now, he was answering your questions, right? you might as well take advantage of that.

“your domain? so, you’re the one in charge here?” 

instead of answering, he just stared at you with that empty gaze. he seemed tired and lethargic, but, every so often, you saw a glimmer of something within him. something chilling.  you knew you should have been trying to make a break for it and run, or trying to figure out a way out of here, but you still couldn’t get yourself to move. all you could do was force yourself to speak and try and find some answers. figuring he wouldn’t answer that question, you spoke up again.

“what do you mean i lack the conviction?”

it seemed that was the right question to ask, as he kicked up from the desk and stepped forward until he was finally looming over you once more. again, your breath hitched in your throat, raising your chin so that your eyes could follow his own. despite his shaggy appearance, he was handsome. even more so than before, he seemed familiar to you, but you could not place him. all you could do was stare.

“you couldn’t do anything to save her before. what makes you think you can now?” his words took you aback, feeling the threat of tears building in your eyes. the omniscient way he spoke down to you was tearing away at your determination to make it through. how could he know anything about your mother? how could he even begin to understand what it was like to watch your rock in life waste away and having there be nothing you could do to help her? for your entire life, your mother was there for you. every hardship you came across, she was there to offer kindness, love, and worldly wisdom. if only she was here now…

“she was sick...there wasn’t anything i could do.”

your voice was barely a whimper, struggling to push past the emotion that had risen up your throat. countless times you had wondered whether or not there was something that you could have done differently. that somehow, some way, you could have managed some miracle to help her get better. realistically, you knew there was nothing you personally could have done, but the way he spoke down to you only rehashed those feelings of guilt and denial that you thought had long since been buried. “not anything?” his head fell to the side, tilting towards his shoulder and shifting long hair with it. “i've heard every excuse there is. regardless of your reasoning, you will end up here. they all do.”

at that, your head shot towards the door as you heard a wailing cry in the distance. more and more started to come forth, echoing down the long, vacant halls. they were just beyond the door, crying for someone to help them. for a moment, you thought you heard yourself among the cries. 

your attention only snapped back when another end of the scarf he wore wrapped around your neck and forced you to look back to him. fire burned behind his gaze as he stared down at you, pulling at his scarf to yank you to your feet. instinctively, your hands gripped the cloth around your throat, struggling to pull it away enough to breathe. he wrapped it around his fist and pulled you even closer, almost gagging you with the scent of brimstone that seemed to radiate from him. you shuddered at his closeness, feeling your stomach twist into knots, but you couldn’t look away. again, the magnetic pull of his gaze forced you to look at him. 

“do you hear them?”

meekly, you nodded, almost unable to hear him over the crescendo of wails coming from down the hall. you struggled to try and keep your head, desperate cries of agony drowning out logic and reason and replacing it with guilt. 

you lacked the conviction.

“they’re just like you. try as they may, they will never succeed to free themselves. what good is a hero without the strength to do what must be done?”

a...hero? 

realization hit you like a brick as you suddenly recognized the man before you. he was a teacher at ua high school. you had seen him on the news quite a few times trying to clear up the distrust for heroes that was growing in society. it always seemed that he was trying, so how did he end up here? the thought plagued your heart with dread.

if even a pro-hero could end up here, what would that mean for you? it was almost as if he could sense the dejection creeping in, the corner of his lips starting to twitch up into the ghost of a smirk. slowly, he started to circle around you, the part of his capture device around your ankle starting to coil itself up your leg as he did. your throat suddenly felt dry and hoarse, unable to even force yourself to speak. weakly, you tried to pull at the tightening cloth around your neck to no avail. was this how it would end? stuck in the sixth circle? you had barely been here for ten minutes, but it already felt as if you had been trying to escape for years.

“i was met with a choice once. i had a chance to help, but i didn’t have the confidence to do it, yet i still had the nerve to become a hero. i was a mockery, as they all are. as you are. your cowardice will bring your failure. there is nothing you can do to change it,” he stepped up behind you now, his voice low and sultry against your ear. it was the first time it had changed from its dull monotone, “so why even try?”

why try? you had to...it was the only way that you could get your mom back. it was the only way that you could survive everything that you had already been through. you had to try, but you couldn’t find the strength. your body felt heavy, like a sinking weight drifting into the depths of dark waters. sullenness was creeping in, nurturing the seeds of guilt he had sown within your mind and heart.

was there a point to fighting on? even if you could reach your mom, would you be able to bring her back? would bringing her back even be worth the struggle? he was right. you weren’t strong enough to do it before, what made you think you could do it now when the odds were stacked even higher against you? again, you cursed sir nighteye for dragging you into this mess.

your hands which still struggled to pull at the bind around your throat were starting to weaken in their fight against him. he pressed himself against your back, using the scarf to pull you flush to his torso. you could feel his hand at your hip, anchoring your backside upon his pelvis. a gasp betrayed you, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“stay here. where else is there for you to go?” 

the hand at your hip was shifting forward, slipping towards the hem of your skirt. you could feel the rough pads of his fingers just brushing the top of your thigh. the same goosebumps you got before infected your body like a plague once more, travelling down your spine with a little shiver. again, you found yourself at the mercy of inferno, becoming nothing more than a doll in the hands of a sinner. through the fog settling in your mind, you managed to pray for help. for someone to help release you.

“surrender to me.”

you were unable to fight against the pull of your leg by his scarf, parting your thighs for his hand that roamed you freely. it slipped between your legs, gripping the tender meat of your loin with the same hunger that had reflected within his eyes earlier. like a spider, he had laid his trap with ease and caught you swiftly in his tangled web. you struggled to move away from him, but your motions were half hearted and tainted with defeat. 

what was the point?

you could feel his hand slipping up to your panties, pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. you wanted to cry out for help, but all you could manage was a meek moan, once again betraying yourself. no, no, no, you thought, eyes desperately searching the room for some way out, this can’t happen. i need to get out of here.

i need to find my mom.

“w-what are you doing?” you just barely choked out, peering at him from the corner of your eye.

“for satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.” again, his words took on that headiness he had lacked before, running his tongue up the expanse of your neck and to your ear. it disrupted your thoughts, bringing out a soft groan from you.

each time your mind found some sort of clarity, he dragged you away from it with more devilish touches. his fingers started to circle you, sending another chill down your spine and tremor through your legs. whenever he spoke, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. his breath was warm on your skin, almost seeming comforting against the cool air. for a moment, you wondered how bad it would really be to just let it all go…

you must not give in.

again, those words plagued your mind and tried to force you away from the growing heat between your legs. he had warned you this time, tried to prepare you in some way for what was to come from this circle, but all you had done was complain. you cursed him for bringing you into this mess when you were the one who agreed to follow in the first place. again, you felt guilt twinging your heart. you were too much of a coward to do anything for your mom. you were a fool to believe you could have moved past this.

“surrender.” his voice in your ear was reeling you in like a siren’s song, dragging you further and further down into the depths. his touches made you feel like you were sinking almost into sleep. your legs gave out, the full weight of your body being supported by him. his attention turned to the silent tears that streamed down your cheeks as you stared absently up at the ceiling. you could barely register the feeling of his tongue sliding up your face to collect the salty trail that rolled down. with every touch, you felt more and more of your energy being siphoned from you. between this place and him, you were being drained of everything you had left.

i’m sorry, mom. i just couldn’t do it.

finally, your eyes closed. you couldn’t help but wonder how sir nighteye would feel about your failure. would he be disappointed? or would he remain indifferent? 

what would happen to your mom if you stopped here?

it was that question that brought your eyes to open again. you tried to ignore the starved bites to your neck and the hands that continued to touch you. to find your focus through the fog in your mind was a struggle, but you somehow managed as you continued to think of your mom. memories of her came flooding in, a lot of which you had buried deep since her passing. they hurt too much to remember before, leaving you too afraid to relive them for fear of ripping open the wounds again. now, you didn’t care. you forced them to come to the surface. with every thought of her, you felt your strength starting to return. you know he could feel it too, as his opposite arm started to circle around your waist and keep you pressed against him. as if trying to erase the strength you were building, his hips moved along your own, rubbing his arousal against your backside.

the temptation to fall back again was great, but you forced yourself to break past it. with a shove, you pushed yourself away from him. you hit the cold linoleum with a hard smack, feeling blood starting to drip from where your forehead had smashed into the floor. the fabric of his capture device had pulled you down, but it was loosened now. bleary eyed as you tried to catch your breath from the impact, you looked over your shoulder to see where he was. his vacant stare was alight with burning embers once more, smoldering down at you with such great intensity. again, his hair rose around himself. 

“you think you can run?”

you didn’t have time to answer before he was on top of you, trying to pin your arms down by your head. you screamed and twisted your body beneath him, crying out as he shoved his knee into your hip to pin you down. despite his strength, you still struggled and fought as much as you could. no matter how he touched you, or what words he said into your ear, you would not give up here. 

“you think you can escape me?”

his lips collided within your own, violently claiming yours and invading your mouth with his tongue. the heat that had radiated from him before was nothing like it was now. it threatened to burn you as he forced himself upon you, a bruising grip on your wrists as he tried to keep you down. 

you understood now that the bondage of guilt was self imposed, but you knew he was going to do anything to keep you beneath him. to keep you here in this place, stuck with all of the others who fell into laziness and apathy. those who lost their care to do what was right because they could not find the strength to surpass what they found to be too difficult. 

again, you heard the wailing cries of the students outside of the classroom, begging for someone to release them, but that was just it. no one was going to come to release them.

they had to find the strength to release themselves.

with all of your might, you shifted on the ground and pushed up with your leg. your voice was found again, yelling out as you propelled yourself up and threw him off of you and into the podium at the front of the room. his head smacked against the metal, grunting in response. in that moment, you felt the cloth around your leg and neck fully release itself, and you scrambled up from the ground while pulling away the ties. without hesitation, you ran for the door and pushed yourself out into the hall.

the halls were no longer empty, but lined with students. they were battered and bruised, their training uniforms practically ripped to shreds. you gasped as you stepped out from the classroom and felt your foot starting to sink into the ground. looking down, you saw that the floor was no longer the solid linoleum it was before but had become mud. the students struggled against it, weakly lifting their legs to no avail and crying out as they couldn’t release themselves. they reached for you, gripping your shoulders and begging for you to save them.

panic was settling in your heart, fearing that it would beat out of your chest from how fast it was pumping. you turned over your shoulder to see the man in the classroom starting to stand up, the red in his gaze seeming even more intense than it had been as it found you in the doorway.

it was now or never.

you forced yourself again to use all of the strength that you could muster to push past the suffering students and move down the hall. your muscles were aching against the pull of the mud trying to keep you back, but you pushed yourself to keep going. you couldn’t stay here. not with them. not with him. 

you couldn’t give up.

you knew he was behind you, moving through the thick mud with much more ease than you had, but you couldn’t turn back to face him. you kept your eyes ahead, shoving past those who were in your way. the hallway was starting to fade into darkness, the fluorescent lights going out one by one as you made your way beneath them.  at the very end sat the elevator, illuminated only by the numbers that were counting up to six. sir nighteye was returning for you.

“you won’t be able to save her. you might as well stop here.”

the man’s voice called after you, trying to lure you back to him. the temptation was great, especially as you felt your body start to slow, struggling to fight the exhaustion that was settling into your bones. you were panting; your chest heaving as you tried to force air into your burning lungs. fire was ripping through your body, threatening to seize your muscles, but you still kept on. you kept playing those memories of your mom over and over in your mind to help push you farther and farther away from the man. you could hear him behind you starting to speed up, angrily yelling for you to just give in. it almost seemed as if he was desperate for you to stay.

the elevator doors started to open as you got closer, the familiar face of sir nighteye looking at you from the inside. in some ways, it almost looked as if he was pleasantly surprised. with a final bound, you lept inside of the elevator shaft, just barely missing the end of the man’s capture scarf as the door started to close behind you.

with your chest heaving, you pressed yourself against the wall and watched as the doors closed just before his reaching hands made it to them. relief flooded you as the elevator began to descend, never thinking that you would be so thankful to hear the chilling grind of its gears once more.

“i didn’t think you would make it.” you scoffed at the words from the man beside you, shooting him a glare as you tried to readjust your clothes.

“gee, thanks.”

your gaze turned up towards the numbers before turning to him again.

“what’s next?”

[courtlyharlequin]

For🌙 - Before me stood the Malleus Draconia himself. He guided me into the more thorny parts of the woods where his castle stood, once inside we had some tea and spent the night talking and cuddling by the fireplace

Aromatherapy

A/N: Not that you need to know, but this fic was inspired by black chamomile bergamot hand soap. It had such a calming effect on me that somehow transferred into my writing. It smells really good I’m ♡♡♡

A/N²: This was a little self indulgent as I wanted to establish some lore of the event into this fic. Also, my writing might be a little rusty after my semi-hiatus so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par as my other works. Thank you for being so patient. I should be able to write more frequently now  <3

A flurry of delicate crystals fell from the sky, nipping the tip of your nose with a slight sting. You held back a sneeze as you quickened your pace. The creatures of the night howled with the wind. You spun your heel, meeting with dozens of glowering eyes that illuminated the forest. They crawled towards you. Each step forward unearthed more grotesque features ranging from more than one set of jaws to foaming mouths. Your breath hitched and you turned around, picking up your pace. Your legs were light as a kilogram of feathers. As the snow fell more vehemently, you prayed that the sun would rise soon.

When the White Rabbit led you into the woodlands, she had stated that you were invited for a tea party, one where you could eat anything you desired– if those things fit weren’t mustard and could fit into the Hatter’s hat that is. Yet here you were, ready to become a night creature’s late night snack. Apparently, slightly crumbled cookies from your basket did not suffice. They discarded the goodies the moment they received the basket. Granted, you did throw it at them as a distraction.

Your foot collided with something underneath the thin sheet of snow. You yelped as you fell to the ground. The snow crunched under your weight as you shifted onto your knees. It was warm, like an embrace. Since when was snow warm?

The beasts’ growls were in earshot. Rising to your feet was a struggle. You scrambled across the snow, but to no avail. At this rate, you were going to be devoured. It was so cold. You were so tired. Perhaps it would be alright to give into a kiss of death. You were alone and lost in the woods, searching for an exit aimlessly. The night creatures inched towards you with precise steps. There were three of them– three ghastly beasts fueled by hunger.  One of them appeared to be the alpha, leading the others towards you. You closed your eyes as it pounced onto you, sinking its jaws onto your calves. The snow was terribly warm. It was almost cozy. You cried into it like a child would into a mother’s sleeve.

Thunder clapped and the night wailed. A flash of green flames illuminated the sky and disappeared as fast as it came. Your legs felt less heavy. Then, the numbness in your leg faded. You groaned. Was that it? Had you perished so soon? 

“Are you lost, little lamb?” a voice cooed.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure painted in black from head to toe crouch before you. You felt cold, but it quickly faded as you felt them scoop you up into their arms. You gazed at the ground. They were quite tall or so it would seem. Their warmth differed greatly from the snow’s.

You opened your eyes drowsily, meeting your gaze with your savior. Your senses were hazy, but you were certain that snow was not an ethereal being with long ebony locks, brilliant viridian eyes or sleek horns. Perhaps this being was your guardian angel. Or the devil? Angels didn’t don black cloaks, but he resembled one in every way. Divine. Absolutely divine,

You mewled and hugged him a little tighter, darkness engulfing your consciousness.

There was a bright light. You blinked twice. This was not the afterlife at. Or at least not what you imagined it would be. You thought it would be more extravagant than the interior of a gothic castle. It seemed dull– gray, somber. The candelabras were lit with viridescent flames, adding an eerie and unsettling aura to the bedroom. You sat up, wincing. You felt a small prick against your calves.

You lifted the covers to reveal your leg. It was bandaged neatly and elevated on a small throw pillow. Your eyes drifted to your clothing. In exchange for your cloak and travelling ensemble, you wore an oversized silk dress shirt. The hem barely covered your knees while its sleeves extended to your thighs. It was comfortable nonetheless.

“You’re awake.”

You were alive.

You hugged your legs and nodded sheepishly. There he was, an angel. Your savior set down a tray at the nightstand.

You stared into his eyes. Though you were certain that this was not in the afterlife, this man was an angel. No doubt about it. His presence said it all. It radiated power. He was ethereal. He had long ebony locks and porcelain skin. His eyes were akin to emeralds. He stood tall, towering over you with his arms crossed and a faint pout evident on his lips.

“Well, Child of Man?”

You broke eye contact.

“Child of Man,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Perhaps you would regain your focus if you help yourself to some hazelnut soup,” he gestured to the tray.

You peered over his figure to examine the foodstuff. He saved you, treated your wounds, and now he offers to feed you. Truly, he was a seraph.

What could you possibly do to repay him? Did he desire compensation? Although you were hungry, guilt swelled in the back of your mind.

“It’s edible. The fair folk have a reputation for being terrible cooks, but I assure you that the fire fairies in my castle are well immersed in human cuisine,” he said.

“Fae?”

“My, you /are/ a lost little lamb, aren’t you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wonderland. A forest.”

“Anything else?”

“The White Rabbit said something about a tea party,” you said.

He straightened his posture and bowed.

“So you are the Hatter’s guest. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. One moment please. I won’t be long. Help yourself to the soup in the meantime. I know the fire pixies won’t be pleased if you let it grow cold,” he said, walking out of the room.

Hatter? Fire pixies?

His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You stared at the tray. Alongside the ceramic bowl, there was a small dinner roll, a side salad, and a cup of tea. You clutched your stomach as it growled.

You swung your legs over the mattress and let them dangle off the bed. Your eyes trailed down to the ornate carpet. You were famished. The man did tell you to eat. It would be rude not to comply with his request after he nursed you back to health.

You bit your lip as you reached for the tray, setting the cool metal surface onto your lap. You took the spoon and raised it to your lips, blowing the ribbons of smoke away as if you were making a dandelion wish. You wrapped your lips around the utensil, taking in the soup’s warmth. It was rich, sweet, and  creamy with an earthy undertone. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Not bad, I presume?” your savior chuckled.

You flinched. He had returned.

He received a hum of affirmation in response. With that, he pulled a wooden chair from the bedroom’s study area and placed it beside the bed, directly in front of you. He sat down, crossing his legs. He opened up a leatherbound book, raising an eyebrow at you. You nervously grinned and fiddled with your thumbs. It was a decent sized book, not too large, but not too small to be a novella either. It was worn and torn around the edges though its gold detailing on the spine was still prevalent.

He met your gaze then snapped his fingers. Your eyes widened as the tea cup on your tray multiplied into two and the contents changed from a murky green to a cozy brown. They then lifted themselves off the tray and waltzed in the air for a few moments before stopping on their own saucers at the nightstand.

“I heard chamomile tea calms the nerves… for humans, anyway. I do love the flavor of it as well. Would you like one lump or two?”

“Are you not human? And two please.”

He blinked. The sugar cubes sunk to the bottom of your cup.

“I am affiliated with the fair folk,” he said.

He waved his hand around, dismissing the fact that he had summoned another teacup along with matching saucers and sugar jar and changed the teas with the snap of his fingers. Having been in this wonderland for a while now, you were familiar with magic. The possibility of fair folk couldn’t be ruled out, but you had never considered much about their existence until now. Then again, you didn’t know what night creatures were either until recently.

“Who are you?”

“A fae who happens to live in these parts and nothing more,” he said.

“And nothing more… then do you have a name?”

“You may call me anything you’d like. I do not have a preference. Names are merely labels no?”

“I suppose so.”

“There once was a little beastie that called me Tsunotaro. You may call me that if you’d like.”

“Tsunotaro?”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of that name too. You remind me of them therefore I shall allow it.”

“Alright then.. Tsunotaro.”

The light in his eyes faltered. He turned past the title page.

“And what do I call you, lost little lamb?”

“(y/n),” you said curtly.

“(y/n)... I like that,” he whispered softly, “Well, then (y/n), welcome to the Tugley Woods. We are in the northern part of Wonderland. It’s a hub for mana which draws in a plethora of characters such as merfolk and beastmen. Are you familiar with mana? It’s essentially a life force used as a catalyst for magic.”

You hummed along to the inflections of his voice.

He continued: “Perhaps you encountered some paragons of mana on the way here. Or wherever your destination was. They’re troublesome bunches, really. They have their own territories. Anything that trespasses those borders is beyond my control, even as the Prince of Thorns, I—”

You fidgeted with the sheets, a minute action and yet the fae’s eyes peeled up from the book.

“Does the origin of the woods bore you?”

You shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just having difficulty visualizing the entire forest and the factions. It must be vast.”

The fae grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured green flames within a furnace, illuminating the side of your bed with a faint yet welcoming warmth.

He rose from his seat, edging the covers, ushering you aside as he climbed into the comforters. He shifted around. Once he was satisfied, he propped open the book, continuing on with your history lesson. There was a large map sprawled across the thin pages. The words were racked from Tsunotaro’s memories.

You leaned on his shoulder. He was oddly warm despite his pale, lifeless complexion. Tsunotaro’s voice soothed your soul, spelling away all your fears— no matter how grand or horrible they may be.

“The West is guarded by the beastmen. They aren’t aggressive when you cross borders, only when you mess with their prey. They congregate here due to their affinity towards the mana here.”

Malleus pointed at the map. His fingernail made the book sound hollow.

“This allows them to use their magic easily as the area’s terrain is filled with sand and earth magic despite being surrounded by trees. You could say the same for the merfolk in the East as well. Except that area consists of woodlands with a large loch in the middle. The loch is deeper than it seems. It leads to the Coral Sea, I believe. The ‘monsters’ —”

“Why must they be monsters?”

“Aside from their appearances, the beastmen and the merfolk are experiencing a mana drought as of now as a majority of the magical energy here has ceased over the years. The ley lines have been exhausted due to constant irrigation and migration of the forests’ inhabitants. Nowadays, they attack travelers, driven by their hunger and thirst for mana to strengthen their magic and sustain their own livelihoods. Aside from them, there’s also night creatures. Those were the wolves that attacked you on the first day. ”

“And what does that make you?”

“Certainly not a monster if that is what you were implying. The fae generate their own mana. In fact, this castle is fortified with mana spun on a single spinning wheel. This prevents attacks from the other night creatures,” he said.

“That does not make the others monsters if they were merely trying to survive.”

“Did they not attack you on your journey?”

“They did, but it was the wrong timing. Besides those were wolves, I’m sure the factions have their own reasons.”

“Touché, Beastie,” he said.

Tsunotaro glanced upward.

“Oho?”

“I suppose they all have their reasons. As you said, they might just be doing so for their survival. Though the fair folk could never empathize with them, we are typically not shackled by the limits of age nor are we familiar with death. We create our own mana and we seldom consume food for survival, only pleasure.”

“I see…”

You yawned. He placed a slender ribbon in between the worn pages of the book. It clapped into place as he set it on the nightstand.

“Perhaps I’ve said more than a beastie could handle. Nevermind that. The chamomile must finally be settling in on you.”

For a mere moment, his eyes flashed into silts and glowed. Your lids were heavy.

“Rest well, Beastie—  for you have a long journey ahead of you.”

He rose from his seat, striding towards the door. The candles’s flames extinguished as he walked past them.

“You too, Tsunotaro.”

The fae halted.

“Yes… thank you, Yu—,” he paused, “(y/n).”

He sighed.

“Thank you, (y/n)” he said.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Ashes

part 06/?? “darkness and forgotten self”

masterlist

previous part // next part

word count 1.8k

The clang of boots radiated throughout the small corridor as two sets of feet that climbed down and equally short level. The light vibrations through the ship were foreign for one, having not been to hyperspace in years, and tickled your feet when you found your footing on the lower level of the Mantis. Without skipping a beat, you followed the young Jedi down the hallway to the last door, which opened to reveal an equal sized room. Cal entered before you, rubbing his hands together before turning to face you, just to be met with the sight of you undoing your helmet. “I hope this is comfortable for you.”

“This is more than comfortable thank you,” you replied. You slowly made your way over to the work bench and set the helmet down, but your fingers lingered on the parts left out before you. “Working on your lightsaber?”

“I do from time to time,” Cal stated. He came up by your side, pulling his lightsaber from his side and holding it out before you both. “I rebuilt it before we went to Nur. I remembered a design I had seen in the Temple when I was younger, recreated it-”

With a careful switch, one end of the lightsaber ignited, and you watched as a proud Cal gripped the other end and ignited it as well. With a twist and a pull, the lightsaber disconnected and became two equals, and you swore your stomach flipped at the sight of it. But while he returned it to one full saber, and switched it off, you did your best to muster up a smile as he continued speaking. “I always admired the Jedi who came up with this design, and something in me felt compelled to make it. If I remember correctly, the other Jedi you worked with was the one who inspired this design. Master-”

“Skywalker,” you finished for him. Cal nodded a bit but you took a step backwards from his side. “He was never granted the title of Master.”

Cal looked back at your solemn look, eyes focused on a random part of the wall, and seemed to understand your words a little bit more. “You knew him well.” He stated more than asked.

“Since we were children,” you confirmed. “Before the Jedi found him, we were best friends. Then he left Tatooine, I was still a slave until my debts were paid off… I didn’t see him again until we were adults. That’s when the Jedi allowed me to train under them.”

“Did he die in the Purge?” Cal asked.

You sucked in a breath, before looking his way again. In all honesty you didn’t know how to answer that question. In a way, Anakin did die years ago, and what emerged was the presence that lingered over the galaxy now. His light, that not only enveloped you but those around him, was gone. You couldn’t feel him anymore like you could back then, but then again.. You knew a part of him is still alive.

“No,” was all you could seem to muster. Cal nodded a bit, when a call from up above gathered both of your attention.

“We’re coming out of hyperspace in a few minutes everyone. Cal, I need you up here,” Greez’s voice called out. Cal hesitated for a moment before giving you a short nod and disappearing back from where you both came.

In a moment of silence you slinkered down to the ground in a criss cross position and rubbed your hands over your legs. You couldn’t help but tap your fingers against your knees, pondering over Cal’s question. It had been so long since you had seen Anakin as he is now, though the memories of the suit he donned always seemed to sit in the back of your mind. You wondered for a moment.. Was it possible? Could you reach out to him and hide yourself from him for a few moments? He couldn’t know just yet that you were looking for him..

You inhaled deeply and your eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in years, reached out through the Force to find Anakin... Or what remained of him.

--------

Vader was waiting. What exactly he was waiting for was unknown. After retrieving what he was looking for on Coruscant he hastened back to his Star Destroyer and asked not to be disturbed. So here he stood, staring out into the star covered galaxy, contemplating what he had brought back with him from his quick journey. The items added what could only be described as.. A feeling of static in the room.

Vader wondered why he had felt attached to these items that kept him tied to his benevolent past. Why did he feel a heaviness within him for something (dare he say someone) that brought him nothing but torment to his younger self. Why did he feel compelled to retrieve them? Why did his mind wonder like this?

Vader could feel himself slipping, which he dare not continue. He couldn’t help but grip his mechanical fists together and turn back around to where the items laid. In just a few steps he hovered over the dark saber hilt that was wrapped so delicately with the ivory pendant his former self carved. His hands turned the hilt over and dislodged the metal in half, like he remembered, and removed the emitter from one, careful to catch the kyber crystal that laid neatly inside. 

Vader looked the crystal over through his helmet. The white crystal seemed dimmed and dull, not shining like it used to. Crystals often held a vibration through the Force, even if it wasn’t your own, it still felt connected. But this crystal, which Vader recounted as feeling.. Pure and airy, felt like a regular stone in his grip. Like its connection had been severed, not only from the Force but from it’s wielder. Vader set it down respectfully, and dismantled the other emitter and was met with the same feeling.

Emptiness.

It was an unsettling feeling, one that he pushed away. Vader left the dismantled lightsaber on the table, now focused on the pendant instead. Careful to untangle it from the hilt, he laid it out in one of his palms, and overlooked the intricate woodwork. Vader could distinctly remember nicking his fingers a couple times while carving it, though he would never again feel how it truly felt on his fingertips that were long gone.

Vader wouldn’t know it at the time, but as he looked over the connection to his past self, someone was intruding. Though light years away, the intruder stood behind his large frame, watching the way his body stood controlled and tight, the even monotonous breathing, the aura of darkness and forgotten self.

You stood there frozen in place, careful not to execute too much of yourself to alert him to your presence. But with his back to you you couldn’t fully take him in, couldn’t truly grasp him in this moment. You watched as Anakin’s (Vaders?) head lifted, slowly turning to look over his shoulder and you braced yourself. You came face to face with the dark and hollow eyes that shielded you from seeing the true person underneath the helmet, and you could feel your breath catch.

Darth Vader was just like how the stories depicted him. Towering, menacing.. Empty. His gaze was focused on something past you, and you sighed in relief. You knew this was risky, but being here in his presence was worthwhile. To see him walk past you, even breathing filling the room along with the sound of his boots hitting the floor, was somehow comforting. Just knowing that he was here, and knowing that you were coming made some of the tension leave your shoulders. You followed him across the room before he stopped, the beeping from a device cutting through the silence in the room made him freeze, and startled you. You watched him seemingly take a large inhale before something on the wall projected in front of him, and Anakin lowered to his knee in compliance.

It had been just as long since you had seen Palpatine, or as he stood in a hologram before you now, the Emperor. Oh the things you would enact on him if you were truly there with him. Revenge may not be the Jedi way but damn you were looking forward to the fact that you were no Jedi. But something else settled in the pit of your stomach, one you wished never crossed your mind.

Fear.

The Emperor seemed to hesitate in his greeting to his Padawan, as if taking in the scene before him. Under his hooded cloak you could just barely make out the way his eyes overlooked the room. “Lord Vader.. I have sensed a disturbance through the Force.”

Vader couldn’t admit that he had felt anything, but he was careful to keep his fist clenched around the pendant he had been observing earlier. He kept his head bowed as he replied. “The Jedi from Nur may be on the move again.”

“This disturbance feels more.. Familiar,” Palpatine asserted. Vaders' head finally lifted to face his Master fully, but remained submissive. “A connection to our shared past.”

The only sound that radiated through the room was Anakin’s shallow and slow breaths. You watched the exchange carefully, unsure how much longer you could risk being here. Slowly he came to a stand, and gave Palpatine a short nod. “I will look into this, Master.”

The Emperor gave no sign of acknowledgement before the transmission went out, and you knew it was time to go. Anakin turned slowly to face back where he dismantled your sabers, but he paused as he came fully into view. Frozen in place, you stared at one another, though you were unsure if he could see you or if it was more of a feeling of a presence. It was a question you would have to get an answer to another day.

With a sad and heartfelt smile, you whispered out loud. “I’ll see you soon Ani.”

As your eyes reopened you found yourself back on the Mantis, still sitting on the metal floor and could feel wetness on your cheeks. Your fingers grazed under your eyes and you let out a quiet sigh as you wiped the tears that had escaped away. The jostling of the ship indicated the exit from hyperspace, and you took a moment to collect yourself before standing and grabbing the helmet you brought with you. Much like Anakin now, you slid it on and it hissed in connection, and you were met with the familiar mechanical viewfinder.

As you climbed the ladder back up to the top level, you couldn’t help but wonder what Anakin would be doing now.

- - - - - - - - - -

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[ravenqueen-world]

♕ EL TESORO ♕

Chapter: 2 {𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕤}

Word count: 840

Characters: Fiona Zabini, Abraxas Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Evan Rosier, Baxter Mulciber, Ares Avery, Rodolhphus Lestrange, Marcius Nott

Part 1:

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When she was about to knock on the door, someone opened it from the inside.

It was a group of handsome young men who wore black cloaks with green underneath. They radiated an aura that gave Fiona a vast sense of danger, and everything in her wanted to run away.

She was petrified for a moment, because she was one-hundred percent sure that those were the Slytherin uniforms from Harry-fucking-Potter. Either these guys were real geeks or hardcore cosplayers. Or maybe she was hallucinating everything?

Before she could continue any of her thoughts, one of the guys came forward and asked, "Miss Zabini, what do you think you are doing going out past curfew?"

He was admittedly very handsome with his perfect, sharp jawline, muscular body, and dark brown hair, which shone in the moonlight. He looked at her without emotion,which only added to her uneasiness. Something about him was unsettling, but she couldn't pinpoint what.

Fiona was still too shocked to answer as they stared at her intensely. Some of them even had the audacity to check her out, their lecherous eyes looking at her legs for far too long for her taste.

By this point, she was ready to give in to her instincts and get the hell away from these freaks. With a hasty recovery, she replied, "I think I am at the wrong house - castle, whatever. Sorry for any disturbance."

She turned around quickly, and was about to escape, but someone grabbed her wrist swiftly and pulled her into an unknown, muscular chest. Her face was buried there for a few seconds before she looked up to that person's face.

She ought to create as much space as possible between them, attempting to push him away, but one of his arms was around her small waist as he pressed his large form against her small body.

It was a man who looked like he was at the same age as her, easily able to pass as a Targaryen from Game of Thrones.

But those eyes -- she could easily fall in love with those stunning light gray eyes which reminded her of a restless stormy night. If only there wasn't a sadistic gleam in them.

A shiver ran down Fiona's back. She tried to pull her wrist back , but the mysterious man merely squeezed harder, so much that she twisted her face in pain.

She wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but he spoke up first in a deep, baritone voice.

"Fiona, what are you doing out so late? Have you lost your mind?" he asked, an undertone of anger obvious in the inquiry.

She looked him in the eyes, confused and not responding. Something in his face became darker, now brimming with uncontrolled rage. "Why are you also wearing such indecent clothes at this questionable hour?"

He came so close that she felt his hot breath on her face and whispered in her ear, "This is not over, we will talk about it later and you will be punished accordingly."

Terror ran through her veins, instincts continuing to scream at her to run. But deep inside her bones, she knew there would be no escape. The worst thing? Fiona didn't even know why she was feeling this way.

She was intoxicated, sleepy, and only wanted to lie down in her big, comfy bed.

"Who the fuck are these creeps? Why are they dressed so oddly? Were they in a cult?" Her thoughts flew a million miles a second, panic only growing with each one that came across her mind. She thought for sure she would have a mental breakdown.

Fiona was still so caught up in her trance that she didn't notice what the Targaryen look alike was saying to the rest of the group of young men.

She just heard it all in fractions, like "my dear fiancé" and "not coming" and "Dumbledore", and this is what caused the realization to finally come to her that she was somehow in the Harry Potter universe.

That was the only logical explanation for her situation right now. The person in front of her, who was dragging her away from the rest of the group, must be a Malfoy.

She gasped, shocked, as she realized that the person who had spoken to her first was Tom Riddle - the future Dark Lord, aka Lord Voldemort. The fact that they knew her name and called her Zabini had completely escaped her mind.

This had to be a nightmare. Fiona still refused to believe that she was really in the Harry Potter universe. Otherwise, how would it even be possible?

Alas, the evidence was overwhelming, and embarrassingly, she fell unconscious.

[iloveitwhen]

Villian Attack

Here is an unfinished Platonic Jasonette scene for Villain Attack and I’m not sure if I should but Imma tag @jasonette-july-2k20 even though it’s not finished- Sorry!!

Here Red Hood secretly went to France to investigate some claims and decided to help with the situation in Paris and quickly found the identities of the superheros since he is not affected by the magic that protects them because of the Pit. 

It had been two months since he’d come to France. He knew his family was probably starting to panic so he sent an encrypted message, just to mess with them, saying he was fine and helping some people with a problem. After the first few weeks he figured out their identities, only because it was so obvious and he didn’t seem to be affected by the magic, something to do with the effects of the pit. They let him stay in their warehouse after they realized it was far too suspicious since he was just generally a suspicious guy and it would be weird for a group of 16 and 17 year olds to constantly meet up with a suspicious 25 year old man, so they met up at the warehouse, or at Marinette’s house, her parents approved of the brotherly protectiveness Jason had over their daughter and saw that he was damaged and of course Marinette was healing his hurt. The group would often hang out in the kitchen and tell stories and watch anime movies and shows (mostly forced upon them by Adrien whom no one could say no to when he turned his big eyes on them, and no, he did not give them puppy eyes, he gave them Puss-in-Boots eyes. He was irresistible in this state of being). Jason had come to love the teens like his little siblings, they were a family and accepted him with open arms, he would kill for them and he would die for them. But of course some things have to come to an end. 

They were training at the warehouse while Jason sat back reading an old novel when the akuma alarm went off. The team gathered around Marinette and transformed. Jason dressed himself in his new outfit and his now black mask to keep his Red Hood identity at least a little secret and joined the others. Marinette, now Ladybug, took a deep nervous breath and steeled her nerves. 

“Ok team, this is it. We know Agreste is Hawkmoth and we finally have proof.” She lifts a box up in her hand and takes the lid off revealing small cameras to connect to their masks. “And now we’ll get concrete proof with video footage. I know we’ve been over this a hundred times but here’s a hundred and one. Viperion, Ryuko, Chat, and I will face the Akuma,” she says, passing the cameras out, “Hornet, Bunnixx, and Vixen, you will infiltrate the Agreste mansion and take down Hawkmoth from there. Mayura is most likely going to join this fight but I still want everyone to be on the lookout for her in case she isn’t. Nightmare, you are miscellaneous, I need you to be alert and ready to join either crew. If necessary you will face Mayura in hand to hand combat while her sentimonster is with us. Don’t underestimate her, she can beat an akuma without a Miraculous meaning she is even more powerful with one.” She makes eye contact with every single one of them and they nod their heads in agreement. Screams rip through the grim setting and Ladybug purses her lips. “Let’s head out. Good luck.” and with that the team ran out the warehouse and vaulted or flew away to their designated areas while Jason followed behind the Ladybug’s group and watched from a distance. 

The akuma had powers like Scarecrow but could fly. They had black wings and were draped in a dark cloak that disappeared into smoke below their feet that were not visible. An unsettling aura radiated off of them and they could disappear in a wisp of smoke and reappear near people, grabbing their faces around their jaws. Behind the darkness of the hood two glowing lights where their eyes would glow a white blue light when they made eye contact with their victims. Those who were captured would grow rigid or limp, giving into their unseen fear, and many screamed in utter terror and would fall to the ground and pass out or hyperventilate or cry hysterically, or all three. People all rushed to get away from the akuma and into the akuma shelters. Jason noticed that even after some victims were captured they acted the same as before, as though their very fear was escaping from an akuma. 

“I spotted Mayura,” Ryuko’s voice crackled over the comm, “I didn’t see her create her sentimonster but she is intently watching the crowd heading towards the Akuma Shelter.” 

Jason watched the crowd and spotted a familiar patch of blonde hair and he grinned maliciously. He searched the rooftops and found Chat Noir at Ladybug’s side working to get the attention of the Akuma. 

“Found the sentimonster and we have a small problem.”

“What is it?” Ladybug all but demanded, though not unkindly.

“The Sentimonster is Adrien Agreste and he’s following the crowd, likely to hold them hostage.”

“Ok, Nightmare, follow the sentimonster and don’t let him in the shelter,” Ladybug grunts and the team hears the swish of her yoyo before she continues. “Be stealthy and don’t let him see you, Mayura has a mental connection with her creations. We don’t know what powers he possesses or his orders. Ryuko,” more grunts and a ‘Chat! On your left!’ “Ryuko, stay on Mayura, stay hidden for now, if you see a chance to take the Amok do it, don’t hesitate.” 

Thirty minutes later Jason had swept the boy up away from the entrance of an akuma shelter and tied him up with some enchanted rope. 

“How did you know I was the sentimonster?” a woman’s voice spoke through the boy. 

"Uh, first of all, that voice. second of all,” he points to himself, “superhero.” he stated as if that explained everything, but like, it did. 

yeah sorry about that I wrote it for Jasonette July and I am very unlikely to finish it but decided I should post it anyways

[finalcreacher]

From The Earth to The Morgue - Chapter 1

A/N- Basically...this is a Klaus x Artist! Reader...and y’all are both recovering addicts? Well, not so much Klaus. Not yet, at least.

T/W- I don’t think they are any major warnings this chapter? The rest of the series will have some very heavy topics though.

Oh. and gender-neutral reader! :D

Word Count: 1,825

They fiddle the pen back and forth between their fingers, trying to stop themselves from moving it too quickly- they had dropped it too many times to count, and they think their fellow meeting members(all seated in their banged-up, metal folding chairs) were getting tired of them asking for the pen beneath their seat. It was better for everyone than the tapping though, or the clicking. Everyone except them, the noise and the motion of their hands helped them get through the meetings. Drawing was better than all other options though, it's why they had the pen, and the notebook. Doodling the other meeting members helped keep them focused, but not enough to get lost in the meeting and the message- just enough to listen.

Roaming the room with their eyes, they spot a tall, scrawny man, who appeared new to this particular group spot. He had haunted dark brown eyes, and deep circles underneath them from lack of sleep. He fidgets with his hands and pulls against the edges of his coat, he looks around nervously- on edge. They knew the feeling, but what seemed odd, was how he kept looking back to the same empty spot beside him. Staring, and whispering, and they'd be more worried if this wasn't their second year in Narcotics Anonymous.

Many strange and unsettling things occurred, and they were sure they might have had an occasion or two similar to this in the past. Maybe not a talk to the air type- but definitely a “I've taken too much and I think I can see the walls moving”, type. They didn't much enjoy talking about that, though. However, the man seems okay with this, and very comfortable talking. Not freaked and scared. Almost as if there really was someone else there- someone familiar.

They shake it off, noticing his dark fashion again, ripped along the ends, threads pulled loose. It seems far too many years old- but not beyond repair. A little TLC would do it wonders. They chuckle at the thought of helping him. Mending the jacket in their room, having him splayed across the mattress, bare arms and chest taunting them. It made them shiver.

There was an aura around the man that they hadn't felt before. Part of them wondered if there was a ghost next to him- which was silly, the average person couldn't tell those kinds of things. Then again, compared to most, Y/n wasn’t a very average person. Though they’d like to think they are. 

Eccentric was boring, and normal was good.

They glance around the room once more, but finally settle on the man again. Taking in every feature, how his hair parted, and twisted in far too many directions, and how it looked all shaggy. They start with a quick sketch, and then a simple doodle of his eyes- sad and tired. They supposed everyone's eyes looked a little sad and tired, as did their own, but his were worse. There was something far more horrifying behind them.

Then, they begin to draw a soft, nearly invisible figure, standing behind the first full body sketch. They rub their fingers against it, successfully smudging it. It feels ominous.

A feeling of coldness washes over them, making their arm hairs stand on end. They don't pay much mind to it- only making a small note of it in their head. They look back up from the paper, and notice the aura is gone from the man. Even the dead get bored sometimes.

When they look down, the paper creases like it would if touched too harshly. They had been so careful though, unless- they flash a smile to the air behind them, hoping the spirit would get the message. The cold leaves again, and the goosebumps that appeared on their arms, began to settle. They spend the rest of the meeting doodling- perking up again as they see everyone begin to leave.

They leave they're bag seated on the chair, and run up to the man before he can successfully slip out of the room.

"Hey!" He doesn't seem to notice, and continues. "Hey, you're Klaus, right?"

He stops in his tracks, and gives an odd look over his shoulder to them. Spinning on his heels to face the stranger.

"Oh- indeed I am, darling. Who's asking?" He grins.

"I wanted to give you this," Y/n brings up their notebook, flipping to the right page, and gently tears it from the binding. They fold it down into a small square. "Here, I think your companion will appreciate it. It's Y/n, by the way."

He looks wide eyed at them, "My companion?"

They simply smile. "I'll see you next meeting, okay?"

He blinks at them, but they're off to retrieve their bag and already walking out the door before he can say anything.

Klaus was overjoyed as he got back to the apartment he was staying at- the place of some guy he was hooking up with- pulling the slip of paper from his pocket. Smoothing out the creases as he delicately laid it on his lap.

He couldn't help to feel that Y/n drew him beautiful. He was all skin and bones, ribs poking through his skin, face hollowed. But the way his lips pursed on the page, and his eyelids were gracefully shut, lashes playfully falling with them. The hands seemed to softly play with a string on his overcoat. He'd never looked like that, he was always too many meals overdue and shaky.

He runs a finger along the piece, making sure to avoid ruining it. Ben, who had been leaning over Klaus' shoulder, finally murmurs against his ear.

"What?"

Ben scoffs, but gives him a warm smile anyways. "I said, they're pretty good."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to the next meeting?"

"Why would- oh, for Y/n? They are pretty cute," he teases.

Ben shakes his head, frowning. "For yourself. Putting some effort into this would help you, you know."

"God, I'm offended, Ben."

"Also, for Y/n, though,” Ben admits. “I think they saw me."

"No shit," he says, wide-eyed and happy. 

"I think they smiled at me," Ben's smile is brighter than Klaus had seen it for months, maybe even years. The thought sent a painful twinge through his body.

Klaus hadn't been to very many consecutive meetings. He'd been to so many types of meetings, numerous times, but they never quite stuck. He never really tried. He supposes he wasn't even trying now- he was just curious. This stranger saw Ben- or, at the very least, knew Ben was there. He had never seen Ben look so genuinely happy for something in the last eleven years than now. His eyes seemingly glowed at the prospects of being noticed.

He didn't want to get Ben's Hope's up, though. He hadn't been paying attention to the meeting too closely, nor had he seen you or your supposed interactions with his brother. He tried to get Ben to understand that you were probably crazy or just seeing things from the drugs. I mean, this is for addicts, Ben.

Ben seemed mostly bothered- annoyed- by him, than anything else. Insisting that the two of them head back for the next meeting. Klaus whined and groaned, and tried to protest- but he couldn't say no, not to Ben. At least, not for this. He'd gone against Ben's wishes countless times before.

He gets there early that day. Enough so that most people had filtered in, but the last minute ones still had a chance to get in. He'd thought Y/n would be early, but frowned at the sea of unfamiliarity. He takes one of the empty seats in the circle, absentmindedly placing one hand on the seat next to him, the other pulling at his jacket. His fingers hurt as they desperately pinch together, attempting to clutch the material between each other.

Y/n finds themself seated next to Klaus, wordlessly laying a hand over his, feeling him slowly stop the painful fidgeting. He doesn't hold back, as they cup they're hand around his- but he does let out a content and comfortable sigh. He's about to mention it, when they let go, taking out the notebook from yesterday- the meeting supervisor begins talking. 

He finds himself zoning out for most of the meeting. The light sounds of your pen hitting your paper, and the tapping of feet, and droning voices filter through his head. 

Ben doesn’t bother him much, a few words here and there, but mostly Ben found himself hovering over Y/n’s shoulder. Watching them make every gentle line, and rounded dot- making even the harshest of members appear softer, and human. (Not that they weren’t, but some members appeared so sickly or dressed too crazy, that their features began to morph into something else entirely). He admired the work in silent joy, smiling back whenever they would look towards him- though he still wasn’t certain if they could see him or not.

It’s a comment or two from another member, digging up moments from their past, when the meeting nears its end and Klaus’ anxiety hits him with full force. He was most often able to mask his feelings and play it off- but he was here, with them. He couldn’t risk making a scene. He’s all bouncy legs and a shivering body as he tries getting his mind off the meeting- off the years of his childhood he did not want to remember.

Klaus starts pinching his fingers again, till they’re white and he can feel his bones ache. Y/n doesn’t even look over, as they clumsily move their hand to stop him, this time keeping it on top long after he had stopped. They continue drawing with the other, scratching down quick lines- Klaus recognizes the figure as the supervisor. Clean-shaven face, hair dark and combed back professionally. It doesn’t have a background, maybe a line or two- and it doesn’t sport another character like Klaus’ portrait did. And, as he looks closer, it doesn’t radiate the same feeling, either. Whether that was how they felt towards the supervisor, or just today, was unbeknownst to him. What he knew though was that his was soft and kind, and this one felt dark and heavy. 

He tries asking about it, and they merely respond by attempting to turn his attention back to the meeting. Anywhere that wasn’t their paper. Klaus leaves a mental note to ask about it again later, thinking maybe they would react differently if the two of them weren’t in the middle of something. He’s afraid it will haunt him if he doesn’t. All your actions so far seem to do that to him. Puzzle him, make it hard to think about anything else- keep him up as he tries to fall asleep at night. They’re mysterious, and he wants to know more.

He likes that.

[ichigo-daifuku]

Biblical Sense

Obey Me! Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Angel!Lucifer/Succubus

Frustrated with the state of affairs surrounding his father's rule in the Celestial Realm, Lucifer the Archangel descends to the human world with a purpose: to commit a transgression against the Most High and soil his virtuous hands.

There, he meets a succubus who leads him to engage in a different kind of corruption altogether, one defiling the virtue of chastity.

Explicit | Pre-Canon, Introspection, Mentions of Canon-Typical Violence, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Blasphemy

Contains references to Lucifer's Devilgram Story, The Glory Days. 

Word Count: 7k

To know someone in the biblical sense is to have sexual relations with them.

In the beginning, the Morning Star descended from the Celestial Realm.

Engulfed by the brightest of the lights, he came down from the night sky like a shooting star. A thud resounded from his feet the moment they landed on the human world’s soil. He folded his wings, their brilliance fading as he switched from his armor of light to his casual clothing and assumed his human-like form. Alone in a garden, the darkness brought by the current time in this realm made him blink a few times, his eyes adjusting to this change for a moment while the chirping of crickets filled his ears.

Lucifer the Archangel stepped out from the shadows, fallen leaves crumbling under his feet with every step. Rumors had brought him to this place—rumors angels weren’t supposed to hear yet he was privy to due to his status. A wishing fountain stood in the middle of the courtyard, a little demon in its zenith wearing a hat and holding a pot that trickled the water down to its base. Surrounded by trimmed hedges, the scent of red and white roses hung in the air in the most intoxicating way possible that he could imagine the taste of rosewater on his tongue. Though calm and composed on the outside, the normalcy of this wicked place took him by surprise. He expected something more… sinister.

Beyond the maze of the courtyard, a mansion that could only be described as lavish stood. Its exterior’s grandeur was all he needed to see to know that whoever was residing in it was far from impoverished, but he supposed that would be the case for this was a territory of demons, the creatures of indulgence. He made his way closer to the mansion, noting no sign of anyone except for the lights illuminating the windows. His hands balled into fists, he stood in front of the tall doors, unable to bring himself to swing it open and be done with his purpose in a minute. However, his dilemma was short-lived as the lock clicked, the door creaking as it opened.

A woman revealed herself from beyond the wood, her stature barely reaching his shoulders. Long tresses cascaded over her back, the straps of the cotton white nightdress she wore hidden by the locks of hair falling on her shoulders, the hem reaching the middle of her thighs. Barefoot, she cradled two objects with her hand and separated them when she had let go of the knob.

“Apple?” Unfazed by his sudden appearance, she offered the fruit inside her outstretched palm to him, taking a bite of the half-eaten apple on her other hand.

It was unlike any regular apple he had seen before; a considerable portion on top of it purple while the bottom looked a regular green. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you think I should be the one asking you that question?”

Lucifer shot her a glare to which she responded with a sly smile curving up her lips. 

“A premium item found exclusively in the Devildom, Princess’s Poison Apple. Despite its name, it’s safe to eat,” she took another bite, the crisp sound an evidence of its freshness, and swallowed before adding, “and delicious.”

She loosened her fingers on the apple and shifted her wrist sideways, the movement leading his attention to shift from her face to the movement of her hand. On reflex, he reached out his palms and set them together to catch the fruit, the gravity of his actions dawning on him the second the deed was done. Pleased with the turn of events, she chuckled and raised her own apple as if she was saying a toast for their meeting and chewed on another bite.

It wasn’t Lucifer’s first time to encounter food from the Devildom, and it wouldn’t be his first time to partake in it. He brought the fruit closer to his face and inhaled. No strange scent emanated from it. He parted his lips and took a bite, the sourness of the apple and an unexpected sweetness blended perfectly with it satisfying his palate.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asked and spun around without waiting for his answer. “Come inside.”

Her nonchalance and her every action so far irked Lucifer, but he couldn’t complain when they worked in his favor for he would never admit to this strange apple being delicious. He bit into the apple once again and stepped inside the house, sealing the door shut behind him.

With quiet footsteps, she led him up the staircase and into a series of corridors. Portraits of females, both in demon and human-like forms adorned the walls, a variety of depictions of horned women performing illicit acts with mortal men alternating with them. He shook his head and sighed, finding these poor excuses of art tasteless.

“Ever been to the Devildom?” she asked out of the blue, neither looking back nor slowing down her steps.

“That’s none of your business.”

In truth, Lucifer had been to her world. Darkness prevailed in the Devildom, and he could still recall the way mud went flying everywhere and soiling his armor when his feet touched its ground. Up to this day, it was one of the worst experiences he has ever had, and he made sure that this fact was known to his hosts. Still, he had no reason to share the experience with this stranger.

“I’ve never been to the Celestial Realm myself,” she told him.

“For a good reason.”

“What was that?”

“Demons such as yourself have no place in the Celestial Realm.”

“I see. So, you really are an angel.” She faced him but continued walking backward, the spring in her steps an indication of her liking the confirmation of her suspicions.

He had just spit out an insult directed to her and her kind, so why and how was she, at the very least, unoffended? “How did you know?”

“I can feel it, the purity radiating off you.” She halted in front of one of the rooms, turning from him and opening the door. “It’s impossible to ignore and so… enticing.”

It was the same for him. An aura of evil radiated from her presence, masked by the fragrance of roses. He was unsure where it emanated, from her body or from the garden outside, but he recognized the sweet scent of it all too well: temptation.

She ushered him inside a drawing-room that matched the lavishness of the house’s exterior. A candelabra chandelier illuminated the space together with the lamps on the walls, the fire in the hearth contributing to the light and providing warmth to the space. The giant mirror hung menacingly by the bookshelf caught his attention at once. On the corner of the room, a sleek grand piano rested, an untouched chess game across it. An intricate table with matching plush seats served as the room’s centerpiece.

“Welcome. Feel free to sit wherever you like,” she said and exited the room, leaving him to observe the place for himself.

Out of curiosity, he wandered around, passing by the mirror and getting a glimpse of his reflection. He looked quite weary, he thought, but nevertheless, alert and ready for anything. Casting those thoughts aside, he strode to the bookshelf and scanned the spines for their titles, judging the residents of this house through them.

Before he knew it, she returned with a tray of refreshments and arranged them on the table. Swirls of steam flowed from the matching pair of teacups as she poured the fresh brew inside them. Beside each cup, a slice of sponge cake waited while other baked goods were also in the middle of the table, ready to be eaten.

“What is that?” Lucifer marched over to her direction and asked, his tone both cautious and accusatory.

“You might have already heard of it, but it’s called black tea.” She paid no heed to his unfriendly behavior and continued, “Teatime wouldn’t be complete without pastries, don’t you think so?”

He set his half-eaten apple on the tray and sat down. “There better be no strange ingredient in this, demon.”

An amused laugh bubbled from her lips. “I promise you, there isn’t.”

After serving the refreshments, she took her cup and saucer with her hands and sat across him, blowing the steam for a second before taking a sip. It was only when she had begun indulging in her slice of cake that Lucifer sipped his own tea, assured that he would not drop dead if he were to partake in whatever she had served him. He couldn’t help it; her hospitality left him unsettled. The brew was flavorful, yet he held back compliments and set the cup down. The lightness of the sponge cake would be the perfect pair for it, and he picked up his fork to take a portion but was halted midway by her query.

“You’re not going to say grace?”

“No,” Lucifer threw back irritatedly. It didn’t cross his mind to say grace at all, and the small victory on his part satisfied him.

“Interesting,” she commented and indulged on a forkful of sponge cake, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin.

Lucifer disliked how she was treating him like a spectacle. He was no creature for a demon’s amusement, and he had an urge to let her know of this fact, seeing how unguarded she was acting around him and how pleasant she was treating him. With complete sang-froid, this demon was underestimating him, but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake. He sized up his opponent and weighed in his options.

She picked up her teacup and leaned back in her seat, still as relaxed as ever. “Why are you here?”

“And if I told you I am not here for anything?”

“You wouldn’t have found this place if you weren’t. This mansion is a succubi’s den,” she stated and sipped her tea. “And in the human world, too.”

“A succubi’s den?” The rumors proved to be true; this was a place established by demons, but the fact that it was by the succubi was an unknown tidbit to him. He refused to imagine why the succubi needed a place like this in the human world, but with one of their kind sitting in front of him, images of these female demons—including her—preying on unsuspecting mortals made their way into his mind so vividly that he had begun to wonder if the incubi had established something similar.

“Yes. Every being that comes and goes from this place is here for life’s carnal pleasures.” She crossed her legs, giving him a glimpse of the skin on her upper thighs, which he couldn’t decide if she intended to do or not. “So, tell me, angel, what is it that you are here for?”

Angel. She spoke the word in a way that it was almost like an affectionate pet name. He hated it. The implication of her statement sparked wrath within him. “You have no right to speak to me that way, vile succubus.”

To his surprise and further vexation, she didn’t even flinch at his tone or insult. “Do you want to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He would not. He wasn’t going anywhere until he had accomplished his goal. Once he had set his eyes on something, he would consider it done, and this wasn’t an exception.

“Alright. Let’s enjoy our tea?”

For a while, nobody spoke. The clink of the ceramic as she set her teacup down accentuated the pin-drop silence. He started eating his food in an attempt to collect himself and think rationally, as he always did. She let him be, filling his cup once she noticed it was empty and doing the same to her own.

As she placed the teapot down, Lucifer found himself saying, “To begin a rebellion.”

“Hm?”

“You asked what I am here for,” he replied, “that is my answer.”

He clenched his hands, the forlorn faces of his younger brothers etched inside his mind, the memory of the tears streaming down his sister’s face so crystal clear to him. So much has happened, and though his siblings were a messy bunch at times, they didn’t deserve this. It was the last straw. It was time to put an end to their suffering.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Shameless creature. Why don’t you stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“True.” She chuckled and placed her elbows on the table, folding her fingers together and setting her chin on top of them. “An angel is going to sin. How lovely.”

There it was again, her fascination with him that bothered Lucifer so much. It made him want to expose her true colors—her nature as a demon—and push her buttons to make her lose her cool.

“Aren’t you concerned for your well-being?” he challenged, giving her a hint of his intentions.

“That depends. Are you here to kill me or are you here to sleep with me?”

“You seem to be rather calm about the first prospect.”

“I’m not going down without a fight if that’s what you mean.”

“I’d be disappointed if you would.”

She stretched her arms and stood. Wordlessly, she made her way to the piano and picked up a ribbon he hadn’t noticed earlier from above it. Her fingers deft, she stepped in front of the mirror on the wall and gathered her hair. The delicate skin on the nape of her neck as she encircled her locks with the bow and tied it piqued his interest, and she met his eyes through her reflection, unsurprised that he was already staring. “Battle me, then.”

Lucifer had been scrutinizing her every movement, noting gracefulness up to the smallest of things. The challenge she issued took him out of the trance-like state he was having, and he internally chided himself for letting his mind wander.

“How very foolish of you to propose such a thing,” Lucifer replied. But also very bold, he didn’t say. He gestured over the laid out chessboard on the corner of the room. “Very well. Be my opponent in a game of chess.”

“A game of chess? That’s strange, but sure. If I win—”

“You don’t get to make the rules, succubus,” he said with a glare. “If you defeat me, I’ll spare you and leave, but if I win, I’ll choose what I’ll do with you.”

“I didn’t know that angels had it in them to be so unfair.” She turned around, pleasantly surprised. “But since everything about you is so irresistible, I agree to your terms.”

Irresistible. She wasn’t the first demon he had the chance to encounter, but everything she said threw him off. The sight of the hair behind her back bouncing as she strolled to the chessboard attracted his attention, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on his initial impression of her. He followed suit, aiming for the dark crystal pieces he had always favored over the light and clear variations. It seemed she was in agreement with this as she immediately went behind the clear pieces and sat down.

“Ladies first,” he urged.

“My, what a gentleman you are.”

Foolish demon. He was giving her a handicap, yet all she was thinking of was how much of a gentleman he was? She was careless. The two of them sat closer now as compared to when they had their refreshments. Lucifer’s eyes darted from her to the chessboard she examined, clearing his throat the moment he found himself distracted once again. Her dainty fingers moved a pawn forward to another square, and the game officially began. Strange as she was, it didn’t take long for her to ask him questions.

“Is it true that it’s eternally daytime in the Celestial Realm?” she queried once it was her next turn.

“What do you think?” he fired back absentmindedly, deciding on which piece to move. He broke into a pleased smile as he made the first capture and eliminated her pawn, placing it on his side.

“There it is,” she pointed out.

His eyes flickered from the chessboard to her. “What?”

“Your smile. It’s radiant.” She smiled in return and chuckled. “You seemed tense. It’s fine. There’s no one for you to impress here. It’s just me.”

“You know nothing.”

“You’re right about that, I don’t. Are all angels this stoic?”

“Is that an insult?”

“Only if you consider it one,” she quipped. “Well? Are they?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Good to know.”

If there was anything he learned from his loss in another chess game with a certain demon, it would be underestimating his opponent. She might look all innocent and conventionally attractive, but she was still a demon; a cunning creature of the dark who existed to bring disorder and chaos, wreak havoc among the three worlds, and exploit the weaknesses of her enemies. He just knew she was setting a trap somewhere and fooling him, but to his frustration, all she did was continue firing one question after another.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have several brothers and a sister.”

“I see.”

Her lips curved into a frown as she calculated her next move. Up until that moment, she had been nothing but all smiles, but the seriousness in her demeanor caught his interest further. She moved a rook in silence. Every time she asked him something, he assumed she would share about herself, yet she never did. How odd.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Hm?” She raised her gaze at him, pausing her competitive train of thought. “You could say my fellow succubi are my sisters, in a way?”

He nodded, considering the thought. In his long existence, his one and only sister has caused him so much trouble, but she was the dearest and most precious angel of all, the one he and his brothers adored and doted on. All that aside, he could only imagine how life would be like with a lot of sisters. At the furrow that made its way into his brows, she began laughing. For an evil creature, the peal of her genuine laughter was similar to carefully crafted notes in a musical piece, and Lucifer found it hard to believe that he was able to make such a comparison.

She proved to be a worthy opponent, he would give her that, but not good enough to beat him. Despite her assumption that she has a chance of winning, he captured all of her pieces with only a few to spare on his own. 

“Checkmate,” Lucifer stated proudly, ending the match.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she stood and sauntered to the tall window, gazing over the courtyard. Lucifer concluded that she must have known the moment he stepped foot on the succubi’s property. His train of thought was cut short as the breeze billowed her hair and the skirt of her nightdress, the curtains in rhythm with them, hiding and revealing her from his sight in flashes. The moonbeam illuminated her form in the most unearthly way, and his throat bobbed as he took in the sight to behold. At that moment, she was far from the horrific creature that he assumed she would be, but the certainty that she was a demon—a succubus—stood out, for she possessed a beauty so sinful that he had no doubt only a being meant for seduction could be so alluring. Like he was being summoned by a siren, he stood and followed her, the air highlighting the fragrance of roses which, right now, in all the senses he possessed, felt holier than incense.

“Do it,” she dared as she lifted her head to look his way, the fire in her eyes telling him that she truly wasn’t going down without a fight.

This night was the turning point in Lucifer’s life. In the clash against his father, his siblings needed not to stain their holiness nor stand beside him; he was prepared to do this on his own. Still, he had a hunch that they would follow him for all of them had always counted and trusted his decisions, but if that were to happen, as their eldest brother, he needed to be the one to take the brunt of everything, especially this initial step. Determined, Lucifer would soil his hands in an act of disobedience to his father. His holiness was one of the main ideals that tied Lucifer to him, and Lucifer would sever it and burn the image his father expected of his son, tainting his purity and showing his father that he was no longer his child. His father, all-knowing and all-powerful, would know at once when Lucifer would appear before him that Lucifer disobeyed. As his father organized the appropriate chastisement meant for him, Lucifer would face him without regret and declare, I will no longer follow you.

Lucifer would scale the heavens, and above the stars of his father, he would set up his throne. He would ascend above the tops of the clouds. In the process, he would leave no stone unturned. Always true to his convictions, he vowed to reach his end goal, and this was a leap in the path he was walking on.

To soil his hands with another’s blood or to defile the virtue of chastity; she had asked him earlier which one he was here for, and though he evaded the question, she was able to tell which was the answer in the end. In truth, he had only had the former in mind. The sin he aimed to commit was murder. A demon would be dispensable, he had decided, and it wouldn’t matter if there were one or a hundred demons in this mansion; he came prepared to destroy all of them with his bare hands, and if he were to be severely outnumbered, he was equipped with the dagger hidden in his coat. It turned out, she was alone. This succubus would be no match against him, a high-ranking angel, one of those who wielded the most power in the Celestial Realm.

But in the game of seduction the two of them played the second their gazes connected, the wide eyes that had stared back at him with intrigue when the door opened held him captive. He was the one who was no match for her.

Lucifer has had enough denying it; he coveted her. She would be his ruin.

He took her by the wrist and pulled her against him, unable to discern what sort of unholy spirit was taking over his body but meaning every word as he whispered, “Sin with me.”

“What?” she exclaimed, bewildered. She was expecting him to strike and fulfill his original purpose, not coax her into giving in to her lecherous desires. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You refuse me?” he clarified disbelievingly. This succubus, a creature who lived and breathed concupiscence, was rejecting him, Lucifer the Archangel, and his proposition. “You dare refuse me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, angel. This is difficult for me, maybe even more than it is to you.” She glared and shook her wrist from his grasp, staggering backward to put space between them. “This wasn’t what you were here for. You were here for your bloodlust, not your lust.”

He supposed it was correct; she was drawn to his light while he was enticed by her darkness. It was true yet ironic that an angel and a demon would be each other’s temptation, but here they were, the very manifestation of the iniquitous idea. 

His resistance thrown out the window, Lucifer stepped closer and pulled her in again, trapping her body with his by the window. He slowly dipped his head, his heated gaze connecting with hers in a silent challenge while hers searched for an ounce of hesitation in his choice, her resolve faltering when she found none. The tips of their noses brushed, and her eyes fluttered closed, his own doing the same at the first caress of their lips. She kissed him back, pliant and eager when his tongue slid to the seam of her lips and met her own, satisfying each other’s curiosity but awakening another hunger altogether.

She pulled away, close enough that their lips barely touched but still shared each other’s warmth. “You’re actually serious about it?”

“I want you,” Lucifer stated as he traced her collarbone with his fingertips, cradling her shoulder with his other hand.

“I…” She averted her gaze. “I want you, too. Of course, I do.”

“I know. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he stated, the blush on her cheeks telling him as much. “Where’s your room?”

“Right across this—”

That was all he needed to know. He wasted no time and took her hand in his, leading her to her bedroom. Once inside, he removed his gloves and coat and hung them on a chair, his vest following suit. As he loosened his tie and pulled it off, he chuckled at the feeling of her gaze boring into his back and pointed out, “You’re looking at me so wantonly.”

“I think I’ve been doing that for quite a while now…”

He turned around and strode closer to her, giving her a challenging stare. “Show me what’s been running inside that mind of yours, then.”

She reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, taking all the time in the world and savoring the slow pace of revealing his skin. With hesitant fingertips, she brushed over the contours of his abdomen, moving upward to splay her hands over his torso before taking his shirt by the collars and discarding it. She kept quiet and continued to take in his appearance up close. Warm palms reached to cradle his cheeks and slowly moved to touch the hair on the sides of his forehead, coming back to trace his jawline. Her touch was gentle, and her was voice full of reverence as she said, “Everything about you is so radiant.”

A strange feeling washed over him and caused his skin to flush, and he sought her lips again before she had the chance to notice. He carded his fingers through her soft locks and caressed the nape of her neck, his palm sliding over the small of her back to draw her closer. She broke the kiss and pressed her lips on his shoulder, moving down to his chest and his abdomen, worshipping his form. With a glance at him, she sank to her knees, and Lucifer has never seen a more beautiful sight. From below, her hands worked to remove his footwear and undo his trousers, baring his body completely. At first, Lucifer thought that she undressed him for her eyes to have something to feast on, but all he found in her wide-eyed gaze was awe, as though she was a firm believer of a deity and was looking at one. He liked that; it stroked his ego and made him feel powerful.

It gave him a sense of pride.

“Open your mouth,” Lucifer commanded.

She swallowed but responded by doing as he asked which satisfied him, immediately knowing what he wanted. Her lips parted, she took the tip of his hard cock in her mouth and ran her tongue across it. Slowly, she slid his length further, all the while holding his stare, and her head bobbed forward and backward as she sucked him with zeal and innate talent that suggested her nature as a sexual being. He closed his eyes and marveled at the sensation in his groin, her hand that grasped his base running up and down in rhythm to the ministrations provided by her lips and tongue. How could something so sinful feel so heavenly? It was too good in the way only forbidden things could be, he was unsure if he could get enough of this feeling.

Caught in the haze of sensual pleasure, his eyes fluttered open and found her doing something which… displeased him. Lucifer cradled the back of her head with his palm and urged her to take him further, testing her limits. “Are you touching yourself? Who told you that you could do that?”

A strangled noise of surprise and confusion rumbled from her throat, making him release the groan he had been trying his best to hold back. She retracted the hand that was nestled between her thighs and placed it on the floor to steady herself instead. Satisfied, he released her and wiped her wet lips with his thumb, urging a response.

“I wanted to,” she answered haughtily, panting, “that’s why I did it.”

“Come to me, evil one.”

Her legs wobbly, she stumbled as she stood and braced herself with her hands on his shoulders. Lucifer let out a sigh of disapproval but proceeded to take her by the waist and hook her legs around his hips, carrying her to the bed. He undid the ribbon in her hair, leaving it to splay over the sheets like a grand halo, and between the two of them, it was difficult to differentiate who was the angel and the demon. The hem of her nightdress hiked up by the sudden motion, he leaned back, and his gaze traveled downward and was welcomed by the sight of her sex, dripping for him through the fabric of her underwear. After a curious swipe of his finger over the cloth, he said, “All you needed to do was ask, and I would have done it for you.”

She whined, shifting her hips in search of friction, her voice so pleasant in his ears that he yearned to do more to hear it again.

Did she add a dose or two of aphrodisiac in the black tea she served him? In the Princess’s Poison Apple she liked so much? Lucifer couldn’t recall, but he was positive she didn’t. He could find no explanation why he was being like this, his whole body blazing with arousal for this woman. “Or better yet…”

He tugged her underwear and slid it over her legs and feet, discarding it to the side. The longing to see the entirety of her led his fingers to trace her legs and slip the nightdress over her head. He was no stranger to the sight of a woman’s body, but it was the first time he stared at one with open desire. She was a true creature of sin. The idea that he would be a notch on her bedpost ruffled his feathers. It shouldn’t matter. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t bother him at the slightest. A casual affair was all they were to each other, nothing more and nothing less. Unable to deny his yearning to acquaint his skin with this stranger’s own, he parted her legs. She obliged with a moan, her fingers shivering with anticipation as she encircled his shaft and stroked him before guiding him to her entrance. He slid inside her, groaning, but as he went on further, the tightness and the exquisite clench of her walls around him led him to an unbelievable conclusion. “You… You’re a virgin?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She turned her head away, covering her flushed face with the back of her hand, her chest heaving. “It’s not as if I’m completely innocent. I’m a demon, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Then, why?” he asked, unsheathing himself from her and leaning back, confused.

She pulled away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around her naked body, vulnerable at her confession. “You could say that tonight is my initiation. My fellow succubi brought me to this world to lure a mortal man, seduce him, and become a full-fledged succubus.

“It’s all garbage to me. If I fail, I would be deemed unworthy and become labeled as a regular demon, and if worse comes to worst, I could die at the hands of my kind, but then again, I could have done so with yours tonight, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m still not going down without a fight.”

As these customs were unknown to him, the possibility of her strange sense of purity being intact was something that never crossed his mind. From the burning need in her gaze to the passion in her touches to the ardor in her kisses… This succubus was a temptress through and through, and yet...

She equated his quiet moment of contemplation with disgust. “We’ve accomplished your purpose tonight, haven’t we? If that’s all, you can leave.”

“No,” he growled, the audacity of her dismissal offensive to him. Lucifer grabbed her by her hips and returned her to where she was before—where she rightfully belonged tonight. Despite her assumption, he found it quite the opposite. To be the first one to bring this creature to the highest of the highs for the first time in her existence, he felt gratification and triumph. He pinned her wrists over the mattress and hovered over her, regarding her with both want and need, intent on finishing what he started thoroughly. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“But you… I… I see.” Her eyes flickered from his grasp on her to his carnal gaze, understanding. “Do you enjoy that? Do you like being in control?”

“Yes. Very much so,” he admitted.

She nodded, and as if she was repenting for her behavior, he felt her surrender and submission as her whole body went lax underneath him, giving him permission to do as he desired. Lucifer rewarded her with a kiss, an absolution she was more than happy to receive, her body quivering with anticipation for more.

And so, Lucifer knew her.

He parted her legs, aligned himself against her slick entrance, and once again eased his length inside. She shut her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing and moans falling past her lips with every inch of him she graciously received. Once he had fully buried himself inside her, his body tensed as he kept himself from unsheathing himself and thrusting into her again and again with wild abandon. 

Breathless, she opened her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to continue. “You don’t need to be so gentle. I’m not one to break so easily. I can handle you.”

At the reassurance, he found no doubt in her capability to do so, and for that he was glad. He was done holding back. “You asked for it.”

Guided by his primal instincts, he slammed inside her relentlessly, the grasp he had on her wrist tightening as his every thrust grew in intensity. It was a connection of two troubled souls: an angel and a devil in an act of consummation outside the sanctity of marriage. As he sank into her and her hips met his every movement, they crossed the line between the sacred and the profane. It was as if both of them were each other’s tools. Tonight, he was saving her by ruining her, and she was ruining him as a catalyst for his rebellion. But at the same time, no event in his existence has ever felt so intimate. A decision made with his free will, this was the night he welcomed the dark side he didn’t know he had, or perhaps, he has always had but laid dormant inside him—too enamored by his light to show up, but now shining in its own in the company of darkness.

At the frenetic pace of the meeting of their bodies, her hands clenched into fists, and she trembled underneath him and climaxed. No painting hung on the hallways did this moment justice: the sweat on her forehead, her reddened cheeks, her swollen lips—everything about her screamed unadulterated lust. Every detail dissolved into white light as he chased his own peak. His eyes shut, his jaw slackened, and his cock pulsated inside her with his release, leading him to loosen her wrists from the restraints of his palms.

As she took him in her embrace, found his lips with her own, and shifted their positions for another bout of their illicit liaison, she freed him from the noose surrounding his neck that was his halo. He should be feeling the darkness of the pit, yet he has never felt so high, the pure bliss that any promised land could never compare to taking over his whole being.

Lucifer had sinned.

And he saw that it was good.

Lucifer strode through the mansion’s courtyard, navigating through the zigzag of the maze as if it was second nature to him. The fragrance of roses stronger than ever, he sped past the fountain with the little demon, the water giving off a beautiful sparkle as the night slowly met the day. Soon, he was at the spot he landed on a few hours ago. As he was about to change into his natural form, a voice halted him and made him turn around.

“Wait!” the succubus called.

She emerged from the exit of the maze and ran toward him, barefoot, wearing that white nightdress again and smiling when she found him waiting for her.

Why wasn’t she wearing any sandals? Did she traverse in the maze with those bare feet of hers? Lucifer didn’t care, but through the confusion, he asked instead, “What are you doing here? Why did you follow me?”

“Here. These are for you.” She waltzed over to him and took his gloved hand in hers, securing the handle of the picnic basket she held in it. “More Princess’s Poison Apples and black tea leaves.” 

“I didn’t ask for these.” He attempted to hand the picnic basket back to her, but she shook her head and stepped out of his reach. 

“You liked them, I think, especially the apple,” she told him. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance to have a taste of this Devildom fruit? You’re welcome.”

He frowned, wondering if she was teasing him for trying to hide that fact. The picnic basket remained in his hand. If there was anything he learned in the few hours that he had known her, it was that she was not one to back down so easily, no matter what the circumstances were, including this one.

She roused him from his reverie by saying, “If you are already this beautiful in your human form, then I can only imagine how beautiful you truly are in your natural form.”

He masked his startled reaction with a sigh. Her assumption reminded Lucifer that she was unaware he was heaven’s most prized. To her, he was an angel who was about to stir trouble, and that was all she knew. He couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten that fact, but he still managed to admonish, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Not if I’m being honest.”

“Vile succubus.”

“That’s me, angel.” She laughed and cleared her throat before continuing, “It’s none of my business, I know, but whatever you’re planning, it’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

He kept quiet, refusing to dignify her question with an answer.

She nodded, neither prying nor asking more. “It’s okay. I wish you the very best of luck.”

“I need no luck to succeed in it.”

“Maybe not.” She ambled closer to him and stood on her tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Take care. You know where to find me.”

How dare she brush her lips against his on her own accord, those lips he had so thoroughly kissed? How dare she suggest that the night they shared would have a repeat one day? How dare she suggest that he should seek her for another tryst? Though these questions plagued his mind as he gazed at her retreating form, a part of him knew deep down that she was someone he wouldn’t forget. The night he shared with her was a memory that would be branded inside his mind to last until the end of time.

It was the moment he had shifted his life into a new path with the defiance of his father’s insufferable orders and expectations. His transgressions—his blasphemous behavior—were serious matters his father would never let slide, and his fellow angels, the righteous and holy, would condemn his failure against morality. However, things had changed. All of those he had once loved about himself and now hated and strived to get away from no longer rooted his feet to the authority of someone else. He was no disciple who merely followed, and he would say no more prayers and sing no more praises. He existed no longer for his father’s purpose, but for his own. The sheer power of individualism spurred his ambition for he was now the master of his own fate and nobody else. He would no longer be invisible under his father’s shadow for he would assert his own greatness and take pride in his own merits.

“Be not afraid.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

Lucifer laughed, assumed his natural form, and spun around, the shining aura emanating from his wings faltering for a second before retaining their brilliance. He turned his head and took one last peek at her awed and stunned expression from above his topmost wings before he lifted his feet off the ground, leaving a beam of light in his wake as he went farther. Against the morning air, he flew high and soared in his own wings, the fragrance of freedom as fresh as the morning dew on the roses and leaves.

As the light slowly faded, she managed to collect herself and waved at him from below, wondering when their paths would cross again, if they ever would. When she saw him no more, she turned to leave, but something swirled down from the sky and caught her attention.

With a smile, she opened her palm and waited for the white feather to land on it.

Dawn had broken completely when the Morning Star ascended to the Celestial Realm. Standing in front of the gates of heaven, a revelation struck Lucifer and led him to stop and stare at the picnic basket in his hand.

He did not even know her name.

Special thanks to @photoproses​ for brainstorming with me and for being the first reader of this story.

And thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read this! 💙

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[fortune-fool02]

Cold, Piercing Eyes

Dio Brando x vampire female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Please enjoy.

Every time Dio went to the Asian Apothecary, she was there. Lurking in the corner of the room with the shadows embracing her like the arms of a lover would; [Eye colour] eyes sharper than any knife locked on his every movement as if she was analysing him from the moment he entered the building.

At first, Dio believed she was a form of realistic appearing statue though that was proved false when he saw her blink, eyes following him around the room the way a predator would observing its prey, contemplating whether or not to strike. Even with his mask on, he felt as if she was looking through it, studying his face with those [Eye colour] eyes of hers that almost glowed in the shadows. 

The Asian Apothecary noticed the slight discomfort in Dio, following his gaze to the [Hair colour] female, a smile on his lips. “Ah, don’t worry about her.” he told him, “She’s a very special case. Not for sale though.” He motioned the female over with a simple wave of his hand and she approached, standing beside him, allowing Dio to take in her features. 

Smooth, flawless [Skin colour] skin that seemed pale, almost lifeless upon closer inspection; soft, silky [Hair colour] locks that flowed from her scalp like a waterfall, Dio has never felt the temptation to run his fingers through someone’s hair as much as he did with her. [Eye colour] orbs that pierced through him, peering into his soul as a blade and reading his thoughts despite the mask. One could not deny that she was stunning, it was a fact as true as the sky being blue. 

“I found her far up North, quite a catch she was. Don’t worry yourself though, she won’t tell anyone of your purchases. She does as told.” There was a sense of pride in the man’s voice as he spoke, this woman was clearly a prized jewel of his strange collection. Dio nodded his head at that, his eyes still taking in the woman’s appearance, almost as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. 

“What makes her this special?” he asked, his curiosity tangling around this woman. The Asian Apothecary chuckled lightly, 

“Well, let’s just say, she’s far more powerful than anyone you will ever cross in your life boy.” And he spoke no more of the topic. Dio saw that as his cue to leave as the deal was already done. 

***

One of the occasions, the Asian man was not there to trade the poison for Dio. The woman was though. She stood beside where he would sit with hands folded behind her back, standing straight and proper with that hollow expression on her delicate face. 

Dio did not question the whereabouts of the man, he set the money on the table and she broke eyes contact to count through it. That was when Dio noticed her nails. Coal black, sharp enough to pierce through skin if desired to. She caught his gaze, 

“I believe that is apart of your ‘special condition’?” the blonde asked and she nodded. 

“It is.” she simply answered. Even her voice carried a sense of bitter coldness to it, a chilly winter breeze. Despite the unsettling aura this woman radiated, she intrigued Dio. 

“May I inquire a name from you? Surely you must have one.” The woman halted her counting, [Eye colour] eyes lifting to his and locking with his. For some reason, something flickered across Dio’s body but he refused to take a step back. Refusing to cower under this woman’s cold glare. 

“[Name]. My name is [Name].” His lips twitched lightly at that. Now he didn’t have to refer to her as the strange woman who watches him. He was not foolish though, he was not going to give her his name. That is a silly mistake that only an idiot would make, especially with the kind of tradings they were dealing. 

He noticed her eyes shift from his to his ear, noticing the three dots upon his ear. “Three dots. You have either been blessed or cursed by having those.” she pointed a black claw-like nail at his ear, the tip of the nail gently brushing over them. “But, that would be for you to choose, young lad.” 

For the first time since he has seen her, Dio saw her cold mask crack as her lips lifted upwards slightly. A ghost of a smirk brushing over her lips as she pulled her hand away and held it out again, the small packet of powder in her palm. Dio’s hand reached for it, fingers brushing against her skin as he took it. Ice cold skin. No warmth at all. What on Earth was she? 

***

When Johnathan and the police had him cornered, ready to throw him into a cell, Dio noticed that the Asian Apothecary was in their grasp yet [Name] was no where to be seen. In fact, none of them mentioned anything about a woman being there. Did she leave? Slipped through the police’s fingers and disappear into the darkness as nothing more than a shadow? 

It was strange to Dio, how someone who seemed loyal to the Asian man turned and fled without hesitation. Regardless of this, something whispered in the back of Dio’s mind that he had not seen the last of [Name].

And he was right. 

Over one hundred years passed before he saw [Name] again. Everything about her “special condition” was clear for him now, for he, too, shared her condition. [Name] was a vampire. So when Dio found her in a back alley in El Cairo, draining the life force of a man, he couldn’t help but smirk. Arms folded over his chest when their eyes locked. Those same cold eyes that pierced through him long ago. 

“My, my. Haven’t you grown, young lad?” she spoke, dropping the lifeless corpse like a child losing interest in a toy and turning her attention to Dio. He gave a low chuckle, somehow pleased that she recognised him. Even with this body. 

“And you still look as stunning as the day I first walked into that building.” That earned a twitch of her lips. He outstretched his hand towards her, “How about we go elsewhere? I have an offer for you, my dear.” 

If that little band of misfits believed they had the upper hand, they were sorely mistaken with this wild card that Dio was about to obtain. 

[muslimanity]

' don't be tryin' to sell me any of them damn bean pies. '

patience beyond knowledge sustain our submission. can you be patient when the going gets tough? can you hold onto your integrity? allah is the best of knowers. it's part of the lessons the messenger teachers and it's what minister x made imperative to teach at the beginning of his. it's what a tender aged rashad x encapsulated in his way of life after three weeks of his Islamic procession. when the young man grew tired of being tired of a step family too tired from the wear of drugs and failing to have the cold heart he was suppose to have in streets, he came to the mission. he knew there to be one savior in the depths of hell called little mogadishu would give a damn to give him guidance.

when the minister had finished feeding the homeless, he spotted the skinny teen approaching him timidly. the man was a goliath compared to the boy. it was the most intimidating moment in his young life. it was seldom said the minister was a man larger than the life he breathes in little mogadishu. he now understood those beliefs to be a understatement. " hm, yes, little brother? " the minister had asked, as he motioned him to walk with him outside the mosque. best they both go for some fresh air. he sensed there was heaviness on child pharaoh's shoulders and there was.

the big man was patient with him, through the stammerings and stumbling of his tale and all. it was hard to read the minister's eyes when he was done. the transitional from his black horned-rimmed glasses reacted from the sunlight mid-story. his lens dark, his face hard, rashad peoples started to think he made a mistake. just when he was about to suck his teeth and leave, the minister's powerful voice froze him, " your mother was like one of our little sisters, here at the mission. I admired her big heart. her papa, king peoples, may allah be pleased with him. you probably didn't get to know the man, but he raised the god up in him and some of the other older brothers around here as well. "

josiah x planted his right hand on the speechless teen's shoulder. " if you believe you're ready to be an extension from the will of allah, I will do my part as your big brother and help mold you. " giving the small would-be soldier's shoulder a break and heavily palming his chest on the side his heart reside, he smiles at the break in gentle tears and the thank you expressed in the skeletal face. " i will not make it easy for you. the path to enlightenment never is. " after their conversation, rashad peoples was well on his way to becoming the poetry of the god he fell back on. he didn't expect it to be tested so soon.

standing in the doorway of the mosque was a man that radiated a quiet, unsettling violence. something about that was terribly off. harboring an aura that needn't be anywhere near the good minister, brother rashad looked up at the man with defiance. at the start of his journey he made personal promises to himself to not waver from islam. to be the lion his minister foreseen him as. but this man was putting all that proper propaganda he was fed on a fragile table. he couldn't stand a disrespectful nigga. " we don't use that type of language around here, brother

please be respectful of that. " is all he says.

" it's okay, brother rashad. I'll take it from here, " a familiar voice came from behind him. rashad looks over his shoulder and sees the towering figure of josiah x. it always surprised him how the minister moves with catlike grace and sneak up on him. he guessed that was just another part of his spirit father and guide natural mystique. he was so caught up in his world of thought that he missed the peculiar stare the minister had for their unknown visitor. only when the minister opens his mouth again to tell him, " well go on, young man. I didn't raise you up to be so villainous now. the streets are starving and you're teasing them, " did he remember the frightening guest.

" o-oh yeah. yes sir. right away sir, brother minister! e-excuse me brother, " rashad nervously recounted the bean pies in his two plastic bags, then brushed past the stranger when he satisfied with the number. he stared back at the hard-faced stranger and at his minister and prayed to allah that when he got back all will be well.

josiah x broke the few seconds of silence they jad when his newest protegee disappeared out of sight. " as-salaam alaikyum, dear brother erik. " the honorable elijah muhammad said we are not made to speak idol words. great words to come to understand and apply. he does so with erik. " I'd pat you down but I already know what I will find. if you're coming in, you know how my operation goes, beloved. "

he's sure erik has done his homework on him before coming here. the two weren't the type to play games when in familiar territory. their history together that was linked by blood. staring into his face was like staring into a mirror and seeing the soul of the past. a terrible past that saw just how gorilla a guerilla can go when in the thick of the jungle of inhabitable mind. josiah x was a new train of thought now. one that involved a relationship with god. he wonders what stops and how many erik took to get the mental destination he was at now.