"Nothing fucks with my baby" with Dmi and Zeke? đź‘€
Ratings: M
Warnings: Blood, Torture, Violence, Pissed Off Demon Boyfriend
Pairing: Ezekiel Raines x Dmitry Voronin
Notes: Dmitry belongs to the amazing and wonderful @viciousdeliciousv3
“Now, we’ll try this again. Tell us his weaknesses.”
Zeke laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. His wrists were cuffed in iron and chained above his head, his toes barely touching the cold stone floor. It was hard to breathe and the room was hazy with smoke from the many candles placed around it. He was aching and sore, covered in bruises and cuts. He was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was broken, with how much it hurt when he inhaled. The worst of all, though, was that the skin on his wrists was charred black from his bonds.
“Well?” the man snapped, his hand harshly grabbing Zeke by the chin as he forced him to look up at him. He was tall and broad, with long red hair and dead blue eyes. So full of rage and hurt that they’d just stopped feeling. He almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
“He doesn’t have one,” Zeke said flatly. “Even if he did, do you really think he’d tell anyone? He’s not stupid, which is more than I can say for my present company.”
Zeke saw the man’s arm draw back and did his best to relax his muscles, knowing it’d minimize the damage. But doing that on command when he knew pain was coming? Well, that was easier said than done.
The man’s fist collided with his cheek and Zeke’s head snapped to the side hard. He let out a soft groan of pain. The fucker really knew how to throw a punch at the very least.
“Little shit,” the man spat. “You just never shut up, do you?”
Zeke laughed, a hard and sharp edge to it this time, inky black blood trickling out of his mouth, “Oh, they really didn’t tell you about me, did they?”
The man simply glared at him in response, turning to mess with the rather nasty looking tools assembled on the nearby table, so Zeke continued.
“You know, maybe we should get to know each other a little better. Have a chat. I mean, we both know you’re going to kill me in the end. So why not get some things off your chest? It’s not like I can tell anyone.”
The man stayed silent, picking up a nasty looking iron knife and examined its edge.
Zeke took a deep breath to steady himself, the burning in his wrists reminding him exactly what iron would do to him. He already felt heavy, weak, drained. Disconnected from everything. He couldn’t feel life anywhere, and it was maddening. He needed to keep up his charade though, had to, wouldn’t let them see him weak. He’d had enough of that in his life.
Giving himself more time to plan an escape would be nice too, of course.
He licked his bloodied lips, “Maybe we could talk about how angry and removed you are. You didn’t get much emotional support as a child, did you?”
The man slowly turned to face him and he knew he’d hit the mark. “You’re pretty obviously a professional and you stand like ex-military. Dad was too, wasn’t he? Never home and you could never please him, no matter how hard you tried. And fuck, did you try. Never could please your old man though, never were good enough…”
“Shut the fuck up,” the man hissed, striding across the room with the fast, jerky movements of someone holding in far more anger than they were showing.
He pressed the knife under Zeke’s chin, tilting his head up and smirking at the way smoke rose the moment iron touched the faerie’s skin, “You think you’re just so fucking clever, don’t you?”
Zeke forced a lazy smirk through the sizzling, nauseating pain, arching an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side, away from the blade, “Oh boy, they really didn’t tell you about me.”
The man paused, frowning, “What?”
“Knives…” Zeke laughed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Knives turn me on, asshole.”
The kidnapper considered him for a moment, then pulled the blade away from the faerie’s chin. A dark smirk slid over his face like oil over stale water, and Zeke’s eyes went wide with horror. Then…
Pain.
Metal so cold it burned, sliding between his ribs.
Smoke rolled out of the wound and the cold of the iron seeped into his blood, making his entire body scream. A hollow feeling swept over him and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he wasn’t breathing normally, dizziness overtaking him as his vision went fuzzy around the edges.
“Do knives still turn you on now, smartass?” the man hissed out, a gleeful grin on his face.
Zeke opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound he managed to make was a muffled groan. His mind was a mess, and on some level he knew he was going into shock, but he couldn’t plan. The only thing he could think of was a demon lord in his empty manse, and it broke his heart.
“Now,” the man hissed. “I’m going to go get the healer and they’ll patch you right up. And then… We can keep doing this until you tell me the truth. As long as it takes.”
Zeke’s vision flickered for a moment and he shook his head to clear it. It took him a moment to realize it was the candles, the flames nearly going out then flaring back to life in a mad frenzy. Shadows danced with wild abandon, somehow seeming to grow even darker. Denser. Deeper.
The kidnapper slowly pulled the blade out and turned to survey the room, brow furrowing in confusion. The candles stilled, but the eerie darkness remained. Hunched over them like a brooding beast.
“What the hell was that?” the man hissed, and Zeke could see the fear in his eyes.
Zeke smiled a sharp smile, sharp as broken glass, as the thick metal door shook. There was only one thing he’d ever seen that could pull off something like that.
“Oh, you are so fucked.”
The door flew inward, tearing from its reinforced hinges and slamming into the far wall with enough force to crack the stone.
In the doorway was a deep, black shadow. Darker than anything else around it, it stayed there for a moment, perfectly still.
Then it lifted its head, making it obvious that it had been a figure all along. It was shaped vaguely like a man with curving horns and graceful claws, everything about him brutally elegant, a mixture of opposites. The stillness of his form amongst the moving shadows, the sheer amount of power held in a form that didn’t seem quite substantial. Something shifted behind him and Zeke was sure he could make out a pair of black wings. Raven wings.
His Raven King.
Brilliant gold eyes met Zeke’s, the only color in the shifting darkness. The shadows gathered around the demon, and Zeke saw them slowly take shape. They twisted themselves into the forms of hands, hands that flexed languidly and grew wickedly sharp claws.
His kidnapper trembled where he’d fled, pressed back against the wall so hard that he looked as if he was trying to phase through it. Somehow, he was still holding onto the iron knife.
The one that was coated with Zeke’s black blood.
The demon turned sharply towards the man and stalked towards him. When he tried to raise his knife in a shaking hand, a shadow wrapped around his hand and crushed it with a sickening crunch. The man let out a broken cry and Zeke watched through a pained haze. He watched as the shadow hands lifted the man off the floor, slamming him back against the wall.
They held him there, restraining him, and Zeke could see the helplessness in his eyes. The pleading. The desperation. All of the things that he himself had experienced over the past few days. Even as foggy as his mind was, he could only think one thing:
Good.
He deserved it, with all he’d done, with all the pain he’d caused. Not only to him, but doubtlessly to many, many people before him.
The demon pressed his face in close to the man’s, breathing black smoke into his face from between dangerously pointed fangs. Fierce gold eyes watched as claws tore into him, slowly at first, then faster.
Tearing flesh, cracking bone.
Blood splattered the walls as the man screamed, then went silent, but the demon just kept going. He tore the man apart with his bare hands, slashing and cutting and carving and breaking until nothing was left.
And like that, in less than a minute, nothing was left of his tormentor but a bloody pile that looked nothing like a human.
Zeke watched silently as the demon allowed the hands to fade back into harmless shadow. He turned and made his way over to him, considering him in his bonds. His eyes had been so full of fire before, but now they just looked sad. Shattered, seeing him like this.
The demon seemed almost afraid to touch him, leaning his head in close but not touching him. Like he was worried Zeke wouldn’t want him near him with what he’d seen.
Zeke felt something in him break, his voice soft as he spoke one word without fear, “Dmi?”
Dmi looked at him, but still didn’t touch him.
“Dmi,” Zeke repeated softly, tilting his head enough that his forehead brushed the demon’s.
His lover’s restraint snapped then and his clawed hands carefully cradled Zeke’s face, nuzzling him gently.
Zeke let out a soft noise of relief as the shadows easily sliced through the iron cuffs on his wrists. It felt so good to be free that he didn’t even realize he was falling until he found himself in the demon’s arms.
He wasted no time in burying his face in the demon’s neck, body too weak and sore to allow him to do much else. He stayed there for a long moment, silent as tears began to run down his face.
Fuck, how did Dmi always manage to make him feel so safe?
He felt warm for the first time in days, even as he sobbed softly into his lover’s shoulder. He didn’t even have the strength to lift his agonizingly sore arms to properly embrace him, which only made him cry more. Rage, terror, hopelessness, frustration, and plenty of other emotions Zeke wasn’t even sure he had a name for came pouring out of him. He was just ready to go home.
Zeke hardly even noticed the shadows has they slowly evaporated from Dmi’s skin. They were dissipating rather quickly, and some part of him knew that was a good thing.
Wasn’t it?
He wasn’t so sure. Things were going so…
Cloudy. Hazy.
Numb.
His body sagged in Dmi’s arms as a heavy darkness blanketed itself over him. He heard…
Echoing. Frantic.
“Zeke? No no no no. Wake up.”
He felt himself being shaken gently, felt ever-warm hands on his face. The last thing he saw was panicked gold eyes, pleading.
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Hey uhh so it appears im in a mood™ tonight and i thought of an AU: Ophaniel and Narcissus childhood friends regency (?) AU where Narcissus's family is somewhat at the service of Ophaniel's and they meet and boom 👀 they're friends but then they can't be because Ophaniel's parents are assholes so they gotta meet in secret (Narcissus' siblings help) and then 👀 oh no feelings
OH MY G O D!!!!
Tiny Ophaniel wanting to befriend tiny Narcissus, being like “ohh is this what friendship feels like???” And assholes parents aaaaaaaaaaaaa YES
Juuude pls gimme that Icari "I love you" pls I die
They’d both been gone for a while now.
Uri had his own matters to attend back in Aurea, and Icarus, well... he was still himself, never able to stay at the same place for too long. It was only natural that they’d be separated for some time, and Uri knew that. He knew, and still, it bothered him.
Every time he had to let Icarus go, it felt like a part of himself went with him. Everything seemed colder, drearier, unwelcoming without him around. The first days were the toughest. Uri found himself laying down, sprawled over his bed, missing the presence of the man that often laid next to him, asleep, safe and sound.Â
This wasn’t one of the first days. No, in fact, they hadn’t been able to see eachother in months. Uri had just gotten back home, mind occupied with a million things as he took off his shoes and laid on the couch for a few moments. That was what he intended to do at first, at least, if he hadn’t been rather startled by a loud thud in the kitchen.
Uri hurried to look, and to his surprise, what he found was Icarus, near a quite clearly broken window.Â
“Hello there, soldier boy.”
“What happened?!”Â
Icarus laughed, and by god, Uri missed hearing him laugh. Even if it was as simple as this. “I see you haven’t changed in the last months. It’s good to see you again.”
“W-well, yes, I am glad to see you, but why are you in my kitchen, and why is the window broken?” He stuttered, a bit too surprised over everything to make much sense. Uri sighed lightly, and crouched to help the man stand.Â
“I heard someone come in, and I didn’t know who it could be.” Icarus shrugged his shoulders, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Before Uri had the chance to say a word, however, he pulled him in for a kiss.
In the intention, it should have been a quick peck, but by now, Icarus knew Uri wouldn’t let that happen, as he took no time before cupping the man’s cheek and pulling him closer and closer. The older Iskandar felt his heart race, and his grip on Uri’s hair tighten, their lips missing the warmth of eachother so much.
“I missed you.” Uri murmured, still so close he felt as if he were whispering into the man’s lips. Icarus grinned, eyes still closed.Â
“I missed you, too.” He sighed, thumb brushing over the soldier’s cheek. His skin felt warm, as it always did. He pressed another kiss to the Aurean’s lips, who gladly returned that.
“I love you.” A hoarse whisper escaped from Uri’s kiss reddened lips. In any other situation, the words may have caught Icarus off guard, or made him hesitate.Â
But this time, for once, he knew with absolute certainty what to say in return.
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