First off! Note. Basically a little over a month ago, my faithful laptop of four years finally died. I've been working on a replacement and I should have one by the end of the week. Crossing my fingers on that one. Anyway, it means that a whole shitton of my wips are out of access and also that a weird habit of mine has come in to play! I really do not like writing fic on computers that do not belong to me. This is why I'm not doing Shiritori right now and also why I haven't been posting anything here for ages. But the urge is strong with this one and so I finally sucked it up and wrote this out because my fingers are twitching so badly and this has been playing through my head for ages now. Don't expect much else until I get my own computer back though. Anyway. Just an FYI.
The demons had won
MA/TB - Yara/Yamamoto
452 words, R, AU (warning: descriptions of torture)
Yara doesn't know how long he's been on that rack.
This has been on my mind for eons, but was written in sprint inspiration while listening to
this (disclaimer: this was not conceived because of SPN.) This can actually be read as an alternate reality to the
Starchild!AU timeline.
They has kept Yara on the rack for what felt like years. There was no night and day to help him and so he'd fallen into a dizzying chain of pain and unconsciousness, to be repeated at random. So Yara didn't know how long he had been in that room.
It hadn't taken long for them to grow tired of his silence, in the prison cells and the interrogation rooms. So they had taken things into their own hands. His screams weren't enough though. They needed more.
The pungent stench of damnation suffocated him as they came in again. But it was different this time. They were gleeful. Pleased.
"We found him," they whispered as they slid a forked tongue over Yara's left ear. "One of your friends... cracked. Quite a bit."
He had failed. Everything had been for naught. They had found Ryouta.
A part of Yara wondered who it had been. They all looked out for each other, but this... this place twisted all of that. Nothing could last forever.
Yara closed his eyes, wishing that they'd hurt him hard enough for him to black out and escape. They were too clever for that. They liked keeping him there, watching him struggle against their every pinch, twist, stab, wrench.
"We're going to repay you now," they said, blade now where their tongue had been. Drip, drip, drip went the blood. "You fought us and you thought you would win. This is for your hubris."
"Because he thinks he's in here because of you."
For all his control, Yara started at that, a protest on his lips, a denial. Yamamoto would never believe that.
They laughed at him for that, and their session of pain was exquisite. Yara's throat was raw and bleeding by the time they left.
After the black came to him, they put him back together for the next time.
"He cries for you," they told him this time, tender and cruel as they skinned his chest. "He begs for you to come for him. It's so... precious. He wants to trust you."
And the next time.
"Oh, how he screams," they said. Yara can't speak, for they've sown his lips shut, but he wants to scream at them to stop. Anything, anything but this. "He screams and he curses you and then he takes it all back. But oh, the screaming. If only you knew."
And the next time.
"He breaks so beautifully," they said, and Yara finally weeps. "Did you ever think about it, pulling him apart, down to the very last scrap?"
And the next time was different. They didn't come for him.
Instead, Yamamoto stood over him.
And he knew the demons had won.