title; you’re to blame (Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x fem!reader)
prompts; 4) doggy, C) wrapping a hand around the column of their throat, E) holding their hips in place, F) giving their ass a soft (or hard) spank and ꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ a spare bedroom — from build an nsfw fic
warnings; established relationship, smut, minors do not interact!!!, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, some choking (hand around the throat with a light squeeze), 1 spank, but that’s it? (679 words)
one year masterlist | main masterlist
— thank you for celebrating my one year!!! | submissions are now closed
Oscar’s hips rocked into yours, causing the headboard to slam against the wall with every thrust he gave.
you were supposed to be having an early night, or at least that’s what you told your parents.
but Oscar had a different idea.
which of course, resulted in your current position.
tucked away in your parents spare bedroom, your old room, his hips rolled into yours again and again, pulling a moan from your lips.
“shit baby, that’s it”
he’d already wrangled one orgasm from you, and you were quickly heading towards your second.
his lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he leaned over you, thrusts continuing with a desperate need.
“need to be quiet baby”
Oscar murmured against your ear, moving his left hand up your body to wrap around your throat, squeezing softer than either of you had expected him to.
you could only nod in response, earning another sharp thrust from Oscar as the coil began to wind tighter in your belly.
he pressed his lips to the corner of your jaw, keeping his hand firm around your throat as he tilted your head back towards him. his lips trailed along your jaw and towards your lips so he could steal a half kiss, before he was whispering against you lips.
“know it feels good, need you to be quiet though, can you do that for me baby?”
his grip on your throat loosened, but his thrusts seemed to pick up their pace, driving into you ruthlessly and creating a slapping of skin on skin.
“close Osc”
you moaned out, earning another sharp thrust before his hand came down on your ass in a sharp smack.
his touch pulled a whine from your throat, an apology falling from your lips.
“i know baby, but have to be quiet for me”
Oscar pressed another kiss to the corner of your jaw, carefully picking up the pace of his thrusts.
he angled his hips, hitting that one spot with more precision that had your walls clamping down around his cock.
“shit sweetheart”
his pace faltered slightly, taking a second to compose himself before he was driving into you again with more force.
“i’ve got you baby, cum for me, yeah?”
you nodded into the pillows, his thrusts pulling another whine from your lips, and sending you hurtling closer and closer to the edge.
Oscar only had to roll his hips a couple more times before you careened over the edge, a breathy and muffled call of his name leaving you and causing his thrusts to falter again.
as his thrusts continued, chasing his own climax with sloppy thrusts, your walls fluttered around him.
“that’s it, taking it like a good girl”
he drawled lowly against your ear, burying his face in against the nape of your neck as he gave a few more thrusts, rocking closer and closer to the edge after you.
each thrust he gave had you pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, and pulling a stuttered groan from his lips.
“fuck baby, gonna make me cum”
both of his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place to stop you from pushing back against him.
Oscar rolled his hips again, deeper and more desperate than his original thrusts.
when your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him again, Oscar followed you over the edge of pleasure with a muffled groan. he spilled himself into your warmth, slowly rutting against your ass as his thrusts came to a stop.
“did so good for me baby”
Oscar murmured, keeping himself buried inside your warmth for a minute, his chest flush against your back as his body blanketed yours.
you hummed, tilting your head back to meet his gaze as best you could.
a giggle fell from your lips at the fucked out look on his face, easily leaning in to steal a kiss from him before you whispered against his lips.
“you know, you made more noise than me there. if anyone’s to blame for my parents finding out, you’re to blame”
series masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist
Story Summary: You're out with your friends one night, celebrating finishing your finals, when suddenly you find yourself in a strange place, with no exit in sight.
Warnings: mild injury, slight horror (idk how actually scary it is lol), general backrooms vibes - also this WILL be an omegaverse story, but it has no effect on this first chapter
Words: ~3.8k
Author's Note: I hope you guys like this one! I'm sorry there's no update for The Afterthought yet, but I thought sooomething is better than nothing 🤷♀️ and I'm rlly excited about the backrooms vibes (and now it's omegaverse toooo ahhh) Lemme know what you guys think!! 🫶 Read it on AO3!
18+ only pls
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The night air was cool as you stepped out of the bar, your friends’ arms linked with yours as you began walking to your dorm.
The three of you had just finished your finals five hours ago, with three of those hours spent pounding shots and dancing together before you’d started feeling slightly dizzy.
So now the three of you were walking home, and thankfully you had your two friends to help keep you from stumbling.
Or that’s what you’d thought, until you reached a stoplight and they unlinked their arms from yours for a moment, the two of them locking hands and cheering over something that you hadn’t quite caught.
The walk light came on and you took your first step, then your second, but it wasn’t until your third that your stupidly high heel caught on an uneven patch of pavement, sending you tumbling towards the floor.
A flash of heat and pain ran through your palms and knees as you caught yourself, just barely keeping your head from bonking off of the pavement.
You expected to hear your friends giggling, and maybe their hands grasping your arms to yank you to your feet and get you out of the intersection.
What you didn’t expect…
Was silence.
You looked up from where you’d landed, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them a few times, confused.
Where…? Where were you?
Where were your friends?
Where was the bar you had just been inside?!
You had to be far more drunk than you’d thought, or maybe someone had slipped you something, and that was why you’d been so dizzy?
But none of it made sense, it wouldn’t make sense that you went from being in the middle of a well lit intersection…
To being in a bland, yellow corridor, completely alone.
You rolled off of your knees and onto your rear, taking stock of your injuries with your still-spinning vision. Your palms were completely wrecked, tiny rivulets of blood dripping from the ripped skin, down your wrists and forearms. And your knees… They were just as bad, a renewed sting with every movement, blood trickling down your shins.
Tears filled your eyes as you looked at the injuries, your lower lip wobbling. You sniffled and turned your eyes to your surroundings instead- surely you just tripped and got turned around or something, right? Maybe you stumbled through a door?
But there was nothing that resembled a door around you, just identical yellow walls for as far as you could see, with occasional breaks for other hallways to join to the one you were in.
You groaned loudly and fell back against the floor, wishing your hands were unharmed so you could pull at your hair. How had you managed to get so thoroughly lost?! The tears finally fell from your eyes, rolling into your hair as you let yourself cry for a couple minutes.
Until you heard a noise from somewhere behind you, your eyes flying open in fear as you bolted upright and looked behind you, only to see… Nothing different.
Great, I’ve been lost two minutes and I’m already paranoid and hallucinating, you groaned to yourself as you forced your body up, being mindful of the way pain bit at your knees with every movement.
As much as you’d like to lay down and cry for the rest of the night, you wanted to do it in your bed, not in this creepy hallway.
And to get to your bed, you needed to figure out how the hell you got here.
You flipped your head to the right, then the left, trying to decide which way you should go. You had fallen towards the side of the corridor now to your left so… Maybe you had come from your right?
A sigh left your lips.
Things couldn’t get much worse, could they?
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You’d been walking for what felt like hours now, your heels long since stripped off of your feet and dangling by their straps from your left hand. The floor beneath you was rough, but it was better than twisting your ankle for a fourth time, or god forbid spraining or breaking it while you’re stuck… Wherever it is that you’re stuck.
So far you’d come across no doorways, windows, or signs of life. Only other hallways that linked to the one you’d been following, with you only taking a turn when you had no other options. It was strange, how the walls and floors seemed clean enough of dust, and the hallways were all generously lit, with not a single lightbulb burnt out.
Surely you’d find someone soon, right?
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You estimated that it was two hours later when you felt it- a pair of eyes lingering on your back.
Or at least, you thought you did.
When you turned around, there was nothing there, nobody was watching you.
But you couldn’t shake that feeling, even as your pace began to slow, your adrenaline and alcohol fueled energy running out quickly, especially as your mouth started to feel dry.
Every few minutes you risked a glance behind you, just to be sure that you were alone.
Soon enough though, you needed to rest. Or at least sit, give your muscles a break for a couple of minutes. You kept your eyes searching for a small closet or cubby-like area for you to curl up in, but after another few minutes of the same smooth walls, you sighed and pressed your back to one of them, letting your body slide down it.
The concrete beneath you was cold, the short and thin material of your dress doing little to keep you warm in this confusing place. You laid your shoes next to you then stretched out, a yawn breaking from your lips as you did so.
Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, really, for you to take a quick nap? Then you would feel more refreshed, and ready to find your way home.
You’d close your eyes for a few minutes… Just a few minutes.
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You startled awake some time later, your body shaking from the cold. Your surroundings were so unfamiliar, so strange-
And it all came rushing back, how you’d been with your friends and then tripped, or something, and ended up in this yellow hellscape that had no exit.
Your head was pounding from your hangover, and you wishedyou had a glass of water to help with it.
As it was, you’d be lucky to get even a drop.
A few minutes passed with your head in your hands, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. Eventually you forced yourself from the ground, grabbing your heels and dangling them from your right hand.
Your eyes darted between the two directions the hallway stretched into, and you thought that you’d come from the left… But you weren’t sure.
Everything looked the same.
You sighed and started walking to the right, hoping that you’d run across another person that could help you soon, or an exit if you were extremely lucky.
The concrete beneath you sucked all warmth from your feet as you walked, and walked, and walked. This place seemed to go on forever, though how that could be possible, you weren’t sure.
You’d been walking for a while, having passed at least a dozen intersecting corridors when you heard a scraping noise behind you. Instinctively you looked toward the noise, eyes going wide when they landed on a towering figure with decaying, leathery wings, the clawed tips of one scraping against the wall it was near. It let out a horrific screech when it noticed your gaze, a sound between metal shredding and a bloodcurdling scream causing you to freeze in your tracks.
Until it began running at you, it’s long limbs carrying it towards you quickly.
You let out a scream and began sprinting forward, running as quickly as you could for the next corner that you could run down, hoping beyond hope that there would be somewhere you could hide, or more turns to help you lose whatever the hell was chasing you.
Fear and adrenaline overtook you completely as you rounded the corner, only to be met with another long hallway, though you could see that it forked a ways ahead.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought to yourself as you risked a glance behind you, your heart stuttering when you saw the creature still following, though you might have gained a bit of ground on it.
You still had your heels clutched in your hand, so if it came down to it… Maybe you could jam one into each eye and kill the damn thing.
As though it wouldn’t be able to kill you the moment you were in shoe-using range.
Your lungs were beginning to ache as you closed in on the fork in the hallway, the sides of your calves burning as you kept pushing forward.
Which one, which one?
The fork to your left was brightly lit, though it looked to go on with no end in sight, or any breaks in the wall that you could see from here.
And the fork to the right was darker, almost like there was black smoke pouring from further down the hallway, and you could only see a few lights along the ceiling.
Almost anything could be lurking in there, even another of the disgusting creature chasing after you, with no sign of slowing, unlike your own body that was so unaccustomed to running for more than a few blocks.
The left it was, then.
You might die, but at least you would be able to see death coming for you.
You veered to the left as you hit the fork, staying close to the wall in hopes that the creature behind you was dumber than rocks, and decided to take the right fork instead.
Your eyes kept searching the walls in front of you, each pass hoping that you would find a small doorway, or crack to shove yourself into so you could let the monster pass by, and head in the opposite fucking direction.
You risked another glance over your shoulder, the creature still following behind you, almost at the fork in the hallway- its eyes were still locked on your form. So much for it being dumb as hell…
Your focus returned to the never-ending yellow walls and concrete stretching in front of you, your breathing ragged as your lungs burned from the effort of keeping you going.
There! There was a small break in the wall to your right, looking just big enough for you to wedge yourself inside, hopefully covering you from the monster’s sight. You flung yourself inside, squeezing between identical walls and going as far forward as you could into the opening.
You tried your best to slow your breathing and racing heart, keeping yourself from making too much noise as you were finally given a moment’s reprieve, even if you may still get eaten if the creature noticed where you had hidden yourself.
Time moved slowly as you waited to either hear the creature run past your hiding spot, or reveal itself in the small opening in front of you.
But neither came.
After what you would guess was ten minutes, ten whole minutes of fear flowing through your veins, you let out a breath of relief. Maybe… Maybe you had actually outsmarted the monstrosity? You waited another minute before you let yourself move, slowly peeling yourself from the corner you’d shoved yourself in, small steps carrying you to the break in the walls that you had slid through. It took you another minute to peek your head out, looking down both sides of the hallway, your eyes met only with yellow walls and concrete floors, no sign of the winged creature that had been following you.
A heavy breath left you, and tears welled in your eyes. Now that you were safe, however momentarily, you felt the overwhelming fear wash over you, and the pain of your now scraped raw feet. You slid to the floor and buried your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to sob for a minute.
You just didn’t understand. How was all of this happening to you?!
You may have been able to rationalize it as a drug trip last night, but today? Waking up, still in this place? It just didn’t make any sense to you.
But it had to be real, at this point. You just couldn’t fathom how.
Once your tears had slowed, you forced yourself to look at your surroundings again, noticing that to your left, where you’d come from, the hallway past the fork was darkened now, similarly to how the hallway you hadn’t taken had looked.
Weird.
You sniffled and wiped your tears away with the backs of your hands, and forced yourself to stand. Your feet were aching even more, now that they’d had a chance to rest and have no pressure on them, but you didn’t have much of a choice to rest, not with dangerous creatures on the loose.
Continuing onward in the direction you’d been going, a heel dangling from each hand, you winced with each step, waiting for your feet to go numb to the pain.
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You were starving, and parched beyond belief when you came across another break in the wall, deep enough for you to be out of sight while stretching out your legs.
Still, you’d seen no sign of human life, though you’d heard plenty of noises behind you that sounded suspiciously like footsteps, but whenever you’d looked, nothing was there. And you’d also had no luck in finding water or food, much to your dismay.
At this point, you might run out of strength before you found your way home, or at least outside again.
You let out a huffy breath as you turned on your side, using one of your arms as a pillow and bringing your legs to your chest. If you’d known you would be stuck in a never-ending series of corridors, you’d have worn a warmer outfit, or at least comfortable shoes.
Of course, you never would have guessed that you would be lost and alone, rapidly losing hope of finding your way to true safety.
You eventually drifted off, sleeping fitfully until you snapped awake.
Something was on you.
You looked down to see a… blanket? No, a cloak? A cloak, made of fur draped over your form.
Your eyes went wide as you looked around the nook you’d gone to sleep in, finding yourself alone, but… This was a concerning development.
Someone, or something had been in close quarters with you, and left something behind. The cloak had been placed carefully over you, it seemed, as it covered every part of you besides your head, keeping your body heat trapped against you nicely.
You shivered as you looked at the fur cloak, dread sinking into your bones.
Was something watching you?
You didn’t waste another minute as you stood, stretching your limbs and wincing as your feet lit up with pain, still raw and aching from your journey yesterday. You almost left the cloak behind… But without it, you were feeling the chill of your surrounding even more, and you were uncomfortable enough as it was without feeling cold.
So you wrapped the fur around your shoulders, letting the hood fall across your back as you fastened the smoothed fang of something into the hole cut through the other side of the cloak. It was a bit long on you, dragging along the floor as you walked and absolutely drowning you in the material, but you felt warm for the first time in a day and a half, or however long you’d been stuck here.
You still held your heels in your hand, as useless as they might be, just in case you needed to distract something, or try to fight back, or… Well, they were just a reminder that you had been having a perfectly normal night.
Your journey continued on sore feet as you left the nook you’d slept in, carrying on in the way you had been going before you slept.
The only changes in your surroundings had started late last night, as the walls began looking more and more decrepit as you went on, with square chunks taken out of the ceiling that made no sense, or holes in the wall that looked to go on the same as the intersecting corridors, never ending.
Today, you pace was even slower, the toll of not having any food or drink yesterday leaving you drained of energy and motivation to continue on, knowing that more likely than not you were going to rot in this endless yellow hellscape.
You took random turns, hardly paying attention to where you were going, and far more concerned with the footsteps that you continued to hear behind you, sounding closer than ever. Yet still, when you looked, there was no one and nothing there.
Your mind had to be playing tricks on you at this point, between the dehydration and absurdity of the situation you were in. You hardly looked back to check behind you now, it was only when you remembered the sheer surge of terror that the horrific monster that had chased you had caused that you dared to look, shaking your head when every time, you were met with the same empty hallway that you had just walked through.
Soon, though, you came across something that had hope blooming in your chest.
Plants.
There was a patch of wall ahead of you that had a green, leafy vine crawling across it, dotted with clusters of little berries. Your mouth watered as you approached the plant, a hand reaching out to grasp the vine and pluck the berries from it, only for the plant to turn to ash at your touch.
Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to pick another cluster, only for the same thing to happen, green life turning to gray death in your hold. Tears pricked your eyes as you tried the last cluster, your fingers just managing to grasp a berry before it, too, turned to ash under your touch.
“Fuck!” You yelled, your frustration getting the better of you as tears trickled from your eyes. You needed those berries, the water they held.
But you were left with nothing, hope turning to ash in your chest as you turned away from the wall, slowly walking away.
You made yourself keep walking, even as you wondered what the point was. You’d been trying for the better part of two days now to find your way out of here, with no sign of progress or a reason to believe that you would ever leave this place.
Eventually you grew tired enough that you found yet another small nook to curl yourself into for the night, your cloak wrapped tightly around you as you curled into a ball, letting yourself sob quietly as you fell asleep.
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You awoke with a start, your heart hammering as you shot up from the floor.
There was nothing out of the ordinary - well, the new ordinary - around you, except…
A pair of slippers, made of matching fur to the cloak you were wrapped in.
You blinked at the shoes, dumbfounded as to how they were in front of you. Something had to be following you, at this point.
But you were too tired and exhausted to care, seeing as whatever it was had only been near you while you were sleeping. Though you supposed that you should care more with that being the case but…
Again, tired and exhausted.
Your throat ached with each breath you drew into your lungs, your stomach clenching painfully around nothing as you pulled the soft slippers over your wounded feet, sighing at how nice the material felt against them.
You made yourself stand on shaky legs, your vision swirling in front of you as you braced your hands on a wall, steadying yourself. A deep breath in, and out, and you determined that you could go on. You bent to grab your heels, letting them dangle by the straps from your left hand as you left your little alcove.
Walking was a slow process today, your muscles protesting against every movement, lungs burning with each inhale and exhale.
Surely today would be the day, wouldn’t it? You’d been down here for almost three, with no water at all. And if it wasn’t water, well, if anything like that creature stumbled across you again, you would be done for.
Your eyes welled with tears as you wallowed in your misery, wishing that you would wake up in your bed with an extremely bad hangover, safe and sound.
But that didn’t happen.
No, instead, you were left to walk and walk, taking whatever turns presented themselves to you as you took yourself further in the labyrinth of nearly identical hallways, all of your energy draining into the cold concrete and yellow walls that surrounded you.
You reached a point that you could hardly walk, your joints locking up as your lungs struggled to draw in breath, and you allowed yourself to slide down against a wall, telling yourself that you would rest for only a few minutes, and then you would start moving again.
Just a few minutes, you whispered to yourself as you pulled the fur cloak in against you tightly, your head leaning back against the wall.
Your breathing was heavy as you began to drift off, jolting awake every so often and looking around, only for your eyes to fall shut again, your body desperate for any rest it could take.
Your eyes fluttered open once more, this time met with a sight that had you wide awake in an instant.
A winged man, clawed talons extending from the joints of the black leather, similarly to the monster you’d run from before, his violet eyes burning brightly, even from across the hallway. Your eyes went wide, flicking between the man and a woman, stood to his right. She had no wings, but her blue eyes glowed brightly, dangerously, as they stayed locked on your form, unblinking.
Heart in high gear, you attempted to stand from your spot on the ground, only to collapse back to where you’d been sitting as your legs gave out, a groan of pain slipping from your lips.
In an instant, the two were in front of you, faster than you could comprehend. Your body was pressed tightly to the wall, and you flinched at every movement that they made.
The woman extended a hand towards you, her palm cupping your cheek and following as you moved away from her touch, only to have your other cheek pressed into the man’s hand.
What the fuck is happening?
You didn’t have long to contemplate it before your vision went dark, your last sight being that of two sets of glowing eyes, staring down at you with… Worry?
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General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars
It's late in Velaris when Azriel wakes in a cold sweat, heart racing and shadows reeling.
He breathes in, out.
It's raining outside. Sheets of it, hammering against the windows. There's something soothing about the rhythm of it, though, so he focuses on the steady beating against the glass and tries to calm his mind back toward sleep.
His eyelids are drooping, his mind fogging as he settles. He's fine, everything is fine. He's moments away from drifting back off when a knock rattles the door.
Just as well. Sleep has always been hard to come by.
The floor is cool under his feet. It doesn't take long for him to cross his cottage. It's modest, perhaps, in comparison to his brothers' homes. But the smaller size has always felt more comfortable to him. More manageable.
With Truth-Teller gripped in his cold-sweated palm, he opens the door. The click of the latch, a corroded groaning at the hinge he's put off addressing for decades now, and—
"Eris."
In front of him. Damp and slumped and clutching at his side with crimson-stained hands, Eris flashes a wan smile that morphs quickly into a grimace. "You really should see about that door," he says.
Blood drips at his feet against the walkway stones, and wordlessly, Azriel lets him in.
Eris stumbles toward the settee as Azriel watches in silence. There is something of a ritual to it, a pattern they've played out before. It's far from the first time Eris has come to him, bloodied and needing Azriel to stitch him together. Deep in Azriel's chest, anger flares, but he holds it in.
“Don’t stain the couch," he says, and Eris scoffs. Then, nodding forward, "How deep is the cut?"
Azriel knows by now to keep the conversation clinical. Eris resents any acknowledgement of sentiment between them, and moreover loathes any attention given to the extent of his suffering. Prideful bastard, Azriel thinks, holding his shadows back from twining through Eris's hair.
Eris sucks in through his teeth. He looks down, considering the wound, then up to Azriel. His presence lacks its usual warmth, as it often does when his power wanes, so it is no surprise to Azriel when all Eris manages is, "Deep."
"Don't—" Eris recoils, and Azriel drops his hand. "Don't touch it," he says. "Just—sit with me, for a moment."
Azriel looks at him. There's a hollowness to his amber eyes, and an insistence. He wants, terribly, to run his hand along the sharp plane of Eris's freckled cheekbone. He wonders if it would cut his hand to do so. "I'm going to grab supplies."
"Not yet," Eris presses.
"You look like shit, Eris. No offense," he fists his hands, holding them back at his sides. "But I don't want you bleeding out in my house."
"Yes, I imagine that would be quite the scandal," he says. There's mirth in it, but his face is too pale, his speech too slurred by blood loss to properly affect his usual acerbic lilt. "Though I don't think you have to worry about that."
Azriel forces a smile. "What happened? At least tell me what I'm working with."
"The usual," he shrugs. "Bit of burning. Ash dagger to the side. Don't give me that look; I'll have you know I left my mark on him, too."
I'm going to kill your father, Azriel thinks. As soon as you let me. "And you still managed to winnow here?"
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he says, hissing as he leans back against the arm of the sofa.
Something warms in Azriel's chest. "Ah, I see what's going on here." He flashes Eris a wry grin. "You've lost a lot of blood."
"I mean it," Eris says. His eyelids are drooping. "I've never told you how much I appreciate this, have I? How much I appreciate you."
Azriel frowns. "I'll be right back."
Faintly, drifting toward unconsciousness, Eris says, "I love you."
"I love you too," Azriel whispers, more to himself than anything else, as he turns on his heel.
That sentence, singular and precious, rattles in Azriel's mind as he rummages through the bathroom closet for a needle and some thread. He tells himself not to think too much on it; there's no telling what Eris will retract the following morning. But there it is: the three words he's waited centuries to hear echoed back to him from Eris's lips. I love you.
Azriel.
Azriel nearly jumps out of his skin with shock, with the fear of exposure, at the sound of Rhys's voice in his mind.
He says nothing, ignoring his brother as he pockets the needle and thread.
Azriel, Rhys repeats. I need you at the River House.
It's the middle of the night, he shoots back, pushing his annoyance to the forefront of his mind as he reaches for some scraps of linen. I'll come by first thing in the morning.
A pause, a long stretch of silence. Enough for Azriel to wonder briefly if he's overstepped, then remind himself that he doesn't care. Counts out three linen scraps. He thinks back to the blood, pooling at Eris's feet while he waited on Azriel's stoop—no, better make it four.
I've received news from Autumn, Rhys says, that we need to discuss.
Azriel's chest seizes. Rhys knows. He must know that Eris is here. With him. They've been caught. Centuries of hiding this…whatever it is he shares with Eris, undone in an instant.
But those three words, from Eris. Maybe they can endure this.
Go ahead, Azriel replies, with a surge of daring. Say it. Whatever it is, it doesn't have to wait.
Very well, Rhys says. Beron is dead.
And Azriel's world shifts.
"Eris," he calls out, shoving Rhys from his mind as he barrels out of the bathroom and down the hallway. "Did you know? Why the fuck didn't you tell me, you—"
Azriel stops. Back in the parlor, he blinks.
Listen to me. Rhys is back in his mind, by force.
But Azriel can barely hear him. His ears ring with silence. Before him, the settee is empty. Eris is gone.
He throws on his siphons. Eris would have felt it, no doubt. And gone back to Autumn to ensure his ascension to the High Lordship.
We need to get to Autumn, Azriel says to Rhys, strapping a sword to his back. See our bargain with Eris through.
He readies the shadows to bring him to the Forest House.
No, Azriel, Rhys says. And anger eclipses his vision.
No? Azriel seethes. You would go back on a bargain? You would risk the consequences?
There's no bargain to go back on.
No, that's not right. He was there when it was made. Caught in the forest. Hewn City, damp room. Hands shaken. No way around a bargain.
That was why he suggested it. For Eris.
Stubborn male. Didn't need Azriel to kill his father after all.
Azriel.
Azriel pushes him back out. Pulls on the shadows. Autumn. He needs to get to Autumn. To Eris.
Listen to me. Rhys is back, a relentless force. Incredibly presumptuous, Azriel thinks, to push into someone else's mind like that. We're too late.
Azriel imagines so, yes. How many years has he spent dreaming of Beron Vanserra's blood coating his hands? No matter now. Because Beron is dead, which means Eris is…
And then for the second time that night, three words pierce Azriel's heart.
Eris is dead.
"No," Azriel says. "No, no."
This isn't how it was supposed to happen.
Rhys is lying. Eris was here, he'd been right here. Looking worse for the wear, but alive.
Azriel checks the kitchen. Closets. The bedroom. Empty, empty, empty.
Blood rushes against his ears, deafening quiet. Dread chokes.
Azriel throws open the front door, to the spot where Eris stood, not so long ago. A cold finger traces his spine. His stomach turns in on itself. Eris stood here, bled here—but there is no blood against the stones.
TW: Blood & gore, death, supernatural elements. Near misses.
Thanks to @theboyfromcork for helping me fix the messy middle section! 😂
Under the gaze of a million anxious stars, and the silvery light of a waxing full moon, a monster was awakened. Each time the moon fulfilled its cycle, each time it grew round in the sky, a beast was called from its slumber, drawn forth into the realm of men to wreak havoc, leaving only panic and fear behind.
This night, an unlucky assortment of soldiers from the SAS were ripped from their beds, they disappeared from their tents like smoke on the wind. Some vanished into thin air, some left a trail of death and destruction behind, staining the sands red as they were taken to their demise..
Those who were unwittingly spared a gruesome end, felt a sense of unease descend like a veil over camp.
Under the moon’s resplendent glow, the men felt different, somehow more in tune with nature, yet wild and completely perturbed, their bodies constantly under the Influence of something unnatural. Some, who were more attuned to the supernatural, felt the presence of evil lurking between the tents, beady eyes trained on them as if they were simply prey, with the predator waiting for its moment to strike. Danger lingered in the air, waiting around every corner. But it only lasted a night. Once the moon dipped low in the sky, replaced by the blazing winter sun, all returned to its normal state, and in spite of the mysterious disappearances from camp, the men seemed in good spirits once more.
It took weeks for the bodies of their comrades to surface. Weeks spent messily buried in shallow graves, exposed to the sweltering heat of the Libyan desert. The grains of sand that hid them from view slowly drifted with the wind, revealing their final resting places to any unlucky man who stumbled upon them. Disfigured and mangled, their features were barely recognisable under slashed and jagged skin. Chunks of fat and flesh were missing, ripped from their bodies, but it didn’t look like a predator in search of food. It looked like a creature killing for sport, tearing just enough tissue from bone so that their prey bled out, a horrible, prolonged death. There was cruelty behind these injuries, not just simple survival.
Strange marks were embedded into their bones, sharp notches made from a jagged tool. No human could have done this, no weapon would have been so coarse, or left behind such unusual striations in the bone. There were no predators out in the desert with teeth large enough to make marks like that, none with the cruelty to leave meat on the bone, to simply toy with their victims instead of hunting for a meal. At least that would've given reason, at least then their widows and families would have closure.
Instead, their deaths presented leadership with a mystery to be solved, and quickly, before the culprit struck again.
With David still a prisoner of war, and the toff Bill Stirling in charge in name only, Paddy was placed in a position to lead the men of the SAS and ultimately the responsibility lay with him to solve these gruesome murders. But he had been keeping a secret, he’d been protecting the culprit for a long time, covering his mistakes, destroying any evidence of his involvement and burying his misfortunes in the sand.
Eoin had a secret. A life shattering, character defining, powerful secret that changed him irrevocably as a person, and defined his relationships as a man. Several times a year, under the watchful gaze of the pale full moon, Eoin transformed. His body, corrupted by the moon's influence, would undergo a total metamorphosis, destroyed and rebuilt, cell by cell, bone by bone,into a monster of terrifying proportions. A horrifying creature bereft of emotion or integrity, utterly devoid of humanity.
It was this monster that rampaged in the dark, that tore men from their beds and left a trail of blood and entails in its wake. When he turned, he was not himself anymore. He was not the man who fought for freedom and killed the maniacal authors of genocide. No, when he turned, Eoin was the weapon, he was the monster and the harbinger of death. He was everything he fought against, everything he despised.
It was his greatest source of shame, and the one thing destined to cause him pain, to inflict fear and rob him of sleep, even in his most human state. Eoin carried that secret alone for years. He hadn’t always been cursed with this terrible affliction, it was a darkness that descended upon him as he grew into the body of a man. He held this heavy secret with him through life, and when it reared its head, he trusted only one man to help carry the weight of it.
Only one person in his life ever learned of his plight, only one person had ever beheld him in such a grotesque form, cowering to the influence of the moon and indulging in every monstrous craving. Paddy Mayne had seen him in his most vulnerable state, and his most dangerous. He had learned of his shameful secret, despite his efforts to conceal it.
Paddy knew how it felt to be an outsider, alone in the world. He knew the loneliness of isolation, even when it was a chosen lifestyle. He chose to keep his own company, much preferring the words of the poets to the company of most men. But he knew how it felt to carry a secret, how it felt to conceal an integral part of yourself.
So when he happened across the secret of a man he deeply respected, a man he'd consider his best friend and closest confidant, he knew it was one he'd have to keep.
When he first stumbled across a monster in the dark, words failed him.
There were no honeyed phrases to describe the horrors he had seen, no sonnets or haikus to erase the pictures from his mind.
On a night where his mind evaded sleep and under the eerily bright silver glow of the full moon, he ventured out into the quiet hills that surrounded camp. He thought he’d try sleeping under the stars, that maybe the gentle wind would lull him into an easy rest. He never expected to stumble upon a scene more gruesome than any battlefield. A horrific display of brutality, perpetrated by a beast of epic proportions.
This thing stood tall, its imposing form silhouetted against the moon. On two legs, it could’ve been mistaken for a man, if not for its knotted limbs and matted fur, tainted with the blood of its victims. It was a monster of story and legend, ones that Paddy always assumed were created to frighten naughty children into submission. But there he stood, a grown man, heart leaping from his chest at the sight of this fairytale creature. Thick globs of saliva fell from snarling teeth, sharp claws lay buried in the hot sand. Though Paddy didn’t get a thorough look at the creature and he didn't stay long enough to let his eyes focus on the intricate details, he saw enough to strike fear in his chest. He was mad, not suicidal and instead of approaching the thing, he backed away, trying to evade this aberration of nature as quietly as possible.
He thought he was stealthy in his departure, little did he know the beast heard every step, turning to see his stocky frame slithering through the sand in silence. It recognised the muscular silhouette of the only man it loved, although Eoin was buried beneath the guise of a monster, something of himself remained. Something sparked awareness within that beast, and he let Paddy retreat into the dark. Columns of moonlight highlighted his flighty figure, with only the night as a witness, and those beady amber eyes tracing his hasty path back to camp.
The next morning Paddy’s mind was clearer. Despite a restless night to rival any insomnia, he was able to think more rationally, seeking out any sane explanation for this apparition, his mind searching for any reasonable excuse for a monster in the dark. He found the fear still lingered, he didn’t know if it still roamed the sandy dunes surrounding camp, or if it had made a swift exit upon his discovery. It was impossible to fathom what it was, how it existed in the first place, but Paddy didn’t rule out the supernatural. He didn’t believe it, but it was hard to refute what his eyes had witnessed.
Paddy had been given the unenviable task of investigating the horrific happenings, but he stumbled upon the answer fairly quickly. It lay under his very nose. Despite the deep seated anxiety at what such an investigation might produce, finding the answer gave him no relief. It happened that very morning, in preparation for morning meetings. Paddy sorted through his discarded uniform, which lay atop one of Eoin’s old shirts. As he grabbed the garment, he noticed traces of blood and hair on Eoin's uniform. The fabric had been torn, fraying at the edges and immediately the pieces of a mysterious puzzle connected. Though he was no longer afraid for himself, a different type of trepidation set in.
Despite the horrors of what he had seen, despite the bloody aftermath, it was still him. It was the man he adored. It was genuinely baffling how a man so gentle and kind, with such a loving soul could ever turn into something so monstrous. How he could maim and mangle the men he fought with side by side, the men he considered brothers. Paddy also considered that perhaps in this non-human state, it was no longer the man he knew. Perhaps this transformation suppressed the Eoin McGonigal within, burying him beneath the beast, beneath the tide of anger and the swell of inconsolable rage.
Everyone has a darkness lurking within, something they hide away from the world, but rarely does it materialise, rarely does it escape and show itself in physical form, tearing flesh from bone and wreaking havoc, sowing fear into the minds of superstitious men.
Despite all the evidence of Eoin’s monstrous misdeeds, Paddy held his secret tight, protected it as if it was his own. He felt an overwhelming need to protect Eoin from himself, keep him from harm in all his forms. Leaving such widespread devastation would catch up to him quickly, others would figure out the culprit behind these grizzly murders eventually, and despite Paddy’s own tenuous hold on the reality of the situation, he felt responsible for the younger man, and he was the only one who could protect him from the inevitable hunt for justice.
Paddy always had a difficult time expressing love through words - that was a job for men far more eloquent than himself, but he showed his affection in other ways.
Many men would have run, saved their own skin, some may even have put an end to such a creature - it was a danger to itself and to others, but Paddy knew Eoin intimately. He innately trusted Eoin, trusted that his humanity would win out if anything ever went awry. Although the change robbed him of his senses, and rendered him little more than an animal running on pure instinct, Paddy hoped that his humanity would win out, that even in his beastly state, he'd recognise the one man who'd never do him harm. Somehow he knew that even in the guise of a monster, the man he loved was still seated within.
The next full moon approached quickly, and though Paddy intended to never leave Eoin alone during his transformation again, he was called away on a rather frivolous mission, much to his chagrin. In the midst of all the chaos, life went on. The enemy didn't wait, it simply pushed on with its plans. Paddy was forced to lead a team, leaving Eoin behind.
His body was as accurate as the calendar, controlled by the waxing and waning of the moon. As the night drew in, his muscles began to cramp, each fibre stretching and tearing, only to be rebuilt later. His back grew an unnatural curvature, with his spine lengthening and contorting, his body constantly wracked by a pain he could scarcely describe. It was never easy, it was a complete stripping of his humanity, and a rather intense physical change. The soft, kind man that he presented to the world was often replaced by the hidden rage of a maniacal beast.
This was the type of scourge that's usually reserved for men with evil in their hearts, men of corruption and greed. Eoin knew he didn’t deserve such a plight, yet he was shown no mercy under the hand of an unmerciful god. And so the transformation continued.
Without Paddy there, without a steady hand and comforting voice, it was hellish, though he was used to the isolation of such an affliction.
Paddy came in to unfocused view, though Eoin knew immediately something was wrong.
It was too early, he’d only been gone a few short hours. In the waning light of evening, he could sense the presence of blood. He could smell the iron hanging heavy in the air as Paddy approached their tent, it was the smell of old pennies and death. It wasn’t until he saw the sweat clinging to his brow, the crimson stain on the khaki of his uniform, that Eoin knew something had gone badly wrong.
Paddy was usually so careful, so tactical even in his recklessness. He’d never been shot in the line of duty before, had never fallen to the pointed end of an enemy's rifle. But now, he hovelled into their shared tent, blood staining the sand as he walked. Eoin was still falling victim to his affliction, in the midst of a gruelling transformation, yet he had the strength to move to Paddy as he collapsed on his cot. “Christ Pad, what…what happened?”
“I’m alright lad, just caught a stray one from those fuckin’ Italians..sneaky fuckers were lyin’ in wait for us.”
“You’re not alright Paddy, you need’ta see a doctor.” Eoin scolded, concerned about his welfare even through his own eye watering pain, wincing under the pressure of his rapidly changing form. “Leave it will ‘ya, I’ll be fine, just need to get the bullet out & wrap it up..besides, all the doctors are out, moppin’ up the rest of the mess out there.”
“H..how many did ye lose?” “Couldn’t say, it was quick, but saw maybe half a dozen go down..”
Eoin pondered the possibility of losing Paddy that night, ruminated on it as his body underwent a gruelling transformation. As his bones cracked, and his muscles stretched, Eoin kept Paddy lying face down in the sand in his mind, and he felt nothing but rage. The beast was a volatile mix of emotions at the best of times, but now, he wanted revenge, his anger only amplified as he changed into a monstrous version of himself. Typically, he couldn’t control it, or remember much of what happened during those hours. But as he sidled into the vastness of the desert, away from the confines of canvas tents and fleshy bodies, Eoin felt at ease letting the moon guide his path.
Although often led by a ravenous carnivorous hunger, Eoin usually reigned in his carnivorous tendencies, maintaining a tenuous hold on the beast's appetite for flesh - instead opting for unsuspecting antelope and smaller game to satisfy his cravings. This night however, a tempestuous animosity overwhelmed any boundaries he’d set in place, broke through all his carefully crafted barriers. The beast was let loose, spurred on by Eoin’s own fury at Paddy’s near miss.
Eoin stalked his prey into the bowels of the desert, not far from the site of Paddy’s ambush. Behind enemy lines, he was still a vision of a man, albeit one blinded by rage. Even with searing pain clouding his vision, Eoin had the foresight to lie in wait until the cresting moon completed his transformation.
He lay in the warm sand, watching as men he knew lay silent in that makeshift graveyard, their bones left to the vultures. Unceremoniously tossed aside by men with evil in their hearts.
The Italians had gunned them down where they stood, and callously moved forward with their plans. But they couldn't escape the sharp senses of a predator, they were but sitting ducks for the monster Eoin had turned into under the pale glow of the full moon.
It stalked them from the shadows, its gangly limbs covering more ground than any man could in half the time. It wasn’t long before the only sounds heard were the crunching of bone and the shrieking of men meeting an untimely death at the hands of a monster.
One bloodbath was met with another. And even in his frenzied state, even under the guise of a bloodthirsty beast, Eoin had righted a wrong, he had sought his own form of justice, keeping the remaining men of the SAS safe for another night.
In the light of day, he trudged through the rolling sands, broken but whole. His skin was stained with the blood of a dozen men, it smelled like revenge, like justice served. His mind was still hazy, not yet set free from the clutches of a relentless savage.
His feet took him in the direction of camp, though his head had not yet caught up, still fuzzy from the pain. He felt different, as if he left those dunes with a newfound hatred in his heart. Eoin was never one to seek out revenge, to kill outside the confines of his duties, but this night something within him snapped. This night, he saw red.
Judging by the position of the sun in the clear sky, Eoin had been away from camp far longer than he usually would’ve been. It wasn’t until he saw the familiar outline of Paddy Mayne hobbling towards him, that he broke free of his trance. It was only then Eoin saw the extent of the carnage, it was only then he saw the blood drying under the mid-morning sun, clinging to every inch of his tattered uniform. Paddy approached him gingerly, wincing from the pressure on his injured leg.
“Y’alright lad?” he said softly, his eyes scanning his body for injuries, though he suspected the blood came from a different source. “Here, figured you’d need a change of clothes…” Paddy held out a freshly pressed uniform, free from evidence of his bloody rampage.
He didn’t even have to confess his sins, Paddy instinctively knew what had happened, he knew Eoin set out with the intention of righting a wrong done to him, but the beast had taken control.
“It’s alright lad, those eye-talians had it comin’...”
Paddy could see the reality of the situation hit Eoin all at once, flashes of what he had done coming into clear view. Luckily they had some down time coming, no training or maneuvres, no missions or ambushes to walk into. The day was theirs, and Eoin’d need that time to recover, to rest his aching body and let his mind come back to reality.
Eoin, in his usual human form, showed Paddy an endless amount of gratitude for his unwavering support. He doted on him, touching him whenever possible in public, and holding him close at night. To feel such humanity, to hear the beating of Paddy’s heart against his own, to have such warmth and love in his arms was a blessing, one Eoin never took for granted.
To have time with him now, to spend the day held tightly in his arms, especially when he’d come so close to losing him the evening previous, it meant the world.
In the dim light of their canvas sanctuary, Eoin held Paddy close, pressing his cheek against the blazing warmth of his bare skin, holding him tight against a world that would never understand their bond. Eoin's blood typically ran warm, a supernatural fire burned within his veins and even with the cool wind blowing through the tent flaps, his skin radiated a searing heat, keeping both himself and Paddy snug against even the most rapturous gales.
Eoin was unusually clingy, redressing Paddy’s wound, tending to every scratch and graze he accumulated on that ill-fated mission, and Paddy just basked in it. He lavished the attention, melting under Eoin’s featherlight touch.
Eoin took every opportunity to show Paddy the depths of his love, to express his gratitude not only for keeping his secret - which was a tough task in itself, but never judging him, always being by his side, especially when it wasn’t easy. Even when the beast within went on a murderous rampage, and he returned drenched in the blood of their enemies.
Paddy was the partner he always envisioned for himself, though admittedly under entirely different circumstances. The world still wasn’t ready for them to love each other openly, it was just another aspect of life they had to hide. Eoin was used to tucking pieces of himself into the shadows, hiding away the most intimate parts of his life and his very being. His love for Paddy, although obvious to anyone with eyes, was something they kept quiet, something they kept just for themselves. Any moment of closeness was sacred, any time they got to spend in each other's arms was precious. In the days between full moons, Eoin lapped up all the love he could muster, held Paddy especially tight, knowing that the monster could rear its head and ruin everything, knowing that someday, he had the potential to hurt the one person he loved most.
Paddy made him feel safe, protected and in these small moments, Eoin liked to make sure Paddy was held, cherished with devastating devotion. He made sure to show his gratitude in any way possible. Whether that was physical affection, listening to his latest literary obsession, or simply holding him in the stillness of night. Also, on a selfish note, this time with Paddy gave him something to cling to, something to ground him when the beast threatened to take over, when the monster within threatened to cast him aside completely. Memories like these always brought Eoin back, always pulled him back to reality in the light of morning. Strong, emotional memories anchored him to the world and made it easier to return to his body. To return to the man he was before.
Sometimes, nature played a rogue hand.
On the rare occasion of a lunar eclipse, with the moon plunged into darkness, Eoin’s transformation became more painful, more aggressive. It was as if his alter sensed the change, as if it was aggrieved by such an aberration of nature.
Eoin felt it long before it reared its ugly head. Even in the light of day, he was confined to his tent. The beast wouldn’t let him eat, wouldn’t let him rest. His bones ached with a pain that shook his weary body, that sent a chill running through his veins like ice water, but he wasn’t the only one affected by such a rare event.
A cloud of unease and dissent descended upon camp, as this aberration of nature loomed. Naturally jovial and well natured men became sour, less agreeable. Fights broke out amongst friends and the camp descended into an unnatural chaos. In the midst of anarchy, in the middle of the frenzy and turmoil, Paddy crept out of a rather pointless meeting, making his way back to the tent he shared with Eoin to help him prepare for the coming night. It was always a bit of a production, and hiding his adventures in the dark took a bit of planning, but more than anything, Paddy wanted to see him, to show him that had a way back, and something to come back to.
As the darkness crept in, and the camp lay silent, the earth was plunged into a state of quiet discomfort. Under the encroaching light of a blood moon, the beast readied itself, threatening to emerge at any moment. The clouds above kissed the arc of the moon, its stained with mottled cardinal and coral, bleeding a sickly light onto the earth below. Every tent was shrouded in an unnatural glow, the air heavy with the clawing smell of death and decay.
The moon’s celestial beauty was veiled under a thick blanket of blood red fog, its alter ego bathing the world in a carmine haze, casting a wicked glow over everything the eye could see. Under that gleaming orb, the world descended into chaos. It was a vision of hell, right here on earth, soon to be reflected in the eyes of a beast.
This time the beast reared its head violently, aggressively tearing its way through Eoin’s human body in an excruciating display of dominance. Perhaps this rare eclipse broke something loose inside, perhaps the draw was stronger, the pull all the more irresistible to the animal within. The crimson sky called it forward, beckoned it out of it’s fleshy prison, into a world not ready for its devastating blitzkrieg. The cracking of bones and tearing of muscle seemed just as sharp and unbearable as the first time he transformed, it was as if his body started from scratch, forgetting every change that had come before. Each break sent shockwaves through his frame, unbelievable pain ran uncontrolled, each muscle, each ligament and tendon screaming under the intense strain.
Eoin wasn’t himself under the call of the moon, his base instincts took control and his fondness for Paddy, his deep unwavering love fell victim to his animalistic nature. It was as if a switch was flipped. One minute he looked at Paddy with love and respect, the next it was blind hatred and an inconsolable fury burning behind strange amber eyes. Paddy had never seen such animosity reflected back at him, had never seen such blind hatred directed his way, truthfully it scared him. Even as he darted away from the man he held close only moments prior, he wasn’t quick enough to outrun the emergence of the monster.
With its physical transformation complete, its gnarled and knotted limbs swung at him, releasing a guttural scream that rattled the poles of the tent around them. That same hatred fueled its destructive spree through the tent, knocking the sparse furniture and narrowly missing Paddy by a hair. Though he was not left completely unharmed. As the beast pushed out through the flaps of their shared tent, it failed wildly, scratching Paddy, leaving deep gashes in his upper arm. The wound oozed blood, the flesh parted in perfect striations, perfect claw marks reflected in skin. Though pain radiated through his arm, Paddy couldn’t focus on himself. He couldn't leave this thing rampage through camp, he couldn’t allow it to hurt the men he fought so hard to protect. He grabbed his trusted pistol from a nearby crate, and darted off as quickly as his banjaxxed leg would allow. He was still suffering the effects of that damn bullet wound, it hadn’t healed right, but even with a limp, he was fast enough to catch a glimpse of the monster rampaging through camp.
Paddy followed the trail of destruction through camp, luckily the men were out on maneuvers so nobody got hurt. But tents were shredded, whole rows of encampments destroyed in a fit of uncontrollable rage. He followed the debris, spreading far into the sprawling expanse of the desert beyond camp.
Torn pieces of canvas littering the sand, shredded wood and bent metal strewn across his path.
It was only then, as he spotted the glowing amber orbs floating in the crimson haze, that Paddy knew something was very wrong. Even transformed, Eoin was rarely violent. His wolven form could be aggressive and territorial, but rarely outrightly violent - well, never to him at least. There had been few occasions where the beast saw red, a blind rage colouring its instincts. When Paddy got shot, he knew it affected Eoin, which in turn, affected the monster he changed into.
Paddy knew that this beast, this thing, could rip his throat out in an instant without regret or remorse. All men possess the ability to commit unspeakable, evil acts. But this thing was not human. It would attack without provocation, sink its teeth and tear chunks from flesh without the slightest remorse. To think that his beloved Eoin was suppressed underneath this demonic being, buried beneath the shell of an animal, only to remerge with the break of day.
He had to keep it contained until then, he had to do something to bring Eoin out of this alive. If the other men spotted him, or god forbid he injured someone else, he’d get a bullet between the eyes without thought or consequence. He simply couldn’t let that happen.
Catching up to the beast was no easy feat. It was quick, even with two good legs he'd have struggled to keep pace.
But Paddy was determined, he pushed through the pain and discomfort, put his own needs aside to keep the man he loved safe. He never expected to see it standing still amongst the rolling sands, its eyes directed upwards, staring at the blood red moon hanging unusually low in the sky.
The creature was transfixed, completely under the moon's spell, until it sensed his presence.
As soon as Paddy came within earshot, the beast lunged forward, crossing the span between them in seconds. Paddy reached for his pistol out of instinct, though it was never his intention to shoot. The fright knocked him into the sand, his back hitting the ground before he had the chance to break his fall. Scrambling, Paddy loaded his weapon, his hands trembling as the beast stalked closer.
He found his aim just in time, as the creature hovered over him, skulking slowly through the tepid sand, ready to pounce.
“Don’t make me do this Eoin…please…” Paddy choked out, his voice caught under the strain of emotion. Yet there was no recognition in the beast's face, no semblance of the man he adored behind those amber eyes. Only anger, only torment and carnal rage ran riot in the mind of a monster.
His first shot was a warning, aimed into the sky. A chance for the beast to flee, for the man within to regain some semblance of control. But it didn't work. Eoin kept charging at Paddy, his beady eyes wild and filled with a hatred Paddy had never before seen. Paddy had been keeping one particular bullet tucked away, in a pocket he never used for anything else. One silver bullet, designed with the sole aim of putting down the man he loved, hoping that he would never have cause to use it. But the beast simply kept coming. With tears in his eyes, Paddy reloaded his weapon, took aim and reluctantly squeezed the trigger of his pistol in Eoin’s direction. Luckily Eoin darted away at the last second, his speed and agility working in his favour, so it merely grazed his side, catching the matted flesh and tearing a significant hole through it. It was enough to knock him to the ground, to temporarily daze the beast. It was enough to give Paddy a chance to ground him, using all his weight to pin the creature into the sand. Perhaps not enough to restrain him at full strength, but now, injured and slightly weakened, Paddy stood a chance at taming the unruly barbarian beneath him.
For a split second, Paddy’s eyes met that of the monster. In those amber glassy orbs, he recognised the man he loved, pleading for a way out. It was the first time he’d seen a glimpse of Eoin beneath the guise of the monster. It was the first time he’d broken through its grasp.
Thick crimson blood poured into the sand beneath his limp body. It wasn’t long before his world went black, momentarily losing consciousness from bloodloss, but it gave Paddy the window of opportunity he needed.
Eoin awakened in the tent he shared with Paddy, familiar surroundings, yet he woke confused. He didn’t remember coming back to camp, didn’t recall anything about the night before in fact. Usually he woke up naked under the blazing morning sun, Paddy waiting by his side with a spare uniform, to save him the embarrassment of trekking back to camp in the nip.
Now, as he peered around the tent, and attempted to rise from his uncomfortable cot, he noticed a tight pull on his gangly limbs from makeshift restraints, heavy strips of fabric tied tightly to the bars of his cot, pinning him in place.
He winced in pain, only noticing the wound in his side when he attempted to sit up.
Paddy came into view shortly after. He had cleaned up evidence of his rampage as best he could. There would be questions, but they’d deal with that together.
“Sorry about that lad, did my best stitching it up…”
“You’re lucky I never used this…” he chuckled, holding the silver bullet between his fingers. “Couldn’t bring myself to load it…” he cast his eyes down, disguising the emotion evident in his voice with humour.
Synopsis: Strange disappearances of Oyo men have been happening near Dahomey. Some of the Oyo’s prisoners have magically vanished. General Oba Ade of the Oyo accuses the King of Dahomey & his Agojie warriors of being involved. It is up to the Agojie to get to the bottom of the strange occurrences to protect their village. That is until a certain warrior stumbles upon an alluring creature, The Damned.
WordCount: 1.8k
A/N: Honey! This has been in my drafts for 2 years and was supposed to be for Spooky season. Might as well post the parts I have so it doesn't collect dust.
It was autumn’s eighth night in Dahomey of 1823, the night sky was bleak and gray. Luna’s bright glow casting light down on the Oyo’s home base. The ruthless men of Oyo had just finished taking count of the people they had captured for the Europeans. Celebrating with wines and spirits next to a blazing fire in their camp. They sang in gratitude and their bellied laughter filled the crisp air. General Oba Ade ordered some of his men to pick a few captured women of their liking as a reward for their despicable work. He observed his army of men with proud eyes, knowing he’ll be paid greatly for his selfish acts. Stroking his full beard and taking in the surroundings. A black cat ran in the direction of one of the look out areas near the field of grass. He noticed there wasn’t a watchman in sight.
“Where is the watchman?!” Oba Ade yelled.
“Greetings General Oba Ade! My apologies, I was…busy.” a young man approached with his eyes focused on the ground.
“Doing what!?” General Oba Ade peered down at the young man.The young man didn’t utter a word but pointed to a hut where his fellow men were walking in with captured women. Oba Ade laughed teasingly.
“You’ve engaged in the victory. Now, you must keep watch.”
The young man nodded and scurried to his watch station outside the Oyo territory. Keeping his eyes peeled with a long rifle in his hand. Waiting for any sign of movement beyond the grassy field. Yet, the night was eerily still. Whistling of the wind and the chatters of his warrior brothers were the only things he could hear. The moon that hung over his village was now resting over a forest that was off to the side of the Oyo’s base. His men grew quiet as the night got darker. His eyes fighting to stay open, grabbing a bottle of whisky from his pouch. He downed the spirit hoping it’ll assist him in his night watch. A twig snapped which made him stand in alert, staring in the direction of the forest.
“Who’s there?” The young man yelled, aiming his rifle. The branches of the tree began to shake to the right of the forest but immediately halted when he aimed. Walking closer to the forest, keeping his ears perked and eyes sharp.
“Show yourself!” Holding his firearm tightly as he cautiously moved deeper into the forest. Nothing but the wood’s critters and animals answered back until he heard the bending of a branch above him. Slowly gazing up through the scope, his eyes were met with glowing silver ones. He went to pull the trigger but the creature pounced down on him knocking him to the ground. He scrambled to get up and run away not realizing as he was running away that he was going deeper in the forest.
Cutting through palms of leaves, your crazed laughter echoed through the tall trees as he darted through the woods. Building up the courage to look back only to see you were hot on his trails. He whimpered in horror and pushed his legs to move faster. Quickly dashing off to his left, praying that’d throw you off. Peeking over his shoulder and not seeing your glowing eyes. Relieved as he turned back around only to be snatched by his throat and slammed into the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. He wheezed and winced as he cradled his chest. You towered over him with glowing eyes, your sharp white fangs poked out as you snarled. He yelped and kicked you off making you fall back but you caught yourself before touching the earth's floor.
Smiling devilishly as you watched him try to flee. Him not knowing he was the prey for tonight and there was no way out of his fate. Charging in his direction, you boosted yourself off a tree and landed in front of him. Pushing him up against the tree’s trunk with your long sharp nails digging into his throat. He hissed at the pain and tried to wiggle free but your grasp was too strong.
“No matter how hard you try, you cannot escape me.” You spoke calmly as if you didn’t just sprint miles after him.
“Let me go or else.” He gritted, the cockiness of the Oyo slipping from his tongue. You laughed.
“Or else? Which one of us is pinned helplessly to a tree, hmm?” Grinning at him as his overconfident persona wavered. He was still moving and attempted to break free but your hold never loosened.
“The ego of a man is a dangerous thing, isn’t it?” Toying with the Oyo as you perked an eyebrow.
“You witch! Let me go!” His hand rose and struck the side of your face. Making your head snap left, your body stilled. You didn't make a sound which frightened him even more, all that could be heard was the sound of nature singing its nightly tune. Slowly lifting your head to reveal bright red irises to the terrified man. His eyes widened, what type of creature woman is this he thought.
He watched as you looked up toward the starlit sky, admiring the moon. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” Your voice was low and soft, a complete contrast to your wretched figure. Diving your head into his neck, teeth piercing the skin. He screamed as he felt your fangs hook deeper, sucking the life out of him. Feeling his pulse get weaker, you forced yourself off him.
“You all must feed now. Here.” You motioned to someone behind you. The Oyo soldier was fading in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t make out the faces but saw three other figures approach. One by one they all took turns, draining him until he stopped breathing. Pulling away as you released your nails from his throat, letting his body drop limp. Breathing in the cool autumn night air as you closed your eyes. Feeling euphoric from your feed, licking the red that dripped off your full lips.
“We must go now before the Oyo figures out he’s gone.” Leading three vamp women back into your hideout that was deep within the forest. Retreating in the tall trees that you call home. Soon after, you heard multiple feet treading through the grass and panic yelling from who you assumed to be the Oyo men who found your prey of the night. Worried that they would draw too much attention into your forest of a home, you stalked their movements. Waiting on the right moment to off the two soldiers one by one. Leaving them laying there as a warning to anyone who explored too deep into your safe haven.
By sunrise, General Oba Ade caught wind of what had happened to his soldiers. What exactly happened he couldn’t figure out but the nail marks on the soldiers neck made him believe it was Agojie's doing. Which is what brought him to confront the King of Dahomey and threaten the people of his village. The Agojie were training their next generation of warriors but stopped once Oba Ade approached the King’s throne. Nanisca, Amenza, and Izogie stood at attention immediately in front of their king, waiting for the Oyo to make the wrong move.
“Ah so these are the culprits who took the life of my watchmen?” General Oba Ade narrowed his eyes down at the warrior women from his large horse. Hopping down, he walked to stand in front of Izogie. Her eyes never left him as she stood unbothered by his intimidating gaze.
“General Oba Ade, my deepest condolences to your lost watchmen but I believe you are mistaking my Agojie.” King Gezo spoke coolly from his throne. The people of the Dahomey village had gathered closely to watch on.
General Oba Ade sucked his teeth and signaled one of his soldiers to pull a covered object from the back of his horse. Dropping it at the feet of the Agojie women revealing the body of one of his lost watchmen. They jumped back and instinctively pulled their swords from its resting place. Oba Ade eyed the women's nails peaking past the handle of their sharp weapons.
“Mistaking?! King Gezo, look at his face! The scratches! This is the doing of your little warriors!” The people in the crowd whispered amongst themselves as King Gezo leaned forward to get a better look. Izogie and Amenza shared confused glances between each other. They knew this had nothing to do with the Agojie but Oba Ade wouldn’t be satisfied with that conclusion. Nanisca turned to her King.
“May I speak on this King Gezo?” King Gezo nodded and motioned his hand for her to continue.
“There are indeed marks on your watchman, General, but this isn’t the doing of my sisters.” General Nanisca stepped forward and squatted down to look at the lifeless Oyo.
“You see, we do not scratch like this” She pointed to the erratic lines. “Our nails are weapons to disarm our enemy… Not mark them. This is something else. A cat of some sort? A lion maybe?” Nanisca returned to her position of guarding the King.
General Oba Ade scuffed at General Nanisca’s theory, looking past her to stare at King Gezo. “I am no fool and my men are not weak to be so easily killed by a cat.” He shot a look at General Nanisca then peered at Dahomey’s Villagers. “You will get to the bottom of this, Gezo. Otherwise, I’d be more than glad to take on your village and show them what true leadership looks like.” King Gezo smiled at General Oba’s line of disrespect, he adjusted his custom robe before answering.
“There is no need for such threats, General Oba. I’m sure my Agojie will find an answer to whatever happened to the soldiers that were under your leadership.” General Oba clenched his jaw and nodded silently. Dragging his feet over the red dirt he retreated to his horse and led his Oyo men out of Dahomey.
Nanisca turned to face her king.
”My king this is not our responsibility. We cannot risk the safety of the Agojie just for some Oyo soldier. We’d be too close to their territory.”
King Gezo tsked at his general, he was slightly annoyed by her doubting language.
“General, we also cannot risk the safety of our people. I trust the Agojie can handle some wild cats. You will go in small groups to investigate safely.” King Gezo stepped to walk away from his throne.
“But my King…” King Gezo stopped in his tracks.
“Are you uncertain of my leadership, Nanisca?” He questioned sternly. Nanisca shook her head.
“No, My King.”
“Good. Take a few trainees with you so they can get some experience outside of the village. You will begin the hunting tomorrow.” And with that King Gezo left and the villagers dispersed.
Amenza patted the General’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sure we’ll be okay, General. We have handled greater threats.”
Izogie chuckled as she placed her arms behind her back, “With the Oyo being one of them, this will be like stealing sugarcane from a baby.”
just like the atmosphere, the air is cold, it's scary, and gives you this feeling of helplessness.
like you can't breathe, like you're trapped.
something is trapping you.
someone is trapping you.
you feel a shiver run down your spine, the short strands of hair on your neck go up.
you're tense and shaky. the perfect victim.
a dream of every murderer.
but is her plan really murdering you?
she likes to watch your helpless trance.
the way you're panicking, how you're trying to scream, but no sound leaves your lips.
no, she actually loves it.
you ask yourself who would be sick enough to make you go through all this -
who would be sick enough to enjoy this?
hirai momo definitely is.
in your mind you're begging for her mercy.
you keep opening your mouth, trying to finally speak, but again, nothing happens.
only a strangled sound leaves your lips, like you're fighting for your life.
ice cold air fills your lungs as it gets tighter.
you're trying to breathe normally desperately. trying to calm down.
this has to be a nightmare, right?
just a bad dream, right?
or maybe even your sleep paralysis?
but you see no creature staring at you, you're alone in this dark place.
you can't even fully make out where exactly you are.
surrounded in complete darkness and fog.
it's slightly white, but it also has this rather weird shade of dark green, making it seem mosty.
you finally feel like you're able to breathe freely again.
as if she let go of you, like someone let go of your neck.
you move slowly, your arms spread wide so you don't run into anything.
or anyone.
but you stand still when you see a door, light peeking out of the slots.
you decide now is your chance.
so you run to the door, nothing holding you back as the door gets closer.
you stop running and stand right in front of it, hand reaching for the doorknob.
it's cold, made out of metal, but something is stopping you from opening it.
you try to move your hand, only one small movement and the door would be able to open.
you feel that cold shiver run down your spine again.
someone's hand is on your shoulder. her grip is not tight, but so strong that you can't move.
exactly when you were ready to escape her, she's next to you.
she's back in the moment you're ready to leave after all this time.
you can't even turn around to look her in the eyes, only able to stare at your shaky hand which is gripping the doorknob.
“what are you doing-” it's quiet, high pitched and out of breath. you ask yourself if she even heard it, but your question is answered faster than you can even finish thinking about it.
“stay” she whispers in your ear, not a question, not a statement - she's ordering you to stay.
she has this power over you that makes you listen to everything she says.
the free spirited person you used to be is gone when you're with her.
as if she'd tie you up, making you unable to move.
“please” you beg her, the skin on your hand is already a slight shade of blue from the cold.
you know begging her doesn't help. it won't change anything on her decision.
if it's begging her to stay or other things.
you're back to your helpless trance, so close to being free, but yet so far away.
the air gets tighter again.
your breath stocks, trying to breathe normally.
and when you open your mouth again, no sound leaves your lips.
Warnings: violence, gore, heavy themes, spoilers for OG Obey Me
🎵 dead girl dreaming - Ellise 🎵
Belphie holds up his hands, his eyes hollow as he watches, waiting for it.
“Just…please. Tell me where I can bring you.”
“Shut up.” Your hands tremble but you don’t lower the pistol. “This is your fucking fault. You did this.”
Your heart pounds, adrenaline crashing through you as the room around you starts to blur. Haven’t you been here before? How many times had you come back to this terrible night in June?
You don’t know anymore. All you’re certain of is your rage. He ruined it all. Everything you had wanted to say to him before feels so pointless now.
He takes a step closer tentatively, palms still raised in surrender. “Okay, you’re right. It’s my fau-”
“I loved you. Do you realize that?! You fucking idiot. You monster.”
You sniffle as you carefully wipe a tear from your cheek with your fingertip. He takes another step forward, holding out his hand for you to take.
You bring your grip firmly back to your weapon, readying yourself for the kickback.
“Will you feel it?” You ask, your voice low and cold.
“Yes.” He looks into your eyes sadly, lovingly.
“Good.”
You wake up late to a text from Mammon. You blink your deep sleep away and squint at the bright screen as you read his message.
“WAKE UP, TREASURE. Halloween store opens in 20 minutes. Gotta get there before all the last minute shoppers.😤”
You reply “Ready in 5” but still take an extra minute trying to find the motivation to get out of bed.
You rub your hands over your face, feeling like shit. You hear Asmo’s voice in your mind telling you to drink water.
Dehydrated, caffeinated, and exhausted has been your default state for the past few weeks. Or is it months?
You slip on your favorite sweater and jeans, nothing fancy. Your hair is messy as usual, but you decide that’s okay and just throw on your favorite old hat. You’ll have time to get properly ready later before movie night.
Sure enough, you hear Mammon’s voice outside your door.
“Oi, ya ready? Let’s goooooooooo-“
You open the door quickly, cutting him off.
“Alright, alright, keep your pants on. I’m ready.”
He blushes and puts his hands in his pockets. “‘Bout time… let’s go.”
You head down to the entryway and slide on your coat and sneakers. Mammon holds the door open for you as you walk out.
“Do ya need some breakfast or something?”
“Nah, I’m good.” You reply quickly. He squints at you for a moment, but doesn’t push the issue.
It’s a gray, hazy morning, exactly as spooky as it should be on Halloween weekend.
You step on fallen leaves on the sidewalk as you make your way to the costume shop.
“So…what’re ya gonna be? For your costume I mean...” He asks, watching you lazily crunching from leaf to leaf.
“Hm, I don’t know yet. If we’re going to be chilling at home it’s got to be comfortable, you know?” You pause, wondering what everyone else is going to wear. “Hey, do you know which movie Asmo picked?”
“Eh some artsy horror movie I’ve never heard of. I dunno.” He kicks a pinecone.
You watch it roll across the street and land pathetically in a puddle.
“I hope it’s not a slasher…”
“Why, you scared?” Mammon asks, clearly thrilled at the prospect of teasing you.
“I mean, yeah. Murderers are scary. Sue me.” Your flat, matter-of-fact tone takes the wind out of his sails.
“Well…you can always hide behind The Great Mammon. Ya got nothin’ to fear when you’re with me.” He puffs out his chest and puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in so close it knocks you off balance.
“Oops. Sorry. You humans are so fragile. Can’t imagine...”
As you walk up to the shop, you suddenly aren’t sure you want to go in. The whole front window is decorated for Halloween. Gigantic spiders claim the corners, each one accompanied by a swarm of skittering babies.
Chains dangle from the ceiling, bearing skeletons and desiccated body parts so realistic you find yourself worrying none of it is fake. Mammon pulls you inside by the hand without a second thought.
The shop is packed with demons, all trying to find a last minute costume. You look around for anything that might fit you.
“Hey, they’ve got some stuff from the human world!” He pulls you to a little rack on the back wall of the shop. “This is your kinda stuff, right? You know this thing?” He holds up a Spider-Man morph suit.
“Yeah, I know him.” You laugh. “You’d look great in that, I bet.”
“That settles it then. I’m being this thing.” He holds it up to his chest, making sure it’s the right size. “What is it, anyway?”
“Spider-Man. He’s a superhero. A good guy.”
“Oh yeah? Well…I guess I can pretend to be a good guy. Just this once.”
“Okay, Mams.” You smile and roll your eyes, looking through the rest of the human world merchandise.
It’s pretty picked over, but you do find a Freddy Krueger costume just like the one you wore years ago back before you ever came to the Devildom. “I think I’m gonna be this one.”
Mammon takes a look at it over your shoulder. “Does he go with Spider-Man? I was thinkin’ maybe we could match. Like…a couple’s thing, or whatever…”
He looks down with his brows furrowed and playfully kicks his shoe into yours.
Your heart melts a little.
“Yeah, they definitely go together.”
Back at the house, you’re helping Levi put the finishing touches on the decorations in the living room. The only thing left to do is hang the mummified bats from the ceiling.
“Levi, can you give me a boost?” You look back over your shoulder at him. Even reaching as high as you can, the little ladder doesn’t get you tall enough.
His eyes go wide as he scans your figure for somewhere non-embarrassing to grip. “Um…I’ll just do it. You can go get your costume on, okay?”
“Oh okay. Thanks, Levi.”
You hurry off, feeling a rare-of-late spark of excitement. As you round the corner into the hall, you nearly slam into Belphie.
You apologize softly, flustered and immediately feeling like a moron. He gives a low grunt in reply and pushes past you.
Your good mood passes as quickly as it came.
After you got your costume on, Asmo showed up to your room dressed as a French maid for his daily doing-your-makeup session. You sit with your eyes closed, a pillow in your lap and a comfortable silence between the two of you.
“You’re so gorgeous, hon…” He praises your softly. You after all this time you’re starting to believe him when he says things like that.
“Thank you... Hey, um… is Belphie going to watch the movie with us?” You ask as he works his magic, gently dusting your brow bone with pearlescent highlighter.
“I think so. He and Beel were talking about costumes earlier. Why?” He raises an eyebrow as he asks. He knows there’s some serious unfinished business between the two of you.
“I ran into him in the hall earlier…Asmo, he still won’t speak to me.”
“Well…I’m sure he’s working through some guilt. Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He strokes your cheek gently and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“If I didn’t do anything wrong why does he act like this? I just want to move on. Why can’t he just…be over it? I’m over it.”
You open your eyes to see Asmo giving you a doubtful look.
“I am.” You repeat sternly.
“Okay, honey.” He presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. “Your makeup’s finished. Let’s head downstairs.”
You and Asmo snuggle up together on the couch as the rest of the brothers make their way to the living room.
Spider-Mammon saunters in and immediately cozies up next to you, pulling you away from Asmo.
Levi’s on the floor in his Azuki-Tan onesie next to Satan who’s wearing some cat ears he claims to have purchased just for this occasion.
Beel and Belphie are two white sheet ghosts with holes cut for their eyes haunting the couch on the other side of the room.
Even Lucifer conceded and put on a cowboy hat after receiving a seven-person chorus of boos for not having a costume.
About twenty minutes into the movie, Mammon has already started jumping and twitching at every little bit of action.
“It’s okay, Freddy Krueger’s got you.” You whisper, taking his hand in your claw.
He tells you to shut up under his breath.
The movie is an odd creature-feature. It’s unpredictable, theatrical, and just the right amount of creepy. You’re genuinely enjoying it - until one scene.
The monster has a habit of becoming obsessed with its victims. After being chosen by the beast, one of the characters is captured in a brutal embrace and squeezed to death in a slow, gruesome feat of cinematic practical effects.
You go cold as you watch her struggle to break free from his grasp, hearing her scream as her bones snap.
An unnatural stillness falls over everyone in the room. You barely notice Mammon squeeze your hand, side-eyeing you with concern.
You tune out completely. The movie continues in front of you, but none of it registers. No one is looking your way except Mammon, but you feel as if everyone is staring at you.
You stand abruptly and rush out of the room. Mammon springs up and follows close behind you.
You start making your way to the bathroom, desperate to get yourself alone for a moment, but he grabs your hand trying to stop you.
“Hey, you’re okay-“ He starts to reassure you, but you pull your hand away and continue your mad dash to privacy.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be fine, dammit. It’s okay to-“
“Mammon just go back out there, I’ll be right back.”
The door clicks shut behind you. You deflate and close your eyes, finally able to breathe.
You take a moment. You look in the mirror. You wish you could disappear.
Your heart gradually calms down and the embarrassment creeps in. How long can you hide in here before you can’t reasonably walk back out there and pretend to be fine?
You take a deep breath, fix your hair, and open the door. Mammon is leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looks up at you, clearly holding back whatever it is he wants to say.
“I’m good. Let’s go back.”
You steel your nerves, feeling ready to show your face. You’re fine, totally fine.
Back in the living room, the movie is still playing. Immediately, your heart sinks. There’s only one sheet ghost sitting on the far couch.
Belphie’s gone.
You feel his absence like a hole in your heart. You were all together, and now it’s ruined. It was back to normal, and now it’s broken again because you couldn’t keep your shit together.
Mammon and Asmo hold you close for the rest of the movie, but you can’t follow any of the plot.
It all passes in a daze and before you know it, you’re washing your face and getting into bed.
You lay there, staring at the wall, realizing just how badly the evening went.
It’s all your fault.
Your mind tires itself out and you fall asleep.
You feel it. You know where you are.
The clock ticks, cutting the silence. The low light dances down the curtains hanging from the ceiling. You smell the dust.
You’re in the attic.
He’s there in front of you, arms out.
He’s how you remember, but worse. He’s off somehow. He’s wrong. You try to speak but you fail. You try to turn and run, but you can’t move. He’s coming closer.
You can’t breathe. You can’t think.
And then it stops.
Belphie calmly walks up to the wrong version of himself, reaches out, and touches its shoulder.
It blows away, just a puff of smoke.
He leans down, setting a handgun on the floor and sliding it your way. He takes a few steps back, his hands held up in surrender.
“Where can I bring you?” He asks plainly.
You look down to the gun at your feet then back up at him, horrified and trying to comprehend what you’re seeing.
“B-Belphie…? It’s you, right? Really you?”
“Yeah. You’re fine. You’re dreaming. Where can I bring you? The aquarium when you were a kid? Your old art classroom?” He looks at you blankly, palms still up.
You’re speechless for a moment. “How do you… why did you give me a gun?”
“You calm down faster if you’ve got it.”
You look at him in sudden mortified understanding. “How many times have we been here?”
“Don’t ask.” He shakes his head.
“It’s been a little while since the last time, I’ll say that much.”
You point a trembling finger at the gun. “Do I…” You swallow, struggling to continue.
“Have I used that?”
He nods.
“On you?”
The defeat in his eyes gives you your answer.
You take a shaky step backward.
“Belphie…I’m sor-“
“If you’re not going to tell me where to bring you I’m just going to take you to your grandparents house. That’s the best one, anyway…”
You feel the room de-materializing around you. He’s sending you.
“Belphie, how many times?”
He comes closer to you, looking into your eyes, speaking softly.
“I won’t let you relive what I did.”
You see the familiar kitchen from your childhood forming in your periphery.
“Belphie, let me remember. We can fix it, just let me remember, okay?” You beg, your voice breaking.
You feel yourself forgetting, wondering what’s for dinner, and if you can go play outside. Over the sound of plates and cutlery, the hum of the tv, you hear a faint voice.
