#YELLING AT THE CRUEL MISTRESS FATE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captain039 · 9 months

Text

PART 3 Big bear

Halsin x reader

Warnings: AOB, feelings, tav insert, Angst, trauma, abuse, sexual abuse, hurt/comfort

Previous part <-

You awoken in a horrible state, your body didn’t move and you felt paralysed. Sighing you just laid their memory’s coming back from yesterday. Gods you felt horrible, Halsin didn’t deserve your anger and now he was gone. You heard footsteps outside your tent and heard Tavs voice.

“Hey you ok? Do you need anything from the market?” They called.

“I need a healer” you said and they suddenly opened your tent worry in their face.

“What’s happened? Are you hurt?” They asked worried as they knelt by you.

“I don’t know” you muttered and they just nodded.

“Ok, can you walk?” They asked and you shook your head.

“Karlach!” They yelled and the teifling came running.

“Oh gods, what’s happened?” She asked quickly.

“We need to get her to a healer now” Tav said and Karlach nodded. She helped you up easily and carried you. You felt stupid, but her warmth was comforting as she took you to the towns healer.

You laid down in the bed staring at the ceiling as the mage nearby talked with the healer.

“It’s the suppressors I’m afraid” the healer said sighing and you tensed.

“I can’t not take them!” You snapped thankful the others weren’t here. You’d told them to leave and you’d be back by night. Gods these cursed things, curse being an omega.

“Please sir you can’t-“ you froze seeing someone familiar, Halsin.

“What happened?” He asked worried ignoring the poor dwarf behind him.

“Nothing” you quickly said as the healer went to speak. She huffed at you annoyed making you flush a bit, she wasn’t having your attitude.

“Is she your omega?” The healer huffed standing up.

“My-? No” Halsin had reddened cheeks as he shook his head.

“It’s nothing Halsin, please just go I said I’d be back at night” you sat up with the strength you could muster.

“Lady give me strength” the healer muttered pinching the bridge of her nose.

“The suppressors are ruining her body, they’re attacking her muscles, they’re going to kill her!” the healer turned to you raising her eyebrows as you looked away to the floor.

“Kill her?” Halsin muttered in shock.

“Yes! Slap some sense into her for all I care! Just, she cannot continue like this” the healer said sighing as she left with the mage. You laid back down on the bed not so gracefully and felt tears in your eyes. You can’t be an omega. Halsin was processing the information before he sat down in the bed nearby. You rolled over so your back was facing him, you’d be happy to die here if you were honest. You trembled a little trying to force those memory’s away.

Your father was the first to show you how cruel the world could be to an omega. He’d beat you, leave you in the basement for weeks, denied you food, water and baths. Your mother shared your fate of beatings, being an omega herself. When you escaped you found yourself suddenly forced into a pleasure house. A woman one of the workers found you, said she could offer you a good life in exchange for your body. You were too young to know what truely meant, you figured nobody would want your body seeing how you looked. The head mistress fed you and bathed you till you were a sparkling prize, then came the sternness. She’d force you in revealing robes and made you dance on stage. You’d get disgusting looks and aroused smells. The first time a man, an alpha took you to bed you panicked, punched him onto the floor and fled into the night. The mistress sent forces after you, all alphas again, seeking to use your rank against you. It worked, but the alphas had other ideas, they used you in the alley way, laughing as they tore your robes and touched you. An elderly woman had turned them into rats and squished each one under her heal. She tsked helping you up and healing you with magic.

“Come dear”

Her voice had been so kind, she had no smell either and nobody dared look at her. She lived in a hut outside the village, she fed you and bathed you, you were skeptical, a little afraid to leave. She raised you back up, told you how cruel this world was and cruel how alphas truly were. She gave you a suppressor, it took the omega away, you were nothing, yet everything. You didn’t know what the evil glint in her eyes meant though. She sent you into the city brining curses into alphas, you killed fifteen before Tav had found you after a prickly fight. The group had been shocked by the scene, the man’s guts were practically across the floor, his head on the other side of the room, you were covered in blood also.

“I think we should leave” an alpha in a purple robe spoke first your eyes snapping to his as he gulped. Most of the group was alphas, your sworn enemy.

“What happened?” Tav had asked you and you flinched at the kindness in their eyes like a switch flicked on in your mind.

“I don’t think this was truely her” the alpha teifling had said her eyes sad.

“Gale?” Tav had asked the purple robe man who nodded muttering a spell. Something left your body and panic flooded in. You stared at the knives in your hand and threw them on the ground looking at what you’d done. You had fallen to your knees in too emotions to name as you cried. Tav was the first to approach hand on your shoulder, helping you up and giving you the first real hug you’d had in years.

That’s how you met the group and now you were here, lying in a bed to die. Maybe it was for the better, all those people you killed.

“Thought you’d be here” your whole body shivered at the voice of the elder.

“Who are you?” Halsin had demanded anger in his voice.

“Keeping company of them now?” She tsked as you sat up. She went to cast a spell on him, but he deflected it quickly.

“Don’t!” You snapped at her and she huffed rolling her eyes as she came closer.

“How did you find me?” You asked glancing to Halsin who was on edge.

“Please, think I’d forget you so easily, let you off my leash so easily?” She scoffed.

“When my spell was lifted I had someone follow you, waiting till you were down to this” she gestured to you with disgust.

“Now you need me again” she smirked.

“She doesn’t need you” Halsin spat.

“Oh but she does, lump of meat” she said crossing her arms.

“What is this anyway? A bed warmer?” She looked him up and down.

“A friend” you said quietly seeing Halsin glance to you slightly in shock, but held up his stern expression.

“Alphas aren’t friends” she huffed looking back to you.

“These suppressors aren’t working because they need my magic” she said and you froze.

“You’ve just been poisoning yourself really” she shrugged and your heart jumped.

“Only I can cure you” she smirked that same evil glint in her eyes.

“I can cure her” Halsin said and she laughed.

“You think so? Stupid alpha” she waved a hand throwing him back into the wall. He groaned, but quickly got up.

“Stop!” You yelled throwing a hold person on her. She looked surprised and scoffed breaking free easily.

“Learned tricks did we?” She cackled her body turning into a true hag. Nobody else in the healers house noticed like you were in a pocket of time. Halsin growled transforming into his bear form charging quickly.

“Halsin!” You yelled as he began to fight with the hag. You groaned trying will your energy, she sent a spell your way though and you were stuck to the bed. You could only watched in panic as she transformed into many and kept attacking Halsin. He was suffering under the many and you cried trying to break free. He snarled though going through her images before he suddenly had her on the ground. He changed into his human a dagger to her neck.

“You won’t have her” he sneered anger in his eyes as he slit her throat. She cried as she turned into a puddle of muck into the ground. He stood up healing himself as the stepped back and panted. Your bonds broke free and you groaned sitting up. Halsin was quick to be by your side again making sure you didn’t get up. You had tears down your face as he hushed you, kneeling in front of you and wiping your eyes. You cried out for a moment the other healers glancing but ignoring.

“What happened?” The elder healer asked.

“Not now” Halsin snapped and she flinched, but nodded going to tend to the mess, you’d never seen Halsin truly angry.

“Take a breath” he whispered as you struggled to breathe with your crying. His thumb stroked your cheek as you took a shaky breath and apologised.

“Don’t apologise” he shook his head and you sobbed quietly.

“I-“ you struggled with words as you saw the rest of your group.

“We heard ruckus, got worried” Karlach said looking to the puddle of flesh making a disgusted face.

“What happened?” Tav asked.

“I’ll tell you later” Halsin said briefly and they nodded.

“I just want to go back to camp” you finally found your voice and he nodded quickly standing. You went to stand on your own, but the alpha picked you up easily, holding you like a child. You tensed briefly, but he wasn’t going to make room for argument. You sagged against him arms going around his neck as you cried into your arm.

Next part ->

Taglist:

@aeryntheofficial

@vinithechocolatevampire

#Halsin x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #x reader #aob #alpha Halsin

193 notes · View notes

dedicatednotobsessed · 5 months

Text

The Mark of the Dragon [Aegon Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Summary: You grew up on the streets of Fleabottom for the majority of your life being orphaned at the young age of ten. Apart from your striking hair color, the only thing you inherited from your family was a birthmark on the back of your left shoulder blade. On the week of festivities to celebrate the King’s eldest, Aegon the Second, you end up encountering him. You help him forget about his duties of being Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne until one fateful night…. [AU based where Aegon was crowned heir instead of Rhaenyra].

Warnings in this chapter: Abduction; very, very brief mention of necrophilia; light groping.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Chapter II

Your face was pale, shivers erupting on your skin as you bolted upright in bed, your breath coming in heavy pants. You ran a hand through your silver hair while a slight frown tugged at your lips. It was that same dream.

The same dream plaguing your mind for many years caused you to wake well before the birds. You breathed to calm your beating heart before shaking your head.

“It is just a dream,” You mumbled, pulling back your blanket.

You let out another shaky breath, trying to push the dream to the dark corners of your mind while you grabbed your cloak once you were ready and headed out for another day of pickpocketing. The streets seemed even more crowded than they had been all week. Today must have been the big celebration for the eldest’s name day.

Your mind kept wandering back to that night with Aegon, a temptation in human form brought to you by the Gods, it seems. You knew rejecting him was the right decision in your heart, but your mind kept telling you what if. What if you had taken up his offer to bed him? Your mind was a cruel mistress at times, plaguing you with false hope of something that will never be.

Your eyes wandered around, trying to sense the most vulnerable to steal from. Often, it was easier to take from the wealthy through the art of seduction with men, especially being very susceptible; however, it was harder being in broad daylight and with bodies all around. You narrowed your gaze on a skinnier man with scraggly dark hair, his clothing telling you he was from the lower end of Fleabottom. Certainly not the kind of man you would take from, yet he seemed simple enough to fall for your charm.

“Excuse me, sir,” You called softly, clutching your cloak tighter as you approached him.

The man turned to look at you, a snarl coming onto his features. His face was similar to a rat’s, matching with dark beady eyes- a starved rat is more what he looked like. “Piss off,” He snapped, waving his hand at you.

“Please help me.” You pressed your chest against his to corner him up against the wall, flashing a look of pity. “I’m lost and need help finding Fortune’s Smile Inn.”

The man seemed frozen in place, his eyes wandering over your body before connecting with your violet-swirled eyes. His thin hands were shaky as he placed them on your waist, his mouth agape. Your brows knit in confusion by his actions, and you tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened, his strength surprising for a man of his size.

“You look like ‘im, you know,” He whispered, his voice hoarse.

“W-what?” Your voice quivered from the fear that was coursing through your veins as the man’s demeanor changed.

His lips quirked up into a smirk, his arms going fully around you, capturing you into an iron grasp. He chuckled when you tried to leave, hitting his chest. “You will do nicely, sweetling.” He hummed, reaching up, twirling a strand of your silver-like hair.

His eyes darted around as he tried to tug you down the alleyway, only to let out a shriek when you stomped down on his foot. “You fuckin’ cunt!” You heard him yelling, but his shouts became distant as your feet carried you down the alleyway that seemed to stretch for miles.

You glanced behind you to see if the man was chasing after you before you collided with someone, your eyes meeting that of a round man’s. His breathing was heavy as you clutched tight onto his vest.

“H-help me,” You whimpered out.

The man stumbled upon his words, his eyes focused on the valley of your breasts. “Bart!”

You glanced over, hearing the familiar voice, your eyes widening in fear at the rat-looking man. “Bart! Grab her!” He shouted.

Your body shook as you looked back up at the man called Bart. He offered you a smile that showed no more than ten yellowed teeth. “I betta’ listen to the boss man. We don’t want a pretty thing like you escaping now.”

“P-please.” You felt the tears springing in your eyes while the man reached for the club hanging on his belt.

“You won’t feel a thing,” Bart assured you before he raised the club above his head.

Vynce winced a bit, trying to catch his breath when he came to a stop in front of his partner, who was holding onto your unconscious body. He pulled down the shoulder of your dress, clicking his tongue at the sight of the birthmark.

“We need to be careful with this one.”

“Got it, boss.” Bart grunted, lifting your body over his shoulder and tossing you onto the floor of the covered wagon.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

As you came to, a small groan passed your lips, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around, taking in your surroundings. Many girls of various ages huddled together, tears glistening in their eyes.

“Where am I?” You grumbled, trying to sit up, but winced at the throbbing pain in your head.

“The poachers,” An older woman spoke up. “They’re taking us to an auction house where they will sell us to men who will do as they please before throwing us back into the streets of Fleabottom.”

“Or slit our throats and continue to fuck our corpse once we are dead like what they did to Anyette,” A younger girl piped up, causing a few of the others to wail out.

Your eyes flickered across the faces of each girl. Some were plumper, and some had as many wrinkles as their age. It was clear a few of them also had a run-in with the poachers previously. You braced yourself when the wagon suddenly stopped, a weight jumping down after a moment.

“Do not fight them,” The same elder whispered to you as the wagon curtain opened.

Your eyes connected with the rat man’s from earlier, who offered you a wide, sinister smirk. “Time to clean up, lovelies. We don’t want you lookin’ like pigs, now do we?”

The man- Vynce- began to pull each of you out individually while Bart peeled the dresses off each shaking girl’s body. The grubby man’s grip was tight around your waist, a hearty laugh passing his lips.

“Remember your manners, Bart,” Vynce said, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Vynny,” Bart whined as though he was a child who had their favorite toy taken away from them. “There ain’t nothing wrong with touching.” He licked his lips hungrily while he ripped the bodice of your dress, his eyes examining your breasts as your clothing fell to the floor.

You fought against Bart when he reached down, squeezing your left breast firmly. “Nothin’ wrong with that at all,” He whispered, beginning to lean down but letting out a howl when Vynce hit him upside the head.

“Do not spoil the wares,” Vynce warned, pushing Bart away and causing you to stumble. “Especially this one. She will go for a pretty gold piece. Now, you,” He snapped, turning his attention to you. “Finish cleaning up,” He instructed, pushing you to the wash basin.

You gripped onto the bowl, your reflection staring back at you. The violet tinges seemed dull like your fire was becoming snuffed out. Whatever predicament you find yourself in, no matter how difficult the situation might be, always remember to keep your fire blazing bright. No one has the right to put it out. Your father’s words rang out in your mind; he would always say them to you before he left you to provide for the both of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a deep breath. You tried to let your father’s words calm you even in this dark time, although it did little to help. Your hands were shaky as you picked up the dirtied cloth and dipped it into the bowl of ice-cold water. You glanced up at the pair of men- two predators watching over their prey.

“How many maidens did you count?” Vynce questioned Bart with furrowed brows.

“At least three, including ‘er,” Bart responded, nodding towards you. “Do you reckon he’s comin’?”

“He’s been comin’ for the last three moons. I am sure tonight would be no different.”

❈ ❈ ❈

You hugged your knees to your chest; the other two girls huddled together a ways away from you in an embrace. Vynce and Bart had left the three of you alone while leading the other captives onto the stage. The cheers of drunken men could be heard, muffled, from where you were sitting.

“D-do you believe they are going to set us free?” The younger girl asked through her sniffles.

“Do not be so daft, Ellya,” The older girl responded, her cheeks containing dried-up tears. “Perhaps they wanted us for themselves and their twisted desires.”

Your eyes lingered on the pair, a slight frown tugging at your lips. It seemed the younger one had not even hit her tenth name day. Both were too young to be at the mercy of the poachers. Your head snapped over when the door suddenly opened.

“We know how much you like them maidens, My Prince,” Vynce explained. “The kingsguard had been crackin’ down real hard as of late, but we were still able to get three of them for your picking.”

Your eyes connected with the familiar Prince’s violet ones, his brows furrowed while he looked over your state. Your body was shivering, and you could not tell if it was from how bare you were or the chills that Aegon had given you.

“My rose,” Aegon breathed out.

“What?” Vynce’s brows knit in confusion before he shook his head. “Three thousand gold dragons for that one or eight thousand for all three,” He explained.

Aegon snorted. “That is one steep price. Last time, it was only fifteen hundred for one.”

“As I mentioned, the maidens are harder to come by as of late,” Vynce stumbled upon his words, intimidated by the Prince.

“And this one is the prettiest we’ve seen in a long time.”

You yelped when Bart yanked you up by your hair, gasping as he roughly pushed you up against the brick wall, pinning you there with his round belly.

“Why is she three thousand?” Aegon asked with a cocked brow. “Does she have a golden cunt?”

Vynce clicked his tongue. “I am sure you know of her kind. We know you are not an imbecile, My Prince.”

“Not as much of an imbecile as you lot,” Aegon mumbled before he let out a sigh. “I only brought fifteen hundred with me because that is how much the other girls were.”

“If he does not want to pay the gold, I will just take her maidenhood here and now.” Bart laughed as he forced your legs to spread apart, one of his hands squeezing your bum. “Then I will slit her pretty little throat.”

You closed your eyes, whimpering as you felt his grimy hand sneak between your legs. “Wait!” You blew out a breath at the sound of Aegon’s voice and opened your eyes. You felt the tears stinging, but you refused to cry.

“Fifteen hundred gold dragons. It’s all I have on me, but I will give you the rest on the morrow,” Aegon said quickly offering Vynce the velvet pouch jingling with coins. “You know I am good about keeping my word.”

Vynce eyed the coin purse hungrily as he took it in his hands. He opened the purse, licking his lips at the sight of the gold. “Give ‘er to him,” He told Bart.

Bart scowled but did as he was told, roughly pushing you over to Aegon stumbling into his arms. Your gaze met his, feeling a few tears pool over your eyes. Aegon slowly took off his cloak, wrapping it around you and hugging you to his side.

“Let us get you someplace safe, my rose,” He whispered, leading you out.

❈ ❈ ❈

Tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @aleemendoza2425-blog || @clairacassidy || @fictionalcomforts || @ladybug0095 || @namelesslosers || @neenieweenie

55 notes · View notes

storytimewithnova · 8 months

Text

In another Life: Shona's Last Message

Here is a follow up story to fated soulmates though stars tissues maybe required

Semi finds Shona's dairy and reads its contents

Of its pages

Dear my star if you are reading this i guess that means i lost my fight not first time but definitely for the last

I hope you don't mind me taking you for a little trip down memory lane because let's face it we did things even my brothers don't know about

Semi giggled while sobbing and continued readjng

Shona:You know it's crazy, 'cause nights like this

Would start out with a little private party You sneak me in your mom's house

Semi: how could i forget our little parties I know I mighta spilled my drink, but Really wasn't tryin' to spill my heart out I mean it started as a conversation I was really tryin' to get my thoughts out But then we make moves and we make plans

Had the whole thing mapped out or at least you did

After Semi said what he said he kept reading Shona's dairy

Shona:See, you were gonna go to college And to pay for bills I'd figure the job out And you knew I had to say it, but them day's gone Now I moved on and you switched phones Hopefully reincarnation will bring us back to the place we belong

Semi: that was when i left Tokyo for Miyagi i left you then i that's when i heard from shirabu you had cancer it broke me knowing my soulmate my other half was dying

Semi said to himself more so to the dairy he read what shona put next

Shona: oh remember this my star Summer before high school when we first met again We hung out in your Mustang listening to K-pop bands And on my 18th birthday we got matching tattoos

Semi looked at his universe tattoo Shona had the stars tattoo because if semi was her star she was his universe

Semi: Used to steal my parents' liquor and climb to the roof Talk about our future like we had a clue

Never planned that one day, I'd be losing you

Back in Shona's dairy

Shona: In another life I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world

Semi said as if shona was there

Semi:In another life I would make you stay So I don't have to say You were the one that got away

The one that got away

Semi forced himself to keep reading the dairy and holding back his tears and continued to talk

Semi: you was my June and I were my Johnny Cash

Never one without the other we made a pact

Sometimes when I miss you I put those records on

As he read the dairy he wanted to to yell that is faulse information a lie who told you that why was Semi Eita getting angry well this was the next line

Shona:Someone said you had your tattoo removed

They Saw you downtown singing the blues Its time to face the music I'm no longer your muse

Semi: ight who is spreading lies its on sight

He continued to read

Shona: In another life I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world

Semi:In another life I would make you stay So I don't have to say You were the one that got away

The one that got away

Semi laughed bitterly although he didn't know why he was laughing and started saying

Semi:I'm falling for you like dominoes From the top of the hundredth floor Look out below Geronimo

Tryin' to get behind the closed doors to your soul

Why'd you have to end the show We had such a beautiful plot There was still more story to go

There was more to semi and Shona's story on fate is a cruel twist Mistress and delt Eita the worse hand possible where he will end up going crazy or doing something crazy maybe the latter

Semi:Now look, I'm not insinuating that You're some type of fair weather player But even if the whole world falls over I wouldn't be aware of a glacier

I just wanna see you wake up Doing your hair in the mirror with your makeup Then, maybe in the next lifetime we could make up

Ah yes their stupid fight they had before semi left Tokyo before Shona was taken seriously ill before the cancer became a issue semi regrets every thjng he said now of course it was petty he loved shona with every fiber of his being and deep down shona knew that to coming to shona closing lines of her dairy

Shona:In another life I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world

Semi:In another life I would make you stay So I don't have to say You were the one that got away

The one that got away i miss you my Universe

Semi read Shona last message that said

Shona:I miss and love you my Dear star stay safe and look after my brothers

Semi sat there, holding Shona's diary in his hands, his emotions in turmoil. He wiped away the tears that had welled up in his eyes and closed the diary gently. The weight of what he had just read and the memories it had brought back weighed heavily on him.

In that quiet moment, he realized the depth of his feelings for Shona and the pain of losing her. He also understood the regret of the choices he had made, the words he couldn't take back, and the time he couldn't get back.

With Shona's words echoing in his mind, he made a silent promise to honor her memory, look after her brothers, and keep her in his heart. The diary had revealed a love that transcended time and distance, a connection that couldn't be erased.

As he placed the diary back where he had found it, Semi whispered, "I miss and love you too, Shona, my universe. I'll make sure your memory lives on, and I'll keep your brothers close, just as you would have wanted."

Semi left Shona's room and stepped out into the world, his heart heavy yet somehow lighter. As he thought about reaching out to Shona's brothers, he remembered something she had written in her diary. Even though her brothers were older, they had a tendency to keep their emotions bottled up, and that's why Shona had wanted Semi to look out for them. She feared they could break down at any time, overwhelmed by the loss of their sister.

Semi realized that he not only had to keep Shona's memory alive for himself but also be a pillar of support for her brothers. They had lost their sister, and they were likely struggling in their own ways. With Shona's words in mind, he made it his mission to be there for them, offering a shoulder to lean on, a listening ear, and a reminder that they were not alone in their grief.

He knew that honoring Shona's wishes meant not just remembering her but also being a source of strength for her family, and that was a responsibility he was willing to embrace.

#akaashi siblings #follow up story #angst #haikyuu #semihina #deadhinata #inspiredbyinanotherlife #inspired by the galaxy is endless I thought we were too

1 note · View note

whatiseewithmyeyes · 1 year

Text

Agatha Einsam

a comprehensive biography

or the series of mishaps that led her into becoming a fortune teller among other things

Many know the beautiful mistress of green, piercing eyes and ash dark hair, that for the right meed will share a glimpse into the unseen forces that lurk just outside the reaches of the mortal minds. But no one actually knows Agatha Einsam or any of the affairs that led her into her current life.

Born Agatha Mildred Weizenholtz, the only child of a noble family in Markhath, had from a young age perceived the awe that her almost unnatural beauty had awakened in those who met her gaze. Even her parents, from whom she recalls barely an elusive memory, had regarded her as a creature of fascination and eerie nature. That only figment of remembrance is from the last time she saw them, in an ominous ritual surrounded by other people wearing the same dark robes, her mother crying over her, yelling, and her father looking at her from above with a knife in hand. She could remember the heat in her wrists and ankles as she tried to cut loose from the ropes that had her affixed to the stone table. Then the blaze, followed by oblivion.

She was around four years old when Lord and Lady Ominis had adopted her. They were friends of her parents and so she could not feel safe around them. They had explained that her parents died on a trip to Marvoleth and that she was their daughter from that moment onwards. The couple was of old age and had no children of their own. However they had adopted several urchins from the city. Agatha’s new brothers and sisters were just another nightmare for they treat her as a creature from beyond, teaching her how cruel humans can be, even as kids. It was thanks to their haunting torture that she escaped at the age of nine, avoiding the feared fate that other kids of the house had suffered. She had arranged a meeting with another noble family, using the name and seals of her adoptive father, and set way to a new home far from the Ominis or her past entirely.

The Einsam were a low rank noble family in Markhath. They had three children, two boys and a girl. The firstborn, Malik, aged twenty two when Agatha arrived to the Einsam household, was supposed to get married to her, but he rejected young Agatha for he feared her noble roots to be misleading. The betrothal got delayed for years, during which the family took the little orphan as one of them. The second child, Nadesh, the girl, was sixteen at that time and already promised to some merchantman. The third, Theodor, was a boy of fourteen that welcomed Agatha as a relative and with whom she formed a deep bond. Eventually the older son of the Einsam got engaged, against the will of his parents, with a noble woman from a foreign land and left the house to fulfill the marriage in exile. Some years later, Lord and Lady Einsam decided that they could not afford to waste the benefits of Agatha’s family name. They settle the betrothal between her and their remaining heir. She was happy since she never felt as safe as she did in the presence of Theo, but he was outraged. To him it was a disgrace to marry someone he so dearly considered as close as a cousin, or even more.

The first decade of Agatha’s mariage was filled with distress due to her unsuccessful attempts to satisfy her husband. Theo had grown distant and hateful, but above all indifferent towards Agatha’s efforts to form a happy family. With time she resorted to living her unhappy life alone in the dark corners of the Einsam house, delving into the mysteries of the occult. After the old Einsam couple died and Theo had accuair the inheritance, Agatha tried for the last time to make his husband happy. She told him that he was free to go and have the life he wanted, she would remain in the house hoping for his good fortune. He never accepted the offer explicitly, but went away nevertheless. Those were dark years for Agatha, years during which she learned the arts of the occult. She opened a business for those in search of answers, helping others to remove the fog from their minds. It seemed to her a fitting occupation for someone marked by a life of misfortune that of a fortune teller.

But her fate kept her yet another tragedy. One day, when the hours were dark, Theo came back to the house, unnerved and in despair. He refused any help from Agatha and pleaded forgiveness on his knees. She did all she could to brim him peace, but the man was out of his senses. He told her that his final hour was to be paid that same night in that very house, and that he feared for his afterlife. Agatha could not do more than to keep his man in her arms as his nerves broke frantically. And with the cry of crows in the cloudy night Theo died in the arms of a helpless Agatha, a fixed thought in her mind: “somehow… someway… this has to do with that cursed cult that almost killed me as a child.”

#d&d character #oc

0 notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

Stork Song ❤️ (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss. Request: Spencer and reader decide to get pregnant after suffering a miscarriage. It can be angsty, fluffy, smutty. I'd just love to read it. A/N: Instead of trying to get pregnant again, they enjoy sex without the pressure. I don’t specify whether they have a successful pregnancy, so you are free to imagine while knowing that they will still be happy either way! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst/Comfort, Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Angst with a very happy ending, miscarriage, trouble conceiving, potential infertility, crying, yelling (brief), grief, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, vague references to divorce (does not happen) Word Count: 4.3k

MASTERLIST

When you want something so badly, you start to see it everywhere. The unattainable seems almost inevitable; the cruel mistress of fate tugs at your heartstrings and makes you hope for what may never come.

It’d been two weeks since my pregnancy tests started showing one line again. The initial pain of the distinct lack of pink, however, was nothing compared to the suffering that followed. The absolutely agony that was canceling my doctor appointment, the devastation of having to inform my husband that it’d happened for the third time.

Spencer had never been anything but supportive and hopeful. I’d eventually had the heart, or perhaps experienced enough exhaustion, to explain that his constant optimism when it came to this particular topic was anything but helpful. But as I sat on the couch with a foot of space between us, I realized that I’d missed it. The silence had not been the alternative that I’d dreamed it to be.

My husband accepted my embrace the second it was even suggested. His arms wrapped around me hastily, and before I knew it, I had fallen back to what we used to be. Pretty peach lips were softer than I’d remembered, but still just as sweet. I allowed myself to get lost in them — if just for a moment. To soak in the intoxicating scent of him without worry for what impact such indulgence might have on the future.

It was irresponsible. Foolishly idyllic, but not at all regrettable.

But when his lips finally slipped away, Spencer kept his eyes closed. I listened to heavy breathing that almost felt unfamiliar when it was not tainted with tears.

“I want you,” he whispered in the most saturnine way.

I wished I’d had a better response. I wished I could have shared his obvious desire and longing. I wished that I wanted to connect with him as badly as he clearly craved. But among the oceans of apathy and shame, the only thing I could think to say were two questions.

“What? Why?”

Spencer’s fingers tangled in the hair at the base of my neck, and he pulled me forward like the questions had caused him physical pain. Pressing our foreheads together like it might transfer something beyond words, he only managed to say a few before his voice started to give out.

“Because you’re my wife,” he paused before taking in a deep breath and continuing with much more force than before, “and I love you.”

“But Spencer...”

He knew it was coming. I could feel the disappointment of rejection already starting to wash over him. He was already almost completely gone, his body turned away from me again as he dropped his head into his hands.

“There’s no reason for us to do that today,” I finished, nonetheless.

“Bullshit!”

I jumped at the sound, the force behind the words frightening me with their vitriol and sheer volume. Almost immediately, Spencer withered back. His body still shook from the aftershocks, but his tone was more appropriate, if not more solemn, as he explained, “I just gave you the only reason that matters.”

When the curse finally caught up to me, though, there was no taking it back. Slowly, my body broke down in the same ways his had until we were both weeping, together but alone on the first piece of furniture we’d bought together.

The sound of my tears quickly came to be too much for him. That time, his hands were incomparably gentle as they slowly led me back to him.

“Come here,” he said as softly as he could, “I’m sorry for yelling. I know how hard this has been for you, I just…”

Each word felt like a punch to an empty gut. A reminder of the repeated string of negative outcomes that felt all-encompassing. I wanted to let that darkness consume me in the hope that when that last bit of hope abandoned me, I might be able to find something worth loving in the abyss.

“I love you,” he begged to his empty shell of a wife, “That’s the only reason I care about.”

“I love you, too.”

It had been true. Through it all, I had never lost even the tiniest amount of love for him. I never blamed him for what felt like a failure. I tried not to blame myself, either. But at some point, I’d started wondering if I was only doing that for him, too.

The truth was so much simpler than how it felt. It was so much easier to just tell the truth and hear it on my tongue.

“I’m just so scared.”

“Me too,” he said through trembling lips. My husband slowly smoothed his hands over my hair in an attempt to soothe the inconsolable. I hated to admit that it still felt nice.

“You’re not alone. I promise you,” he whispered from some place so far and yet so close.

With palms coming to rest on my jaw, Spencer waited until my eyes opened before he began to wipe away fresh tears. He looked at me with a promise for something I couldn’t place.

“Do you understand me?” he asked.

I wanted to say no, but I nodded yes. He caught the lie immediately. I’d hoped it would make him give up, but he only became more determined to break through the self-loathing.

“You aren’t ever alone,” he repeated, and I felt the knots reform in my stomach. I felt my heart beat harder as it tried to believe him through the pain. Even as he continued with words that I desperately needed to hear but couldn’t handle just yet.

“You aren’t empty,” he said with a tenderness that made me ache. “You aren’t broken.”

I tried to speak, to tell him that he was wrong, but all that came out was a desperate wail. The collapse of whatever strength I had left, all my soul bared in his open arms.

“It’s all my fault.”

He held me tighter as if that would stop me from feeling his tears on the back of my neck.

“No, it’s not. It’s not your fault,” he swore to me for the third time. I wondered if I’d ever be able to believe him. I wondered how he would ever be able to hold me without missing what could have been.

My husband squeezed me like I was the only thing keeping him together. He held me together much the same.

“You didn’t fail, and neither did they,” he whispered.

For once, I listened.

“You were both perfect exactly as you were.”

He didn’t stop me when I cried. Spencer remained eternally patient. He soothed my sorrows with nothing but gentleness and love. I forced myself not to think of how it would make him a great father. Instead, I closed my eyes and decided to be selfish for once in my life.

“I can’t do it tonight,” I said through the sniffles. “I just… can’t.”

“That’s alright.”

He made it impossible not to believe him. He punctuated the thought with a hard kiss against my forehead. The kind that lingered for days on rainy days.

I looked up at him and saw myself in tear-stained cheeks and enough grief to drown in. Enough love to suffocate under.

“Let’s go to bed,” he offered.

So that’s what we did. We laid together in a marital bed, almost too scared to even hold hands lest it leave us mourning yet again.

But when he reached a hand out to me, I took it. We clung to that lifeline and prayed that it would carry us back to shore.

Despite the vows and assurances to the contrary, marriage is a funny, fickle thing.

So often when people speak about marriage, they choose to talk about the palatable parts of it. Even at our most honest, we fail to accurately explain just how easy it is for the impenetrable to shatter into more pieces than it started with.

When Spencer and I got married, we both were aware of how it could all go wrong. That was why we’d made each other a bit of an unconventional promise before we ever even made our way down the aisle.

We had promised each other that if we ever found that it was more painful than pleasurable to be in each other’s company, we would admit that it was over. We would be able to part ways as amicably as possible, knowing that we were doing what was best for the both of us.

I hadn’t thought about the conversation again until the night that Spencer took me out to dinner at a place we used to frequent once a week. As the small LED candlelight flickered and danced over hazel flecks, I recalled the conversation for the first time in years.

I said nothing about the silent calculations rolling through my mind, and if my husband noticed, he hadn’t said anything, either. Logically, I knew he had to have noticed the shift in my behavior. But I hoped that his hopeful wishing would get in the way.

Throughout the dinner, I forced myself not to forget the question. In fact, I asked myself the question over and over until I finally realized that I had never stopped to consider my answer.

Am I happy?

The question hung at the forefront of my mind. I could see it scrawled across his knitted brow and still saturnine smile. I heard it in the soft pattering of rain against the windshield. The gentle rumbling of the asphalt beneath slow moving wheels while we both dragged out the inevitable return.

Spencer didn’t ask me if we could stay in the same bed that night, but I knew he’d wanted to. As we walked into the house, I realized that I’d wanted him to ask. Not because it would show that he still wanted me or that he was willing to fight for me — I wanted him to ask me because for the first time in a long time, I’d wanted more than anything to answer yes.

But when you want something badly enough, it’s terrifying to admit it. Even to yourself. The expectations and the potential for disappointment were insurmountable and devastating.

So, when we walked into the house and settled down our belongings, I didn’t say what I’d wanted to. I killed the silence with a pleasantry I’d meant to sound more genuine than it did.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight. It feels like it’s been so long since we did something like that.”

Despite my perceived failure, however, Spencer smiled. And although I’d immediately written it off as a product of his being socially awkward, I knew that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was that he didn’t need me to be perfect to understand me. Our relationship had never hinged on things like arbitrary social rules, intonation, or perfect dialect. The truth was that my husband knew me.

That was why he didn’t hesitate to come closer. His hand took mine the moment that I set my purse down. Gently, he pulled me against him and waited for my body to get used to the warmth.

“Believe it or not, your husband is occasionally capable of spontaneity,” he grumbled playfully.

I took in a deep breath that smelled like Spencer and sweet wine, and I found a smile where I could’ve sworn there were none. My face darted up eagerly to meet his, hoping that he would catch sight of curved lips and creased eyelids before they disappeared again.

“I do not believe it,” I admitted with a laugh. “I bet you’ve been planning it for weeks.”

He feigned offense at first, but the show was ruined by a chuckle.

“Guilty as charged,” he sighed.

When the laughter ended, our embrace remained. We both sort of stumbled when we’d realized how our hands had no idea what to do. Something that used to come so naturally to us seemed stunted and awkward in a way I’d never wanted it to be.

I could see that Spencer was going to let me go, even though neither of us wanted him to. If anything, I’d wanted him to hold me harder.

In a bold, unexpected burst of emotion that threatened to spill from my eyes otherwise, I closed the space between us. I kissed him without letting myself think about the implications or consequences. I drowned in the bittersweet taste of his lips that still opened for me without hesitation.

My stomach twisted into knots — no, butterflies — when he kissed me back. Our hands tangled in each other’s hair and our mouths refused to relent. We swayed together in the darkness, not caring when I’d practically shoved him into the table where we’d set our things. Even when they fell to the ground, we only barely broke our lips apart.

He glanced down at the mess on the floor, but I got the feeling he was really just too afraid to look at me.

But I wanted him to.

“Spencer?”

And he did.

He cleared his throat, and when it did nothing, he tried to swallow the lump that had formed. He looked at me and smiled at what he saw. With more confidence then, he answered my call.

“Yes?”

I paused before I said anything else. Not because I was unsure about what I wanted, but because I knew that it would change everything. I’d paused because I needed to see him in that moment so that I would recognize him when it all shifted.

I twisted brown curls around my finger and I bit down on tingling lips that still remembered the way he felt. Goosebumps rolled over my skin in anticipation that I saw blossoming the same in his eyes.

“Take me to bed,” I whispered. I’d wanted to be serious about it, but the request sounded so juvenile that giggles were sure to follow. Laughter that only got worse as Spencer’s jaw dropped and his hands clutched at the fabric of my shirt hard enough to wrinkle it.

“Really?!” he squeaked.

It made my answer even easier.

“Yes,” I begged.

Of all the things I’d expected him to do, a fireman’s carry had been the least of them. But sure enough, as soon as I’d uttered the single syllable, my feet left the floor. Any breath that survived being hoisted over his shoulder was lost immediately in a fit of raucous laughter and shrieking. The noise hadn’t dissuaded him in the slightest. As carefully and quickly as he could, he took off in the direction of our bedroom and didn’t once look back.

When we did finally make it to the bedroom, he dropped me onto the bed. I’d barely had time for the bouncing to end before he was on top of me again, crashing our lips together despite not being able to breathe from the trip over.

While my hands worked diligently at removing his shirt’s stubborn buttons, his did the same for mine. Each time that we had to separate, we came back with more fervor. When there was no clothing left, our hands wandered the familiar landscape that it hadn’t felt in so long.

Part of me wanted to not think about what we were doing. But the rest of me, the parts hidden behind the walls that I’d built around my heart, knew that I had to let him in. I had to let myself feel the joy that came from his tongue leaving traces of his kisses down my neck. I had to feel the slight twinge of pain the first time that his finger pressed against the tight, resistant muscles.

Most of all, I had to feel the way that my body gave into him with almost no convincing. The way my legs parted to make room for his hand, and my back arched so that our stomachs could meet in the middle.

Spencer paused there, with one hand between my legs and the other trembling as he braced himself and lowered to kiss me once more. I drowned in the eager taste of his affection for as long as I could. But there was no stopping the moan when his finger finally gathered enough wetness to enter me without the pain.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he whispered between kisses against my cheek. “I’ll take care of you. You’re okay.”

The words immediately brought tears to my eyes. They swelled and fell so quickly that I hadn’t even had time to think about them before he was kissing my cheeks dry again. Then, contradicting his apparent desire not to see me cry, Spencer said the one thing that was sure to make the tears fall faster.

“I love you,” he said as if it were the simplest conclusion in the world. “I love you so much.”

The words, so commonplace but so unexpected, caused a visceral, whole-body reaction. My legs wrapped around his hips and my arms wound around his shoulders until he couldn’t fight gravity any longer. But even when he collapsed against me, his fingers continued to work my entrance. In fact, he moved faster with each moan he elicited.

“I love you,” I responded as soon as I trusted myself to speak. I tried to say his name, too, but I was cut off by his hungry lips.

He kissed me hard enough that I sank into the pillow. I was so enveloped by him that I barely registered that his hands had left until he replaced them with something else. I gasped at the heat. I closed my eyes and I tried to take in a deep breath to stop the world from crashing around me.

“Look at me.”

I opened my eyes, but the tears obscured his face too much. Like staring through stained glass, I saw the light of his eyes. It granted me the courage to blink away the blurriness until I could see his smile.

It was so vulnerable. So scared, but so willing.

“It’s okay,” he reassured me. “I love you so much.”

And like a lovesick fool, I believed him. I even smiled and nodded, begging him to continue and grant me the catharsis I hadn’t felt in months. It took my body a little bit of time to catch up, but with each inch that entered me, the freer I’d felt. It kept going until I felt like there was no space between us. Nothing kept us apart but slick skin and trembling muscles.

“Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Although it was the opposite of what he’d suggested, Spencer didn’t seem to mind when I clung tighter to him. In an oxymoronic way, I had done exactly what he’d asked. I had thrown myself into his arms and trusted that he wouldn’t let me fall.

His thrusts were careful and practiced. We had danced this dance a thousand times before, but it felt new somehow. It felt familiar, too. Something about the way our chests slid against one another as they shook from sobs of pleasure rather than pain.

There was no worrying about what might happen. No ovulation tracker, no basal temperature, no abstaining from alcohol. Instead, we panted with wine-laden breath between feverish kisses that left no room for anything else.

For that simple, quiet moment, it was just us. Two people madly in love, fighting through the grief and the muck until we found each other amongst the wreckage.

No, I corrected myself.

I am not wreckage.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered in perfect tandem with my thoughts. His thrusts became harder, his voice more insistent as our tears mixed and dripped down my jaw. “You are all I will ever need.”

My nails dug into his back, not out of anger, but out of desperation. I embedded myself in his skin and reminded myself that there was already so much keeping us together. We were not fast unraveling thread. We were not jagged broken pieces.

We were not tragedy. We were whole.

I felt his body moving with mine. I memorized the way we came apart reluctantly, forever chasing those moments where we were together. I opened my hands, palms facing up and fingers spread to make room for his. And although his hands hurt from the force with which he held them, I still didn’t dare tell him to let go.

Together we hurt, and together we found a way to heal.

“Please, I want to…” he whispered breathlessly into my ear.

I knew what he was asking. I heard the fear threaded through each word, and I sought to extinguish the pain.

“Can I—”

“Please, Spencer,” I answered before he had to finish the thought. Then, in a radical moment of defiance against the grief, I said something he deserved to hear.

“It’s okay, Spencer. I’ve got you.”

Just like that, all the weight of thousands of words unsaid fell from him at once. Emboldened by the relief, he thrust me one more time with bruising force. He held me there, too, sobbing with the pleasure of the relief and the knowing that I’d felt it, too. My muscles tensed around him and fluttered as our heartbeats harmonized in the darkness.

The familiar warmth no longer felt scorching. It wasn’t heavy, but light as it dripped back down. I let it go. I didn’t allow myself to stress about the way he stirred inside of me again.

We both needed the freedom of not thinking about it. So, we didn’t. There were no pillows propping up my hips, no stressful forced orgasm in the aftershocks. I didn’t pray to the gods for it to work this time.

Instead, I reached out in the darkness to find him again. I whined until my husband heard my call and crawled back into messy sheets with me. I didn’t cry when he handed me a wet towel, and I was happy to take steps to sleep more comfortably.

Which meant that I was all too happy for his arms to make their way around me again. I even dared to giggle when he used them to pull me closer. And when our noses bumped against one another, I was the one to dart forward to land a chaste kiss on his lips.

I had no way of knowing that it would make red-lined eyes fill again, but it did. Still, Spencer smiled and shook his head as he raised a trembling hand to wipe the tears away.

“Thank you,” he said when he was hidden behind his hand. When he didn’t have to look me in the eyes as he admitted to his own perceived failures.

“I… I missed you so much,” he sobbed. Each word warbled from those same stained glass tears I knew so well. Without looking at me, he forced himself to continue, “I know I’m not the best husband in the world, and when it comes to words, I can be so stupid.”

I couldn’t stand not seeing him. It had felt like ages since the last time before that night, and I had no intentions of returning to that empty, loveless void. I guided his hand away from his face, bringing it instead to my lips. I pressed gentle kisses against soft, tear-stained skin.

“You’re not stupid, Spencer,” I tried to reassure him.

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight me. He just let me lay praise the only way I knew how. He watched the way his palm against my cheek made me shiver and sigh, and he smiled, too.

“I just needed you to feel it,” he explained through quivering lips, “I needed you to know how much I love you, no matter what.”

Without hesitation, I gave him the confirmation he needed.

“I felt it,” I promised.

Spencer only barely missed his own hand when he tried to kiss me. The kiss tasted like saline and sweet wine, but I didn’t care. We couldn’t breathe through stuffy noses, so we kissed until we broke apart with heaving chests and a burning pain in empty lungs.

Then, after a brief pause, I sought the same comfort that I’d offered him.

“I hope you felt it, too,” I whispered.

So vulnerable, so ready for the pain that wouldn’t follow.

Instead, all my husband said was an overjoyed, honest, “I always do.”

We both closed our eyes, taking in deep breaths and feeling the chill of each other’s hot breath on wet cheeks.

I opened my eyes first. For once, I was glad and not resentful to see the peace on my husband’s face. I watched him slowly drift off to sleep without any warning, and I found myself smiling.

There, in our bed, where I swore that I would never be able to sleep soundly again, I smiled.

Then, I asked myself one last time.

Am I happy?

Then, I let it go forever.

Because my answer was yes.

Yes, I am happy.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid self insert #imaginingafterdark

767 notes · View notes

blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Storge

Yandere!Childe x reader

CW: Yandere themes, swearing

Requested by anon, I am not going to post the ask, since it will spoil the fic

It’s snowing when you finally escape.

Snow and thin layers of ice like rustle under your bare feet as you run as fast as you can, uncaring of whatever injuries you’ll get in the process. Servants and guards scream and run after you too, eager to catch you before any of the news reaches Childe.

“Стой! Стой кому сказал!”, a lumping and balding middle aged man screams after you. You can’t understand the words yet recognize the desperation it was said with - this man can’t afford to fail, lest he loses his job. Too bad for him - you also can’t afford to fail, lest you lose your freedom and you are a better runner than him.

“Eat shit”, it escapes you, raw and hopeful and despairing at the same time - the freedom you yearned for months is here, you just need to push a little more, run a little faster. You don’t know to whom these words are addressed to - to the man behind you, Ajax you’re running away from or the world, that is so cold and unfair, constantly giving you a shorter end of the stick.

Fate proves itself a cruel mistress once again, as you trip on the ice, bones cracking upon the impact of your body against the ground.

“Вот тварь, побегать любит”, the man bends in half from the exhaustion and then comes closer to you, grabbing you from behind and yelling something to the couple of women catching up to you. You, of course, writhe and hiss in his hold, like some feral and disgruntled cat, scratching and biting their hands when the occasion rises. They mutter something unpleasant in Snezhnayan, yet don’t retaliate, afraid of what He will do once he learns of their slight.

You curse them and their entire bloodlines as they drag you back to the mansion.

He comes back from whatever bloody business he has the same day, when the Sun almost settles and dyes everything in purple-red hues. You look at this view from your room, seated in the comfy chair near the brightly lit fireplace and tightly bundled in the multiple layers of fur blankets. Your left leg is also covered - in bandages and herbal ointments, meant to soothe the pain.

You also got sick - maybe it’s because you bolted in nothing but your nightwear, or maybe because people who returned you back to your cell were dragging your unwilling body on the snow and at the end of your “journey” you were wetter than a recently used mop. Maids gave you some herbal tea for that too, and now you were nursing a warm cup, awaiting his arrival.

“I’ve heard that someone misbehaved again”, Childe enters the room, a manic and creepy smile plastered over his face. Seems that this “talk” will be as much of a test to your sanity as any other.

“Ajax”, you say in exasperation, more to yourself than to him - he rarely reacts to your sighs or glares, his overblown ego making him blind to your obvious discomfort.

“I’ve also heard that this someone got very very far. Almost naked. In the middle of the winter”, he continues, coming closer to you with each word: “I wonder who would be crazy enough to abandon this beautiful and majestic estate to return to their sad, miserable life”.

“At least I don’t have to see you in my sad, miserable life”, you quip and turn in your chair away from Ajax as much as you can. It’s hard to do with one injured leg.

“Oh, is it? Well, you don’t see anyone in your horrifically miserable life”, he quickly steps around, appearing in your vision again.

“Shut up”, you can sense what he’ll say next, already seeing red. Childe’s grin turns even wider. How does he always manage to do and say things to get under your skin?

“You have no friends to spend time with, you don’t even have any family. Whom will you return to? No one is waiting for you there”, and with this he leaves, shutting the door just in time to avoid the thrown cup of tea and you have to simmer in your own anger alone.

***

The boy appears on the next day, when Childe leaves for work. Ginger, pale and blue eyed, he doesn’t leave you even a shadow of doubt who his relative is. You plan on ignoring the boy just for this fact, yet the child proves himself just as stubborn as your captor.

He pesters the maids and other servants, who don’t rebuff him which proves your relation theory even further - who would be allowed to behave like that except you, Childe and his relative? When bothering staff proves itself fruitful, yet unsatisfying he turns his attention to you.

You sit on the sofa this time, your injured leg preventing you from escaping from that mini-Childe and the maid assigned to you pointedly ignores your pleading and threatening gazes. You have no choice, but endure.

***

Ajax’ little brother, Teucer as you learn turns out to be a way better person than you imagined him to be. It’s harsh to talk like that about a prepubescent child, but you can never be too sure or lax when it comes to Childe and his family.

He’s loud and stubborn in the way his older brother is, yet there’s no hidden malice or motive in his words, no mental game to test you with. As you already said it’s crazy to think about a little kid like this, like some manipulative and cunning bastard, yet you can’t. Living with Childe stripped you of it too - you can’t not just relax and trust everyone you meet, especially if they happen to have ginger hair and blue eyes.

You end up humoring Teucer as he tells you of his adventures with Tonya and Anton, and how he misses his big brother Ajax. A short, yet awkward pause ensues, as a boy casts his gaze down, sadness coming off of him in tangible waves and you do something unexpected.

You ruffle his hair and offer to play with him and he beams at that, his smile rivaling Sun with its brightness.

Servants bring a couple of board games - you can’t really move and participate in something more intensive, and the two of you spend several hours just playing.and enjoying yourselves. You get so engrossed by the game in fact that you miss the moment when someone else enters the room. You realize this once Teucer lifts his head and gasps, his eyes shining.

“Ajax! You are here!”, he squeals as he runs into Childe’s arms.

“Of course I am! Once I heard my dearest baby brother visited my house I dropped everything to come here”, Ajax effortlessly lifts the now laughing boy and spins him around, his eyes crinkling as he does so.

Teucer immediately shifts his attention from you to his brother, and while this is something very predictable, the hurt at this disregard is not. You never expected to get attached to a random kid just by spending a couple of hours with them, but here you are: watching your captor play with him and wishing that you could join too.

The boy leaves in the evening as Childe orders his men to take him back, yet before that Teucer runs up to you and hugs you too, thanking him for the time you spent with him and your heart flutters. Warmth the kind you never felt before washes over your soul, you feel complete.

You watch how he departs, your eyes trailing carriage until it turns into a tiny dot on the horizon and Childe watches you.

“If you behave I will invite Teucer more often”, he says on the next day. How can you decline such an offer?

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #yandere childe #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere tartaglia #Yandere tartaglia x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere x reader #Male yandere #Yandere imagine #My writing #Flexing my russian skills because I can #And because I didn't learn it for years for nothing

323 notes · View notes

that-blue-vault-dweller · 3 years

Note

That was depressing. :'( Maybe a fixer-upper? Companions react to Sole coming back? Maybe they apologize to their friends and wanna try again?

Here is some healing and a peace offering for you guys 💙💛 After that last post, I think we all needed it, lol. I hope you enjoy!

Cait - Hardly believes her eyes when F!Sole comes heading down the stairs of the Third Rail. She almost thinks that it's some twist of cruel fate and F!Sole is just back to yell at her and kick her more for something that she already berates and destroys herself for every day. But when F!Sole softly cups the side of her face, questioning softly and heartbrokenly about what had happened to Cait, the redhead launches herself out of her stupor and snatches F!Sole in one of those infamous bone-crushing hugs that she's so well-known for. Even though she is drunk off of her rear end, she knows that this is real. It feels, smells, and sounds too much like F!Sole not to be. She is blubbering all manners of apologies and explanations and anything she can think of to make F!Sole stay. It takes her a considerable amount of time to realize that F!Sole has guided them both to the back room on a couch and is carefully yet firmly explaining that Cait has nothing to be sorry for and that it is entirely F!Sole's own fault. For a while after that, she takes deep, shaking breaths as she just squeezes the woman as tightly as she can in an attempt to assure herself that she's still there with her. Eventually she falls asleep against F!Sole, finding herself the most comfortable she has been in days.

Piper - Almost can't believe the sight before her. When she answers the door, she most certainly did not expect to come face to face with the last person who wanted to see her. There was a deep regret and sadness shining in F!Sole's eyes, but before she could speak, Piper had launched herself onto her, clinging tightly and whispering constant apologies amidst lots of tears. When F!Sole wraps her arms around her, replying in that smooth, calming tone that all was forgiven and not to worry and that she should be the one apologizing instead, Piper only cries harder. She squeezes the life out of her Blue, vowing never to let her go again. In fact, she drags her into her house and forces her to just sit on the couch with her for a long time and they just hold each other until Piper calms down enough to talk.

Curie - When she sees F!Sole, she feels her heart clench and she almost cannot even move as she completely collapses into tears, and F!Sole has to head over to her and hold the poor, sniveling girl in her arms as she just cries it all out, pitifully sobbing about how sorry she is for whatever she said or did, and F!Sole just whispers comforting words, apologizing for breaking her promise and leaving Curie all alone in the world. Curie eventually gets ahold of herself well enough to control her arms again and wrap them around F!Sole's waist tightly. She is so, so thankful to have Madame back with her again, and she already feels so much safer and happier. F!Sole is crying a little, too, and Curie feels her heart squeezing again as she readjusts and holds on even tighter.

MacCready - Almost falls off of his chair when he sees her approach his house in the Capital Wasteland. She is standing there with a group of Minutemen behind her who obviously helped escort her there. She tells them something and they all take a moment to have a break. She then heads over to MacCready. He takes a look around, seeing that Duncan is playing in the yard at a safe enough distance away for the two of them to talk privately. As soon as she has stepped up on his front porch, he stands up and apologizes to her somewhat awkwardly. F!Sole explains that she is sorry instead and they spend a lot of time discussing things. He eventually introduces her to Duncan and they begin to make plans to head back to the Commonwealth together. Only two days later, they head home with Duncan in tow.

Deacon - Is very, very surprised when she approaches him when he is undercover spying on her. Those kind eyes are filled with love and care, and he is honestly not sure whether he is slightly skeptical or if he is just endlessly grateful for the fact that she is not yelling and angry still. She sits next to him and he tries to keep up the act in whatever role he has taken up. That is, until she snatches off the phony wig or hat and the sunglasses, dropping them on his lap as she looks into his eyes. He sighs deeply and apologizes for acting the way he did and upsetting her so horribly. She shakes her head, expressing that he is not the one that needs to apologize. In the end, she hugs him tightly, despite his uncomfortableness, but this time, it actually feels a lot nicer than usual. If it means she's back and won't leave again, he can suffer through as many hugs as he has to.

Codsworth - As he lives and breathes, he cannot believe that he is actually looking at F!Sole. He wastes no time in hovering over to her as fast as he can. She gently places her hands on his metal sides and steadies him as he begins to stumble over himself as quickly as he can, apologizing for his awful behavior. She just shakes her head, looking into one of his eyes and explaining that she was the one with the awful behavior. She wastes no time in hugging him the best she can considering all of his many appendages. He happily sighs and pats her back gently with a pincer. He is so relieved to have his mistress back and to finally have the one person that cares about him back into his life.

Hancock - Thinks he must be on either the best or worst trip of his life as F!Sole walks in through the door of his office, those beautiful eyes staring him down with none of the fire that they held in them when he last saw her. He raises up a bit from his place on the couch, but she comes to him, taking a hand and sweeping away all of the remainders of jet, psycho, whatever other chems he has been stuffing himself with. He immediately feels a great amount of guilt about not only the situation between them but also the fact that he has so unashamedly let himself fall apart like this. F!Sole, however, does not judge, and she simply starts to apologize for getting mad and leaving. He shakes his head and tries to apologize instead, but she stops him, insisting that it is she who should be sorry. After a moment of looking at her, he opens his arms and she happily falls into them, hugging him tightly. He just holds her for a long time, and they wait for his most recent high to disappear so he can truly converse with her for the first time in what feels like forever.

Danse - Is completely shocked when he hears her voice behind him. He carefully stands up, staring at her and he swallows hard, looking down at the ground and anywhere but her face. She comes closer to him, and he apologizes to her quickly. She shakes her head and negates his apology instead uttering her own as she stands just before him, trying to catch his gaze. Finally, she gently touches his chin and he immediately looks into her eyes. She stares at him for a long time, and he knows that she sees all of his pain, guilt, and sadness. He is not even trying to hide them at this point. However, she just shakes her head after a moment and embraces him carefully. He freezes for only a moment before slouching down to her level, allowing her to hold some of his weight as he presses his forehead to her shoulder. He just breathes her in carefully as she gently runs her fingers through his hair and reassures him quietly. He soon realizes that he is crying as a few tears slide down his cheeks silently. He just hugs her gently yet firmly, and they stand there for a long time, just hugging it out as she whispers how much he means to her and refills him with his lost sense of self-worth.

Preston - Is so thankful and shocked to see her that he almost does not know what to do. However, he quickly makes his way over to her as Minutemen are greeting their true general. He asks her if they can speak somewhere more privately. When they are alone, he proceeds to apologize for his actions and explain how inexcusable they were and how he should not have ever done it. She places a hand on his, and shakes her head, explaining how she is truly at fault. He just sighs and shakes his head before hugging her carefully. When he finally pulls away, he removes the general hat he has started wearing and he offers it to her, asking if she will be the general of the Minutemen once again. When she agrees, he feels all of the weight lifting from his chest and he feels happier than he has in weeks.

Valentine - Is just sitting in his agency when she walks through the door. As soon as she does, he drops his pen, looking at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads. She quietly asks if the seat in front of him is taken, and he gestures to it easily, encouraging her to sit. Ellie wastes no time in excusing herself to allow them to speak. After a few beats of silence, they both start to apologize at the same time. They both chuckle at that, and F!Sole explains how she is the one in the wrong. He shakes his head wordlessly, knowing the truth, and she reaches across the table, taking his hands and squeezing them before standing up and heading over to hug him. He feels all of the pieces mending themselves as he holds her in his arms, just enjoying her closeness. He will never mess this up again.

X6-88 - Is exceedingly surprised to see her as she teleports into the Institute just before he reports his failure to maintain her trust. She greets him somewhat breathlessly and apologizes to him before he has a chance to express his own regret. He blinks and stares at her before proceeding to apologize anyway despite her protests. She gently places her hands on his shoulders, and he felt something strange bubble in his stomach as she looked at him with such affection and kindness. He found that he liked this feeling much better than the one he got while thinking of that same face contorted with anger.

Dogmeat - Raises his head up, looking at the sunrise. He looks a bit harder, staring intently since he is sure he saw something moving on the horizon. Sure enough, he starts to make out the form of a person running. His ears perk up and he sniffs the air. Before she even gets to him, he smells that comforting scent. He wiggles a bit in place, but he is scared to hope. What if she gets mad at him again and yells at him some more? However, when she finally reaches the truck stop, she pauses, looking at him carefully. He wags his tail reluctantly but hopefully, not coming to her just yet. After a moment, she hesitantly and carefully approaches him, holding out her hand gently. He wants to sniff it and lick it so badly, but he waits. He does not shy away from it, though, when it gently meets the side of his head. After only a moment, she is stroking him with both hands and crying for some reason, saying the same two words over and over. She does not smell angry, and he actually smells shame and love coming off of her in waves. So he happily forgives his favorite person in the world, licking her tears away and snuggling into her grasp as he always did before.

Strong - As soon as he sees her, he starts to try to attack. However, she quickly raises her arms up in a placating gesture and apologizes repeatedly, trying to get him to listen. He pauses, but he is still angry. He finally decides not to smash her. However, he does not forgive her until she hands him a specially-modified board with razor wire, barbed wire, and nails coating the end. He then begrudgingly forgives her, and it does not take him long to return to his usual self around her.

140 notes · View notes

powdermelonkeg · 3 years

Photo

Here he is!!!

I decided to go a more sketchy route then clean lines, and I’m getting the hang of using references. He turned out so much better than I expected him to!! :D

For those of you unaware, this is my Linked Universe version of Cadence of Hyrule Link! Here’s his concept art.

Copying this from the text wall I made back when I was first gushing about him. Apologies for the uh...difficulty reading.

He's got a knack for instruments. Anything he picks up, he can figure out within a day or two of messing with it. He plays by ear, though; can't read sheet music.

He also doesn't know any actual song magic; he just likes to play. He would be VERY good at it if he ever learned.

He's most often seen with a kalimba (the thing used in the outtro of ATLA) that he made himself, but his real favorite instrument, if anyone asks, is the electric bass he got from the Bass Guitarmos knights.

He loves the spotlight, but less in a show-off-y sense and more in a golden-retriever sense. However, he doesn't shy away from negative attention; he turns it into a challenge. Someone accuses him of stealing from them? He makes it the entire room's problem, dramatically, and challenges them to a duel of honor.

He loves his duels. They're mostly dance-offs.

He has a really soft and melodic voice when he talks; it only spikes when he yells (or stabs something—"HYAH!"). He uses that to his advantage when serenading people.

Speaking of serenading, he falls in love VERY easily. All he has to do is notice that someone's pretty or kind to be totally smitten with them. He takes rejection well, though he'll be a little over the top when he talks about it to his friends ("Sigh...love is a cruel mistress at times. My heart can't take much more of this; any further, and it'll shatter like a glass bell." "...Dude, you okay?" "Fine, why?")

There is one person, though, that's kept his affections for awhile. It's actually really sad; he traveled with Cadence as he went to save Hyrule, and during that time, he fell into actual love with her (not impulsive puppy love). She was smart, strong, adventurous, had the prettiest laugh...But she went back to her home world before he could tell her how he felt about her...That's inaccurate, actually. He elected NOT to tell her, because he thought it would be cruel to do that the moment she was leaving.

He actually joins the Chain with an ulterior motive. He's hoping that as they travel worlds, they'll eventually come across Cadence's world, and he can find her again.

His beat ability is actually an extension of Hylian telepathy; he interprets the thoughts around him as music instead of words in a kind of telepathic synthesia.

It's helped him avoid most injuries on the field, because he's trained himself to know when that music means attack patterns. He often whistles the tune he hears to help himself keep "on beat" with it and avoid attacks on time.

He is to rings and tools what Wild is to weapons. Legend is in awe on how he can go through a sturdy shovel and ring of protection in five minutes flat, and won't let Cadenza NEAR his collection of artifacts because of it.

Unlike most of the others, Cadenza never got the Master Sword. His main weapon is Caladbolg, a rainbow claymore that's just a smidge too big for him and that leaves a trail of colors in the wake of its swing. He has an entire attic full of weapons, though, everything from spears to flails.

He likes sentimental jewelry; he keeps pictures of his friends in the Goron Locket, he adds charms to his charm bracelet whenever he feels like something big has happened in his life, and he wears blue flower earrings that were a gift from the Deku Scrub, Yves.

He has actually died. He has frequent nightmares about it. Every time he fails, the Fates keep sending him back, good as new, and it's...traumatizing. He can look at himself and see zero scars, feel zero pain even though he was just stabbed by a Darknut or frozen by a Wizzrobe. It's really messed with his sense of reality and burned out his adrenaline response, so he tends to be more reckless than anyone should reasonably be. And that's going to cause problems for him when he joins the Chain.

On a more lighthearted note, he absolutely plays the guitar riff whenever Robbie strikes a pose.

So that’s my boy!!!

Also, without the lute, because I did the details under it to reference later:

Also also, if you’re wondering what he’s playing, you’re never going to guess it. (I wish I could find a lute cover but my boy has a passion for rock so)

#guys i am so proud of this #i love my son #he's the best one i've drawn yet!!!#I'm finally getting the hang of this art thing!!!#loz #zelda #linked universe #cadenza my beloved #fun fact! That song is a zelda-ish remake from Crypt of the Necrodancer #which also you should at least watch the cutscenes for #my art #cadence of hyrule

95 notes · View notes

leviskokoro · 3 years

Note

Can u just imagine the Pomefiore trio + the tweels and Malleus scaring the crap out of Mari’s mother? No child deserves to have a mom or grandmother like that (I’m also looking at Riddle’s mom)

thanks for the ask! I turned this idea into a fic! warnings: implied abuse, fatphobia, colorism, gore

Tick tock...

Rows and rows of dolls in gothic dresses were lined up on shelves around each corner of the room; Their lifeless gazes from their beady little eyes were already enough to manifest a gnawing feeling at the woman’s stomach as she explored the room. It was as though they were watching her every movement, orhs following her back. The amount of dust on each piece of antique furniture gave off the impression that this place hasn’t been used in quite some time, as if centuries has passed since its last use. She was told that her daughter should be here but she hasn’t found a single trace of her.

The room was strange; It was as if it was in an eternal state of abandonment and chilling silence. Not a single noise could be heard, only the ticking of the pendulum clock had prevented her from going mad.

Why was her daughter here anyway?

“Hey, hey, Jade~” A jolly voice came from the distance; Deep, yet seemed to have such a childlike tone to it. “When’s the show starting? I’m getting bored just waiting”

Brown irises scanned the area for any sign of other people but found every corner to be vacant, empty. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clutched her purse as she turned her head to different directions.

“I believe in a minute or so. Fufu, I’m excited for the story they’ll tell.” The next voice seemed to speak as if he was merely amused, full of mirth. “I heard they had been able to acquire the Cursed Doll of Nightmares.”

… What? This all sounded so ridiculous. And yet, the way they spoke to each other seemed so eerie in such an environment like this. It didn’t help that their voices seemed to be coming from nowhere. And wherever she went, she always heard them.

“Eeeh? A cursed doll?”

“Oya? So you haven’t heard of the legends surrounding it.”

The woman decided to continue looking in different rooms. Right, this was probably just a strange effect of the haunted house for this event. Really一 Her daughter should get better hobbies than play dress up.

“The legend is actually quite recent but it’s spread to be infamous to the entirety of Twisted Wonderland. The story goes like this: There was once a young man grieving because his previous wife died. He met a young woman and fell madly in love with her, so much so that he turned her and his son into marionette dolls so that they can never leave his side like his wife did. But then, a fire consumed his home. The only things that survived were three dolls.”

“Eheh~ Humans can be so funny. Their stories are so different compared to merfolk.”

“Fufu, yes. But it’s merely a story.”

He was right. Tales like this were only meant to scare children into behaving well. The woman clicked her tongue as her hand gripped the doorknob and opened it. Inside was a theatre with a stage and blood red curtains. There were lined up seats, the cushions oddly enough looked brand new. But the dolls didn’t seem to stop. In fact, there were more all around her and in larger sizes. Their porcelain-like skin seemed to shine in the incredibly dim light of the candles above; So perfect, yet there was such a haunting quality in that near lifelike perfection. They had a similar gaze to the dolls from earlier, seeming to be watching her every move.

As she approached the stage, the curtains had been drawn to reveal一 The woman’s eyes widened at the familiar sight of her daughter, dressed in such soft pink clothes as if she came from the 19th century. Her eyes scanned over her body from head to toe. It was as though she was an actual doll, sporting porcelain-like skin similar to the rest of the dolls in the theatre, lifeless glassy eyes whose gaze could send chills down anyone’s spines and a vacant smile on her rosy lips. There had been bright red strings attached to her limbs.

Goodness, it looks like her daughter has gotten fatter. Not only that, but her skin has grown darker一 and uglier.

At her sides stood a boy and a man, both wearing clothes from a similar era. The shorter one had such fragile-looking features; Soft lavender hair and aqua blue eyes like the sea that complimented the childlike stature of the boy. The man was blond with lavender highlights and captivating amethyst eyes that shone. He had a much more mature and refined atmosphere compared to the rest of the dolls. They all looked far more hauntingly perfect among all the dolls in the exhibit.

But then, a deep yet enigmatically charming voice spoke up一 Did it come from behind the stage? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly.

“Here we have a tale of a beautiful man and his family, a tale of madness and love~”

The sound of a piano playing a jolly tune echoed all throughout the theatre, yet that did nothing to ease the strange sense of dread that ate away at her being. It was as if every note had a haunting undertone to it.

“Cruel Mistress Fate had separated the man and his previous wife,”

“How he grieved every night after her absence,”

The dolls started moving at those words, the marionette of her daughter and the young boy was pulled to the side, leaving only the blond in a depressing state as he sat down, slumped over. His stiff movements were befitting of a doll as he laid limp and lifeless on the wooden floor. His glassy eyes looked down, vacant and empty. Yet despite this, he still seemed so regal and elegant.

“Women had done their best to charm such a refined and wealthy man一”

Several dolls much smaller compared to the others were pulled onto the stage, surrounding the man. They danced around him with such fluid movements coming from whoever was pulling at their dark strings from above.

The woman had seated herself on a soft cushion in front of the stage, feeling like she had no choice but to watch first despite her confusion and unease that made her stomach churn. She didn’t know why but the show seemed to captivate her attention enough to want to see it to the very end.

“But none had come close,”

The rest of the smaller dolls were pulled away and left him to be in solitude once again. Shadows of the sun and moon cycled over his head, as if to portray the passing of time of him being like this. His son had been controlled to try to pull his father up but it was all in vain when the father refused to move.

“Many years later, he had come across a woman as beautiful as he.”

The marionette that looked like her daughter was pulled back onto the stage with the red strings that were connected to her limbs. The man’s head was turned to look up at her, then he was pulled to his feet and approached her.

“With a similar pain yet a heart of gold, she caught his own broken heart in an instant.”

“She revealed that a great many people had harmed her in the past一”

“As well as losing the one closest to her.”

The two dolls circled around each other in a waltz-like dance, the supposed puppeteer had such expert hands to be able to control their every movement.

“They got married soon after and the woman became a wonderful mother to his son.”

“Ah… Beaute, what a magnificent family~”

The lavender-haired doll was pulled in, depicting her and him being mother and child. It was as though they were playing with each other. The blond father had joined in soon later. Their movements were lively and joyous despite the eternally still features on their faces.

But then一

The stage had been set aflame, piercing screams of agony came from the stage. It was as if the dolls had come to life, only to die in a fire only seconds after their fragile-looking bodies were engulfed by bright green flames. It spread throughout the stage, incinerating everything in its wake. Was that blood?

The doctor stood on her feet, body completely alarmed by this as she screeched. She turned around to run but a gasp fell from her lips to see that her exit was blocked by a pair of twins that gazed at her with the most frightening look she’s ever seen, like predators about to pounce on their prey.

“Wh-Who are you people?!” She cried out, backing away.

The twins said nothing; Their movements stiff like wood as they approached her. The ribbon-like pieces of fabric swayed as their arms reached out for her. Their toothy grins revealed their razor sharp teeth that glinted threateningly.

“STOP THIS INSTANT!” She tried to yell at them again but to no avail.

Her heartbeat pounded against her ribcage the closer they got. Was this all just part of the show? Was this all some terrible nightmare? Her mind swarmed with questions as she tried getting away from them. The awful heat coming from every direction as the flames consumed everything with each moment that passed seemed to be proof enough that this was all happening. But she didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t be happening. Why would God let such a thing happen to her when she’s done nothing wrong?

“Ara, is this that cruel woman you spoke of, dear?” A new voice entered the scene; cold like ice, a heavy contrast to the heat of the flames.

What…?

“She’s the one who hurt you all those years?” Another one came, seeming to be delicate and yet had a bit of an underlying country accent.

But she’s never done anything wrong!

A dark feminine chuckle could be heard behind her. Her head whipped behind her and her eyes were met with a sight that was horrifying enough to make her heart lurch up to her throat, like her very soul was being ripped from her body.

“Hello, mother.”

It was her daughter and the two other dolls, bloodied up and walking towards her. Their skin looked to have such severe burn marks and the flesh seemed to be melting off their bodies, going deep enough that parts of their bones were exposed. Tattered clothing with ashes sticking to it. The blood that dripped from their bodies stained the brown carpeting a striking crimson.

“Remember when you used to be so proud of how much you hurt me with the belt?”

Her voice sent shivers down her spine at the very sound of it, a cruel bite to it. It was as though there were five of her voices layered on top of each other to create an echoing effect. Their gazes were locked, the crazed glint in her eye pierced through her soul as she tilted her head to the side.

“Now it’s my turn.”

The mother screeched when her daughter lunged at her all of a sudden with lightning fast speed. Her legs moved before she could even think, sprinting as fast as she could towards the nearest emergency exit, leaving everyone in the fire.

In the blink of an eye, the theatre was cleaned up and it was as though not a single spark of flame had touched it. Footsteps echoed against the floor as a new figure entered the scene. A smirk pulled at his lips at the sight of the groups’ victorious expressions. Glimmering green eyes gazed at his friend, who seemed to be in especially good spirits. She looked up and her soft brown irises lit up at the sight of him, like the sun rising.

He had remembered his conversation with her earlier.

“I’ll make sure that she gets the fright of her life.” Malleus held a serious tone in his voice, with sadistic undertones in it. All he wanted was for his friend to enjoy a Halloween in Twisted Wonderland for the first time. The magicam monsters were already troublesome enough for her and Grim to deal with, but then her mother had to show up. The discomfort in her eyes doubled when she realised that her mother somehow followed her into Twisted Wonderland. “Consider it a gift for being in my good graces.”

She sighed and shook her head, soft brown locks swaying lightly in the motion. Resolve burned in those milk chocolate irises as she turned her gaze to him.

“Actually, I’d like to deal with her myself.” A mischievous smile graced her lips, one that he was unfamiliar with. She had always presented herself with such a delicate demure disposition, but he wasn’t so naive as to think she was fragile. “But I’d appreciate some assistance from you. I’ve made a good plan and it will require your specialty.”

Malleus returned the smirk, interested in what she had to say. “Oya? And what could that possibly be?”

“First, I’ll need to ask Vil and the others for some help as well.”

The gleam in her eyes turned sadistic.

“We’re going to put on the show of a lifetime.”

Sure, Malleus was fully aware that the deep wounds inflicted onto her by that woman would take much more than that to heal, it may take many years even. But seeing that satisfied smile on her face brought warmth to his cold heart. Her radiance as she chatted with everyone, thanking them for their assistance with making the show a success, was like the sun that rose during the dawn; A hope for a better tomorrow.

A whisper flowed out from his lips.

“May your journey to healing be fruitful, child of man.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit #jade leech #floyd leech #epel felmier #rook hunt #Anonymous

47 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

Her Twisted Mercy

Azula Week Day 5: Role Swap

Summary: Azula is a serving girl who gets banished.

Zoo-Ji as a cruel mistress, her personality is cold and edgy as her voice is warm and soft. She is a picky one, she always has been. Fussy and demanding. Azula can clean to spotlessness, prepare meals to exactly match her picky palette, can style the woman’s hair and dress to perfection and the princess would still have something to say for it.

And, by Agni’s wrath, if she couldn’t find something to complain about then she would make something. Would track dirt upon the freshly clean floors and scold her for missing a spot, would tarnish her meals with drops of lemon juice just so that she could pucker over it.

It doesn’t matter how careful Azula is, Zoo-Ji wants to be angry. Zoo-Ji wants to find error and mistakes. She thinks that it is something of a game for Zoo-Ji. A jealous game; a means to keep Azula down. Down so that her blue fire can’t catch the eye of Fire Lord Ozai. Down so that the man won’t favor her over his own non-bending daughter. For her talents she is subjected to so much cruelty and, Agni, it isn’t even anything special. It is just a color… And this is the princess on a good day.

Today is a special day. Today is her coronation ceremony. Today she yells and screams about how anyone who ruins her perfect day, her dream day, will see ruin themselves.

She doesn’t seem to realize that she is unraveling. That the day has been ruined before it started, long before. Zoo-Ji is a lonely girl and she has just lost the only friends that she did have.

Azula thinks that the unraveling began further back than that. She thinks that her unraveling had been one that began at the time her fire began to dissipate. It was slow at first, but Azula watched as her puffs of fire grew smaller and smaller until all of its prowess whittled away into small ember glows and then nothing at all. A rare birth defect.

And yet Fire Lord Ozai had kept her around, vowing that he would restore her former glory as soon as the Avatar saw defeat. He would make the boy give her, her bending back. With that vow in mind, Zoo-Ji is set to be coronated. Coronated despite those sleepless eyes and that furious hitch to her voice.

Azula holds up the cherry bowl and lets Zoo-Ji pick her way through it as the other girls run brushes through her hair and scrub at her hands and feet. The tension is unbearable, crushing. The weight of the cherry bowl in her hands makes her want to topple.

She is consistently one move away from trouble on a good day. From a scolding or a lashing. She thanks the spirits that her only job today is to hold up one loathsome cherry bowl. Her are beginning to cramp but she doesn’t dare move, not even an inch, lest the girl reach over only to find that the bowl is out of reach.

Not for the first time, Azula finds herself resentful. She is smarter, more level headed, more powerful...it is only by birth and fate that she is kneeling painfully into the floor tiles while Zoo-Ji is pampered.

She feels a rough ping against her forehead and furrows her brows.

“What is that?” Zoo-Ji scoffs.

Azula looks at the cherry pit that has fallen to her left. If she had any sense, she would let herself grow meek and weepy. But she has more dignity than that. “You know what a cherry pit is. I hope that you do, anyways.” She doesn’t think that Zoo-Ji is that bright.

“What is it doing in my cherry?” She snarls.

Azula sets the bowl aside. “I’m wanting to guess that it’s there because fruits tend to use seeds to reproduce…” she just hopes that Zoo-Ji won’t be doing the same.

Her snarl intensifies. “How dare you speak to your Fire Lord like that?”

“You’re only the Fire Lord in name.”

“I should have you killed, Azula.” She spits.

Azula shrugs. At this point she thinks that she would rather die than listen to the girl’s grating voice any longer. “I’m sure that, that will leave quite a lovely impression on your new subjects.”

The wheels in her head seem to turn. Her lips curl into a smirk. “Fine, how about this?”

Azula waits.

“Leave the Fire Nation. Just like my dear brother. See how you and your blue flames fare among Earth Kingdomers.”

Azula flinches. She has come up with scenario after scenario, but never has she considered banishment. Mostly she had imagined enduring torture or taking one last dignified death before an amassed crowd.

There is no dignity, no nobility nor bravery in banishment. No glory only a sense of shame. You can walk out with your head held high but you are no longer a part of the Fire Nation. No longer have a right to its glories and status. Zoo-Ji knows this. And Azula knows that this punishment is specially tailored to her. To strip her of her pride. The last thing that she has.

“Go on, get out of my sight.” She crinkles her nose.

Already in as deep as she can be, perhaps coaxing her own death, Azula picks up the cherry bowl and spills it over the princess’ head. “Have a lovely downfall she sneers.” It is only a shame that she will not be around to witness it.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azulaweek2021 #Azula Week #Fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

schnees-and-schnugs · 4 years

Text

another willow-whitley fic because... i love them

tw: eating disorder (implied), canon divergence

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~~Night of the election~~

Willow had never been one to pay much attention to politics. Her father had been, for the most part, apolitical. Her mother, on the other hand, always had a deep-seated disgust with governance and bureaucracy. She could still remember what she had told her on Willow’s wedding day- at least you’re not marrying a politician... although he sure does act like one.

What a sick sense of irony fate has.

Half a bottle of vodka was enough to push the sound of Jacques’ victory speech to the corners of her mind. Why was she even streaming his speech live on her scroll was beyond her, but a part of Willow’s mind wanted to wallow in her own misery. There is a sort of karmic tranquility in this situation that she could appreciate in a time like this. After all, she married this man. Gave him all the resources from her father’s company to do whatever he wished- and every single time Jacques had gotten what he wanted. The company, the money, the status. The son. Willow found it harder and harder to see herself as a victim in all this, especially after Weiss ran away.

A simple solution: stop drowning in her victimhood and start drowning in her own stupidity. It’s worked splendidly so far.

But try as she might, she couldn’t get Weiss’ words out of her head from the day that she left. Perpetuating a cycle. That’s all that she’s doing right? Doing unto others what she has done to them. Being selfish. Ignoring other’s needs. Only seeing herself.

Willow sighed as Jacques’ speech came to an end. Somewhere else in the manor, far from where she sits in her room, Whitley probably stood- waiting for his father to come back so he could congratulate him. She lazily looked at the time posted on the screen of her scroll. 10 pm. Whitley should be retiring to his bedroom at a time like this, not in the dining room watching staff put out desert for Jacques’ little celebratory two-person party.

Three-person, if she decided she would go. Willow doubted she had much of a choice.

Jacques had expressed his need for a ‘family celebration’. For when I win tonight, he declared. Willow had braced herself for the inevitable fallout- his chances didn’t look good in the polls. He must know that, right? There’s no way he could be so confident, not when faced with what seemed like an uphill battle. She had looked to the right at Whitley and watched his face twitch ever so slightly. He must have thought the same thing she did at that moment.

But Jacques won, Willow bitterly reminded herself in the present. At least he’ll be in good spirits. She loathed to imagine what this little ‘celebration’ would be like if he had lost- the yelling, breaking, drinking. Jacques never wanted to admit he was as much of a drinker as she was, but he’s just an angry drunk. She felt her stomach churn at the thought.

Willow lifted the bottle to her mouth before deciding against it. She needed to be at least somewhat alert for the ‘party’. If she showed up stumbling and slurring her words, Jacques would make sure the rest of the night is miserable for both her and Whitley. She could at least be slightly sober for her son.

Willow absentmindedly watched Jacques’ campaign manager end his speech before thanking the crowd and saying his farewells. The stream would be almost over and Jacques would be in the dining room any minute- ready to boast and rave about whatever he intended. She slipped on her heels, ignoring how her feet ached, and made her way down to the dining room. The manor was emptier than usual, all that is left of the staff is either gone for the night or have stayed behind to set up. Anyone who was lucky to stay on staff, of course. Jacques had laid off any worker who he had deemed ‘unessential’ to their everyday life- not that he was handing out jobs in the manor like candy before. Now Willow had to actually get her ass up and find her alcohol on her own.

It was that or calling Whitley to get it for her, but the former is much too cruel. She had to be incredibly inebriated to resort to that.

Upon entering the dining room she was greeting with the smell of frosting and sugar. Willow resisted the urge to gag. The last thing she needed tonight was to stuff her face with chocolate truffles and cheesecake. The vodka she drank earlier tossed in her stomach and she swallowed. Just this one night. Then everything will be back to normal tomorrow.

The room was empty except for the overenthusiastic amount of pastries and Whitley- sitting on his own at the dining table, to the right of Jacques’ spot at the head. He didn’t look much better than she felt. His eyes were trained on the table, not noticing Willow as she approached the opposite seat to him. She softly spoke:

“Whitley?”

He jumped as wavy strands of his hastily combed hair fell over his eyes. Whitley made a move to brush it away but limply dropped his hand onto the table, as if he didn’t energy left to finish the gesture.

“Yes?” Willow frowned at his monotone voice. He clearly was avoiding her gaze- but she could still clearly see the bags under his eyes.

Willow was aware she was nowhere near a contender for Mother of The Year, but she always instinctively knew when something was wrong with her children (even if she chose to ignore it 80% of the time). Whitley’s pale skin looked sickly. His normal attire slightly hung off of him, as if he had dropped a few pounds. She was wary of him losing weight, he’d always been a very skinny child, and she remembers clearly the family tailor speaking to her a few weeks ago about having to hem his clothing to accommodate this change.

This may need to be something you have to worry about, he had said. I normally speak to Mr. Sieben about this sort of thing, is he no longer around?

Willow informed him that Klein was let go and to come to her with any more troubling changes. She needs to pay closer attention to Whitley. Willow had attributed his weight loss and insomnia to the stress of Klein leaving and Jacques using him as his own personal butler instead. But it has been weeks and he wasn’t getting any better. Something was eating at him, everyday.

Stop perpetuating the cycle, Weiss’ voice echoed in her head.

She snapped back to the present. “You look sick darling. Do you have a fever?” She resisted the urge to reach out to feel his forehead. He had grown adverse to touch a long time ago.

“I’m fine.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Father is going to be here any minute. Are you going to sit down?”

Willow was just about to pull out the seat directly opposite from him before changing her mind. She was going to sit next to Whitley- perhaps that will give her a chance to inspect him closely. If she was lucky, Jacques would be in a good enough mood that he wouldn’t notice and demand that she move to the seat on his left. Everything had to be symmetrical with him. Control freak.

Whitley watched her warily as she stepped around the table and took the seat directly to the right of him. An awkward silence settled in the room. He didn’t even look at her, just stared at the sweets- lost in thought. Willow couldn’t help but to notice a faint odor of sweat.

“Did you take a shower this morning?”

Whitley blinked. “E-excuse me?”

Willow knew she was already pushing it, but she pressed on. “It’s okay if you didn’t, I’m just asking. It’s unlike you.”

Whitley flushed and went quiet. He spoke softly: “No. No I didn’t.”

“Is it because you don’t feel well?”

“No- I feel fine. I didn’t get out of bed in the morning. At all. Not until half an hour ago.”

Willow knows that experience. It worried her. “These last few months have been very stressful... But your father won, so tonight should go smoothly.”

Whitley shook his head. “No. You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand what?” She desperately wanted to understand what was affecting him so much. Some weight was pressing down on him- and she had no idea what it was. “Whitley please.”

“Mom...” He hesitantly reached out and touched her hand. She couldn’t remember the last time he had called her that. Mom. It’s always Mother, or when he’s angry, Willow. But never Mom. Not since she had... changed.

“Yes?” She held his hand in between her own. “You can tell me. I’m here.”

Whitley opened his mouth, his words about to spill out-

“Mistress Willow? Master Whitley?” A voice rang out from the doorway behind them.

Whitley flinched. He quickly pulled his hand away from Willow and gave his attention to the servant at the door. Willow groaned internally.

“Yes?” Whitley’s voice cracked.

“Master Jacques called to say that he’s preoccupied with other matters concerning his election win,” probably getting drunk and drowning in praises from his business partners. “The celebration is cancelled tonight.”

“Very well, then. I’ll just retire to my room.”

Willow desperately searched for a way to keep him here. To keep him talking to her. “Whitley, wait- if you would like to stay and eat some cake with me. It will all go to waste-”

He stood up, briskly walking to the closest door. “I don’t have much of an appetite...” He looked back at her quickly, there was almost an apologetic look in his eyes. “I’m sorry but I’m quite tired.”

Then, just like that, he disappeared.

She was so close. So close. He was going to open up- tell her what had been destroying him inside these last few months. She was going to prove herself to him. And then he just ran away.

“Mistress Willow, what would you like me to do with the food set out?”

Willow shook her head. “Just throw it all away.” And let it rot.

~~Night before the celebratory Cordially Invited dinner ~~

It was harder than Willow thought it would be to keep an eye her son. If he hasn’t locked himself in his room, he’s under Jacques’ scrutiny in his office. Or wandering the manor late at night when he thinks that nobody is around. A year ago Willow would have never even considered it, but these days she finds herself watching Whitley from a distance. A familiar feeling of motherly anxiety bloomed in her stomach. She could spy on him easily using the cameras she had set up around the manor, but it wasn’t enough. She had to watch him with her own eyes to be at ease.

Before she wouldn’t have to worry. Klein practically raised her children for her when she got too drunk to be a mother herself. She could live with the shame of having another man bring up her children for her- a good amount of wine and vodka helped with that- but now Klein was unavailable. He was here for years, and then gone just in a heartbeat. It was one of those moments where Willow genuinely wondered whom exactly she married. Wondered if Jacques even saw the people around him as human beings or stepping stones that could be tossed away at a moments notice. Even his children. Even her.

Willow didn’t notice the toll that losing Klein took on Whitley until a few weeks after he was fired. He stopped going to figure skating practice, stopped going to sleep on time, stopped waking up on time. Stopped coming down to eat breakfast, lunch, then dinner. He could pull himself together for when his father was around- Willow once saw the boy take a shower, change into his formal clothes, apply concealer under his eyes, dry, straighten out the waviness of his hair, then style it all under 15 minutes just when Jacques came home with guests to entertain. The first time she’d seen Whitley smile in a long time, even if it was all fake.

Yet, here she was, waiting for Whitley to eat dinner with her. For the first time in who knows how long. She waited until he dragged himself out of bed to ask if they could eat together later in the garden that night. He was so bewildered by the question that he couldn’t say no.

Willow was banking on that.

She had to admit though, this was more for her peace of mind than anything else. Her normal routine of Drinking The Pain Away didn’t work as it used to. No matter how many shots she took of the strongest vodka she had, she would still find her brain wandering back to her son. Did he get out of bed today? Did he eat? Did he hurt himself? On accident? On purpose? She had forgone her responsibility as a mother to worry about these sort of things and let them fall on Klein’s shoulders a long time ago. But he’s gone.

And now these anxieties are louder than ever in her brain.

What would have Whitley told her on the night of the election if they weren’t interrupted? Willow found herself mulling on the possibilities. Was Jacques hurting him? She didn’t notice any changes in Jacques’ behavior. If anything he’s been jovial since he won the election- and Whitley, in contrast, was only getting worse. Klein departure is also a strong contender, but Whitley is no stranger to abandonment. Her son’s downward spiral does coincide with their butler’s firing, but she couldn’t help but to feel like she was on the wrong track. In her gut she knew Whitley was keeping something from her. A secret. A one that’s bad enough that it’s killing him and she can’t do a thing about it.

“Mother?” Whitley spoke from behind her.

Willow snapped back to attention and turned toward him in her seat. She assessed him before patting the only only other chair next to her. “You’re a little late, sweetheart. Did something hold you up?”

“No...” He stood awkwardly for a few seconds before taking the seat she offered. “I just lost track of time. Preparing for the dinner tomorrow, you know? Father wants me to let the guests in and out...” Like a servant would do.

Willow was getting really sick of her husband’s shit.

But she was not here to be angry. She was here just to talk to her son.

She watched as he looked over the small dinner laid out for both of them. Willow had asked the kitchen staff to make something light and easy on the stomach. She didn’t want to scare Whitley away, she imagines he might be nauseous after barely eating in this last month or so. She had been there many times before.

Willow pointed to the saltines. “Do you want to start with these? You can put some cream cheese and pesto on it if you like. Or maybe you could get some pasta...” Whitley grabbed the saltines and starting munching.

Saltines, it is. Baby steps.

“Weiss and Winter are going to be here tomorrow night for the dinner, is that right?” Perhaps this wasn’t the best conversation starter, but Willow had nothing else.

Whitley paused before biting into another cracker. He swallowed. “Why should I care?”

“Just asking. Weiss is back in Atlas.”

“Yeah, Father wasn’t happy about it. Crashing with those friends of hers at Atlas Academy. How pathetic.” His resentment of his sisters is the only thing that keeps him lively, it seems.

“Your father is looking to kick Ironwood off the council. I’m sure you’d like to be there when your sisters witness that,” Willow goaded him. She really couldn’t care less about what Jacques intends to do with his new position, she’s given up long ago in having a voice in what he does. She wanted to keep this conversation going, though.

Whitley faltered. “Is he... Will he be able to do that?”

His voice was strained, as if he hesitated to speak negatively about his father’s intentions. Willow carefully picked her next words.

“I’m sure he’ll be able too, if he gets the other council members on his side. Isn’t that how it works?”

“Yes, I suppose...” Whitley avoided looking her in the eyes.

“The general will reap what he has sewn at the end of the day, I guess. Your father won the election fair and square. That’s just how politics goes.”

Whitley muttered something under his breath.

Willow blinked. “What was that darling? I didn’t quite hear you.”

They sat quietly for a minute. Whitley, looking down at the table. Willow, looking straight at him. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak:

“He didn’t.”

Willow froze. “Whitley...”

“He didn’t win the election fair and square. He cheated.”

Silence.

Cheated. Jacques cheated. Willow shouldn’t be surprised. She really shouldn’t. All her husband cares about is winning, of course he cheated. But this was another level. He definitely would, but how could he? He could influence the election in his favor, but there was no way he could rig it. No way.

Willow grabbed Whitley’s arm. “How do you know this?”

He was visibly shaking. “Mom, just forget I said anything. Please-”

“No. Whitley, tell me. How do you know this?”

It all came spilling out. The Jacques’ foul mood after his encounter with the general and Weiss. The suspicious visitor named Arthur who was supposed to be dead.

Whitley spoke in between sobs. “I knew I shouldn’t have, but I eavesdropped on their conversation. That man- he let himself into the manor. Father knew him. I just- I was concerned... Father agreed to give him the heating codes and in return that man was going to rig the election in his favor. That’s all that I heard. I ran away after that- I didn’t want to hear anything more.”

The heating codes? There’s no way-

Even Willow knew those were kept secret for a reason. The heating in Mantle, the artificial atmosphere in Atlas, that’s how they survived. You can’t just give those away. No moron would give something like that away just to anyone.

Except the one she married, of course.

Willow planted each hand firmly on the crying boy’s shoulders. “Whitley, how long did you know about this?”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry- I didn’t know who to tell- if I told anyone, Father would have killed me. He would tell everyone that I’m crazy and lock me up somewhere-”

“Sweetie, it’s oka-”

“- And Klein is gone- and everyone is gone- and father won’t let me leave the manor, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do-”

Willow wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. It was the only thing she could think to do at the moment- she’s never seen him get hysterical like this. Is this what he had been agonizing over all this time?

His sobs petered out to snivels as he buried her face in the crook of her neck. He was quiet now. Deflated, even. Willow decided to ask again:

“Whitley... When did this happen?”

He didn’t lift his head. “Before the election... I don’t remember exactly what day it was. Everyday is the same, anyways.”

An plan began to form in Willow’s head. Could she...?

“I need you to think really hard for me darling, okay? Give me a date and time.”

Whitley lifted his head, confused. “I don’t know... maybe the 8th of last month? Or maybe a few days after that... around 7 pm at night, I think. Father got home and starting yelling about Ironwood and Weiss. He told me I shouldn’t let any visitors in. I turned everyone away and when I thought nobody else was going to come by I was going to go back to my room. And that man- he just popped up behind me and told me to take him to Father. I don’t even know how he got in.”

Willow’s skin crawled at the thought of this stranger being alone with Whitley, even for a short time. Where was she during all of this? Drunk, probably. Maybe even sleeping in early.

“Okay, okay,” She absentmindedly combed her fingers through his hair. “I’m going to fix this... So don’t worry anymore. Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Whitley swallowed. “Fix this? You’re not going to...”

“You and I both know what he did was wrong. He’s gone too far, you know that.”

He nodded and Willow continued: “Your Father won’t be punished harshly, you know men like him can get get away with murder if they try hard enough. But he can’t get away. Not with this.”

She watched as he wrung his fingers together. “But he’ll know it was you who turned him in. He’ll know I told you. If he’s arrested and makes bail, he’ll come back here-”

“We’re going to leave.”

Whitley eyes widened. “What?”

The prospect seemed impossible as she ruminated on it- but the moment she said it, it became real. A plan. They couldn’t stay here, not anymore. Jacques will never stop. He’ll never learn his lesson. He’s already destroyed this family and molded his own sick image out of the ashes. A drunken, defeated wife and an obedient, terrified son. This has always been exactly what he wanted.

It was too much to expect Whitley to be like his sisters- he was too much like her. Soft. They needed to get out of this together. It’s the only way either of them will escape.

“Whitley, pay attention to me closely,” Willow grabbed he hands and pulled him to attention. “I’ll deal with your father. You act as you would normally do tomorrow, do not say a thing. Go to your room after I tell you this and pack a luggage with a few essentials, clothes you don’t normally wear in public-”

“Mom-”

“-Sunglasses too. And your credit card, okay? Do not bring your new scroll, he gave you it because it has spyware on it. He started tracking you after Weiss ran away, Klein told me-”

“Excuse me, what-”

“Keep that luggage in your closet and don’t take it out until I say so. I don’t know how long he’ll stay in jail before he’ll be able to bail himself out, and we’ll need to be ready-”

“I don’t-”

“- we need to max out his cards at an ATM close by and quickly use that cash to get to Mantle. We can’t stay in Atlas- there should be quite a few hotels that will take only cash there.”

“And if Father finds us in Mantle? The borders are closed- we can’t go anywhere else.”

Dammit. “We’ll find a way- someone who will smuggle us to Argus. Look,” She squeezed his hands, “We will be together no matter what, please tell me you’re on board.”

She searched his face for an affirmation. He looked confused, overwhelmed. She knew this was too much, she didn’t know if either of them had the mental fortitude to go through with this. Jacques’ head is in the clouds at the moment, and he’s going to escalate when he crashes. Willow knows it for sure.

“Whitley-”

“Lets do it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure?”

“This is the only way,” Whitley swallowed. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion she did. “I’ll... do it.”

“Good.” Willow planted a firm kiss on her son’s forehead. “Now go up and pack quietly. And for Brothers’ sake, get some sleep.”

Whitley nodded and scampered away. Willow watched as he disappeared down the hall, trying to maintain an inconspicuous pace.

Willow had all of tomorrow to pack. But tonight she has hours of camera footage to go through. She needed undeniable proof, and she knew exactly who would be coming by tomorrow to find it.

#sorry crwby this is canon now bc i say so #my brain hurts #and we all know this plan will never some to fruition- damn u v7 finale!!!#rwby #whitley schnee #willow schnee #jacques schnee #sorry for any typos #i tried to proof read it but i might have missed a few

96 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to be Told

AN: I’m fairly shocked at the reception this story got, I didn’t expect to gain immediate attraction because I posted it at like 3am lol. Nonetheless, I am grateful to all the people who read this story. Once again, this chapter is dark as well. I promise this whole story is not going to be doom and gloom, but it feels inappropriate to even try to glaze over the cruel treatment of slaves in America and to be honest, this chapter is probably just a glimpse of what real life slaves were put through.

Word Count: 3.1k

Trigger Warnings: slavery, violence, physical/mental abuse, racism, racial slurs

Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is

That was seventeen years ago.

Sabine's life had changed for the "better", at least that's what Mistress Genevieve would try to convince her as such. Sabine certainly didn't see it that way, she was still a slave, after all. Not to mention, that the Martin family has for all intents and purposes, mentally and physically scarred her for the rest of her life.

Sabine was fucking miserable on the Martin Plantation.

From the moment Sabine arrived on the plantation as a child, she became something of a pet project to Genevieve. She taught Sabine arithmancy, how to read, write, and to speak proper English and French. This was not out of kindness though, no, this was a source of derision. Whenever Genevieve would host any type of social gathering, Sabine would find herself being paraded around by her Mistress to her guests.

She despised the gatherings with every fiber of her being, she was subjected to the most degrading comments by the party goers.

"Dear me, I didn't know negros had the capacity to learn how to read,"

"Genevieve, you must have the patience of a saint to be willing to teach a member of an illiterate species,"

"You taught the monkey to read and write? What's next Genevieve, music?"

This is what Sabine had been put through for as long as she could remember. Every time she learned and mastered something new, Sabine knew what was to come. She hated the fact that accomplishing something a white person could do was met with oohs and awws in the most mocking fashion from Genevieve's friends. Sabine remembered one night that word had spread at a party that she was fluent in French and for the rest of night she was bombarded with requests of ‘saying something in French’. She felt like an animal in a zoo and she knew that's how most people viewed her in the first place.

"Teach anymore parlor tricks to your pet Genevieve?"

Sabine would internally scowl every time she witnessed Genevieve be lavished in praise by her friends for her work. Isn't it sweet? The benevolent mistress bestowing an education to a lowly slave like herself. The Southern Belle, extending her graciousness to one of her lowliest effects.

Oh, but Sabine would find little ways to carry out her revenge especially as she grew older and was given tasks that held more responsibility. Her favorite way, "accidentally" pulling her mistress' corset too tight or "accidentally" stabbing her in the scalp with hairpins. Her yelps of pain would bring a ghost of smile to Sabine's lips which would instantly vanish if Genevieve turned around to scold her for her carelessness. And of course Sabine would offer a quick apology, telling her mistress that she didn't mean to and will be more mindful in the future. But the second Genevieve left the room, Sabine would let out a snicker only to be popped in the back of the head by Alice, the woman, who's in charge in keeping the rest of the slaves in order.

The blow was not out of malice, further from that really, it was out of love and concern. Alice had been like a mother figure to Sabine since the day she arrived on the plantation.

"One day the Mistress is not going to put up with your 'mistakes'," Alice warned, worry was evident in her eyes.

It wasn't until Sabine would turn sixteen the following year that Alice's warning would finally sink in for her. The most ironic thing about it was the fact that it didn't happen because of one of Sabine's mischievous acts, it happened because of the wandering eyes of Genevieve's husband, Aaron Martin. What's even more ironic, is that Master Martin didn't even want Sabine in the house at first, he wanted to make her a field hand. Genevieve convinced him otherwise, saying that she would be malleable and make the perfect, obedient slave since she had no attachments on their plantation.

She was wrong.

The decision to keep Sabine as a house slave would be one that Genevieve would come to regret, but only out of wounded pride. Sabine, on the other hand, longed for freedom and was desperate to escape the growing tension between Genevieve and Master Martin. She doubted that they knew how many times she fantasized about running away from the plantation. It was more than once as each day passed.

She had good reason to as well, Sabine had noticed that the mistress had been short-tempered with her as of late. And that was never more evident on one fateful day, where everything in Sabine's life seemed to further spiral out of what little control she had.

Sabine wiped down the top of the fireplace on the far wall of the parlor room, humming to herself.

"What's that song?"

Sabine stumbled in surprise of hearing Master Martin's voice, his French accent only slightly there. Pushing away from the fireplace, she tightened her grip around the rag in her hands as she stood at attention. His thin lips were curled up into a smile, a smile that Sabine was sure he thought would put her at ease, it didn't. Matter of fact, the expression had the exact opposite effect, Sabine thought his smile looked like a wound opening. Everything about the forty-five year old man unnerved her, Master Martin had a complexion that teetered between being pale and matte, short, dark brown hair sat on top of his oblong head. His long face made his humped nose prominent, but the most terrifying feature on his face was those piercing gray orbs.

It was the eyes of a predator stalking its prey.

Bowing her head in apology, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, Master," Sabine apologized, vowing not to hum again.

"You didn't disturb me. What is that song?"

It's something that her mother would sing to her when she was younger. Sabine couldn't remember the words to the song, but she knew how the tune went, it was the only piece of her mother that she had left of her.

Shaking her head, "I don't know," Sabine lied remorselessly.

Instead of letting her get back to her work, Master Martin just continued staring at Sabine, it made her flesh crawl. His eyes traveled from her face before letting them roam down to her neck and then onto her chest. This had become increasingly normal behavior for Master Martin, each week it seemed like he managed to find her alone and just study her figure. His eyes would always linger on her breasts, and that was what made Sabine most uncomfortable in his presence.

Master Martin leaned against the door frame, "You've been filling out your dress quite nicely as of late Cecile," he commented, now looking at slim waist and then her hips as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Sabine had to swallow down the bile she felt that might escape her mouth.

"Cecile!" Genevieve's shrill voice called from down the hall. "Cecile! Where are you, you daft girl?!" she yelled, as she stopped right beside her husband. "Aaron, dear, what are you looking-" she began, but cut herself off when she followed her husband's leering gaze. Genevieve's expression hardened and she narrowed her eyes at Sabine, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She stormed over to Sabine and came to a stop in front of her.

"Mistress I-" Sabine started, but Genevieve's hand whipped out and struck her hard across the face. Sabine's head snapped to the side and she lowered her stare to the floor, her breath uneven as she rubbed her cheek.

It was the hardest slap she had ever received.

"You stupid girl! Why are you distracting the Master?" she demanded, glowering at Sabine. "Get out of here and get back to work!" she ordered, her rising temper reflected in her face.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied, quickly bowing her head as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"And didn't I tell you to cover that horrid hair of yours? The sight of it is revolting!"

Genevieve had never once demanded Sabine to cover her hair, not until that day. But from that day on, Sabine wore a headscarf religiously to cover her head. Sabine figured that Genevieve's thought process probably fell along the lines of, if Sabine's hair wasn't visible then she'd become less attractive. It was a flawed logic that did nothing of the sort, much to Genevieve's and Sabine's dismay. So, for Sabine, the physical and mental abuse she received from Genevieve increased on a scale that she never experienced before.

The days of Sabine just being a pet to show off to Genevieve's friends to poke fun at her, were long gone.

Genevieve now saw Sabine as competition for Master Martin's attention. Attention that Sabine never wanted in the first place, Genevieve could keep her disgusting husband all to herself for all she cared. But of course, Genevieve would never see it Sabine's way, no, somehow Sabine's at fault for Master Martin's lustful stares.

Things only seemed to get progressively worse for Sabine as the years passed and her body continued to mature. Not only did she draw the unwanted attention from her perverted master, but she unfortunately also captured the eldest son's attention, Marc. He was almost a spitting image of his father, but was by far, worse than him. He's actually touched her in inappropriate ways, too many times for Sabine to recall. At least Master Martin just stared at her, although Sabine was sure that one day he might begin touching her as well, her worst fear was that he would flat out rape her.

Lord knows, Marc had been working his way up to it.

Sabine noticed that he had become increasingly aggressive as of late. And that frightened her to no end. She remembered one time after a dinner party she had to serve in the parlor room where the male guests were playing cards. She had just finished serving a round of drinks to Marc's table and the way he decided to thank her was to roughly squeeze her ass with a disingenuous smile. This action made the men at the table roar with laughter, but all Sabine could feel was mortification.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner of the small shack that she called home.

Sabine wanted to believe that the abuse she was suffering could not get any worse, she thought wrong. For, not only was she terrorized by the Martin's, but Marc's arrogant, smug college friends who often visited the plantation, partook in her torment as well. They would whisper things in her ears that no upstanding, God-fearing gentlemen would ever say to a white woman.

And for having such a supposed repulsion and violent reaction to someone of her complexion, white men sure seem to fancy negro flesh. It was confusing, yet terrifying realization. How could you hate and treat someone with so much scorn, but at the same time want to sleep with them?

Sabine's worst experience with one of Marc's friends was that he managed to corner her and forceful stick his hand up her dress, grabbing her thigh, luckily his hand wasn't able to go any higher thanks to one Alain Martin.

The only kind-hearted Martin in the family.

Alain, the curly headed and bright blue-eyed boy who always had a boyish grin on his face. He actually treated Sabine and the other slaves on the plantation like actual human beings, showing them dignity and respect, something that was completely foreign to them. Sabine wondered how the cruelty that Alain's family gleefully inflicted on the slaves didn't corrupt him and make him turn out like them. Maybe it was because Alain had actually questioned his surroundings as a child and didn't simply just accept what his mother and father told him as fact. She could recall many times Alain saying, ‘that doesn't seem right’ as a child.

And as Alain grew older, he continued to challenge his parents on the practice of slavery, prompting several arguments and debates, especially when it was dinnertime. Sabine had been a witness to quite a few of the shouting matches that would erupt at the table between Alain and Master Martin, Alain would also go at it with his older brother. Marc claimed, 'that because of the negro skull size all they were capable of was menial work and that white people were justified for enslaving them. With no one to oversee the negroes, they would hurt themselves'. This claim only enraged Alain further and Sabine as well.

Sabine had more knowledge in her pinky, than Marc's thick skull.

She pitied Alain, he had become the black sheep of the family. He attended college in the North and his views against slavery had only become stronger. He was an unapologetic abolitionist, which of course was completely the opposite of what his family believed. There would be many times that Sabine found herself listening to Alain as he vented out his frustrations about his family. She didn't mind, because that's what friends do, you let them vent.

However, it was not always like this, the bond they shared now as young adults would seem unimaginable to Sabine when she was younger.

Sabine and Alain had spent a lot of time together as children, but not because she wanted to, at first. The only reason she and Alain were in close proximity all the time, was the fact that she was tasked with fanning him while he had lessons with his tutor. Sabine resented him, they were only two years apart and yet here she was fanning him like he was some type of king. She was cold towards him (as respectfully as possible) and it went on like that for a couple of months, until Alain decided to speak to her when his tutor went inside the house.

"Pssst, Cecile, do you know how to say this word?" he asked, pointing to a word in his book.

Internally, Sabine arched a brow, she didn't know if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or to mock her.

"No sir," she answered, her grip tightening on the fan at the fact that she had to address a fellow child as 'sir'.

"You didn't even look," he argued softly, looking up at her. "Come on, I know you're smart, probably smarter than me," he added, moving the book closer to her eyes.

"Don't let the master and mistress hear that," Sabine remarked mindlessly, before freezing at what she let slip from her mouth.

Sabine expected to hear Alain run from his seat and tell his parents what she said, instead she heard giggles.

"You're funny Cecile," he commented, shaking his head.

A breath of relief left Sabine and she craned her neck, "What's the word, sir?" she asked, her eyes scanning the ink on the page.

"This one," he replied, pointing to the third word on the page.

Sabine nodded her head, "It's glaciers, sir," she said, before looking at Alain.

"Thank you Cecile," he smiled, bringing the book closer to him again.

"Your welcome sir,"

"Alain," he corrected.

"What, sir?" Sabine asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Call me Alain,"

And from that day forward, to some extent a friendship was born. The breaks in between Alain's lessons where his tutor wasn't present, were the only time that the two of them could really speak to each other. Alain did most of the talking, he told Sabine things he probably wasn't supposed to and if his mother ever found what Alain told her, Sabine was sure that Genevieve would just about faint. Sabine on the other hand, was much more reserved on what she was willing to tell Alain. She never told him anything personal, just mainly what she did each day. Sabine was afraid of telling Alain something that could somehow finds its way back to Genevieve. But, as years passed and they slowly matured, Sabine finally felt that she trusted Alain enough to tell him her real name when they were fourteen.

She hadn't heard the name Cecile since.

It was a friendship of secrecy, but that didn't mean Alain wouldn't try to protect Sabine as best he could. Alain could do it overtly, like he done with Marc's friend by yanking him away from Sabine and punching him square in the jaw. Other times, he would opt for more subtle ways that were just as effective. Remember the assault that Sabine suffered in the parlor room? Well, Alain was a witness to his older brother's molesting of her.

Alain strode over to Marc, appearing as though he was going to tell him off, which for Sabine's sake, she hoped he wasn't. It would only lead to further humiliation of her in some sort of fashion and probably Alain as well. Alain approached the table where his brother was playing cards when he suddenly tripped over his feet. Sabine watched in almost awe as the champagne flew in the air before raining down all over Marc, soaking his hair and a part of his evening jacket and dress shirt.

Marc's face turned beet red.

Sabine had to force herself to keep a neutral face, for a grin was threatening to form on her lips followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"You clumsy idiot!" Marc exclaimed, venom laced in his insult.

Alain didn't seem affected by the remark, "I'm so sorry brother," he apologized, without the faintest hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I'll go get some towels for you," he offered, before turning to look at Sabine. "Will you escort me? I would hate for my clumsiness to resort in another mess," he explained, and Sabine nodded.

"Of course sir," she stated, and led Alain out the parlor room.

Once they were in the hallway and out of view from everyone, Alain grabbed Sabine's wrist and pulled her along to the bustling sounds of the kitchen. Entering the room, Alain let go of her wrist and the two of them stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. Sabine felt tears forming in her eyes and used the back of her finger to wipe it away.

"You're going to get an earful from your mother Alain," Sabine warned, with a breathless laugh.

"I don't give a damn," Alain declared, a proud grin on his lips. "Marc deserved it," he added, nodding his head.

Sabine leaned back against the counter, "You didn't have to do that for me," she said, looking over to her friend.

"No," Alain disagreed, vigorously shaking his head. "I had to, Sabine," he corrected, his expression turning serious. "Marc assaulted you. He humiliated you," he continued, his hands bawling up into fists. "Humiliation in return, it was the least I could do," Alain explained, and Sabine ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly. "I know it won't erase what was done to you Sabine, but I had to do something," he finished, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

"It is a small victory I shall revel in for a long time," Sabine said, placing her hand on top of his shoulder. "Thank you, Alain,"

Chapter Three: Steal Away

30 notes · View notes

mintdrop · 3 years

Photo

[Immortals] | [1,443 words] | [vampire/hunter spearmint AU] | [chapter 2] | [prev chapter]

Given that a vampire had much stronger, fast ability to heal than humans, it didn’t take long for Estinien to recover - at least physically. Mentally, he was a mess. That woman; no matter what he did, she wouldn’t leave his mind. Hell, she had even appeared in his dreams at some point, embarrassing as it was to admit. That asshole that had chased him, he said she would regret something. Was she okay? Would she be punished for saving him? But it wasn’t only that -- why did she save him? Wasn’t she a hunter? Wasn’t her entire purpose to kill things like him? It didn’t make sense. His thoughts were absolutely plagued with her, and it was driving him mad.

“You know, you could just go see her.” A voice pulled him from his personal prison, and his clouded eyes focused back to the scene before him. To his left, a man with a near-angelic face sat there with tea in hand, smiling to himself as he watched Estinien awkwardly shuffle in his seat. Black hair framed ethereal blue eyes, and when he spoke, a brief flash of fangs could be seen, betraying a voice that seemed like it would belong to a deity. “Though it was through your own sheer misfortune, you do know where she resides.”

“The other hunters know my face, Aymeric. It would be stupid of me to go back.” His gaze shifted away from his sire, and he adjusted himself so that his elbows were propped up on his knees, mouth buried within the palm of one hand. “Besides, she’s… she would only suffer for it. I’m sure they think I’m dead, with how she treated her own. What would come of it if they found out?”

Aymeric smiled, and took a sip of his tea before placing the cup and saucer down on the table that separated them. “Then shall we go together? I’m curious to see what kind of woman has your mind so tangled.” He stood up from his chair, not giving Estinien any time to voice his objection to the idea. “As it so happens, I have an appointment with Hilda today. Perhaps we could linger about the guild and see if we catch a glimpse of your savior.”

The late fall and winter months were a gift for vampires; though the sun didn’t harm them as much as fairy tales led children to believe, it did make them somewhat uncomfortable compared to humans. But at the end of November, the sun was gone by time the clock struck five, giving the two men a much easier time to blend in with the bustle of the town. Normally, the southern streets would be emptier than those of the north, where all the shops sat. But today, there seemed to be a commotion. Estinien trailed behind Aymeric, who felt much more confident amongst the townspeople than he did; perhaps it was his face, or simply how he presented himself, but he’d never been suspected of being anything other than a normal human by those he interacted with. Today was no different.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He called out to a passing woman, who stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the eye candy that had beckoned to her. “I’ve been out of town lately -- could you tell me why it seems to be so active this evening?”

“Oh, well, y’know those people who work out of that big building a little ways away? The “Hunter’s Guild,” they call themselves. Anyway, there seems to be some kind of argument going on there.” The woman gestures down the road, where a congregation of people seems to be forming. “Somethin’ about a betrayal or the like.”

Aymeric thanks the woman and turns to Estinien, although he is greeted by what could basically be described as an after image of the man. Pulling up the hood of his outerwear, Estinien rushes down the street, brushing past the people forming the crowd until he has a clear view of the center. To the left stands the hunter who had chased him before - his upper leg is bandaged, and he holds onto a single crutch for support. To the right stands Peppermint, arms crossed against her chest. In the center stands another woman, this one unknown to Estinien. Her hair is short, gray tufts ending just beneath her chin. Her eyes are of a similar hue, and if he’d been focused on anything other than wondering what was unfolding before him, he would have been curious to know if she could still see.

“I’m tellin’ you, this bitch here let that vampire go!” The hunter aggressively points towards Peppermint, a select few of his word slurring together; was he drunk? Maybe not, but he was definitely on his way there. “She’s betrayin’ the whole guild, Y’shtola! She needs ta’ be expelled! Locked up!”

Estinien swallowed, his eyes locked on the smaller woman in the center of this mess. Aymeric, who had finally managed to push his way into the group, watched along. Despite his belligerent yells, Y’shtola sighed.

“You’ve claimed this for the past three days, Arthur, but you’ve shown no proof. The only thing you have to show is that wound through your leg.” She looks down at the bandaged limb, but her eyes show no sympathy. “Which you only sustained because you decided to trespass on her grounds.” The man’s face seemed to change color in an instant, red rising from his neck at a rapid pace.

“So she gets t’shoot me with no consequences?! And even then, she hasn’t shown any proof of her kill!” He points again, nearly spitting in rage. The smaller woman sighs, her shoulders shrugging. Digging into the pocket of her coat, she pulls out a tuft of white hair, tied at the end where it had been ripped from Estinien’s skull, and tossed it to the ground in front of Arthur.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to parade the corpse around like a trophy. Unlike a few of the hunters here,” her eyes narrowed, coldly glaring at the man across from her. “some of us don’t feel the need to glorify what we do just to get women warming our beds for a night.” While her tone was unchanging, Peppermint’s words were filled with venom -- enough to push the other hunter over the edge.

Pushing his crutch over, he began to sprout profanities towards her, charging towards her with nothing but adrenaline keeping him steady. Estinien pushed to make his way in, only for his arm to be gripped with extreme force, nearly being yanked out of its socket as he was pulled back. He turned his head to see Aymeric, whose “wait” was drowned out by the gasps of the crowd around them. He turned his gaze back to the altercation, watching as Peppermint sidestepped from Arthur’s aimless flailing. She kicked her leg out in front of her, tripping the man and causing him to tumble face-first into the cobblestone. When he got his bearings, nose threatening to show the beginning signs of an injury, he tried to grab at her calf, although she was able to quickly step out of the way. She walked beside Y’shtola, who shook her head.

“You’re a disgrace to the guild, Arthur. You’re suspended as of today. An official hearing will be in order soon.” Walking forward, she picked up the tuft of hair that Peppermint had provided as proof, gesturing to the shorter woman before turning on her heel and retreating back into the guild hall. From the crowd emerged Arthur’s hunting partner, who quickly scrambled to get the man to his feet. Arthur, in return, simply stared at Peppermint with murder in his eyes before being carted away -- most likely to the nearest tavern to drink away his embarrassment. The crowd, sufficiently pleased with how the argument had turned out, began to disperse.

Estinien simply sat there in silence, unsure of what to do now. Does he approach her? Does he even make it known that he’s there? No, he decides; the faster he leaves, the better for both of them. But fate is a cruel mistress, and rather than escape undetected, their eyes meet. Peppermint’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s stunned - until Aymeric walks up to her.

“Good evening, miss.” He bows, smiling at her as he meets her gaze. “I believe a friend of mine has been looking for you. Would you like to take a stroll on this lovely winter night?”

#ffxiv #;; seii's scribblings #;; spearmint #there's one line in here that just makes me think 'holy SHIT mint is so cool #anyway this ended up just being even more set-up... 'this is a spearmint fic' i say as they barely interact

14 notes · View notes

seven-oomen · 3 years

Text

The way I tend to be | The DILF Club

Happy Holidays to everyone! Have some delicious smut or our favorite DILFS, there's even some plot in this! Hope you like it because I have a universe thought out for this and if it does well, I'll share more!

It wasn’t doing as well on Ao3 as I was hoping for and I’m curious to see if it’ll do better here. If you enjoy it, please reblog, like, and/or comment on it. This is also a test to see if people still reblog fanfiction from me and if Once Upon a Time would do well on Tumblr. Which is my longest and most elaborate fanfic to date.

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski Characters: Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Additional Tags: Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Cabin Fic, trans chris argent, Bisexual Peter Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Trans Male Character, Bisexual Sheriff Stilinski, Bisexual Chris Argent, Double Vaginal Penetration, Double Penetration, Breeding, Creampie, Unprotected Sex Series: Part 1 of The way I tend to be

Fate could be a very cruel mistress when she wanted to be. And often she came together with a little vicious thing called irony.

The last year had been crazy. He discovered werewolves, banshees, wendigos, and werecoyotes were real, and so was whatever Kira was supposed to be. Chris Argent, Allison’s father and Isaac’s foster father, turned out to be a hunter, and the little bane of his existence during his career as a deputy, a certain Peter Hale, turned out to be a werewolf. As was Peter’s nephew Derek and his niece Cora. He still couldn’t completely wrap his head around that one.

They’d fought together, protected the town together, and now protected their children together.

That didn’t always go well, of course. One of them was a hunter, the other a werewolf, and somehow he always found himself right in between the other two trying to break up their fights.

A lot, and a lot of therapy for all three of them, had fixed that for the most part.

Still, there were times when he really wished he could duct tape Peter to the ceiling, mostly because the man was still a delinquent with a golden tongue, but mostly just because he was annoying. At least the werewolf was now firmly on their side and had proven that by nearly dying for both the other adults and all of the kids on multiple occasions. He’d really turned a new leaf. Still annoying as fuck, don’t get him wrong. But at least not reprehensible.

It was Peter’s new loyalty and Chris’s new code that had led him to go along with them on this particular mission. A mission to find a lone werewolf kid causing trouble around Mount Shasta. Since it was only two hours from Beacon Hills, he’d agreed to go over with the other two.

Their cover?

They were the chaperons on a school field trip to go skiing on the mountain for a week. Which had been the luckiest of coincidences in the history of coincidences but he’d take it. And since Stiles, Mikey, Malia, Jackson, Isaac, and Allison were all going, well, the rest of that was history.

“Peter, I swear to god if I find your socks anywhere near my bed again I will throw you through this window myself!” Chris snapped, holding up a pair of light blue socks with pink flamingos on them.

Ah. So that’s where his socks had gone off too. He was wondering where’d he left them.

“Those aren’t mine!” Peter bit back, looking so insulted at the mere idea of having to wear said socks that he couldn’t help but be offended at his offense. “I would never wear those monstrosities!”

“Right, I just keep finding random people’s socks in my bed for the last three days…” Chris growled, “You expect me to believe that?”

He bit his lip, wondering if he should admit to being the culprit. Since he was the only other person who had a bed in this room he figured Chris would draw that conclusion as well. But apparently, the hunter really hadn’t considered it.

The werewolf cocked his head to the left and sneered. “I’m not the only one who has a bed here beside you.”

Those fierce blue eyes turned to him and he couldn’t help but smile awkwardly at the both of them. “Yeah, those are mine.”

Peter smirked triumphantly at Chris, his eyebrows raised in a clear; I told you so.

To his credit, Chris pursed his lips and wordlessly handed him the bunched up socks of the last few days. His silver-blue eyes lingering with something that wasn’t quite a glare, but the man wasn’t exactly happy with him either.

“Thank you.” He quickly put his runaway socks into his duffel bag and straightened out the covers on his bed to keep himself busy.

“You owe me an apology, Christopher…” Peter’s voice sang through the room and a glance found the hunter glaring back at the wolf.

“I’m sorry for blaming you immediately.” Chris sighed, straightening out his own bed before checking the equipment in his backpack.

“Thank you,” Peter turned back to him and stared at him rather expectantly. “Noah?”

He had to admit he felt a little bit guilty for what had happened. He sighed softly as he shoved his water bottle, his sleeping bag, and some provisions into his backpack, looking up at the wolf sheepishly. “I’m sorry Peter, I’ll uh-” His eyes flicked to an expectant looking Chris, “I’ll keep a better eye on my socks and speak up when you’re blamed again.”

The wolf smiled mischievously at his apology, his eyes flicking from Chris to himself for a brief moment. “Thank you, now we really need to talk about your fashion choices, because those socks-”

Chris’s laughter followed him out of the room as he grabbed his packed bag and his orange ski jacket and headed out the door.

The trek up the mountain was not an easy one and they only had until nightfall to explore the area. He pulled the black beanie further over his ears and his gloves on a little tighter and looked over his shoulder.

Chris walked ahead of him, his blue ski jacket standing out against the white snow, a red beanie pulled over his ears to keep him warm.

Peter brought up the rear, his red ski jacket and brown beanie complementing one another in a rather surprising way. But if anyone could pull it off, he supposed it was the wolf.

They pushed through the snow and the wind, hoisting backpacks up higher and threading on while trying to find one lonely werewolf kid who needed their help. The wind started picking up as the hours progressed and once the snow started coming down and whipped around them, he realized that they weren’t going to be able to get back any time soon.

With their sight blocked off by the sudden incoming storm and nowhere to huddle they had no other choice but to walk on. He could no longer see where he was walking, only saw the bright blue of Chris’s ski jacket in front of him and before he knew it, he was face down in the snow and heard someone yelling his name.

“Noah!”

Someone picked him up and he felt two gloved hands cup his face. It took him a moment to register that it was Peter who picked him up and was currently cradling his face. He wasn’t sure how the concerned look on Peter’s face made him feel.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was one he hadn’t been expecting. It was warm and tingly. Peter’s blue eyes made him think of the ocean and moonlit beaches with a soft breeze and the soft calls of whales in the background-

“Noah… Are you still on this planet?”

Peter’s words pulled him out of his thoughts. “What?”

The wolf frowned at him and gently patted him over his body to check him for injuries. He swatted at the wolf’s hands to put a stop to it and pursed his lips. “I’m fine, but we need to get out of the cold.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, turning back to Chris who had come towards them. “We need to get out of this wind, find shelter!”

“I know!” Chris yelled back, trying to carry his voice over the roar of the wind. “I think I saw a cabin up ahead!”

Chris looped his arm over his left while Peter looped his through his right and together they started tracking up the slope. The silhouette of the cabin quickly came closer with every step and they quickly headed over. They had to let go of each other to walk up the porch and Chris tested the door. It was locked, of course.

“Shit.” Chris muttered, “Look around for a key, usually-”

He started looking under several pots next to the door and found a key under the second one. Though a loud bang told him that they would no longer need a key.

“Or we could kick in the door…” Chris sighed while Peter held the door open for them to let them in.

Chris went in first, drawing his gun from inside his jacket as he checked the cabin room for room. He followed after the hunter, trying to suppress his hands from shaking and his body from shivering as the cold started to set in around him. Some snow had gotten into his jacket when he’d face-planted into the ground and it was creating a wet spot on his clothes as his body heat caused it to melt. The water also cooled down his body, especially in these temperatures.

Peter brought up the rear once more, eyes glowing a bright red as he scanned their surroundings and scented the air. The wolf behind him relaxed after a few moments, closing the door behind him by propping a chair from the little kitchen under the handle so it stayed locked.

“Cabin’s empty.” Peter and Chris said in unison. They walked up to him, frowning as they noticed his shivering, though he was doing his best to suppress it. He felt Peter’s incredibly warm hand against his forehead and couldn’t help but lean into it. He wasn’t sure how hot Peter ran in general, but it was definitely a few degrees higher than Chris or himself. Right now, that was a very welcome feature of the werewolf.

“He’s colder than he should be,” Peter muttered, gently guiding him towards the large fireplace in the middle of the room. “Come on, let’s get you heated up.”

“Did his jacket rip?” Chris asked, looking around for paper, wood, and other items they could burn.

Peter patted him down, despite his best efforts to keep the wolf’s hands off him. Werewolf strength could be quite unfair and if he wasn’t so damn cold he would have complained about the little shit sitting him down and throwing his own red ski jacket over him.

“Doesn’t seem to be but the collar is all wet and against his skin, looks like snow got in.”

“Aren’t you gonna get cold?” He raised an eyebrow at the black sweater Peter was wearing but also pulled the jacket closer and breathed in the wolf’s scent.

“I run a hundred and two degrees on a normal day.” Peter smiled, his face illuminated by the first sparks of the fire that Chris got running. It gave him a warm… almost soft look.

“It’s a werewolf thing,” Chris added, “Their body heat is higher than ours, it protects them from hypothermia, aids in their immunity against disease as well. One of those unfair advantages.”

He chuckled in response, his shivering already dying down now that the heat from the fire picked up and he had an extra layer. “That so?”

Peter hummed in agreement. “As is our superior sense of fashion.”

“Even Derek?” He asked, earning a laugh from Chris.

Peter pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “Derek’s the exception to that rule.”

A laugh escaped him as Peter sat down next to him, though the laugh died on his lips as he noticed the concerned look Peter was giving the fire. It sobered him up considerably, knowing what Peter had been through, how close he was now sitting to something that had hurt him so much.

“Are you okay?”

The softness of his voice must have drawn Chris’s attention as well as the hunter had turned to look at them, his brow furrowing as he watched Peter’s face carefully. “Peter?”

Chris sat down on his other side, keeping a close eye on Peter while pretending to stare at the fire. Still, he noticed how Chris’s hands twitched in his lap and his eyes kept flicking to the wolf.

For a moment it seemed like Peter was lost in thought, staring into the growing fire with widening eyes. He noticed the wolf’s breathing picking up and his shaking hands. He carefully reached out and laid his own hand on top of Peter’s, startling the other man.

“What?” Peter relaxed at his touch and leaned into him unconsciously. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just-”

His eyes flicked back to the fire.

He didn’t have to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” He pulled Peter’s jacket closer and pulled his legs up to minimize the loss of warmth. “We can turn it down if you need that.”

Chris frowned at those words, eyes flicking from him to Peter, before slowly nodding in agreement. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but if it’s hurting you-”

“No.” Peter quickly interrupted him. “No, I’m fine. And you both need the fire. I just- I might need a distraction.”

“Distraction?” Chris raised an eyebrow at the word, earning a smirk from Peter in the process.

“Yes, the dictionary defines it as a thing that prevents someone from concentrating on something else. Or do you need a clearer definition, Christopher?”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it, Peter…” Chris looked down at his hands and shrugged. “We all have our own demons we want to forget.”

Peter went a little quiet at that, staring down at his feet while he scooted closer to him. “You’re right, it’s just-” His eyes flicked back to the fire.

“I get it…” Chris’s smile was soft as the hunter reached behind him to lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

It was nice, to be wedged between the two younger men and feel their warmth seep through him. He let himself lean back against Chris’s arm and laid his head on Peter’s shoulder. It just felt like the right thing to do in that moment. “It’s okay.” He whispered.

Chris frowned as he noticed the color difference of his gray sweater and trailed a hand over it, stopping at the collar as he felt the dampness. His warm hand trailed down over his collarbone and down his chest until he hit a dry spot. “You’re half soaked, we need to get that sweater off you and get you in something dry.”

He looked down at his body and froze. He didn’t show his bare chest to anyone. Ever. Even while sharing a room with the other two, he’d always gone to the bathroom to change. There were certain things he didn’t want anyone else to know, his past being one of them.

If anyone understands, it would be these two.

A little voice in his head told him. Yeah, it was right and he knew that. But what if they’d look at him differently?

Chris handed him a dark green sweater from his bag, having dragged said bag over with his foot, and gently started lifting his shirt. The hunter stopped after an inch and raised an eyebrow.

He was asking for permission.

He slowly shook his head. “I’ll do it.” And gently peeled the half wet garment from him and over his head. Constantly aware of what his aging body looked like. At fifty-three his best days had passed. He wasn’t as muscled as Peter or as lean and strong as Chris. His chest had a softness to it from all the fast food he’d been eating and he was showing his age with little marks, freckles, and the scars from years of abuse. The most obvious one being the scar on his left shoulder.

He paused for a second, jumping a little when Chris’s hand hovered over the scar. Though the hunter pulled away quickly and looked like he might apologize. Though the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

“What happened?” It was Peter who broke the silence.

He wasn’t sure what he could say, felt tears prickling in his eyes and for a moment he heard his father’s booming vague voice ringing through his ears. “My father happened, he uhm, I didn’t let him hurt my mother,” He sighed, “and he pushed me through our coffee table.”

“Jesus…” Peter whispered, gently squeezing his right shoulder in comfort.

“I’m sorry…” Chris muttered, rubbing his own scarred hands in discomfort.

“We all have our own demons… Right?” He shrugged and put Chris’s green sweater on, quickly figuring out that the fit would work but was on the tight side as the edges of his sleeves stopped a little too high on the wrist. It was also a little on the short side at the middle.

He sighed. “At least it’s dry.”

Peter bit his lip and looked like he was having great difficulty with keeping his laughter contained. “It doesn’t look that bad…”

Chris wasn’t as kind and snorted before trying to cover it up with a cough.

He glared at the younger man but smiled after a minute or two. “Thank you, Chris.”

Chris let his eyes roam down and grinned. “You’re welcome.”

He laid his head back on Peter’s shoulder and pulled Chris closer for his warmth.

“So neither of you is going to distract me then?”

He didn’t know why he found that statement so funny but he couldn’t help but laugh at the annoyance in Peter’s voice. He felt Chris smile against his shoulder as the hunter laid his head down on it for a second.

“How do you propose we do that, Peter?” The hunter lifted his head and leaned in just a bit, just inches away from Peter’s face.

The wolf answered Chris with a smirk. Gently putting a finger under Chris’s chin to pull him closer. “I have an idea, it’ll also keep you both warm.”

“Will it now?” Chris’s smooth deep voice send a shiver down his spine and made his cock twitch. He swallowed rather heavily in response.

God, he wanted Chris to command him in that voice, to tell him to take off his clothes and put his ass up in the air and-

“I think someone likes the sound of that voice…” Peter purred into his ear, the wolf laid a finger under his chin and lifted his head to face Chris.

“Do it again.”

He stared into Chris’s silver-blue eyes, warmth traveling down his body and stirring in his loins as the hunter smiled deviously.

“Hmm, what do you think sheriff ?” Chris purred the last word, he couldn’t help the little sound of desperation that escaped him. A sound that he echoed as Peter leaned in and gently nipped at his ear.

“I think he hates it.” Peter grinned against his cheek and slowly started nipping his way down his jaw and to his neck. “I think he might want us to stop.”

The wolf paused and he growled in response, reaching behind him to cup the back of Peter’s head and pull him back down. “Don’t you dare, Peter.”

Peter laughed in response and gently pulled him into his lap before continuing his lovely assault on his neck. He moaned happily and wiggled a little to get more comfortable and rub his ass against the growing bulge beneath him. Peter’s laugh dissolved into a moan.

Chris smirked at them, slowly trailing his hands up Noah’s thighs though he stopped just short of his groin, a silent question in his eyes. He nodded enthusiastically, too occupied to answer due to Peter biting the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck without breaking it. “Fuck me…”

Peter paused in his marking efforts, growling into his ear as he forced him to focus on Chris by grabbing a hold of his jaw. He felt Peter’s nails gently scratching his skin. “Oh, I think Christopher might have a better idea.”

Chris’s hand traveled up and cupped his cock through his pants, gently rubbing and stimulating the hardening member. He in turn squirmed in Peter’s lap and felt the Alpha’s clothed cock press against the cleft of his ass.

“Does he now?” He moaned softly.

Chris scooted closer and placed a leg on each side of his lap, sharing a passionate kiss with Peter before he turned his focus back on Noah. Chris pulled him up a little by the collar of his borrowed sweater and for a moment he thought the younger man would kiss him as well. Chris leaned in but stopped just short and smiled. “I’m gonna ride you both at the same time.”

As hot as that sounded, his brain short-circuited for a moment. He paused and blinked, cocking his head to the left as he tried to figure out how exactly that was going to work. “How is that gonna fit, we don’t have lube.”

Chris chuckled in response and gently lifted Noah’s hands to cup his ass. “You’re just gonna have to get me wet enough.”

Wet enough? He was missing something here. Not that he was complaining, Chris’s ass was phenomenal.

Peter took pity on him. “I think he doesn’t know. Maybe you should show him.”

The absolutely feral grin Chris gave him made his breath stutter.

“Let’s have some fun then.”

He felt Peter smile against his neck, the Alpha going back to his assault to suck a few more hickeys into the sensitive skin. That was gonna be a bitch to hide from Stiles, Mikey, and Liam but considering that every touch sent electricity through his body, he wasn’t going to complain much.

Chris opened his own pants but didn’t slip them down. Instead, he zipped down Noah’s and continued his teasing touch.

A soft squeaky moan escaped him as Chris’s hand rubbed him through the fabric and slowly massaged him to a throbbing erection. Peter in the meantime had started rubbing himself against his ass while continuing his assault on his neck and even his shoulders. He was gonna be bruised and sore by tomorrow, that was for sure.

“He’s pretty when he’s marked up,” Chris commented as he slipped his hand inside Noah’s underwear and wrapped a hand around his hard cock. The other man stroked it slowly, keeping his touch light and gentle as he worked from the sensitive head to the base, and then slipped him out of his restraining clothes as he worked himself back up.

“Pretty down there too…” The hunter remarked, smiling as he studied Noah’s cock for a moment, fingers tracing over the thick veins down to his balls.

Peter let out a delighted moan behind him, one that he echoed as the wolf made him grind down on while Peter thrust up. It was a goddamn shame they didn’t have any lube because he really wanted that thick cock to wreck his ass right then and there. But Chris clearly had a different plan.

The hunter guided one of his left hand from its place on Chris’s ass up to his own mouth, offering him his own fingers with a firm. “Suck on them, get them wet.”

Processing that command took him a second but he caught on quickly and started sucking on his index and middle finger. Bobbing his head up and down and swirling his tongue around the digits until they were coated in his own saliva.

Chris gently pulled Noah’s fingers free after a few moments and guided his hand down Chris’s pants. His mouth opening in a little ‘O’ when his fingers didn’t brush over a hard cock but instead found soft curls and a wet cunt. Oh, that made a whole lot of sense. His cock twitched excitedly and he couldn’t help but grin and lick his lips as he slowly started rubbing the soft folds and sensitive clit. Using his wet fingers as lube to ease his way.

Chris’s breath hitched as he circled the sensitive little nub and applied varying amounts of pressure. He enthusiastically met him for a passionate kiss, causing Peter to groan, followed by a desperate moan once the wolf caught on what they were doing.

He heard a zipper behind him opening and felt the brush of Peter’s hand against his ass. Knowing Peter, he was practically drooling while jerking himself off as he watched them make out.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Peter whispered.

Chris grinned against his lips and leaned back, watching both of them with a hungry leer. The hunter leaned back and pulled away much to his dismay. His wet hand dropped to his side and he held it up to get a quick taste of Chris. He felt Peter practically vibrate behind him as he let out a hungry moan.

Chris came back quickly with one of the sleeping bags, zipped it open and laid it out on the floor before he took off his pants and commanded him in that silky voice, “Lay down on your back.”

The command made him shiver and he scrambled quickly to do the hunter’s bidding. Laying down on the sleeping bag. He was rewarded for his quick action by a gentle blow on his cock and the hunter’s questioning gaze.

“Please…” He begged softly, squirming at Chris’s burning look. God, he wanted Chris to ride em like he stole em and talk dirty to him until his toes curled and he came screaming their names. Judging by the hungry smile the hunter sent him in return, his fantasy might just be fulfilled tonight.

“Please what, sheriff ?” The hunter’s voice vibrated through him and he noticed Peter shuddering as well. The wolf’s breath ragged and his cock leaking precum.

“Oh for the love of God, Chris if you don’t start sucking me off-” He moaned as Chris licked a path from his balls to the tip of his cock before deep throating him in one smooth move, effectively cutting him off.

The hunter hollowed his cheeks and slowly worked his way up, making his toes curl as warmth exploded through him, and his heart hammered in his chest.

He felt Peter settle, one knee on each side of his head, and looked up to see the wolf was offering him his own hard member. He smirked and lapped at the leaking head, moaning at the slightly bitter but not unpleasant taste.

“Turn your ass around Chris I want to taste you,” Peter growled.

Chris demonstrated just how flexible he could be by putting a leg on either side of him and raising his hips in the air without hitting him in the process, his lips never leaving their attention to his cock.

Peter’s appreciative moan had him shivering in response. He continued his worship of the wolf’s member with short licks to the head and worked his way down to the heavy balls, taking each in his mouth and rolled it around on his tongue before working his way back up.

He heard Chris moan, long and filthy above him, and watched as Peter’s enthusiastic licking, sucking, and tongue fucking of Chris’s cunt was met with equal enthusiasm as Chris fucked the wolf’s face. He felt the hunter’s legs contract and shudder after a few minutes, gasps escaping Chris as he came hard on Peter’s tongue. He even felt some fluid hit him on the chin as the hunter squirted his juices over them, much to his surprise and Peter’s delight.

“I hoped you could still do that.” The Alpha growled, playfully biting Chris’s ass without breaking the skin and slapping his other cheek.

Chris pulled away from them and took a few strides and deep breaths to come down from his high. Then grinned and swayed his hips as he walked back to them and smoothly straddled him.

“Oh, I can do far more than that.” The hunter chuckled. “What do you say?”

He groaned softly and quickly nodded his consent. “Please…”

Peter growled in response, red eyes glowing as he walked around them to sink behind Chris. “Why don’t you ride us, sweetheart?”

Chris smirked in return. Gently grabbing a hold of his cock and guiding him into the hunter’s tight wet heat. He nearly came on the spot but managed to hold back just enough by focusing on a spot on the ceiling and letting out a slow breath to ground himself while Chris slowly got used to his length and girth. He wasn’t the biggest or thickest guy, and thankfully neither was Peter or this was never gonna fit, but neither of them were exactly small either and Chris would need to adjust to each of them.

After a moment or two, the hunter slowly raised himself and moved his hips in slow, long strokes until he slid in and out easily and Chris could pick up some pace. His toes started curling and the warmth in his belly started pooling slowly, gradually building with each thrust and stroke until Chris pulled up enough to keep only the tip of his cock in.

He hadn’t even noticed Peter coming closer until the wolf aligned the head of his cock against his own as he slowly pushed the first few inches into Chris’s cunt beside him.

“Fuck…” He moaned, eyes rolling back into his head as Chris slowly sank on both of their cocks. They rubbed together in the tight wet heat of Chris’s cunt and he could feel every pulse, throb, and twitch coming from the wolf’s cock.

Chris paused once he had them both down halfway, his chest heaving with every breath and a large grin on his face. The hunter leaned over him, sinking himself further on Noah’s cock but forcing Peter’s further out. Chris then grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, checking over his shoulder to see if Peter was on board, who grinned in return.

The moment Chris started moving, riding him like a prized stallion, Peter pushed his hips up every time Chris pushed down. Rubbing both their cocks together, lubed by Chris’s juices as the entire lengths met and rolled together with each thrust.

A string of moans and desperate little sounds left his throat as he surrendered to the warmth and feelings of pleasure that surged through him with every move. He felt it intensifying with each stroke, each move. Amplified by the wet sounds of Chris’s cunt and his little moans of pleasure, Peter’s growls and harder thrusts and by the twitching and throbbing of the wolf’s cock besides his own.

He managed to hold out for several minutes before his toes curled, his body convulsed and heat exploded in his loins. His cock twitched and pulsed as he came hard and in long spurts, while Chris continued to ride him and Peter continued to thrust in beside his twitching cock.

It didn’t take long for the wolf to let out a long moan and join him. Their cocks twitching and throbbing together as they came deep inside Chris and filled him with their cum. He felt Peter slump forward, held up by Chris as the wolf shuddered his last wave of ecstasy.

Chris continued to ride them, though the movement of his hips was greatly reduced due to Peter’s weight on his back. Milking them for every last drop they had. Only when they were spent and Peter was practically napping from exhaustion did he let them slip from him.

The hunter gently maneuvered Peter from his back to lay him down on Noah’s right, furthest away from the fire and rummaged through his own backpack for wet wipes to clean them up.

“Now that was a distraction.” Noah grinned, pleased when Chris winked at him.

It took a minute for Peter to come back to them with a dopey grin. Watching with interest as Chris did his best to clean them and himself from all traces of their fucking. Pouting a little as the hunter pushed out as much of their cum as he could and wiped it away.

“That’s a damn shame…” Peter muttered. “We tried so hard to breed you.”

Chris merely chuckled. “Wasn’t gonna work anyway, I’ve been on testosterone for sixteen years and have an IUD. The odds of you knocking me up are astronomical.”

He couldn’t help but frown at Chris’s words, for tempting fate was never a particularly good idea. But on the other hand, the hunter did have a point on how unlikely it would be. They weren’t the youngest, Chris was on hormones, and if he also had an IUD. What on Earth were the odds then? They couldn’t be high to begin with, even if in the best circumstances.

So he scoffed and pulled his pants back up. Peter did the same and Chris located his and put them on as well. Another sleeping bag was pulled from somewhere. His jacket was put up near the fire, on the back of a chair to dry further. And Chris laid down next to them on the sleeping bag to hunker down for the next few hours until the storm died down.

At least they were warm, comfortable, and utterly sated for now.

He dozed off knowing that their dynamic had shifted. Yes, he still wanted to duct tape Peter to the ceiling. And Chris could still be a jerk when he wanted to be. But at the very least, this was the start to a very fun beneficial rump for all three of them. Whatever else fate wanted to throw at them, they could only wait and see.

So what do we think? Do we want more of this universe? Do we want more DILF smut? More Chris/Peter/Noah?

If you enjoy my work:

Subscribe to my Ao3

Buy me a Coffee

#teen wolf fanfiction #chris argent #peter hale #noah stilinski #sheriff stilinski #chris/peter/noah #the DILF club #lemons #trans character #bisexual characters #fanfiction #creativity he wrote #ben writes fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

6v6taeminisloveshineeworld · 4 years

Text

House of the Damned Chapter One: BLOOD AFFAIR

Summary: Lust is neither love nor passion, it is but a starving beast driven mad by thirst and unyielding desire. A natural hunger akin to flame. As a daughter of the Church, a trial of purity is thrust upon you when a series of events leads you to live in a manor with six vampire brothers who are eager to possess you and claim their birthright as the strongest of the bat clan descended from Vlad.

Pairing: Taemin X Female Reader, SuperM X Female Reader

Genre: Vampire romance, Diabolik Lovers Crossover

Word Count: 7.2k+

Warning: Use of foul language and scenes with non consensual circumstances

Authors Note: Most dialogue in this story is from the Diabolik Lovers game Haunted Dark Bridal Translated by maichiruhanabira and used with permission. It is not all my original work and will follow the DL game story with some extended or altered scenes. For original content read my other works, this work will be a side project since I am a fan of the game. If you are unfamiliar with Diabolik Lovers then I hope you enjoy surprise aspects of the plot.

“Once beloved of mine, I never possessed you and yet you still haunt me.

Your absence stirs a great longing within me unquenchable by time.

Should fate take you from me again and into the shadow of another man’s arms I shall end this cruel existence.

I curse destined prophecy, I curse you in your winter’s grave.

Heartless temptress, mistress divine, your crimson kiss is now a distant shadow dancing across hot desert sands.”

You woke from your strange dream and the alluring voice that accompanied it in a haze as the car bumped along the uneven roads leading you deeper into the middle of nowhere. Since landing on the soil of Emberwater you’d asked residents of the small town for directions to Hawthorn Hill and every time they’d waved you away saying that the estate had been vacant for years or that the place was haunted. Finally, you’d found one old woman who’d been a little too willing to help at last. Her eyes had been glossed over and you realized then that she was blind. She’d told you that her son would be happy to drive you to the estate free of charge to which you graciously accepted.

You hadn’t placed much stock in the townfolk’s superstitions until you saw the manor from your window at last. This may be a mistake indeed. What could Father be thinking sending me off to stay in a place like this? Is this really where my relatives live?

You still remembered the look on your father’s face just two days before as he hurriedly packed not only his bags but yours as well, stuffing things here and there frantically as if he was running away from someone.

“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you to Europe, Father? What will happen to the church when you leave? You’ve only just come back from your last overseas trip, please don’t leave me again!” You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and you wiped them away angrily.

“Honey, don’t cry we’ve been over this.” His voice was surprisingly stern and it unsettled you further. He was always so gentle with you and his behavior now really set you on edge. “While I’m gone I’ll be passing on Church affairs to pastor Remiel. This job is simply one I cannot decline, they have requested that I go personally and in the meantime, you will be off at a nice private school and staying with distant relations of mine, the family is an old companion of the Church.”

“Which relations?” You asked.

“I haven’t told you about them since we are rather estranged, they are quite aristocratic but they will take care of you.” He said, running a hand through his graying hair and looking more tired than ever. “It’s painful for me to leave you as well but please try to understand my position. I go where the Lord tells me and you my daughter know better than to go against his will.”

He came closer then and kissed your forehead. His eyes fell to the delicate silver crucifix embedded with pink sapphires that lay around your neck. He’d given it to you at birth, ‘a prized Church heirloom made of blessed silver’ he’d said when you had asked him long ago if it had belonged to your dead mother. “Finish packing, you leave tomorrow night.” He said, before giving you a final hug and walking out the front door with his suitcase.

As you approached this pompous estate now, you were half-filled with awe and more than a little bit of hesitation. You thanked the old woman’s son for driving you so far and started walking up the path, duffel bag in hand. The manor was quite large and elegant in the way that a royal castle would be you supposed if the castle was one from a horror movie or gothic novel. Vines with small orange roses covered the yellow-painted brick in a pleasing fashion but you couldn’t shake the eerie atmosphere and dark windows that seemed to send a chill throughout your body.

Perhaps it only looks this way at night? You thought hopefully. Just then a loud crash of thunder boomed, making you jump. It began to pour so heavily then that even though you ran the rest of the way to the overhang you were already wet. You lifted the heavy brass knocker and pounded on the door.

“Excuse me?” You yelled when there was no answer. The storm must have muffled any sounds you made. Or maybe the rumors were true about the manor being haunted and you should just leave. But surely father wouldn’t send me to a haunted manor. The Church would never wish one of its members to be associated with such an unholy place.

Just then the door creaked open on its own and you wished for the thousandth time on your journey that your father had just taken you with him. But thinking rationally the door couldn’t have opened by itself, perhaps someone was hiding behind it?

“Excuse me!” You shouted again, even louder this time, “Is anyone home? My father pastor Gabriel, he must have told you I’d be arriving.” When there was still no answer you stepped into the manor and closed the heavy door behind you. No way could this door be unhinged by just the wind. You dropped your bag on the floor and entered the foyer. No one was there but the manor did seem lived in at least. You rubbed the cold away from your limbs as you explored deeper.

The hall was clean but dim, lit only by a few candelabras that you passed as you walked into the living room. You marveled at the plush red carpet and sofas as well as the tall ceiling, there was a grand staircase as well but what really caught your eye was the roaring fireplace. You hurried to it and dried off as best you could. This is getting a bit freaky no one is here.

You reached for your phone but another flash of lightning made you jump and it slid from your hands. In that single burst of light you could have sworn you saw the shadow of a person lounging on one of the sofas but perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You moved to grab your phone only to find you were not mistaken. There was a person laying on the sofa fast asleep. You must have missed him in the darkness but you’d been certain you were alone.

“U-um… E-excuse me?” You said, hesitant to wake him. The boy continued sleeping so you went on a bit louder, “I’d like to speak to the owner?”

When he didn’t answer you again you moved to touch his pale hand only to find it incredibly cold. You moved closer and waved your hand in front of his nose and felt nothing. He was so still his chest didn’t even rise and fall. Is he dead! You thought with alarm, your heart began to race frantically and painfully. You knelt on the floor beside the sofa and clutched at your chest. These attacks were happening more and more frequently and you knew it was best for your health if you didn’t freak out. There was a ringing in your ears like a voice repeatedly calling out for help. You breathed in and out trying to slow your racing heart.

You started to dial an ambulance for the boy when suddenly his eyes flashed open and his hand grabbed your wrist to stop you. You screamed loudly in surprise and tried to pull away but his grip was too strong.

“Shut up.” He said, turning his steely gaze on you.

“Excuse me! Let go now!” You shouted and tried to pull away again. He tilted his head and looked at you from head to toe curiously.

“What’s with you squealing in my ear?” He said sitting up on the sofa.

“But just a minute ago…” You said trailing off.

“Just a minute ago what?” He said with a small amused smile. “I was just sleeping comfortably in my own house. Is that a crime?

“J-just sleeping? But… I’m certain you were…”

“I was what?” The boy asked in a mocking tone, he leaned in closer. His eyes were a startling green and before you realized it he had pulled you by the waist onto the sofa and was towering over you, one hand gripping both of your wrists over your head against the pillows.

“Hey what are you doing! You said, wriggling beneath him, “Let go of me!”

“Damn, you’re noisy. It was you who suddenly broke into my house. What are you doing in a place like this?” He said, bringing his face closer to yours. “Are you a magnet for trouble? Is that it? A moth drawn to flame?”

“No! I’m not, I was supposed to come he-.”

“I’m hungry,” He said resting a finger from his free hand over your lips to silence you. “There’s nothing like getting a feast right when you wake up,” he said with a laugh that made your stomach lurch.

“Don’t touch me!” You said, trying to squirm away but his knees locked you down.

“You’re some pretty energetic prey aren’t you? Stop struggling, just be a little… quieter.” He said as he began to unbutton the collar of your blouse.

“Please, God help me!” You shouted.

Suddenly all the lights in the living room came on startling you both. You noticed the ornate chandelier above you for the first time, it’s flames twinkling and reflecting against the glasses of the man who had entered the living room. The boy above you narrowed his eyes, seemingly annoyed.

“What is all this clamor? I hope you have a sensible reason for causing so much ruckus and disrupting my reading, Mark.”

“Ah, Ten, it’s you.” Mark said with a glare.

You used that moment to pull away from the strange boy and ran over to the man.

“Please help me!”

“Hm? And you are?” The man pushed up his glasses as he surveyed you with a look that seemed both annoyed and disgusted. You gave your name hesitantly, you weren’t sure if you preferred his gaze to the boy, Mark or not. From their features you could clearly tell they were related, they shared the same sparkle to their eyes and lint of the chin but on all other accounts, they appeared quite different.

“Mark, how many times have I told you to keep your conquests to your private rooms.” Ten said.

“I Am not a conquest!” You said angrily. “I came here because my Father told me i’d be staying here from now on!” You said it as clearly and unwavering as you could, relieved that at least some of your confidence was coming back to you.

“Is that so? I know nothing of these arrangements.” Ten said, narrowing his eyes, he looked to Mark for an explanation. “Mark, what is the meaning of this?”

“Like hell should I know! You didn’t say anything about that earlier, Breastless!”

“Well, you suddenly attacked me and told me to shut up, and… wait, ‘Breastless’?”

“Yes, dummy, it’s 'cause you don’t have any tits,” Mark said with a smile.

“How dare you!” You shouted, your face turning bright red.

Ten cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his black hair, “Well, there clearly is some error and you were misinformed.”

“Oh, what do we have here?” Said another voice. You looked across the room to find yet another attractive face. His hair was bright red, he was sitting on the banister of the grand staircase. His eyes were alight with mischief as he slid down the banister and embraced you.

“Hey!” You said startled.

“Is there really a cute human girl in our living room?” The red-haired boy said. He stood in front of you and brought your hand to his lips, tipping his black hat as he did so. “Hello, pleased to meet you, Little Bitch.” You gasped in surprise as he proceeded to lick your earlobe!

“Taeyong, really now. For a woman you’ve only just met, wouldn’t you say that was a bit insolent?” Ten said crossing his arms.

“Aha Ten you’re as stiff as always. Isn’t this fine? I was just getting a quick taste of a delicious-looking girl.” Taeyong said, licking his lips. You glared at him, taking in the eyebrow piercing on the left side of his face. If it weren’t for the ornamentation and bright hair you would have said he looked almost innocent in appearance although his actions said otherwise.

“Shit, I’ll kill you, bastard,” Mark said, stepping toward Taeyong. “Fucking spitting on Breastless before me!”

Taeyong’s laugh was more of a giggle like the chiming of bells. When he’d finally stopped he said, “You’ve got to claim your food with spit before your barbaric brothers do, hmm? Otherwise, they’ll eat it all up. Isn’t that right, Baekhyun?”

Another boy just as pale as the rest walked up beside you from the shadows. His purple cotton-candy like hair gave him a youthful appearance, He looked to be as old as you but for some reason, he clutched a teddy bear in his hands. A creepy bear at that, you thought. It may have been cute once but it seemed worn out in places now and very discolored, it even had an eyepatch and you wondered if it was just for style like some pirate or had the bear really lost an eye? Baekhyun’s eyes themselves were filled with excitement as he came closer to you and said in a childlike voice, “Please let me have a lick too. Don’t move, okay?” He wasn’t really asking for permission you realized for in the next instant you felt his tongue along your ear, wet and ticklish.

You made an odd sort of squeaking noise as you tilted your head away from him. What was wrong with these boys.

“Mm.” Baekhyun said noisily, clutching his teddy tighter against his chest. “She’s sweet… It’s rare to find a tasty one amidst all those dirty humans, isn’t it?”

“What?” You said in an exasperated voice, you were tired and confused of this little game they all seemed to be playing with you.

“Hey, what is a girl doing here anyway?” Baekhyun asked.

“Isn’t she tonight’s side dish?” Taeyong said, licking his lips again.

“Dumbasses. Don’t go thinking she’s your “side dish” 'cause she’s mine. After all, ‘Yours Truly’ found her first.” Mark said laughing again.

“Oh?” Ten said in an imperious tone as he looked at Mark. “That may be so, however you failed to taste her first.”

“Fuck you, Ten! Stop saying unnecessary things!”

“Pathetic.” Ten said, shaking his head.

Listening to this banter was worse than the licking you thought and just when you had accepted that things couldn’t get worse for you yet another voice entered the scene.

“Oi, Lucas, come on out!” Mark said.

Lucas it seemed had just appeared into the living room you had no idea where he’d come from. It was all just further proof that you needed to get away from this house and fast.

“No wonder I thought I smelled a human. It was you.” Lucas said, his voice was deep and every word was quite sharp. “My sleep was interrupted thanks to you and your stench.” He said, his glare directed on you. “What’s even going on?”

When you didn’t respond Lucas yelled, “Speak, don’t ignore me!” His fist pounded against the coffee table and made you jump in surprise.

“Ahh my little bro’s as hot-blooded as usual,” Taeyong said.

“Shut up, you year-round slut!” Lucas shouted at Taeyong. “I don’t consider you my older brother at all.”

“This is making me mad. Baekhyun said in a considerably serious tone that set you more on edge than the child-like one. “If you don’t stop with this needless talking, I’ll mangle you, okay?”

“Heh. I’d like to see you try it, Lucas sneered. His blue hair was disheveled and dare you say it, mangy as if his rage had grown roots. What are you gonna do with that tiny body, pipsqueak?”

“Ugh… Look at that, Teddy.” Baekhyun said in an offended voice. “This guy will be our next prey.”

“Please be reasonable,” Ten told you sternly. As much as I try to be gentle with you, my patience can only last so long. I’d like to say they can cook and boil you as they see fit but I cannot tolerate letting my foolish younger brothers compete for you in my clean living room. Now, first of all, please tell us how you managed to stumble upon this place.”

“Well... That is… because I..” Your voice shook as you spoke. It seemed your brain was at last catching up to the mess you were in.

“What’s this, Breastless? Are you trembling?” Mark asked.

“Aha… You really are cute like this,” Taeyong said drawing close again. “Now I’d really love to eat you.”

Mark laughed. “Your teeth are chattering. We really frighten you that much, huh.”

“O-of course I am frightened! I’m in such a strange place and I can’t understand any of you at all!” You said.

“What don’t you understand? Mark asked. We’re easy to understand, aren’t we?” He said, looking at Taeyong.

“Well, the rest of us are probably not as easy to read as Mark, right?” Taeyong said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Now, now, please don’t interrupt. Ten said, rubbing his forehead. “This conversation is not progressing in the slightest. I truly will lose my temper if this doesn’t shape up.” He turned to you and said, “You aren’t so frightened that you cannot speak, yes? So hurry and explain your situation.” He said the words slowly as if you were dumb. “Unless you’d rather I strike you with my whip?”

“This is all some big mistake,” you said backing away. I’ll just excuse myself. I’m sorry for coming in so late and imposing.” If I don’t leave soon they may do something worse. They really don’t seem to be joking about enjoying my discomfort.

“Hold up.” Mark called out from across the room and in the next instant he was right beside you! It was as if he’d teleported. “You can’t just leave, stay here.”

“I agree,” Taeyong said immediately. “It’s ridiculously troublesome when this house only has men living in it. If Little Bitch stayed here well maybe it’d bring a little bit of elegance into our lives.” Taeyong gave you a charming smile that sent you into a panic.

“I refuse!” you said before bolting for the door. There was nothing else to do at this point but run.

“Oi! Wait!” You heard Mark shout behind you. As if you’d stay here and be their plaything! Before now you would have said ghosts and haunted houses were just legends but after seeing Mark just ‘appear’ beside you and after all of those strange encounters in this sinister house, you believed that it was indeed haunted. You’d made it all the way to the foyer before you heard another voice.

“You’re so fussy, it’s tiresome,” The voice whispered. As if from smoke a man appeared right in front of your path.

“Are you also with those other people in the next room?” You asked, barely suppressing the desire to roll your eyes at yet another person? Phantom? Blocking your path.

“‘With those other people’... Being told something like that is exceedingly upsetting.” He said, his voice was much more enjoyable to listen to than the others you thought. It was languid and reminded you of a lazy stream. Soothing and yet refined.

“Well? Are you?” You asked again. When he stepped into the light you saw that his light blue sweater matched the blue of his eyes; serene waters both stoic and cold. You shook your head to clear it, damn these beautiful faces were distracting.

“If I had to describe my relationship with them,” He said finally, “I’d say we share an undesirable but inseparable link to one another. Are you the woman that guy was talking about?” He asked.

“'That guy’?” You repeated confused.

“Oi, Taemin!” Oh no just what I need now.“You know something about her?” Mark said coming beside him.

“Maybe,” Taemin said.

“Don’t ‘maybe’ me. I would like a full explanation,” Mark demanded.

“That guy, he contacted me the other day. ‘A new housemate will be coming to live with you, so get along nicely with her’ or something along those lines,” Taemin said dismissively waving them all away with his hand. He pulled out a pair of headphones that were attached to the black choker around his neck and went to recline on a sofa.

“So then, Breastless is just another prospective bride from the Church.” Mark said.

“No wonder, this is bullcrap.” Lucas said huffily.

“She’s more of a sacrificial lamb than a bride.” Taeyong said, moving to nibble at your ear, when you tried to get away he whispered, “Isn’t that right, Little Bitch?”

Ten cleared his throat. “It appears that this is not a mistake after all.”

“Y-you’re kidding!” You said, looking at Ten imploringly.

“Stupid. What would be the use of lying to you?” Mark said.

“I’m not a bride! I’m not marrying anyone! I have no idea what you’re talking about but this is all very strange! My father is an official from the Church, and for them to send me here…”

“Isn’t it fine, being sent here by the Church?” Taemin asked as he took in your shocked expression.

“What about that is 'strange?’” Baekhyun asked in that child-like voice again.

“That would mean my father knew all about you guys and you’re all so strange.”

“What about us is?” Mark asked.

“Well…” You tried to think of a way to say in the nicest possible way that they were creeps and your father would never want you near any of them but before you could utter a word Taemin said, “Because we’re vampires?”

“What! Vampires?” You exclaimed.

“Ugh. He went and spoiled it.” Mark said, sounding completely annoyed once more.

“Spoiled it? Wait, I don’t really understand what you’re saying,” You said and you prayed silently that this was just another nightmare and perhaps you’d gone to the hospital due to heart failure and this was all your imagination.

“It’s just as Taemin said. We are part of the vampire species. The bat clan, descendants of Vlad.” Baekhyun stated seriously.

“That must be a lie! Vampires? That can’t be true…” Phantoms were one thing but you couldn’t handle this.

“It’s rather inconsiderate for you to insist that we’re lying to you.” Ten said, “Mark has already said this, but there is no reason for us to lie to a lowly human.”

“But!” Your mind was racing now. Of course, the explanation did make sense. There was the shadow apparating, the flawless features, and the pale cold skin. The Lifeless body of before and their melodic voices. Yes, it all made sense.

“Now, now, Little Bitch,” Taeyong said in that ever so charming way of his. “You just don’t want to admit it, right? That beings as superior as us exist?”

“I don’t care if she believes it or not, she’s still annoying and loud,” Lucas said.

Whatever they said, you needed to call your father and ask him yourself. You reached for your phone but found your pocket empty.

Mark held your phone out to you, “Oi, looking for this?” Mark said, waving it in the air above your head just out of reach.

“That’s mine! You yelled exasperated. “Please give it back to me!”

“Or what?” Mark said with a laugh. He continued to wave it over your head.

“Come on! Enough!” You screamed.

“What’s with that attitude? I kindly picked it up for you. Is that how you thank me? Mark said.

“Mark, hand me that.” Lucas said.

“Why?”

“I said, hand it over,” Lucas reached over and grabbed the phone from Mark.

“Wait, what do you think you’re doing!” You scream but it was too late.

“I’m doing this!” Lucas said, before crushing your phone in his fist.

“No!”

“You’ve been so annoying ever since you got here,” Lucas said, letting the phone drop to the floor.

“You bastard!” You shouted. How would you call for help now?

“Now, now, Little Bitch,” Taeyong said. “From now on, you’re going to be friends with us creatures of the night. So there’s no need for boorish things like cell phones. Right?”

“Who do you guys think you are!” You said as you bent down to pick up the remains of your cell phone.

“So,” Baekhyun said as he stroked his Teddy bear, “Are you going to leave this place?”

“That should be obvious.” You replied.

“Oh, I see. Well, that’s perfect, then.” Baekhyun said.

“Perfect?” You asked wearily.

“I’ve been very hungry for a little while now.” Baekhyun continued.

“So what?” You said, hoping to stall for time to escape and keep him talking.

“You really are a fool, aren’t you? It can only mean one thing when a vampire says he’s hungry and I do love a good chase.” And with that Baekhyun pushed you to the ground teddy bear and all. For such a small figure he had a lot of strength, most of it supernatural of course you realized. You tried to move from beneath him but he would not budge.

“Your blood smells so tasty and sweet,” Baekhyun said giggling like a child. His fangs prodded at your neck and you shuddered as you felt the tips brush against your skin. “I’ll drink it all without leaving a single drop behind. Okay?” His self imposed stupor was all you needed as you took just that moment before he would feed on you to move your hand to your chest.

“Stop!” You yelled, whipping your rosary out and using it as if it were a shield.

“Huh?” Was Baekhyun’s only reply.

Meanwhile, Taeyong was just about rolling on the floor laughing. “Little Bitch… you’re amusing! You carry a rosary with you?” He said between giggles.

“She seems to believe in the more archaic methods. Ten said. “Quite foolish, I must say.”

“But, vampires shouldn’t be able to tolerate crucifixes, garlic, or holy water…” Your voice trailed off at the look on their faces.

“What kind of fairy tale did you get that from? That’s stupid,” Mark said.

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who looks like a fairy tale character!” You shouted back.

“This is making me mad,” Baekhyun said again with a whine. He looked as if he was about to throw a tantrum. “My food is right in front of me but the dining table is getting chaotic. Why are you doing this?” He said.

“Your food! Don’t say terrible things like that! I’m a human being!”

“This is tiresome,” Taemin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Baekhyun said that because humans are treats for us. Didn’t they lick you already?” Taemin said.

“I can’t accept that vampires exist!” You said quite stubbornly.

“Mm… That’s kind of sad. Little Bitch,” said Taeyong. “The only way to make you believe us is by doing this.” He leaned into your neck and you shouted, “I get it now, so just wait a minute!”

“Don’t wanna,” Taeyong said, running his tongue along your throat and collarbone.

“You say that, but… m-my blood is not that cheap!” You said, trying to work out a strategy that would buy you time. “Because I-I want to choose who… gets to drink my blood!”

“Heh?” Mark said in surprise.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that but it was the only thing I could think to say.

“That is quite displeasing. Ten said, pulling up his glasses again. “I have no clue what kind of blood you might have, but aren’t you behaving just like a high-class prostitute?”

“This is stupid. I’m out. You guys do whatever you want.” Lucas said with a huff.

“Oh!” Mark exclaimed. “A dropout already?”

“The human’s manners are deplorable,” Ten said, looking down at you. “It has been quite a while since I’ve had a woman this undisciplined.”

“Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green, When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.” Baekhyun sang the folk song in a hauntingly beautiful voice before saying in his serious tone, “Hey… Teddy. If she doesn’t pick me, let’s both cut her to pieces, okay?”

“This has gotten interesting,” Mark said with a smile. “Naturally, you’ll pick Your’s Truly, right? It should be obvious.”

“Little Bitch, Taeyong murmured. “If you don’t pick me… you’ll definitely regret it later.”

“Whatever.” Taemin said with a tired sigh. “Just end this silly game already.”

I only suggested this in the spur of the moment, but now… what should I do?

You looked at Taemin then, listening to his headphones again trying to block out Baekhyun and Taeyong’s chatter. He seemed safer than the rest; you didn’t quite know if that was the best word for him but when those blue eyes caught your stare you said, “I choose Taemin.”

“What a pain.” He whispered before closing his eyes.

Taemin seemed lazy compared to the others, somehow he felt more normal to you and yet, well what was normal for a vampire?

“Ngh, why him? You’ve got terrible taste, Breastless!” Mark exclaimed.

“You know, he’s not usually motivated to do anything, and I do mean anything,” Taeyong said moving his hips suggestively.

“Quiet.” Taemin told him, to you he said. “Well, I don’t mind having a nice meal come to me without having to do anything. But,” He said, eyes narrowing. “If you want me to suck your blood you’ll have to offer your neck to me yourself.”

Your cheeks reddened. Right, normal. This will work out in my favor.

“Everyone listen up.” Taemin said, “If you want to touch her, well, go right ahead. But you can’t kill her.”

“Huh? We can’t? Why not?” Baekhyun asked.

“Like I know,” Taemin replied. “That guy is the one who said it. ‘Treat your guest with respect’.”

“You really should have said so sooner!” You said.

“Too troublesome.”

“T-troublesome.” You echoed. He really was very lazy, you realized.

“What’s that bastard thinking? Why do we have to treat this lame human girl with respect?” Mark said.

“There might be some meaning to it. Maybe that person is planning something,” Taeyong said.

“Like what?” Baekhyun asked him incredulously. What could such a plain girl have?”

“Who knows?” Taeyong said with a sigh. “I can’t ever understand what that guy is thinking at all.”

“You’ve lost me again.” You said, feeling confused once more.

“Shut up, Breastless. Mark said, “This is our family’s problem.”

Who was “that guy” was he the person with connections to the Church that Father told me about?

“Anyway,” Taemin said, bringing them all back to the initial topic. “That’s why you can’t go so far you kill her. And you,” Taemin said, meeting your eyes once more. “Try not to be so loud; stay out of my way.”

“The more I take, the more you fall captive to my will. When your body meets mine, this thirst, this depravity will it all fade? You are but a faint illusion on the horizon waiting for the midnight sun as you waltz further from me.”

You woke from the words of your nightmare to find yourself in an unfamiliar king sized bed and as all of the memories of yesterday night came crashing down on you at once, you wished you had just stayed asleep. Taeyong, Baekhyun, and Mark, had shown you to this extravagantly decorated room last night and you’d been so tired that as soon as they were gone you’d locked the door and fallen asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You turned on the nightlight at your bedside table now and opened the curtains to find it was dark outside. You realized you must have slept the entire day away and given all the excitement you’d gone through yesterday you weren’t surprised. Without your phone you couldn’t contact your father and tell him about the trouble you were in and you knew that waiting for him to seek you out would take weeks or maybe even months. He always lost touch with you when he was traveling overseas and it incensed you to no end. His actions really show how little he truly cares about my well-being.

Settling for being vampire food felt like giving up but as long as you stood your ground they couldn’t break your spirit so easily. They would eventually get what they wanted but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up one hell of a fight.

Dear God, why have you given me this trial? This nightmare felt a lot like being thrown into a den of hungry lions you thought. Like some crazy test of purity.

“Hey,” Taemin said appearing in your bedroom out of nowhere.

You screamed and jumped into the bed ducking under the covers.

“Annoying woman,” Taemin said. “Don’t jump on the bed. You’ll break the floor and then Ten will throw a fit if you destroy the house.” You felt the edge of the bed sink in and you carefully peeked at him from under the pink frilly comforter. Really why would anyone decorate a place this obnoxiously. Everywhere you looked you saw stuffed animals and expensive furniture and it made you wonder how many other girls had been a guest in this room. You shuddered and moved your attention to Taemin. His eyes were closed and he was listening to his headphones again. He’d swapped his blue sweater for a school uniform and this had your mind buzzing with questions.

“Why are you wearing a school uniform? It’s nighttime already.”

“Classes start around now though.” He said, opening one eye to look at you.

Before you could ask him anything more the door swung open, even though you had been sure you locked it you supposed the lock was there more for your benefit than to really keep anyone out.

“What are you two still doing here?” Ten demanded, crossing his arms and glaring down at both of you. He was also dressed in a school uniform but unlike Taemin who wore his blazer around his shoulders, Ten's blazer was buttoned down and without a wrinkle in sight.

“The nuisance has arrived.” Taemin said, closing his eyes again.

“Taemin, would you please get in the car.” Ten said again, “I won’t ask politely again. If you two humiliate us all for being late I will-”

“Yes, alright. We’re coming now.” Taemin said.

When Ten left Taemin got up and took out a folded school uniform he’d been carrying under his arm. “Here put this on quickly and meet us in the front. I’ve already enrolled you for classes so you don’t need to worry about it.” He turned and started walking for the door.

“Thank you,” you said. You were amazed he went through the trouble. He waved your thanks away with a hand and closed the door behind him.

You hurried to dress, fearing that if you weren't downstairs in the next few minutes you’d have more vampires barging in, this time as you changed. It made sense that vampires attended a night school though you really hadn’t thought about it till now.

“Good evening, Little Bitch.” Taeyong said, greeting you at the front door with a lick to your cheek. You wiped it off with your sleeve and walked out the front door gasping when you took in the limousine parked in front. Well here’s to hoping that I will actually be able to study at this night school. Your mind anxiously wondered how many students would also be inhuman.

The School corridor was thankfully filled with a lot of normal looking people. No horns or fangs were on display but of course that didn’t mean they weren’t around if the guys were anything to go by since their fangs weren’t always on display. You’d only attended one class so far and yet you were already worn out from the bickering the boys had engaged in during the car ride earlier. The only thing that even made the day bearable was that Taemin hadn't mentioned sucking your blood. Not even once. He hadn’t even acknowledged you existed beyond giving you the uniform. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in you at all and maybe if you stayed quiet he’d end up letting you go himself without you having to beg him.

Just don’t make him mad, don’t get in his way, don’t look at his blue eyes…

“Hey you!” A girl shouted from across the corridor and you looked up.

“Me?”

“Yeah! you’re the girl who just transferred into our class today, right?”

“Oh, yes I am. Nice to meet you.” You said.

“Yeah, likewise! My name is Ellisyn,” the girl said smiling. She was tall with long tawny brown hair that fell to her waist in ringlets. “You know… I saw you when you came to school, and…” She leaned in close to your ear conspiratorially, “I was wondering, how are you related to the Hawthorn brothers?”

“What!” Well, some things happened… And Tae-”

“Ahh, yes! What about Master Taemin?”

“Huh? Are you interested in Taemin?” You asked.

Ellisyn looked at you as if you were from another planet. “Of course I am! The six Hawthorn brothers are super popular here! I am the president of Master Taemin’s fanclub myself!

“Oh I hadn’t reali-”

“I must inform you then that everyone calls Taemin the ‘Master of the Music Room’, he skips almost all of his classes to spend most of his time there. Also, he never talks to anyone that’s why I was so surprised when I saw you with him.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you perhaps dating one of the Hawthorn brothers?”

No Ellisyn, i’m their prey and i’m being held in that creepy place against my will and you can keep your ‘Master of the Music Room.’ These were your first thoughts but of course you replied with: “No, no! It’s nothing like that, truly!”

Ellisyn’s excitement deflated at this, “Really? Nothing?” She pouted, upset that she hadn’t come across some juicy piece of gossip. “Well, if anything does happen I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Her forked tongue escaped her mouth with a slither as she said it and you tried to look unfazed. Not a normal human then. She waved goodbye and walked off down the hall.

“I should try to steer clear of the music room.” You mumbled.

“What’s wrong with the music room?” Taeyong said, startling you as he came from behind you. “You shouldn’t let the gorgon girl bother you, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Would you stop sneaking up on me! You screamed. “Make some noise next time!”

“But the look of fear on your face is amusing, Little Bitch. Why would I go and do that?” Taeyong replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want Taeyong?” Just when you said it you regretted asking.

“Instead of zoning out in the halls and talking to yourself, why don’t we have some fun together instead?” He said, eyes alight with mischief.

“Ah, no. I… I’m not free right now.”

“Then make some time to spare.” Taeyong said, stepping closer.

“I-I can’t. I still have my classes!” Ah damn it, you were stuttering again. God he unsettled you.

“Who cares about classes? Wouldn’t it be much more important for you and me to learn about our bodies instead?” He said with a smile.

You blushed and tried hiding it by opening one of your textbooks only to find yourself reading it upside down.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. Here, come over here.” He pointed down a hallway. “There’s a less-crowded classroom this way-”

You bolted, running in the opposite direction and calling over your shoulder, “I’m busy!”

Hah… That was too close!” Thankfully I got away… This time. You leaned against a classroom door trying to catch your breath. Then you noticed where you’d gotten to while you were distracted running away, it was of course, the music room. Just my luck.

You could hear soft playing coming from inside. Curious beside yourself you opened the door quietly to find Taemin playing on the grand piano, his back facing you. When he was playing he seemed quite the opposite of lazy, he was rather vivacious. You came further into the room and watched his fingers as they spirited over keys. Even the muscles along his back seemed to move with him beneath his shirt to the rhythm, it was all so mesmerizing you hadn’t really noticed he’d stopped playing until he said, “What do you want?”

“Did you hear me come in,” you asked, feeling a bit guilty to have disturbed him.

“Of course I did, you are ever so noisy. Stop looking at me, you’re making a weird face.”

You blushed and moved to look around the room knowing full well he was talking about how you had been openly gaping at him. It was cruel really how angelic these monsters could appear. Without his fangs and imperious attitude he really would have been quite admirable.

“Did you need something?” He asked, going to lay on the floor.

“Nothing. I don’t need anything really.” Perhaps you should start some conversation or it would only get more awkward. “What’s the name of the song you were playing? It was beautifu-”

“Get out if you don’t need anything. You’re fatiguing. You really don’t have any importance to me and I hate small talk.” He said, closing his eyes.

Well that was rather unfair. “I wouldn’t be in your way at all if it wasn’t for you and your brothers.” Forget not angering him, you were angry now.

“My brothers all seem to be in a frenzy over possessing your body and blood, but don’t lump me in with them. If you’re trying to use your body to gain control or whatever of our family, then it’d be pointless coming after me. Eldest or not, I don’t even care about this household. Does that change your mind? Do you regret choosing me now?” Taemin said.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were stunned, it was almost a book coming from a man who supposedly never spoke and one who never revealed his thoughts.

“I assure you, I’m not here to gain leverage or power or anything! I just want my freedom, just like you want yours it seems.”

“Don’t act like you know me and as for trusting your word, what good is it?” He said.

“Just because you can’t take anyone else's word in your family doesn’t mean you have to shovel all of your experiences on me!” You shouted.

“I’m tired of talking. He said, getting off the floor and walking to the door. “I’ve already said what I had to.”

He really liked slithering out of conversation and being the one with the last word didn’t he.

You sat on the bench and moved your hand across the ivory keys. It’s best this way, I’ll have the best chance at escaping if he really doesn’t care about anything or anyone at all.

#taemin fanfic #superm fanfic #vampire fanfic #taemin #ten fanfic #mark fanfic #taeyong fanfic #lucas fanfic #baekhyun fanfic

32 notes · View notes