Addicted to the knife
Title: She needs a little help from the agony
Rating: Unsafe themes
Series: Crucible-verse
Characters: Vergil, Aerith Gainsborough
Notes: Was originally done for a prompt from the kink meme, and it took on a life of its own. No smut.
"No! I don't want it! I DON'T WANT IT!" Aerith screamed, jerking and writhing against her restraints that held her to the bed. She was sobbing brokenly, spine taut and muscles straining as she pulled to free herself, but even with her unnatural bursts of strength, the leather straps held fast.
"Calm down." Vergil's voice was cold and commanding, blue eyes icy and unrelenting as he plugged the glass vial into the needle gun. Aerith's thrashing grew weaker as she cried, twisting her hands to try and pull one free.
"Don't want the poison. No, Vergil..." She was hysterical, a dangerous state of mind for someone whose grip on reality was weak at best. Whenever she arched against the straps, all her bones seemed to jut out, pressing against her pale skin in a horrifying display of anatomy. He took her by the chin and forced her to look at him, his grip on her jaw firm but not painful.
"Calm down. It's going to help you." Whatever she saw in his face, he never knew, but she collapsed into herself with a fading whimper, knowing that he wouldn't let her go until this was over. The whimpering grew louder when the cold metal of the gun slid across her skin, and she sobbed when the sudden bite of the needle struck. From there, Vergil stepped back to watch as Aerith fought against the drug, tendons and veins popping as she struggled, then slowly sank back into the mattress until she was breathing normally, and her heart slowed to a healthier pace.
He set the gun aside, waiting until he was sure she was under the effects of the Zydrate before unbuckling her. Slipping a hand beneath her head, he lifted her gently until she was sitting up. It was a shock when her eyes opened and fixed on his face.
"Vergil, what did you give me?" She sounded confused, her voice soft and sleepy. But purely and unmistakably clear, without the deranged detachment he had known her for.
"Some medicine, Oracle." He watched on as she looked at him, lifting a hand to touch his face, her fingers exploring the curves of his eyesocket and cheekbone.
"Aerith." Her fingers trailed over his lips and jaw before her hand slowly dropped to her lap. "My name is Aerith. Thank you, Vergil." And for the first time, she smiled at him. Whatever he'd given her had quieted the noise enough for her to really hear herself, the broken pieces pulling themselves together in a cohesive sense of near-normalcy. For the first time in a long time, Aerith fell asleep in Vergil's arms and slept without nightmares. No night terrors or broken screams, no outbursts of magic. Just the sweet far-off call of pleasant dreams.
Rating: Unsafe themes
Series: Crucible-verse
Characters: Vergil, Aerith Gainsborough
Notes: Was originally done for a prompt from the kink meme, and it took on a life of its own. No smut.
"No! I don't want it! I DON'T WANT IT!" Aerith screamed, jerking and writhing against her restraints that held her to the bed. She was sobbing brokenly, spine taut and muscles straining as she pulled to free herself, but even with her unnatural bursts of strength, the leather straps held fast.
"Calm down." Vergil's voice was cold and commanding, blue eyes icy and unrelenting as he plugged the glass vial into the needle gun. Aerith's thrashing grew weaker as she cried, twisting her hands to try and pull one free.
"Don't want the poison. No, Vergil..." She was hysterical, a dangerous state of mind for someone whose grip on reality was weak at best. Whenever she arched against the straps, all her bones seemed to jut out, pressing against her pale skin in a horrifying display of anatomy. He took her by the chin and forced her to look at him, his grip on her jaw firm but not painful.
"Calm down. It's going to help you." Whatever she saw in his face, he never knew, but she collapsed into herself with a fading whimper, knowing that he wouldn't let her go until this was over. The whimpering grew louder when the cold metal of the gun slid across her skin, and she sobbed when the sudden bite of the needle struck. From there, Vergil stepped back to watch as Aerith fought against the drug, tendons and veins popping as she struggled, then slowly sank back into the mattress until she was breathing normally, and her heart slowed to a healthier pace.
He set the gun aside, waiting until he was sure she was under the effects of the Zydrate before unbuckling her. Slipping a hand beneath her head, he lifted her gently until she was sitting up. It was a shock when her eyes opened and fixed on his face.
"Vergil, what did you give me?" She sounded confused, her voice soft and sleepy. But purely and unmistakably clear, without the deranged detachment he had known her for.
"Some medicine, Oracle." He watched on as she looked at him, lifting a hand to touch his face, her fingers exploring the curves of his eyesocket and cheekbone.
"Aerith." Her fingers trailed over his lips and jaw before her hand slowly dropped to her lap. "My name is Aerith. Thank you, Vergil." And for the first time, she smiled at him. Whatever he'd given her had quieted the noise enough for her to really hear herself, the broken pieces pulling themselves together in a cohesive sense of near-normalcy. For the first time in a long time, Aerith fell asleep in Vergil's arms and slept without nightmares. No night terrors or broken screams, no outbursts of magic. Just the sweet far-off call of pleasant dreams.