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jaimeslanisters · 9 months

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dominoes cascading in a line — the library

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

You beam, bright and happy, and he wonders if the real treasure in the Rock wasn’t in its gold or its wealth but rather in the daughters it produced. or moments in aemond's life with a lady of house lannister

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 2.5k notes: surprise bitch. i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me i promised you guys a dominoes before pawn, didn't i? (: pawn will be coming up and i will be hitting 100k with the next chapter lol sos

Aemond had been six when he first realized his father didn’t love him. It hadn’t been a momentous occasion or anything like that. There hadn’t been an offhand comment or a particular action that had prompted this realization, no big dramatic scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He had just looked up one day and looked at his father, at the rotting king in all of his glory, and known that Viserys Targaryen would never care for any of his children with Alicent Hightower, that he would be a stranger to all but one of his children.

He had been six and it had been his birthday.

The children of Viserys Targaryen had had differing responses to that disquieting truth. Aegon lashed out, drinking and whoring and failing at being anything resembling a leal son. Helaena turned inwards, closing herself off from everyone except her brothers, focusing her attention on caring for her insects in a way their father would never do for her. Daeron was inarguably delusional about the whole thing. Father loves us! He’d used to cry, face bright and red, fists clenched at his side. It’s just really hard for him to show it! He loves us! He loves us! He loves us!

At least, he had been delusional. Across the continent in Oldtown, perhaps he had come to terms with it. Father hadn’t gone along to accompany him and say goodbye even if Lord Hand Lyonel Strong had tried to insist on it, had wanted to frame it like an act of goodwill and diplomacy.

Father had said no. He hadn’t given a reason or tried to excuse his behavior. He simply hadn’t wanted to.

Even Daeron couldn’t be foolish enough to try and twist that truth.

Aegon strayed. Helaena hid. Daeron lied.

Aemond couldn’t afford to do the same.

If his siblings couldn’t confront the truth, couldn’t face it, he would. He would be their shield, their sword.

That involved training with the knights in the yard, focusing rather than goofing off like Aegon and their Velaryon nephews. It involved learning all the warrior arts and practicing until he felt like he was about to collapse and then continuing to train past that point until he actually did.

But mostly it involved studying.

Otto Hightower no longer lived in King’s Landing - he hadn’t since even before Aemond had been born - but that did not mean he had relinquished his tight control on his family that still remained in the capitol. His grandfather must have exhausted the ravens and the couriers with the long journey from Oldtown to King’s Landing, sending a couple of letters every month. Sometimes there would be one for Helaena and those were usually accompanied by an ivory statue of a bug or a book that he bought her as a present. Rarely there would be one for Aegon and his brother would always read it as soon as it was handed to him and tear it to shreds as soon as he was done. Once, Aemond had managed to snatch it from him before he could and, in the seconds before Aegon had tackled him to the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of violence, he had managed to catch onto one line.

The greatest curse onto this family is that you were born before Aemond.

It had been easy to let Aegon snatch the letter away after that. He hadn’t tried to get a hold of another letter since.

His grandfather had plenty to say to Aemond directly as it was.

There was always a letter for Aemond from Grandfather. Otto Hightower was not an affectionate man and the letters were always dry and straight to the point, outlining lessons and books that Aemond needed to read if he was to be a good and faithful son of House Targaryen. Rarely did he ever express any emotions in his words and, if he did, it was always shadowed by a sharp reminder of his duty to his family and to the realm.

Still, reading his letters always made Aemond desperately wish that his grandfather was still the Lord Hand, that he was still in the capitol to personally supervise his studying, to give him critiques and the rare praise.

Otto Hightower was a cold father. A poor father if his mother’s neurosis was anything to go off of.

But a poor father was better than no father at all.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand through the process, certainly didn’t want anyone to. Years of being on his own with only books for company had trained him well. He was used to holing up in the library, hidden away in the back by stacks and stacks of books with only an old, half-deaf septon for company. People didn’t usually come looking for him but people never came looking for him in the library.

Which is why it was especially a surprise when you stumble onto his hiding spot, eyes wide like a doe.

Since the week of your arrival, admittedly, Aemond has been avoiding you. If he thinks back to it, about how his cheeks had flamed red with embarrassment, how you had smiled and he had thought there was never anything as beautiful in the world, he wants to throw himself off the highest tower in the Red Keep out of pure and utter shame.

As sweet as you are and as kind as you can be, you’re a Lannister.

People always said that there was no limit to Lannister pride or ambition and that certainly had to be true for even a little lioness like yourself.

You might be kinder and sweeter than Aemond had thought you would initially be but that didn’t change the fact that there was only one reason that a daughter of House Lannister would stray so far from the Rock.

You were looking for a husband and, if there really was no limit to Lannister ambition, you could only have one goal set in mind.

Aegon.

With the image of you turning your pretty smiles onto Aegon playing before his eyes, he straightens up in his seat as you slow to a stop in front of him.

“My apologies, my prince. I did not expect to find anyone else here.” You say, stumbling slightly over your words in your rush to explain yourself. In your arms, you clutch a book tightly to your chest and it’s only the fact that he’s read that specific book more than a dozen times over that he can recognize it without seeing the name.

His throat is dry and there’s nothing he wants more badly than to just nod and turn back to taking extensive notes on the history of the Andals landing in the Fingers and stubbornly ignoring your existence.

Instead, he rises to his feet, bowing his head, wishing desperately he didn’t feel that slight warmth inside of his chest. “It’s no problem.” He looks down at the book in your arms and, before he can stop himself, he blurts out. “Are you reading Watchers on the Wall?”

You nod, smiling, and Aemond wonders if this is how animals feel when they first stumble into a trap, when their feet land into the snare and they’re yanked upwards to dangle defenselessly.

It can’t be. He doubts they enjoy it as much.

He starts pushing you on the book, carefully and cautiously. You may have just convinced someone else to give you a summary of it, after all, in order to endear yourself to the royal family.

But just as you had when you had first met him, you catch him off guard again.

You’re sharp and quick-witted and, if the fact that you had asked Maester Rodrik to give you further insight on Brandon the Breaker meant anything, you were just as voracious with learning as he was.

He wants to resent you.

He wants to resent you so bad.

But he can’t, not with the way your eyes light up as you talk about the Wall, about the Night’s King and his corpse queen. You lean in close to him, closer than anyone who wasn’t a member of his family has ever done. It’s not inappropriate, nothing that someone would scold or deride you for, but it’s closer than anyone has ever wanted to be to him.

It’s intoxicating and, for once, Aemond understands why Aegon is constantly imbibing, why he drinks more wine than he does water.

If it feels as nice as this does, some of his brother’s behavior finally makes sense.

When you finish your conversation, and you rise to your feet to leave, Aemond feels an unfamiliar panic rise up in him and, before he can think it through, he speaks. “If you’re not busy, you can stay and read some more. There are other stories in the book that I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on.”

You smile as bright and lovely as ever.

You settle back in your seat and Aemond turns back to his notes except now, he can’t think about the crossing of the Andals, can’t make his mind focus on all of the petty kings that had fought in vain against the invaders. All he can think is about how the two of you are sitting close enough that, when you flip a page in your book, the sleeve of your dress catches on his tunic.

It’s all appropriate. You’re both ten. You’re children sitting and reading in a library. Not even the most pious septon could find fault nor could the most insidious gossip find any fodder for their rumors.

But it doesn’t stop his heart from beating loud and hard in his chest.

No one ever wants to be this close, save his mother.

There must be something wrong with you. There must be. Perhaps you think that he’ll tell Aegon about your sweetness, about your cleverness, and your desire to learn.

He won’t care, he wants to tell you. He won’t care about anything except for what’s between your legs.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits with you, listening to the sound of you turning the pages quietly and the rustle of your clothing.

Eventually, he turns back to his notes, forcing his eyes to focus on the book in front of him.

House Shell was only one of several Houses to ally with the Andals when they first arrived, believing that their only chance of survival was capitulating to the vastly stronger invading force. Their faith was ill-placed.

Eventually, he gets a fraction of his focus back but you’re still there, teasing at the periphery. Occasionally he’ll get a whiff of the fragrant oil that you must use in your hair or you’ll hum or mumble about something you read. You don’t just fade into the background. You seemingly are impossible to minimize, impossible to shove into a box.

Aemond sighs, wishing he was stronger. How could he be a loyal and brave son of House Targaryen if the first pretty girl to give him attention made his head spin like this? What would his mother say? What would Grandfather say?

He continues to read, burying his head deep into the book until the only thing he can think about is the Shells - the Shells and the complete and total destruction of their House. He focuses on the story of Dywen Shell, about how the Andal warlords roasted him inside his own longhall. He focuses until he can hear the screams and wails of the Shell family as they watched their patriarch burn, until he can almost feel the flames licking up his sleeves.

He scratches down his notes, pretending that he doesn’t notice you similarly keyed in on your book.

What part is she at?

If you had stopped at the Night’s King and his corpse queen… next up was the Rat King. After that was Symeon Star-Eyes. They were both popular stories, ones that people told to their children without ever having touched Watches on the Wall. The book went into slightly more detail, particularly with Symeon. The songs liked to say he was blind and that he had placed sapphires in his eyes to show his devotion to chivalry.

The maester who wrote the book had a starkly different opinion. Symeon Star-Eyes was, more likely than not according to Maester Lewys, a sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, renowned for both his skill in combat and his abnormally bright blue eyes. Chivalry, the maester postulated, would not be introduced into Westeros until after the coming of the Andals, well after the death of Symeon.

You hadn’t been wrong when you had said that the truth was remarkably less interesting than what the singers liked to peddle out.

Far off in the distance, Aemond hears the belltower ring, indicating the turn of the hour. For the first time in his life, he feels a flash of relief that he has to meet up with his brother and nephews in the yards for sword training. While their words could be cruel, they at least were easier to understand than you were.

“I have to go,” he says, gathering up his books and notes as quickly as he can.

You hum, rising to your feet. “I should also probably go and meet up with Princess Helaena. Our septa can be awfully strict about punctuality.”

“It’s a virtue,” he replies, more out of instinct and a desire to fill the air with something than truly believing his words.

He regrets it immediately when you snort in laughter. “Perhaps you could teach us instead of her. You might be less inclined to rapping me on my knuckles when I slip up on a proverb.”

The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You can come to the library at this same time tomorrow if you want to avoid her. I wouldn’t mind.”

He would mind. He would mind very much if you showed up tomorrow with your easy smile and your bright eyes.

You don’t notice this internal conflict, though. You blink owlishly up at him, as if stunned by the offer. The silence drags on and Aemond feels that all-too-familiar sensation of humiliation and shame creeping up his neck and he opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back, but then you grin broadly at him. It lights you up entirely, brightening even this dark corner of the library.

“Thank you for the offer, my prince,” you quietly reply. “I think I might just take you up on it.”

You bow your head, dropping into a slight curtsey. Your manners are impeccable. Everything about you is designed to endear, to paint the picture of a perfect lady, one gracious and honest and kind.

He knows it's a lie. He knows that you’re hiding something fierce, something mean within you. He wishes he didn’t know that you were. He wishes he didn’t remember that snarl on your face when he had scared you, the way you had seemed ready to claw out his eyes.

He wishes you had never left the Rock.

Aemond doesn’t say any of it, doesn’t poke and prod until he can see that flash of rage that you had shown. He simply nods and prays that you don’t take him up on his offer.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond's pov is so fun to write #you just listen to mitski on repeat until you're so deep in that you start questioning whether or not anyone likes YOU

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kerubimcrepin · 3 months

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Episode 47 - Indie

It is cute to see that indie is still friends with all the people he met during his adolescence.

Cough-cough. Unlike certain other people.

His and Kerubim's life stories are in direct opposition. If one of them ever spoke of their childhood, chances are, the other one would be like, "You have no parents? Well MINE was controlling so you have it better, WET-NOSE" or "You had a shit parent? WELL, AT LEAST YOU DIDN'T HAVE HIM DIE IN FRONT OF YOU WHEN YOU WERE 5."

No wonder they hate each other's asses.

Though, it is funny how both of them had fathers who had always acted like no matter what they do, they will never be good enough.

It's a shame we hadn't seen these friends of Lou's during the series. They have nice designs, especially the yellow one.

Not a Jurgen-Crepin food moment, but this might be useful for pinpointing which fruits exist within the setting.

Patafiks is so funny to me, like... Guys there are 5.5 characters in the animated shows who are canonically queer in some way. One of them fucking sucks, one of them dies within the 20 minutes of being introduced, the 0.5 of them is Kerubim Crepin's ambiguous gender dysphoria, the normal two are Simone and Julie, and the last one is a dogboy yandere (who briefly dated("dated") Kerubim Crepin).

We live in a society.

Indie talks about Kerubim the same way I talk about him on this blog. We are so alike...

Insert "this bitch always starting shit" meme here.

Even though Ouginaks and Ecaflips both follow the same god, — albeit his different sides, — this perfectly showcases the difference in ideology that makes them hate one another.

While Ecaflips are all about mysticism, destiny, prophetising, and simply letting the current flow, Ouginaks are all about making their destiny.

Though I will be real, considering the things Ecaflip puts his demigods through, — like the, uh, son leaderboard within his dimension, or his treatment of Kerubim, (and his hatred of women, I guess, since there is no daughter leaderboard?) — as well as the Ecaflip City and its Ecaflip Psychward, I think his two personalities are more alike than we are led to believe.

It's just that the kitty personality has more glitz, and is better at masking being just as sadistic.

This line really puts how long they've known each other into perspective. God.

It also makes me think hard about the tendency of Ankama to not make distinct visual designs for characters aging, — like in Waven. Despite 30 years having passed between season 1 of Wakfu, and the start of Waven, characters like Miranda and Kabrok still look exactly the same.

I had always associated young Kerubim's design with the age range of 19-30 at best, but who's to say he can't, in this episode, be in his 40s-50s? How many years did he and Lou live together for? And how large is the gap of that unaccounted for part of Kerubim's life, the one that he never opens up about, after Lou had left him?

...I think I hauve covid.

Y'know what, I think I will be insane for a minute, and say this:

Joris, Atcham, and Kerubim really are like platonic soulmates. It feels like every single thing in their lives somehow rhymes, — like every single step they took simply brought them close to the inevitable conclusion of being together.

Sure, whatever, just tell me things like "Atcham knew, and worked with Julith, and they had a pretty amicable relationship", "Yeah Kerubim and Indie rescued the Ivory Dofus that would one day lead to Joris's birth, and then would lead to his orphanhood", "Yeah Kerubim has always wanted to be a father, and felt a certain way about kids being orphaned the same way he was", "Yeah Atcham and Kerubim went to the same war where Julith and Jahash fell in love and were probably their seconds-in-command."

Tell me that. Expect me to be normal about it. I promise I won't disappoint you.

Anyway,

I always found it very interesting that, despite becoming the Champion of Bonta, it was not Indie who went to that war, but Kerubim.

Perhaps Indie was long happily retired by that point, — perhaps he veered from adventuring into archaeology, for his museum, — while Kerubim was old, with no friends, and not much to live for anymore.

It probably was a self-destruction thing, in the "Atcham, and The Butcher of Brakmar herself, will be there. I'm so bored, and tired... It will be poetic if I defeat them, or die trying to. Then I'll be a legend. Also, there are a lot of people at wars, maybe one of them will be friendly to me :3" way.

World of Twelve heroes are always doing this shit. 💀 though considering he can't die, this isn't even suicidal ideation. It's ideation-ideation. God.

Despite everything, Kerubim does care about Indie, a lot. Indie seems to have cared for him too, — but, at times, I really do wonder if Kerubim's feelings for him ran much deeper than Indie's.

Every sign of genuine emotion is laughed at, and a genuine "I had always respected you" gets a downright haunting "yeah, and your taxidermied head will look nice in my museum when you die".

That must hurt, doesn't it?

It's funny, how life works out. Just like Kerubim, he ended up raising his kid in a completely opposite way than how he was raised. And then he dies, and his kid gets taken in by Kerubim, — who has already taken in the child of his another enemy.

...The implications of Lilotte's life make me sad. Unlike Joris, she didn't grow up in a hazardous, infested, hoarding environment. Indie was likely not mentally ill to the shits. Yet Joris's worst nightmare, — his father passing away, and him being forced to fend for himself, — actually happened to her, immediately ripping away the normal, maybe even privileged, life she had. And it just compounds the sense of loss she already had for her birth parents.

Unlike Joris, who grew up wondering vaguely about his birth family, it seems like much more of a sore spot, with her attachment to her bell...

(Off topic but, god, it's so Bonta-core, that the adoptive daughter of a previous champion of Bonta, who had a museum and was rich, ended up on the streets like a stray. I hate that city so much, it's unreal.)

She uses some pretty dark humor to cope with that. I mean, she already lost two families. No way in hell she's losing a third one. Which kinda harkens back to Kerubim's own backstory, and his own loss of the entire Crepin family, save for Atcham.

I think it's cute that, just like him, — she becomes a mother at some point in her life. Maybe it's because she looked up to Kerubim, who had a similar life story to hers, and that inspired her. Maybe it's just something she wanted, even without thinking of Kerubim's own orphan to dad pipeline.

But either way, it's like poetry — it rhymes.

#ep47 #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #krosmoz #wakfu

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weebsinstash · 1 year

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Since I was telling you guys about The Silent Alpha (listening to it on DreameFM), i figured I might share a little on the first book in the series, The Ivory Queen? I actually think both stories are quality and was mostly juat gossiping on all the juicy drama parts haha

The Ivory Queen is about a Mexican-American girl named Aurora Montenegro who's father Emiliano is killed by rogue wolves on her 13th birthday, and when her pack finds her with the body they immediately blame her. Since your 13th birthday is your first shift, they automatically assume she went feral and killed her father, and the entire pack, the Lluvia Blanca pack, spends the next 5 years absolutely torturing her, even by her mother and siblings. She's beaten up, kept in a basement, denied proper food, forced to work as a slave, and denied ever being able to shift which makes her incredibly weak on top of already being malnourished. This isnt even to touch on stuff like, "oh her brother Chava once locked her in a closet and used his illusion powers to make her see rogues like the ones who killed her father and left her like that for hours and then he dragged her out covered in her own piss and shit because she'd literally been losing control of her bladder and bowels in terror after being in there so long and he dragged her in front of other people and then everyone mocked her during this extremely traumatizing experience and after the fact some of them literally threw diapers at her, for MONTHS". Like. jesus fucking christ dude. Kill all of them maybe? Like Im starting to adore the idea of a Reader who was horrifically abused and just goes "fuck this high horse bullshit, hey new mate, you're a powerful wolf and you love me? Kill these bitches to prove it. Make them suffer"

When Aurora finally meets her mate, Alpha Olivier of River Moon Pack, he rejects her because he recognizes her and has heard all the awful rumors, but soon, he actually regrets his decision and vows that he wants to see who she really is and they team up to not only get her away from her abusive pack and family, solve the mystery of her father's death, but also discover an even deeper plot of a looming war, a prophecy, and the truth surrounding her heritage

The story is not only well written and well voice acted but also contains decent amounts of representation (like Olivier is French, and he has his pack cook traditional Mexican food for Aurora when she first arrives which literally makes her sob with gratitude because she hasn't had home cooked Mexican food since before her father died) and also naturally covers subjects like women's rights and things are written in a mature and realistic tone (like another conversation with a Luna named Kehlani opening up that she felt like her breasts were too low and far apart after giving birth, and it's like God that is such an actual realistic female struggle. a lot of these other authors just kind of, idk, some of these stories are like comparing potato chips to a full course meal kwim? Emotional journeys vs popcorn literature YA novels)

Oh. I will say though. One of the horrible things to happens to Aurora is that she is and had been sexually assaulted by another member of this pack and this does happen in written detail so, if that is triggering for you you may need to skip any interactions with that character (who's name i can't remember but you'll be able to tell because he's openly creepy and before the assault happens Aurora already let's the reader know, he's a guy who "does unspeakable things to me I can't talk about")

Like it is very dark. She gets knocked out and wakes up with her attacker already on top of her, already in the midst of it while she was blacked out, and interestingly, this is a story where the mate bond also transfers pain, so, Olivier experiences the pain of, well, being an assaulted woman, and that deepens his love, respect, and sympathy for Aurora and her strength to survive. But I also don't like that Aurora also had to lowkey provide comfort to Olivier for something that happened to her after the fact, like it isn't like forced upon her ,she wants to comfort him, but it's like... that happened to HER, idk, Olivier getting attention for the issue makes me feel kinda weird

Either way it's a cute story about finding love and acceptance when you feel like you have nowhere you belong and feel like everyone hates you and sees you as nothing. A nice read and a nice story, albeit a little long ^^;

#weebwolves

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brilliantfrill · 1 month

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Dropping the typing quirk for this one. Hey guys, Ivory here and uh, guess I should be clear. I've been feeling more and more unwelcome in the editing community over time. It's nothing anyone has done but it's just how I feel I have such Niche interests and how In all senses of the way, I'm not the "Kyutsie lovesick sayton" I've portrayed. I almost feel forced to be a sanitized version of myself due to all these callout threads and how I see others acting on editblr. Not to mention how the way I talk and type is often been seen as "problematic" since others who've been "called out" spoke and acted the same ways as I do. It's just really exhausting to continue being "Brilliantfrill, your lovey dovey sayton!" you feel me? I'm an asshole and I swear like a fucking sailor. I call people bitch on the regular and I'm mean as fuck to my friends. All of it feels unwelcomed. I'm not quitting because I love doing edits and this community has shown me love before [Lookin at you Mod and Marina. You the realest ones, we should talk more] but I will be taking a hiatus. When I come back, I'm gonna be myself, retheme to something I really really like, and do what the fuck I want. Hope this all made sense, my ass is tired is fuck right now so pardon the fucked wording if it's there. But with all that said, incase I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight! P.S. Btw, anyone who wants to can be friends with me on Discord at Aquaticide and we can chit chat there

#💌 　﹒﹒　Bibi Speaks #💌 　﹒﹒　news letters #cw long post #cw swearing #ig

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inkyquince · 2 years

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Would love to know more about your Arcana/DoL thoughts when the mood strikes, by the way! (Also, I think I had a dream where Julian was isekai’d into Wren and the PC looked and acted exactly like the Arcana MC, but had no memory of the world of Arcana? Like Julian warped into Wren when he was hanged and had all his memories up til that point? But then he wakes up working for Remy and his MC is being treated like livestock? Something like that. I have a migraine so details are fuzzy)

real quick, that last bit? Sad Julian, very sad, he'd be so distraught.

Anyway.

Asra!

Rents a room in Gwylan's shop to sell... Mysterious lil bottles of who knows what and gives you tarot readings! Gwylan likes him to an extend, they're basically roommates and Asra forgets rent and to do the dishes at times.

Later down the line, if you've endeared yourself enough, then Asra will hire you just to clean up after him.

He has a special meter, which is Care. How much he cares for you reflects in your tarot readings, how much he pays you, and the extra speech lines you get. Low Care, Low Love, kinda ignores you. If he sees the Ivory Wraith in your cards, he keeps it to himself how bad it will get. High Care and Low Love, its more that he takes pity on you as a helpless orphan. Pays you more, tries to cheer you up with good cards of the future and makes gives you a freebie. Low Care and High love? You're an independent little thing, aren't you? Worries about you far less, pays you depending on how much you got done instead of the flat rate he would have kept for high care. High Care, High Love, wants to look after you. Worried about ya man.

His cards are impacted by your stats and which events you've done/ coming up. High trauma, always the tower and the hanged man on the horizon, maybe the 10 of swords when a dismissal event is lined up. When you're awareness is low/ you have innocence, its always more perky cards. It does all depend.

Nadia

Well, Quinn has an enemy in office, and its everyone's favourite Nadia!

Well.

She married Lucio, who just kinda suddenly popped up as the most important and rich guy in town, and ran for mayor, for shits and giggles at this point. Thing is, he's hot. Rich. Rich people like him. So he and Quinn have been battling it out for a while. Then... Lucio died? And Nadia felt like she was pressured into finishing his last campaign. Except she won. She doesn't want this fucking job. But goddammit she's so beloved. The time the game takes place, Quinn is running for mayor once more and she's trying to inch out of the picture but its pretty hard.

She is not aware of the dark side of the town at all and its up to the player to let her know, except if she makes changes to the town then her popularity drops and Quinn gets the job. Like, she would have been happy earlier in her life but now she's aware that shits bad, so she tries to do charity drives and shit but it never seems to make a dent.

Her meter is respect. Its different for everyone. For example, she has low respect for Quinn and Valerius (surprise, local wine bitch is in this because I love his shady ass). Also for Lucio.

The more competent you prove, the higher her respect for you is and she doesn't treat you with an icy outer façade like she does for her court council. She becomes warmer and more loving and basically becomes Avery, minus the rage. Likes to gift you stuff and inviting you to stay around hers. The only way to raise her respect is to be thorough in whatever evidence of the perverted side of the town you bring her. Anything faulty or missing, she's either suspicious or thinks you're an idiot. For example, if you want to keep your good relationship with Landry, you have to leave their name out of your findings about the criminal underworld, but she'll be able to tell that somethings missing, and her respect drops. She lives on Danube streets, in the largest house, so another way to meet her outside of bringing your concerns to her in office hours, is to break in. Unless you have high skullduggery, you will be caught and unless you have high English and seduction ahem mommy then she will keep you in the basement till the morning and hand you over to the police to be put in the pillory and trying to raise you respect from that point will be incredibly hard.

Muriel

So this was hard. Because there's already two big bitches out in that forest. A third bitch = overcrowding and it fucks with the ecosystem. C'mon guys.

So...

Muriel is stuck in prison :D

When Lucio's shady dealings make their way to the public, one of the people he used to shut up his detractors was Muriel. So, Lucio decided to dump a huge amount of his misdeeds on the poor lad and Muriel was sent straight to prison.

He doesn't ever want to talk about it. His main meter is safety. How safe he feels with you. Its extremely slow to build, and you have to gift him things like items to use to escape, food, maybe get Wren to smuggle in a small wolf sculpture or something for him to smile at. The safer he feels with you, the safer you will be in prison. He sticks to himself and weirdly the guards never ever bother him, in fact they avoid him and seem to forget about him in general.

You get far more interactions with him outside of the prison. If you escape with Wren, then you have to take him with you or the meter will fall to zero. Won't forget you left him behind.

If you get out by just waiting out your sentence, you can actually arrange visits at the prison for you to talk through the glass and that will maintain your relationship, the fact you don't forget him. To get him out with that is to go to Asra and ask him to insist on Muriel's character to Nadia and that will get him a faster release.

Then, when he enters the rest of the world, he hides out on the edges of the Wood, closer to the lake that Eden but also closer to the wolves. The wolves who love him and he plays with them like they're all puppies.

Lucio

Renowned dead husband of Nadia. What ever happened to him?

Well, hope you aren't trotting along on a dark night, because a figure might catch your eye. Large, hulking, pure white fur with his beady eyes staring straight at you. Yeah, you guessed it. You're getting kidnapped by the Goatman.

It's somewhat easy to kick him and get away but it doesn't mean he'll give up and one of these tries will finally have you carried off.

Of course, this only happens after you've done some of the Asra and Nadia events.

Now you expect the worst, because of course, its this town but he mainly starts bleating at you to use your contacts to fucking FIX HIM, right this second! His main meter is... uh... Love/ Lust.

You have a chance to fix this man. On the quest to restore him, which includes getting Gwylan, reading up on History in the library and trudging out to the Moors, you can raise his love and his lust. Only through his Love being high, will he not return to Nadia and insists on reentering the marriage and returning as Mayor. The town will get much worse, Nadia will not forgive you and Quinn shall have it out for you but on the bright side, there's a handsome New-Jersey accented hottie who likes you and owes you one.

With a high love stat, he moves back into his old house but just kinda hangs out and bugs Nadia but doesn't go back into the marriage. In fact, he's mainly mooning over you, saying terrible one liners and kicking his feet.

His lust mainly impacts on how many times you're getting railed by the goat man/ human goat man.

The Rest are either minor characters or romances that I didn't really wanna play though:

Portia: Depends on if Nadia is in office or not. Either she's her lil personal assistant or a barmaid. She always gets Landry for you or is snarking back and forth with Julian.

Valerius: Bitchy Wine Guy. Comes into the Spa almost every week, and unless you've got a High Hand Skill, then he pays the £10 every time. Later can be seen ragging on Nadia and sitting with Lucio as they drink. Yes, you can suck him off, but he has to like you a WHOLE bunch.

Valdemar: The Night Nurse. Don't go into the hospital at night. She won't help with any affliction and will instead stick things into you.

Morga: Yes, you can go fuck Lucio's mom if you two don't get along. He will scream and kick his feet and throw a tantrum and Morga will be idly rubbing your tongue with her fingers while you perch on her thigh.

#HOO #long one #FINALLY DID IT THOUGH #THIS WAS FUN #also i legit never got around to playing portia's route i was so burned out by the arcana by the time i got to her #AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH IM SO SORRY #dol #quincewrites #the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana asra #the arcana nadia #muriel the arcana #lucio montag #consul valerius #quaestor valdemar #morga the arcana #portia devorak #degrees of lewdity

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thunderthighs77 · 3 years

Text

Kuroo & Bokuto Fic

CW/TW: Fem Reader X Kuroo & Bokuto, double penetration, oral (giving and receiving), squirting, fingering, begging, degradation kink, praise kink, throat pie, cream pie. lmk if I missed anything

Hello, my lovebugs. Here’s a little Bo and Kuroo dp session. They snuck off during practice with their favorite classmate. A lot of projects in the works so please be patient with me. I love you all. Hope you enjoy!

You gripped the sides of the old desk in the storage closet, vulnerable and mewling at Kuroo’s fingers inside you from behind and choking on Bokuto’s cock. Bokuto had pulled down his practice shorts, and was holding on to his lifted up shirt by biting it and using both hands to push your head further into his lower groin. He’d occasionally let one hand go to hold his shirt above his abs and let out a few groans.

Kuroo had his practice uniform on and was whispering dirty teases that churned your stomach. “Always eyeing us at practice, huh? Do you fantasize about us in your dreams, y/n? Huh?” You could barely think. You felt somewhat embarrassed. These two were your upperclassmen; they walked you home from school everyday, bought you something occasionally on the way, and your mother liked both of them.

“Such sweet boys,” she would say in her naïve sweet voice.

“Aw, man. You’re a fucking pro at sucking big dicks, aren’t cha, y/n?”, Bokuto teased from above. You pulled your mouth off of his dick to try to answer, but your sudden urge to speak was taken from you as Kuroo reached your g spot and made your legs squirm. You stared at Bokuto, eyes watering, and drool running down your lips from choking on Bokuto’s dick. “Pleaseeee! Can I cum?”, you begged. “Awww yes baby, cum. Cum on my fingers,” Kuroo encouraged. You squirted on the floor, inciting hoots from both of the boys.

“Haha, we’ve got a squirter!”, Kuroo boasted as you yelped. You weren’t necessarily spraying, just dripped liquid out onto his hand and the floor. Bokuto put his hand over your mouth and gripped your cheeks, calmly trying to shush you so that no one would hear your screams. “Shh shh shh. You want everyone to hear what a fucking whore you are?”

“I think she might like that,” Kuroo chimed in as he looked up with his piercing eyes from behind your ass, pausing his pussy eating to reply to Bokuto. “Ha, yeah...she probably would,” Bokuto chuckled as he gently let the grip he had on your cheeks go and let you settle down.

“Now, finish what you started, sweetheart,” Bokuto said politely as he gently grabbed onto the underside of both your ears and brought your head down to his groin. His dick was leaking pre-cum and practically begging to be sucked on.

Kuroo backed away from you and Bokuto to prepare his own dick. Your uniform skirt and underwear was already tossed to the side. All that you had was your tight uniform shirt on, buttons almost bursting from your filled out bosom, stained with your spit and drool from sucking on Bokuto’s dick.

“Awww, that’s it, baby. Just like that,” Bokuto praised. Kuroo watched from the corner, hidden in the shadow, only his towering figure and piercing eyes showing. He was slowly jerking himself off, naked and smirking at watching your smushed together pussy lips, glistening in Kuroo’s spit and your juices, and pulsating. Kuroo almost grew angry at it, taunting him. That and your other hole, twitching at the air, and your toes curling at trying to not choke on Bokuto’s dick.

Bokuto was moaning like a bitch. You had picked up so many tips from practicing with him for two years. When he’d come over to your house for “tutoring sessions”, he was really the one who would tutor you, all about sucking dick. Hiding your teeth, breathing through your nose, curling toes, expanding your throat like you do when you sing.

He finally pushed your head down all the way to where his balls were squished against your chin and came. He let out a groan and threw his head back at the feeling of your throat clenching around his dick to swallow his cum. Bokuto’s cum tasted good, what with his healthy diet regimen.

Kuroo licked his lips and walked over to you as Bokuto pulled out. Before you could catch your breath, Kuroo grabbed onto your legs and flipped you over on your back, slamming you down on the cold metal desk. “She’s waited a long time for this, huh?”, Kuroo teased.

“God, I just wanna dive into this pussy,” Kuroo groaned as his dick stroked your wet folds. “But, you can’t get your cake and eat it too,” Kuroo hissed in your ear as he leaned down to your face. He backed away and switched places with Bokuto. You looked down and saw Bokuto knelt down, kissing your soft tummy and your clit. “My turn, baby,” Kuroo said near your ear.

Your head hung over the side of the desk, and your legs hung on Bokuto’s big shoulders. His biceps hugged your thighs as he wrapped his arms around them while he began sucking your pussy. He swiveled his tongue around, and tasted your insides, inciting you to open your mouth and welcome Kuroo’s dick. Kuroo let out a groan and leaned over to rip your shirt open, inciting two perky tits to break free from their ivory imprisonment of the tight shirt.

“No bra?” Kuroo asked. He shook his head and smiled as Bokuto looked up at him and chuckled too, still continuing his licking.

“Oooo,” Kuroo purred. “So fucking pretty,” he said as he pounded into your mouth. A bulge in your throat was pulsating as Kuroo pistoned in and out of your mouth. He gripped your tits from above, fat and warm, spilling out of the cages his fingers made around them when he squeezed them. He groaned at their soft and plushy feel.

You occasionally moaned and tapped his thigh to breathe. Your throat hurt, and so did your mind. You felt so overstimulated. Two of the most desirable men in your school and they were all yours.

Kuroo kept thrusting and watching Bokuto grip your soft thighs and suck your pussy. They made eye contact and cued each other it was almost time to actually fuck you.

Kuroo pulled out of your mouth, making you take deep breaths and moans. You were squirming in Bokuto’s grasp, in which he let go of your upper thighs and grabbed onto the fat of your waist. The thinnest area right above your love handles was where he gripped on tightly, hurting you a bit, but you enjoyed it. Kuroo stood over you, helping you lift your neck up and letting out praises.

You were a mess, about to cum again and with Kuroo in your ear, you couldn’t help yourself. You moved around and held on to Kuroo’s arms. Kuroo bent down and let your back rest on his chest. Bokuto also shifted his position to accommodate your erect stature.

You yelped again, making Kuroo put his hands around your mouth and whisper things in your ear. From Bokuto’s point of view, all he could hear was little S’s and little whimpers from you. Your eyes were rolled to the ceiling and your brows were furrowed, melting under Kuroo’s words.

“Aww, you wanna cum? Huh? Who’s such a good girl? Who’s such a such a good fucking toy for us? For your best guy friends? Huh? Answer me, baby.”

Kuroo bathed your ear in such sweet nothings and took his hand away from your mouth to let you speak, but instead he hooked his fingers from the side of your cheek which haltered your speech.

“I’m uh guud toy, I-I am,” you managed to let out. Bokuto rubbed your clit and you yelped again, which forced Kuroo to kiss you to keep you quiet. You gripped on to the sides of the table again and yelled into Kuroo’ mouth, as you squirted on Bokuto’s tongue and down his chin and neck. Bokuto smiled and finished fingering you pussy and waited until you calmed down a bit.

He kissed your pussy as you were breathing heavily and leaned back down on the table. Both men walked over to you and smiled. You stared up at them and smiled back. You stood up and let Bokuto take a seat on the desk. He lied down on his back, prompting you to take a seat on his dick.

Working with gravity helped because Bokuto’s dick was so hard to actually fit inside you. It was snug, a little hard to move on at first, but it felt so good as it rubbed against your walls. It was thick and smooth. You began to slowly bounce and rock back and forth, making Bokuto grab the fat of your ass and squeeze it as he groaned.

Kuroo came behind you and pulled your shirt off, letting Bokuto get a good view of your filled out tits protruding above him. He stood up and hugged the small of your waist as he kissed and sucked your nipples. He grabbed the bottom of your ass and helped you bounce up and down on his dick as Kuroo stood behind you and kissed your neck.

Both men were obsessed with you, giving you a rampage of kisses, running up and down your neck and ears. You let out pretty moans, sliding up and down on Bokuto’s thick penis. Kuroo was whispering in your ear again, things of a butterflies-in-your-stomach nature.

“Who knew the girl down the street from us is such a hungry cock slut all this time? Huhh?”

You look drunk, slumped over Bokuto’s shoulders and barely hanging on to his shoulders. You were creaming on his dick and pouring all of your whimpering moans into his ear as you held onto the nape of his neck, which was radiating heat and a little wet from sweat.

Bokuto was such a good boy though, he was genuinely sweet. He only acted like a bit of a dick because he was with Kuroo. You genuinely had a crush on Bo. His scent made you blush. Sure, it smelled like sweat, but it was his. He would actually take you out on dates and you would help him with his calculus when he struggled. He was so cute, too. That’s why when you were riding him, he was hugging you the whole time, letting out slightly whimpering moans, raw and vulnerable, like yours. But, you couldn’t help Kuroo’s oral seduction.

Kuroo was the one who was making it as good as it was. His wordplay was making you so dizzy. All you could do was react like a helpless whore on Bokuto’s dick.

“Kuroo is my favorite,” you let out. “Huh? What chu say baby?,” Kuroo asks. “Aww say it again.

“Kuro-kuroo is my favor-favorite,” you say again while smiling.

“Awww what's the matter you dont like Bo? Huhh? Yeahhh?”, Kuroo teases. Bo grips your butt tighter to fuck you harder out of jealousy. “ You don’t like my big dick? Hmm?”, Bo teases as he thrusts deeper, causing you to scream in a high pitched whine.

“Oooohooo you heard that, Bo? She let out those high notes,” Kuroo chuckled. “Haha, who do you like better? Huh? Come on stroke my ego a bit, sweetheart,” Kuroo asked again.

Bokuto was groaning and had a focused face on, as he was a bit angry at Kuroo for instigating a bit of a competition..

“Kuroo, Kuroo is my favorite,” you let out again, despite Bokuto’s thick dick plummeting inside your cervix and invading your insides so brutally, and how you felt about him. Something about Kuroo was just so intoxicating. He wasn’t good for the long run though.

“Mmm move aside, Bo. She wants me,” Kuroo says.

“No no!”, you immediately object. “Bo, stay inside please.”

You reach over and pull one of your ass cheeks apart to send a hint to Kuroo.

Kuroo smirks and wets his dick and your asshole. He spits at your puckered entrance and slowly slides his dick in. He feels Bokuto’s dick on the other side of your gummy walls rub against his own dick. Bo had slowed down his thrusts to let Kuroo enter.

You let out a horrified facial expression, not that it hurt, just felt a little uncomfortable. You felt so stuffed, so filled. You felt like you were going to burst, like you were breaking at the seams. Kuroo’s dick was not thick, but it was long and veiny. His detailed vascular dick rubbed against your ribbed anal walls and hit all the nerves inside you, along with Bokuto’s thick dick rubbing your cunt’s walls, you were scared they were going to rip you in half.

Bo makes you cum, squirming your legs and holding onto his neck as Kuroo praises you in your ear. “Aww, cum on that dick, baby.” You whine as he coos you through your orgasm, and your tight walls clenching cause Bokuto to also cum inside your pussy. Bokuto holds on to your waist tightly and incites another whine from you as you are still taking Kuroo’s dick and now, Bokuto’s cum flooded inside of you.

You felt so good having his cum pouring inside you. So nutritious and plentiful, it was hot and thick, and there was so much of it. “I wanna plug you up, princess. Keep that cum inside your tummy all day. Huh? Can you do that for me?”, Bokuto teases.

You nod your head in a whiny and drunken high from the multiple orgasms and respond with “I’ll be-I’ll be a daycare for your kids.”

Bokuto lets out a hearty laugh and Kuroo snakes his hands on your shoulders and reminds you that you still are not finished. Bokuto catches his breath and lifts you up and take his dick out of you and let Kuroo fuck you freely.

You hold on to Bokuto as Kuroo thrusts into you, bumping in front of his face every few milliseconds. “You wanna cum? Huh?”, Bokuto asks. “Cum on my best friend’s cock. Cum. Come on, princess.” Kuroo gripped on to your neck, spitting at your asshole to lube it up more as he continued thrusting into you.

You roll your eyes and gape your mouth open. Bokuto fondled your tits and kissed your chest as Kuroo put you in a headlock with his elbow and was being cheered on by Bokuto.

“Aww, man. She’s about to cum.”

Kuroo sped up his pace, making you scream again and squirm one more time, letting your juices flow out onto Bokuto’s lap. Cum and your pussy liquid came out, making Bokuto playfully chuckle.

Kuroo let out a growl and a groan, while you let out a whine as he choked your neck for the last time as he finished fucking your asshole

"Awww did you cum from just your asshole? Huhhh? I really am your favorite, you dirty little anal whore,” Kuroo teased.

#kuroo x bokuto x y/n #haikyuu smut #bokuto smut #kuroo smut #bokuto #kuroo #dp #hq smut #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fic

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

deathly dry spell — jjk

Plot: When Taehyung is away for months on a trip in the peak of winter, alternative methods of keeping a succubus pleased comes into play.

Pairing(s): Jungkook x Succubus!OC (Name: Belle) ft. Boyfriend Taehyung

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2k+

Genre: Succubus AU | Roommate AU | PWP

Tags & Warnings: explicit smut, spanking, squirting, unsafe sex, coarse language, succubus being angry horny

Authors Note: idk what’s happening with my writing streak lately but I’m kind of just going with the flow and hoping you all like it lmao let me know what you think!

Another frustrating morning. Belle had taken pills to suppress some of the aching in between her legs but they were only aggravating the hunger. Even her ivory horns began to ache from the increasing frustration and her breasts felt tender than ever before. Winter was always the worst time for her to be away from him. The grey sky framed by the apartment windows and cool atmosphere stinging her flesh made her desperate for warmth. No. Heat. She wanted burning heat everywhere.

“I’m going to be gone a couple of months, sweetheart,” Taehyungs’ voice crackled through the speaker.

“Months?” Belles’ dark brows furrowed looking through the computer screen as her boyfriend delivered the disturbing news. His curls were messy and a loose shirt draped over his body, making her heat up between her legs even more. In turn, increasing her frustration towards him for being so far apart.

If it were a normal relationship with two humans then they would probably just be very saddened. Unfortunately leaving your succubus girlfriend for a couple of months isn’t exactly safe. Especially if you’re desperate to want her faithful. She let out a deep sigh, staring out again at the heavily clouded sky. It was probably going to snow a lot this winter. She clamped her thighs together, cuddled into a crème blanket. “Tae—I can’t.” She buried her lips into the fluffy material. “Maybe I could come visit you.”

“You know why you can’t visit me here.” Taehyung didn’t sound too happy about the ordeal either but Belle had too much on her mind to feel bad for him. “These idiots don’t like magical creatures and you’ll be in danger.”

“But I can’t—”

“I had a suggestion.”

Belle blinked curiously. “What?”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip, unsure of the thoughts rushing through his mind. “If you start feeling pain or sick at all—Jungkook could—”

“No.”

“You know it can’t be negotiated.”

“No!” she winced.

Taehyung sighed. “Baby…I can’t have you in pain.”

“Well that’s just you have to live with for leaving me.” She sniffled, scrunching her nose as the cold stung her. “Does Jungkook even know about your decision?”

“I kind of mentioned it to him.” Taehyung scratched the back of his head.

Belle’s eyes burned into him. She understood that there was no other choice if she wanted to survive the winter. But to take part in this pact felt so wrong. “So you just discussed it like it was some kind of business transaction.” Her feelings were indifferent. Some part of her still wanted to pretend that she was against it. Succubi were always known to become disloyal to their partners. If she took part in this thing, she’d be one of them.

“You—” Sadness spread across Taehyungs’ face; eyes glossed and features twisted in pain. “—you’ll die. Please…I want to come back home to you alive and well.”

Belles’ expression softened, tightening the blanket around her as she averted her gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

It kept getting colder and her body kept getting painful. Belle didn’t remember the last moment she sat still. Not having to squirm somehow to be comfortable. Spending nights rubbing against pillows to get some kind of tension but only sleeping with tears filling her eyes. This morning wasn’t helping her mood either when Jungkook made food for the both of them to eat.

Belle hadn’t talked to him ever since the call with Taehyung. Except that didn’t mean Jungkook stopped making an effort to keep some kind of interaction going. Forcing a dinner on them was one of his genius attempts.

Roasted potatoes, chicken curry, spinach paste and a blueberry pie. Hearty enough meals for Belle to sustain herself when she couldn’t be filled in other ways. The scent suffused the cool air, making it homely and comforting. In her stubbornness though, Belle leaned back on the chair as Jungkook tried to start a conversation.

“You’re just not going to talk to me.” Jungkook shook his head.

Belle folded her arms over her chest refusing to eat a morsel of food. It smelled delicious to a point where it could even make her mouth water.

“Look I know you’re hungry.” He gestured to the meal. “If you’re not going to do it the way you have to at least eat the way humans do.”

Belle glared at him. “Don’t act like this is an inconvenience to you. I didn’t ask for your goddamn help!” She never snapped at Jungkook. Or anyone for that matter. Then again, she hadn’t gone this long from getting her sustenance.

“It’s not an inconvenience. I don’t want to see a friend hurt like this.”

“But you’re willing to treat me like a bet in a club.”

Jungkooks’ expression hardened. “Sex means life and death to you, does it or does it not?”

Belle pressed her lips together. “Yes,” she muttered.

“Then why the hell would we not take it seriously?” He stabbed the fork into the chicken. “I can’t force you to get what you need. But I’m sure as hell not letting you leave until you eat something.”

She wanted to stay relentless and keep her arms folded. Except the meal might help sleep at night better at the very best. With a defeated sigh, she relaxed herself and began to eat.

“Stop squirming,” Jungkook said.

Belle scoffed, slouching on the couch after a good hour of trying to get into a comfortable position. Even the winter chills were turning into mere summer breezes from the way her body kept heating up. It was strange to have light snow falling outside and her body was adorned with a nightie. “I can’t get comfortable, alright? If you don’t like it, just go to your room.”

“This is my apartment too.”

“And you have a TV in your room.”

“But I want to be here.”

“Then stop complaining.” Belle shifted when the pooling between her legs was getting heavier.

Jungkook scoffed, raking his fingers through his hair roughly. “You know, I didn’t realize you had the potential to be such a bitch.”

“Well, we’re learning a lot of things, aren’t we?” Belle smiled bitterly. “Like how you have absolutely no patience whatsoever.”

“Sorry I’m not Taehyung keeping check on you like you’re a toddler.”

Thick scents of amber suffused the air and taunted Jungkooks’ nostrils. He tried not to scrunch his nose too much but it was strange not smelling the usual jasmine scent from her body.

“Just cause I don’t function like you humans doesn’t mean you get to demean my needs.” Belles’ voice had gotten deeper, eyes burning in anger and frustration. “Especially you. Acting like the nice best friend to Taehyung for months on end but the moment you have time alone with me, you act like I don’t exist. You’re no different than those people Taehyung works with—”

Jungkook grabbed the back of her neck and pressed a kiss on her lips. The desperately loyal part of Belle screamed to pull away. But whenever she tried, the warmth of another’s lips and the grip on her neck only caused her to whimper. He pulled away then. Chests rising and falling in the new brewing heat.

Belle hated her body for trying to grab onto him again. She tried to muster a frown. “Did you just do that to shut me up?”

“I can’t watch you ruin yourself.” Jungkook tightened his grip into her hair. “So please, for the love of god, fuck me.”

Like a trigger pulled on a gun, Belle pounced on the male, lips crashing against each other as her hands moved down to pull her panties off. She threw the flimsy material on the floor without a care before moving to straddle the male on the couch.

Jungkook pushed down his sweatpants and boxers, bare skin meeting the soft surface of the couch.

Belle raised herself until she felt his tip position at her sloppy entrance. She slid down slowly, the almost nonexistent sleeve of her nightie slipping down her shoulders. Without waiting a second longer, Belle moved up and down his cock, snug walls hugging him perfectly. There was no more time to wait. She didn’t want to wait.

He pushed up her dress, kneading her ass and forcing her hips to grind against his own. “F-Fuck…”

Belle threw her head back, hands placed on the back of the couch. Her breasts bounced along with her movements, nipples peeking out a little.

Jungkook growled lightly wrapping his strong arms fully around her waist before pounding up in to her pussy. He moved at a dizzying pace, balls slapping against her ass like a round of applause.

The sounds drowned Belle’s choked screams infused in an overwhelming pleasure as his lower belly roughly rubbed against her clit. “O-god.” She whimpered, gripping at the couch pillow until she scratched one of them.

Slowing his thrusts down, he moved deep inside her, feeling his cock drowning in her arousal. Jungkook kept his hold and turned them around so she was on the couch instead.

She immediately spread her legs apart watching him lean in and drink in her leaking core. Her hand moved to his hair.

Tongue lapped at her clit as he snuck a finger prodding at her slit. Jungkook slid inside with so much ease that a moan emitted in his throat. Then he slid another. Her heat burned against his flesh. Curling his digits upward, he rubbed against the spot inside her. His thumb brushing against her clit, he drilled his fingers into her pussy.

Belle let out a small sob in between her moans. Nails digging into her thigh as she watched her pussy spluttering out her arousal onto his hands moving at lightning speed. The pleasure coiled in her lower belly; tightening beyond control.

Knuckles deep inside her, he felt it getting hotter and more sloppy causing his member to spurt more arousal onto the floor. “That’s right, baby…” He whispered, dipping down and wrapping his lips around her clit, suckling like his favourite treat as his fingers continued to pound into her.

Belle’s body shook like insanity embodied, the heat gathering in her lower belly almost unbearable as she felt a heaviness ready to burst. “I’m gonna cum, Kook—” She cried out, thrashing against the messed up pillows.

The coil then sprung out in a light gush of clear liquid, squirting out of her as Jungkook kept moving his fingers in and out while suckling on her throbbing clit. He felt wetness dripping down his hand, soaking into the couch but it only made him hungrier for more as he growled against her puffy, sensitive pussy.

Belle winced from a slight ache as he continued to go beyond her sensitive point. “Ah-Kook-“ She pushed him away gently causing him to chuckle a little.

“We’re not done yet, baby.” Jungkook smirked, picking her up again, off the couch and turning her around. He bent her over so her breasts pressed against the wet stain. “Look at the mess you made.”

Belle replied in a whimper, swaying her ass his way until she felt his leaking tip brush against her. The stamped down pleasure reignited quicker than her own body could handle it. She wanted more. A sharp pain swung on her ass cheek causing her to let out a throaty chuckle as she swayed again. Much to her pleasure, Jungkook landed another swing on her ass cheek much harsher than the first. “Do it again.”

Jungkook obliged, slapping it once again. His tip rubbed in between her blushing cheeks to gain some friction when he landed another smack. Pressing his sweat layered chest to her back, he jabbed his glistening fingers through her lips. He hungrily watched Belle suckle on her arousal. Jungkook took a cheeky moment to push it down her throat until she gagged. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed onto her neck. “You want more?”

“Yes,” Belle whispered, desperately swaying her hips to gain his fill again.

“Yeah?” Jungkook pushed his length in, moaning at how much her walls still closed in on him, pushing him further over the edge. Veined fists pressed against the couch, slamming his hips against hers.

Belle rested her cheek against the soaked fabric. The smell of her own arousal made her mad with ecstasy, light groans emitted in her throat, her lower belly tightening again. The couch shifted and creaked at every thrust as her legs lost all ability to move properly.

Jungkook growled as the heaviness in his lower belly became hard to control, screaming to release. “I’m coming…” He breathed out.

“Come inside me.” Belle reached behind her to grab the back of his neck. “Please, come inside me,” she cried out.

Forehead pressing against the top of her head, Jungkook gave into frantic thrusts. Pleasure burst out of him in a thickened wave. Fingers dug into the cushion as a shaky moan passed his lips.

Belle grinned in complete bliss as her orgasm pounded through her, knees trembling and her body convulsing until she swore she saw stars. So many days of keeping herself contained. The proper pleasure of Jungkook filling her up brought her to tears, dripping onto the already ruined couch cushions. She giggled through her light sobs.

“Hey—” Jungkook brushed her hair away from her sweat-layered temple. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” Belle grinned, sniffling. “Thank you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “First time I’ve heard that after sex.”

The rest of winter moved a lot smoother and warmer for Belle and Jungkook.

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #succubus au #bts succubus au #supernatural au #tw: smut #jungkook smut

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Tempting Tempest (Shark!Bakugou)

Shark!Bakugou x mer!reader

warnings: yellow sour fruit, dubcon, blood, violence, strange as fuck words I’d only use while writing monster smut idfk, silly ending

A/N: I know I said I wasn’t gonna force this one out, but sometimes you gotta. This was kinda fun to write, but idk how sexy it is to be QUITE honest. The next time I write mermaid p*rn outside of tempting tempest, it’s definitely gotta be with at least one human, ama. also the ending is a little wacky, pero it made me smile so like maybe it’ll make you smile too. ha...? okiee here’s the thing...vhjdsvhjd

Violent fury compelled you to tighten your hold on your weapon. Like a spear, you flew through the water, firing towards the shark. Too bad for you, he had fast reflexes and as soon as you were close enough, he whipped his tail around and slapped you in the face.

Colliding with the sand bed and a large kelp-covered rock, you struggled to right yourself, when the merman gripped onto your waist. He pulled himself up so his head was leveled with yours. He bared his teeth at you and snapped at your neck. You hissed and swiped your knife at him, missing his chest and cutting into his side. He growled when blue blood spilled out into the water, swirling around the two of you as you wrestled for dominance.

The merman slammed your wrist into the edge of the rock next to you, forcing you to relinquish your dagger. Sharp fingers curled around your neck, quickly stopping your waterways. You dug your nails into his toned arms so fiercely that even more blood flooded around you. Despite the obvious pain you inflicted on him, the merman gave you a sharp, threatening sneer.

“Looks like you do have more fight in you after all.” He teased, tightening his hold. He licked his lips and brought his free hand to your mouth. “Should say I’m grateful that you’re not gonna make this boring.”

Figuring that it was no use clawing at your opponent, you threw your hands down on the sand bed, searching for your lost weapon. Thinking that you were going to throw sand in his face again, the shark let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, quickly pinning it to your side.

“Not gonna let that happen again, little guppy,” he grumbled. The hand at your mouth squeezed your cheeks together as his hungry, crimson glower bore down on you. “You’re gonna have to learn some new tricks fast.”

You bit down on his narrowed webspace between his pointer finger and thumb, making him jolt back. That offered you enough slack to quickly wiggle out from underneath him, but not enough time to swim away.

Rounding you, the shark took hold of the flimsy part of your tail, sending an excited shock up to your neck. You whined and flipped your tail at him, attempting to hit his face, but he only laughed as he dodged the attack.

“That was cute.” He mocked as he approached you again, ushering you against the giant rock. “That little cry, I mean...think you can do it again for me? Huh, guppy?”

You hissed at him, the fins on the side of your head flaring in an attempt to make you look more threatening. He pushed you back against the wall, your skin grating against the rugged edge of the flat. You winced while he growled, deep and low, baring his sharp, ivory teeth. You couldn’t help but flinch, your fins falling back with a huff. At this, he chuckled, closing the gap between the two of you, his shark’s tail triumphantly swishing from left to right.

“Not so tough now, are yah?” Your body trembled as he grazed his lips against your neck, slowly bringing them up to your ear. “All bark and no bite.”

The purring came back—that deep, mesmerizing rumble from his chest. You hated how easily it got to you—how it made your muscles relax and your mind fuzzy. You scowled at his chest, too afraid that if you looked him in those beautiful, ruby eyes, you’d be lost to him again

The shark put both of his arms against the rock, caging you in with him as your prison bars. “Whatsamatter?” He asked. “You some kinda mute or are you just being a bitch?”

“Oh, bite me!”

“Is that a command or a request?” He gave you his insolent shark-grin as he leaned closer. “‘Cause I will,” he said in a teasing tone, but you knew it was a promise. The heat of his tongue reached the sensitive part of your ear, licking it for just as long as it took for goosebumps to erupt across your arms. He purred, “even if you don’t ask nicely.”

“I’m not asking you for anything except for you to leave me alone!” You barked out, albeit weakly. His chest rumbles were echoing inside your head, lulling you into a trancelike state you didn’t want to fall into.

“Since when?” He inquired impudently. His hands fell down near your hips.

You gestured pointedly behind him, indicating the updraft of sand and blood whirling in the space the two of you previously occupied. He glanced back only for a moment, not willing to take his eyes off of you for a second too long. He smirked, finally closing his hands on the part of your body where your torso met your fluke. They were rough, calloused from experience—hunter’s hands. You fought off impending thoughts of having those hands graze every inch of your body.

“Thought that was just foreplay.” His whisper was husky with provocation as his thumbs circled your hip bones. He took the hand you were using to point at the aftermath of your fight with into his. “It’d be no fun without any chase.” He lightly bit down on the carpal side of your palm, his dangerous eyes daring you to react. You merely shuddered against him, an act he seemed to enjoy.

“Foreplay?!” You squawked, bemused. You tore your hand away from his lips and quickly dug your fingers into his side, right below the place you’d cut him. It was healing fast, but some sapphire oozed out, nonetheless. “I cut you!”

He laughed, making his abdomen tighten underneath your touch. You inhaled sharply, and pressed your palm into him, enjoying the feel of his tight stomach. Gods damn you, he was hot.

“What’s one more scar?” He took your hand and moved it up his chest, satisfied to know you liked the feel of him. His skin riveted underneath your fingertips as he drew you over his various markings from previous fights. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty more where that came from—at least, if you’re the kinda mate I think you’ll be.”

“I don’t even know you,” you said, though that was a weak riposte. It wasn’t like you were around long enough for any merman to bring you pearl bracelets and hidden treasures just to have you fall into their embrace. Though, if you had, you wouldn’t be dealing with a shark right now.

“Katsuki,” he said smugly. “Figure you should know the name you’re gonna be moaning for the rest of your life.”

“As if.”

“And you are?” Katsuki completely ignored your retort. “Honestly didn’t think that ‘Guppy’ was all that fitting for a cute, little mermaid like you, but if that’s what you prefer-“

You scowled, ignoring the way your heart stuttered when he called you cute. His lips tilted sideways.

“Nah, you’re too high and mighty for guppy, aren’t you?” He continued, wedging himself closer to you. You felt cool gusts of water blowing against your shoulder and down your back as he drew nearer, his low purring reverberating down your tail. His lips were against your neck as he suggested, “right, princess?” You shuddered against him again as he kissed the sensitive spot on the skin below your gills. “Oh you like that, huh-“ his voice dropped an octave-“princess.”

Despite yourself, you groaned, turning your head so he could angle himself better, suckling on your tender flesh. You slanted your hips into him, hands moving up his strong, muscular back, to his neck, weaving through the surprisingly soft, ash-blonde hair. You tugged, and his growls mixed in with the rumbling only grew louder as he continued to kiss you.

Something thick and heavy pressed against your belly and through foggy eyes, you saw two massive erections, each with jelly-like fluid seeping out from the tips. Your mouth fell open on a moan as you imagined either of the two—if not both—entering you, all previous resignation sinking into the sand beneath you.

Your free hand trickled down his abdomen, loving the way he twitched at your soft caresses. You touched the tip of one of his dicks, and he grunted, a bit of white spurting into your palm. Enjoying his reaction, you rubbed your hand up and down his shaft, squeezing his base as he wrapped an arm around your back.

“Fuck.” He rasped, rutting into your hand. “Touch my cock like that and I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

“You’re controlling yourself?” You mocked uneasily, tail slapping against the rock.

His nostrils flared. “More than you know.” The hand behind you moved down to your backside. He drew circular motions in the thickest part of your tail behind you, squeezing your flesh, making your fluke shake with anticipation.

“Tell me to fuckin’ stop,” he murmured noncommittally, pressing his cocks harder against your tail. With both hands now on your tail, he moved one over to the puffed out slit below the middle of your hips. He dipped a finger into you, testing out the undoubtedly viscous truth of your velvety walls. He moaned, loving the feel of you, loving the way you whimpered as he touched you. You watched as his pupils grew large, dark, and predatory, as he added a second finger to curl in and out of you. “Tell me you don’t want me to wreck your sweet little pussy right fuckin’ now, or I’m not gonna stop. Once I’m inside you, baby, there’ll be no turnin’ back—even if you beg me.” Something low and animalistic echoed out of his throat at the thought. “Though hearing you fuckin’ beg doesn’t sound half bad right now.”

“Katsuki-!” You started to mewl, but were cut off by his lips descended onto yours. It was a desperate kiss with strong, erratic tongue. He tasted you like you were meant for him—frantic, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Not knowing much about what to do with yourself, you squirmed against him, but he hardly seemed to care. If anything, your resistance only spurred him on.

Grasping onto your wrists, he pinned them against the rock behind you, using one hand to lock them into place. His now unoccupied hand cupped your face as he deepened the kiss. He traced his touch down to your neck, your collarbone, and found ménage at your breasts. He tweaked your pert nipples until they were hard and dark from arousal.

You felt him smirk against you when you finally touched your tongue to kiss—the first of the many triumphs he was going to hold over you. He swallowed your downing moans with fervor, biting down on your lower lip when you attempted to resist again. You cooed.

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” Katsuki’s hands slid down your torso, lingering around your navel when you let out a little squeak. He chuckled. “So ready to be mated, too. You liked being chased around, didn’t you?”

“I-“ you breathed, your heart racing with both excitement and dread-“I don’t know!”

“So coy all of a sudden.” He snickered, grasping onto one of his clasper-pricks. He gave it a couple pumps, letting tendrils of the thick, white seed flutter around in the water. He pushed his member against your slit, letting your own slick membrane cover his thick cockhead, readying him to take you. “That’s okay,” he muttered, “looks like your cunt already knows for you.” He exhaled. “Say my name again—like you did the first time.”

“Kat...suki…?”

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing his cockhead into you, biting back a groan as he did so. Gods, it was unbearably huge. You shot him a panicked look, but that only made him all the more hungry.

“Wait-!” You wiggled, unprepared for the stretching you felt as he pushed into your tight hole. You cried out as he thickened, even while constricted by your walls, not even at his hilt yet. “Wait, please, I can’t—!”

“What’d I tell you, princess?” His voice grated against your soft cheeks, warmed from fluster. “Said there’d be no turnin’ back, didn’t I?” Even still, he pulled back, easing into you slower the second time, pressing in, inch by withering inch.

“God damn, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, hon,” he grumbled thickly, mesmerized. He pulled back once more, and when he pushed in again, he grooved his hips up, pushing even more of his girth deeper inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, attempting to twist away from him. “It’s too much!! I can’t take it!”

“Relax,” he crooned gruffly, petting the erect bud above your slit. His touch sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure rippling through your body despite the terrible corruption battling inside you. You tightened around him and he groaned.

“My gods, baby. The hell are you doin’ to my cock?” Katsuki nestled into your neck, licking at your gills. “Such a good girl—so fuckin’ tight for me, huh? You’re gonna take me so well, I know it.”

Your body wavered—almost complying. Katsuki began rolling into you at a charitable pace, caressing your body, thumb encircling your clit, stimulating you just enough to keep your mind away from the pain. However, when he lessened his hold on your wrists, one of your hands broke free. You pushed against him, writhing and feral.

That was when he bit you.

Scorching affliction shot through your shoulders, down your spine. Your tail spasmed against his, your soft scales scraping against his fine exterior. You wailed and dug your nails into the thick muscles of his back, but that did nothing to tear Katsuki away from you. His grip on you was vice, impervious to any sort of protest. In fact, the more you tried to get away, the closer he pulled you, rutting into you faster, your bodies spinning through the ocean as he locked you into matehood.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more of the tremendous cutting feeling his shark’s teeth had your neck, the burn mitigated. He wasn’t holding back—if anything he was digging deeper into you—but as his mark melded into your skin, your body relaxed and you began to enjoy the pain. The feeling was purely hypnotic.

Katsuki began to push more of himself inside of you, and you easily accepted him. Your tail twisted around his as his hips slapped against yours. You arched your back, feeling your walls fluttering around, and you sighed his name on a moan. His arms curled around your waist, squeezing your sides, loving the feeling of your bodies, hot and needy, pressed together.

“Mmmmfuck.” Katsuki pulled away just in time to see your crimson sanguine swaying out and away from his toothy grin. His pupils were so dark and wide that you could hardly see any of the red left in his iris. He was loving this.

“That’s it, baby.” He praised you, licking your cheek. He reached around his back to move your arms so they were around your neck. He groaned when he buried his girth to his hilt, making sure that you and him were as close possibly. “You’re all mine now, aren't cha? Mine-“He speared himself into you with each clipped word. “All. Fuckin’. Mine.”

“Fuck...yes, Katsuki,” you moaned, feeling a tight, aching coil inside of you as his large palms roved over your body. He squeezed your curves, kissed your chest, all the while sweltering inside of you.

“I knew I fuckin’ wanted you the moment I saw you hidin’ away from all those loser fishdicks bringing those mersluts trash just to get some tail,” he panted. “Thought you were sneaky, huh? Thought you wouldn’t be noticed?”

Katsuki pulled your hair, forcing you to face him head on. “Nah, couldn’t let a cutie like you slip away. Couldn’t let any other bottom feeder try to take you, neither. Fuck, you’re gonna be my perfect mate.”

Your inner walls quaked as he ran circles around your clit. “W-what is…?” You began to ask on a hard thrust that hit you perfectly. Your coil bursted and you convulsed around him, squealing as he rutted into you harder and faster. You clenched, again and again, as you pooled over and out with each of his world-ending thrusts, ecstasy completely enveloping your entire being.

“Oh, that feels fuckin’ great, princess,” he growled into your hair. “Good girl, cummin’ for me so soon like that. Fuck,” he rasped, “bite my neck before I fill you up, baby.” He leaned back a drew a finger ong his gills, indicating exactly where he wanted you. “Be my girl.”

You leaned up to drive your tongue up his neck. He shuddered at the contact, still fucking you relentlessly, dragging against your thickened walls. You bit down, hard enough to draw blood, to leave your mark, while you wove your fingers through his soft locks.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Is that what you want, princess? You wanna feel all of me?”

“Yes, gods yes!” You cried, bucking into him, needing more.

“Say my fuckin’ name, angelface. I wanna hear that sweet voice of yours.” He grunted, biting harshly into your shoulder, tail swishing, hips stuttering.

“Katsuki, please, give me your cum. I wanna feel you baby. Please! Please!

Katsuki came with a roar, lining your walls with his thick, hot cream. He buried his cock inside of you, emptying himself completely, still managing a few more languid thrusts as he planted sloppy kisses to your lips. He groaned into your mouth, loving the taste of your more than compliant tongue.

“Gods, that was-,” he exhaled, lifting himself off of you. He took your hand and guided you up with him, pushing your head into his chest. “-that was god damn hot. You’re gonna be a lot of fun, huh?”

You watched as he shook his two dicks, mesmerized by the residual pink and white swirl of the both of yours’ wash, before his members folded back into his pouch. You parted your lips on a question that didn’t come.

Katsuki snickered. “What?”

“Were they both-“ you festered down below his stomach-“inside of me?”

“Tch! If I had both of my cocks buried in you, I promise you’d know it.” He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead, suddenly all too familiar with you. “Why? That wasn’t enough for you? I can go again if you aren’t already full to the brim.”

“Oh no!” You glanced down, unsure. “I mean...I don’t know, I was just curious…”

Katsuki chuckled, tilting your chin up to bring you into a kiss. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, princess.”

“You don’t know that,” you barked back, suddenly all too familiar with him. “I can handle fucking anything you throw at me!”

“Filthyy language, baby. You kiss octopi with that mouth?”

“Are you kidding me?!” You choked. “Hypocrite!”

“Man, you really are gonna be a lot of fun, aren’tcha? So easy to tease.”

“I was just curious!” You threw your hands up into the water and spun around, casting out a sardonic, “you’re incredible.”

Katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing you back against his chest. “I know.” He kissed the back of your sore neck. “If you really think you can handle it, I sure as hell don’t mind findin’ out.” He brought both of his hands down to your stomach. “After we get you something to eat. You weren’t gonna catch that marlin all by yourself, anyway.”

“I was before you interrupted me,” you bit out, leaning into his touch.

“You think so?” You felt him grin against your skin. “Alright then, let’s find you a marlin and make a deal: if you can take it down all by yourself, I’ll fuck you so good, you won’t be able to swim straight—with both of my cocks.”

“The hell kinda deal is that-?!”

“And if you need my help-“ he continued-“you’re gonna hafta suck them both off.”

You snorted. “In which of these scenarios do I profit?”

“The one where you get a nice meal, a hot mate, and a nice kelp bed to lay in.” He shrugged.

“Kelp bed?” You turned your head at him, looking hopeful.

“You have such nice lips, I can’t wait to know how they feel wrapped around my cock.”

“Kelp bed?” You reiterated, shrugging him off, trying to figure out which direction that marlin swam off to. “Which scenario has a kelp bed in it?”

“Both of them, idiot. I’m not gonna let any mate of mine sleepin’ on some fuckin’ coral or whatever the hell you’ve been doin’ while tryna hide. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Dunno-“ you swam out farther, trying to be nonchalant about your new pursuit-“do you have said bed?”

“You’re really not sneaky,” he snarked, already swimming after you.

“Maybe not,” you laughed as soon as your eyes narrowed in on a giant fish, “but I am fast.”

(Try again...?)

No more tag list, sorry.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #bnha imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mermaid!bakugou #mermay #tw dubcon #tw blood #bnha au #lemon #tempting tempest #merman x reader

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gh0ulbunni · 3 years

Text

Aight bitches, headcanons for my version of the WATXM Cartoon's 'Mortimer Toynbee'

(TW: Death, suicide, depression, mental illness, body horror but it's not that bad)

-The stage we see Mortimer at in the show is most likely him as an 18 - 20 year old, still in the juvenile stages of his mutation as it occurred after the death of his mother Esmerelda. Esmerelda was a kind and meek but busy woman who ultimately died from a stroke caused by high blood pressure. She worked 3 high stress jobs in order to try and keep a roof over her and Mort's heads as his father gave up his rights because he "Didn't want a freak for a son and that he'd never be his son."

-When his mutation actually began to show after her death when he was 3, Mortimer's once ivory skin turned fully green and due to the neglect his hair became matted in chunks (the braids we see in the show), his hygiene dropped to little to no self-care because of the new allergic reactions he'd get when his new sensitive skin came into contact with the naturally chemical loaded body washes, deodorants, shampoo, and tooth pastes that he had. He turned to showering with just water and brushing his teeth with just water, but the water the brotherhood has access to was INCREDIBLY dirty and laced with chemicals that made him sick.

-Mortimer is actually incredibly smart, but others would feel threatened by him when he tried to show this so he mainly acts dumb and stupid as a way to avoid conflict and aggression from people (Specifically Pietro and Dominikos).

-At 22 he finally leaves the brotherhood after being there for 4 years and tries to take his own life only to realize he's developed superhuman durability and a healing factor. This immediately makes him frustrated because he feels he's been punished and forced to live a miserable life.. And in comes Spider-Man who talks him out of trying to jump and takes him to SHIELD.

-After a few days at SHIELD's holding cells he makes a bit of an impression on Fury who offers him a role as an agent. Mortimer, a people pleaser who'll take any chance to climb up the ladder in life, immediately agrees and sets to work training.

-As he trains, his mutation gets stronger and he unlocks more abilities he never thought he could have: Superhuman strength, durability, endurance, agility, senses, special eyesight, chemical and toxin production, flexible bone structure, superhuman lungs, telepathic communication with amphibians, acidic saliva, flaming tongue, and a venomous pheremone secretion that allows for mind control.

-The final step was when he fell extremely ill and it was discovered that his genetic makeup was severely broken due his involvement in an experiment called the Black Womb Project, ran by Charles Xavier's step-father/Juggernaut's father Kurt Marko. This left Mortimer's DNA and mutation severely unstable and it almost caused him to loose control of his new powers and have multiple mental breakdowns and even a manic episode where was on an extreme high before going through psychosis in which he believed Magneto was out to kill him for leaving his son's group.

-After having a hell of a few months, Mortimer is put through a new process called Genetic Rehabilitation designed for mutants who've been forced through experimentation programs and have had their DNA damaged.

-After a while his skin turns from 100% green to 40% green with lots of ivory patches. The tops of his hands, chest, stomach, inside of his legs, and the tops and bottoms of his feet are a pale ivory color while his back, neck, cheek and temples, arms, his sides, and the outsides of his legs are varying shades of soft green with patches of dark green ranging in sizes from small to giant patches on his joints and sockets (shoulders, elbows, knees, and hips) which he's self-concious about at first but comes to love his new look. The most shocking part is his eyes which become black with amber irises that have flicks of lime and gold in them.

-Along with getting therapy for his DNA and body, he gets therapy for his mental health which.. Hoo boy he was and still is strugglin (but not as bad). He has: BPD, C-PTSD, GAD, ODD, and Depression.

-Absolutely loves brushing and caring for his hair, which, after it's unmatted and cleaned of bugs and gunk is ass length and black with a silky shine to it. He still wears his old bandana thing

-Has picked up playing a musical instrument in his spare time. If he isn't working, tinkering with his suit, gear, and gadgets then he's playing... The violin?

-He's suprisingly good at it.

-After becoming a shield agent he starts to get more confidence before meeting a mutant who was currently in SHIELD's custody... Said mutant being the oc of @ohmygillygoshoppler

-Callista and Mortimer become close, he spends lunchbreaks with her, constantly volunteers to be her guard/escort when she's let out.

-Ok so, dad headcanons lETS GO

-Cal and Mort end up having a daughter named after his mom, and her thing is having her mom's monster mouth with mouths on her hands that can shoot out 13ft long flaming tongues. Esme (or Esmerelda) absolutely becomes a rescue hero

-Callie is into clown/circus lolita outfits and Mortimer is a grunge punk. Esme never gets dressed in the basic ass kids clothes, she looks like mini Wednesday Addams.

-This child never gets put down (physically), Mort or Cal are always holding her.

-Mort and Esme are the epitome of "Don't talk to me or my kid ever again" while Esme is copying her dad's glare.

-Alright, Mort's strong.

-Like, really strong. He didn't even know how strong until he was cornered on his first mission as a shield agent and he kicked his enemy with his leg so hard he decapitates them.

-He can kick hard enough to knock down concrete walls, snap people in half, crack and damage paved roads, and create enough air pressure to knock people over.

-His tongue can crush skulls

-He could get hit by a semi-truck and still walk away with a few bruises

-Develops a bite force of 1,000 PSI (Less than a polar bear)

-He bench presses 3 tons with his legs and 1 ton with his arms

-Develops retractable claws that can lengthen and shorten, he uses these to fight.

-Looks like he could kill you, can kill you but has the energy of a golden retriever puppy

-As he ages he becomes more.. Forgiving? Of the people who've hurt him, specifically Pietro. He'll forgive but never forget, it's like when you drop a mug. It won't ever be the same.

-I imagine he fights a lot like how Deku does? The leg based fighting and shoot style is a big part of his fight style.

-Legs for daaaaaaaays, they're so long. Also he's 5'8 now because Toad is canonically 5'8 - 5'10 and he'll hold it over Wolverine while snickering.

#headcanons #xmen headcanon #my headcanons #artists on tumblr #x-men #x men the animated series #x men first class #x men rp #marvel #character design #mortimer toynbee #this can also go for Todd too #todd tolansky #x-men toad #the brotherhood of evil mutants

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itssuppertim3 · 3 years

Text

Some OC Headcanons:

Since I never talk about the poor fools.

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

Remeir: (Dunmer)

The corny main protagonist.

Pretty much the most vibrant of all of my characters.

Aweful cook. The woman's go-to is cabbage soup since it's the easiest to make. Still sucks, though.

She tries a bit too hard to seek approval from her peers. She does everything in her power to make others happy, and in some cases it costs her own.

Explodes in a whole waterfall of emotions when pissed off.

Terrible singer. It's just offtune screaming, mostly.

Kicked Miraak's ass and then proposed.

Myuri: (Dunmer)

Remeir's side bitch.

She's the quiet friend who walks in the grass whereas the rest of the group walks on pavement.

Deeply in love with her career as a professional thief, as well as an Agent of Nocturnal.

Her dream goal is to live in a tiny cabin cloaked by tall trees and brush where no soul can trace her nor the dozens of feline friends keeping her company in said tiny cabin.

Despises any form of magic. Something about trauma?? I don't know anymore.

She likes men, preferrably the kind that use profanity, drink, burn things... preferrably Teldryn Sero.

Trez/Ivory: (Breton)

The witty assassin a.k.a. asshat.

Her top priority is to piss off as many people as she can and live.

Likes stabbing, slicing, jabbing, puncturing, etcetera, etcetera.

She wasn't exactly flamboyant as a child. Her parents often bought her dolls in order to encourage her to act a bit more... "girly." Trez disliked the dolls because of how much they reminded her of herself. Long story short, they were reduced to sliced bits, her parents soon following :D

Major resting bitch face.

Tall?!

She'd be the one sending memes to the groupchat at 5am.

Seri: (Bosmer)

College of Winterhold dropout.

Short, cute, bright-eyed, will invert your kneecaps.

Absolutely terrible with a bow. Offer to take her hunting and she will cringe.

She is incredibly blunt, yet doesn't know what the hell is going on around her most of the time.

She could be talking someone's ear off for hours, and then fall into an eerie silence after getting lost in thought. Since Inigo is one of the only people she really speaks to, he'll grow unsettled and ask if she's having some sort of breakdown. He does this a lot, actually.

Likes nature, just hates sleeping in it.

Passive aggressive.

Lumi: (Nord)

Vampiric slut.

Unknowingly puckers her lips when in the presence of the male sex.

Much of her life is a blur because she's in the fast lane and not because she's been in hibernation mode for the majority of her existence. Sorry Serana, but she gets the gold metal for this one.

Obsessed with velvet material, and would definitely smother herself with it when given the opportunity. Would also be wearing velvet to her funeral.

Misses her blue eyes. Misses the sun :/

Too expensive for mortals.

An-Ei: (Argonian)

My only male OC thus far?????????

Underlying drinking problem.

Used to be a sailor. Hated every second of it. Especially when the ship wrecked. Especially when he had to swim all the way back to shore...

Dramatic dog lover.

"I just need a strong man in my life. Some brandy, too."

Survived a slaughterfish attack as a boy and has vowed to never swim again if he can help it, which kinda counteracts with the whole sailor thing.

Jericho: (Redguard)

The mangy mute.

Devout follower of Hircine. The clap of his ass cheeks swayed her over.

She can't speak, but she'll cuss someone to the Oblivion gates using obscene gestures alone.

In love with the guy who sells good mead for cheap.

Doesn't really know exactly how she lost her voice, but she just shrugs her shoulders and moves on.

She isn't a dog person, she is the dog.

Aelia: (Altmer)

Sick chick or whatever.

Ancano's little sister-- Ancano's little sister who hates his guts.

Mommy/daddy/sibling/everything issues.

Cool lightning strike scar on her chest. Wonder how it got there? Oh yeah. Ancano.

Bossy, but just want's people to listen for a change.

She has a knack for enchanting rings in order to give her health a boost, which is pretty neat since her hands are just *bling, bling, bling*

Insane sweet tooth. She's surprised she's never had cavities. Probably because of her intense badassery.

Anastasia: (Imperial)

Miss busty fugitive witch.

Killed her rich dad and is now on the run.

Somehow brought an unlucky Whiterun guard into her misfortunes. Ask him how he got tied in and he will cry.

Alchemist at heart.

She really takes joy in disecting things. She'll do a little giddy dance and everything.

Has a love/hate relationship with Solstheim, but she'll pretend to like it out of spite because her guard friend loathes it.

Sharp-ass nails. Golly.

Tro: (Nord)

Starla from Regular Show.

Has an odd fascination with Orcs. She'll say she just likes their culture when she really just thirsts over them.

Likes cute things, will bash your head in using her thumb.

She should really take a bath......

Bipolar issues.

Be glad she isn't Dragonborn, because if she was, the world would be facing annihilation long before Alduin could even attempt to throw hands.

Lots of fist fights and arm wrestling.

#just hit me that all of my oc's are absolute whores #skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #original character #skryim characters #dunmer #ldb #oc headcanons

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Storm 8

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), unwanted touches, prolonged eye contact which makes me wanna believe in the Church and all it’s saint to ask for absolution.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Yay another chapter of the Asgardian bitch boys causing trouble for our reader (much like @lokislastlove is causing trouble in my dms)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your days with Loki passed swifter than those with his brother. Your work was mostly uninterrupted as Loki left early and returned in the late afternoon with some tasks to attend to as he ate dinner. His orders were few as you brought his meals without prompting and he was content to his privacy upon bathing and retiring.

In the time you spent as the Prince's chambermaid, you began to think it far preferable. Even if you were a pawn in his game, his treatment almost atoned for his purpose.

It had been less than a week since you had last seen the king and since Loki insisted that the king marry, it was his responsibility to see it through. Every single detail. It was Thor’s way of punishing his brother’s impudence. As the queen had arrived days early, the wedding was pushed forward. No longer scheduled for the day after her planned arrival, it was to be the day of.

On the day of the nuptials, you brought up Loki's breakfast and he was already awake. He ate at his desk as he flipped through a ledger, an emerald robe around his slender figure. You stood by the door, ready to clear his plate when he was done.

He turned to you as he wiped his hands and stopped you from stepping forward as he turned a palm out to you.

"You know what day it is?" He asked.

"The day of the wedding, your highness," You answered.

"It is," He smiled as he stood and crossed to the large wardrobe against the wall. He pulled open the right door and reached inside. "All the palace staff will be hard at work, in fact I did have to pull a few hands from the streets to fill in the holes in the roster." He turned back, a length of forest green silk hung from his grasp. "My footman Bradin will continue to see to my brother and so I shall require you to act as my cup bearer."

"Cup bearer?" You echoed. "But--"

"Firstly, you must put more effort into holding that tongue," He warned. "Secondly, it is a formal occasion, not some feast, so you shall stand by, diligently, and keep my cup full. I have faith I should be wanting for wine quite often."

"Yes, your highness," You dipped your chin in deference.

"And so you shall wear my colours," He neared with the dress, "I shall provide you a belt as well and you might forgo that stained monstrosity," He pointed to your apron. "Your duty is simple, I've seen you faced with far greater. You will serve me and you will keep silent. Understood?"

"Yes, your highness," You answered.

Loki had a way of speaking which was gentle yet patronizing. He expected what he said to be heard and his desires to be appeased. He was far more subtle than his brother but in a way, it suggested he was far more dangerous.

He held out the garment and you took it from him. You folded it over your arm as he adjusted the belt of his robe and gripped his lower back as he stretched. He turned away, seemingly done with the conversation.

“You may clear the dishes and go change,” He commanded as he strode to the door of his bath chamber. “I expect you ready within the hour. Do await me in the receiving chamber. You might sit on the balcony and enjoy the sunlight in my absence.”

“Your highness,” You accepted and he disappeared through the door.

Those times when you left upon your own had become so foreign and were just another facet of serving Loki which felt strange. You couldn’t gripe however, even if that gnawing in the back of your mind never quite let up. It was like limbo. You didn’t expect to be in the prince’s employ forever and the inevitability that the king would put his foot down made you ever uneasy. It was only a matter of time and the minutes, hours, and days did seem to move quickly.

🌩️

When Loki found you on the balcony staring down at the ground far below, he frightened you. You turned to him and bowed your head. He was dressed in a black jacket trimmed in a similar gold to that around your waist. His dark attire made him look even taller and his green eyes seemed to glow as they carried their usual imperious glimmer. They took you in and he arched a brow.

“Presentable,” He remarked. You didn’t expect anything more as he flicked two fingers in a signal for you to follow him as he swept back through the archway. “The ceremony shall begin shortly. You will go to the feast hall and aid the other servants in the last of the arrangements as I ensure that the bride and groom make it to their vows.”

You nodded, thankful not to to be forced to sit through the long and tedious wedding rites. You’d heard that nobles tended to take hours to read them aloud whereas peasants could be married in a matter of minutes.

He spun back to you and brought his hands up just before your shoulders. You stopped short as he framed you with his fingers and squinted. He snickered as his facade finally cracked.

“You do know my brother is going to be mad at the sight of you,” He slithered. “Oh, I can’t help myself though. He has been rather unbearable in your absence. More than usual.”

You pursed your lips and lowered your lashes. A servant would never dare speak ill of any noble, even if humoured by another.

“Don’t you fret, he will have a wife to keep him in line and she is not the type to abide his nonsense,” Loki assured and turned once more as he led you across the room. He opened the door himself and ushered you through to the corridor. “Oh my,” He shut the door behind him and hovered his hand just beside your arm as he looked at you once more, “I did a terrible job at guessing. It is rather… snug.”

“It fits,” you assured him as you touched the silk across your stomach. “Thank you, your highness.”

“So long as you can pour wine, I suppose it does not matter,” He said. “Well, my dear, you best be off and I must hurry if I am to meet the cleric. Ugh, I do despise weddings.”

He waited until you moved to part. You listened to his footsteps mirror your own as they faded down another corridor. Soon enough you could no longer hear them and as you reached the stairs, you paused. You weren’t stupid enough to trust Loki but you truly couldn’t guess what he was up to.

🌩️

The feast hall was a flurry of activity. Instead of the long benches formerly facing the trestles, each guest was to be seated in their own cumbersome yet elaborate chair, with only a few of the further tables lined with cushioned stools. The golden cutlery, freshly polished was laid out carefully, and silk streamers were braided and twisted along both tables and columns.

Melora was among the hive of workers. She looked you up and down as you helped cover the last table with an ivory table cloth trimmed in silver and red. The king’s chair would be hung with his sigil and the new queen’s would wear her own.

“We’re all very curious about what has become of you. We only ever sight you when you’re sleeping or waiting on the cooks,” She said. “I see the king does treat you well.”

“It is the prince’s generosity,” You assured her. “I’ve since been reassigned.”

“Pity,” She gave a sarcastic frown. “I’ve recently been placed in a new posting as well. I get to sweep the upper floors now, I might just see you upon your own duties.”

“Perhaps,” You smiled, shrugging off the tinge of envy in her tone.

You carried on and found yourself in a sweat as Agnes called for the servants to assemble in the corridor. The high collar of the dress was damp, though even your bare arms felt smothered from your excess. As before, servants were selected to be servers and you were sent to stand at the table just to the left of the marriage dais.

Loki would sit there with several of the high lords, a generous vantage of the bride and groom. You were suddenly nervous as the other women lined up with their ewers and a silence seeped into the airy hall. It was as if every single servant was holding their breath in anticipation.

When at last there was a sign that the feast was about to commence, you stood rigid and stared at the door along the other end of the hall. Your head snapped back however as another opened opposite it, hidden just behind the couple’s dais.

You watched as a woman entered, her skin a rich brown and her eyes as dark as onyx. She wore a bejeweled scarf along her hairline, a swath of braids overflowing beautifully down her back. She walked with shoulders back and head high, the king emerged just behind her. Neither appeared happy.

You looked away at once, your eyes on the chair before you, where the prince would sit. The woman, the queen you assumed, Calla, whispered something as a chair scraped, followed by another. You felt the heat of another’s gaze and ignored it. Don’t look, don’t look. You knew it was Thor watching you, even with his new wife right beside him.

The king cleared his throat. “Bradin,” He called to the footman who shut the door they’d come through, “You may permit my guests to enter and have the kitchens commence with serving.”

Bradin voiced his acquiescence and descended from the dias to march across the hall. He had the doors opened and announced the commencement of the wedding feast, though all you could hear was the crowd without buzzing with impatience. You tilted your head and looked down to the double doors as the nobles began to pour in, you kept your attention on them to keep from acknowledging the king.

Loki appeared at the end of the table though you hadn’t seen him amid the influx. He traipsed along the empty chairs and dropped into his with a flourish. He let out a sigh and reached for his goblet, all courtesy for other guests was gone. He held up his cup, an emerald shone from his middle finger.

“Dear maid,” He called over his shoulder. “I daresay such tedium did make me thirsty.”

You stepped forward and poured. Loki turned his cup as you finished and glanced over at you. He leaned back in his chair as he craned to see you.

“I do like that colour,” He mused. “You might keep that dress.”

“Thank you, your highness,” You lowered your chin and set down the ewer before stepping back.

Loki sat straight and watched the other nobles as they searched around for their seats, directed by the servants in livery appointed to the task of sorting the bodies. It was some time before all had stilled and yet they continued to chatter. The ruckus continued until a horn blew from the front of the hall and all looked to find their king standing beside Bradin who held a twisted golden horn.

Thor squared his shoulders and peered staunchly around the room, his subjects in communal awe and shame. He barely looked a man on his wedding day.

“I will make it brief as we’ve all been so impatient for this feast,” Thor began. “So I will do no more than welcome my wife and queen, Calla, to her new kingdom and home. May the fates make our marriage a long and prosperous one.”

He raised his glass to Calla and drank. Fandral stood to your right and cheered, encouraging the rest of the nobles to break out in an uproar, clinking their cups and hollering. Thor sat and his wife attempted a smile at him. You wondered how he’d so quickly built such a wall between them as the woman hid her irritation with a sip of her own wine.

Servants appeared with trays full of food and the frivolity began. Guests were all too happy to indulge in both drink and roasted elk. Loki picked at his plate as he seemed disinterested in much of the affair. He sent the occasional glance to his brother, you suspected to make sure he had not riled his wife, and then returned to poking at his supper.

He placed his fork down and beckoned you forth with a finger. He grabbed his cup and held it for you to fill. You took the pitcher and poured carefully. You felt a brush along your thigh and then fingertips pressed to your hip. You looked down as Loki gripped your hip and purred a thank you.

The pitcher hit the lip of the cup and you spill some onto the prince’s dark trouser. You righted the jug and set it down as you reached for the cloth napkin untouched on the table.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” You sputtered. “I didn’t--”

You began to daub at his tunic hem where crimson droplets had speckled and your hand thoughtlessly slipped lower as you tried to mop up the rest in his lap. He grabbed your hand and held it against his crotch, just for a moment, then slowly nudged it away.

“Now, now, your thoroughness does exceed propriety,” He was smirking as you recoiled and his green eyes flitted over to the royal dais. “What shall people think?”

Your gaze followed his and you found Thor watching you. His expression told you he had witnessed the entire disastrous encounter. You wrung the napkin in your hands and apologized once more before you stepped back against the wall. Loki took another napkin and chuckled as he wiped himself dry.

You bit your lip as you stared at the legs of the prince’s chair. You wanted to dissolve into air. Wanted to be nothing. You fought not to show your distress.

“Oh, my brother is a simple man,” Loki spoke over his shoulder, “Even a wife cannot distract him so long.”

You looked up again. Loki nodded to the royal table and once more you dared to peek. The king had one arm around the back of his wife’s chair and the other fought hers in her lap. He groped her thigh as he pressed his lips to her cheek. His assault was out of place as he barely seemed to notice her at the same time as his eyes clinged to yours. As your gaze met his, he grinned and hugged Calla until she slapped his arm.

“Oh, this might have been a disastrous mistake,” Loki sneered. “But it is no longer my mistake.”

You shook your head and glared at Loki. You weren’t surprised that this marriage was much more than political ploy for him but you were repulsed by how easily he used those around him. You were a servant, you were meant to be used but Thor? His own brother? For all your distaste of the lecherous king, you couldn’t help but pity his familial binds.

“More wine,” Loki called as he raised his cup again. “And this time, do try not to make such a mess.”

You came forward and filled his cup again. Your eyes went back to the dais without thinking. Thor still watched you and his grin only grew as he caught your gaze. The hand not thrust between his wife’s legs went to the back of her head and he turned her forcefully. He pushed his lips to hers, the entire time he never looked away from you.

You weighed the pitcher and lowered your head.

“Your highness, I should fetch some more wine,” You raised the ewer as you spoke.

“Oh, please do,” Loki bid. “Before our king decides to consummate his marriage before the entire court.”

🌩️

The rest of the feast went on much the same. Loki kept finding reasons to call for more wine and his fingertips found new places to dance as his eyes taunted his brother. Thor was trouble enough as he harassed his own wife who was less than impressed by her new husband. You wondered if it were too late for her to absolve the union.

Thor and Calla’s departure marked the end of the day and at last the guests could retire, many drunk and stumbling. You were starting to think they cared more for the nine courses and casks of wine than their own king.

You followed Loki through the corridors, weaving past the inebriated and the loitering. He seemed little affected by his indulgences or the evening as a whole. Yet the more you stared at his shoulders, you found yourself wholly irritated by him and the royal will.

You were tired of it all; you didn’t want to be another plaything for these spoiled brats, you’d only come to sweep and change linens. You were entirely ill-fit to do both.

Loki swept into his chambers and you closed the door behind him. He went to the chaise and sat heavily, leaning on his hands as he looked at you and smirked.

“What a night. More amusing than I could have expected.” He said.

You didn’t say anything. You stared back at him and he lifted a brow.

“What is it? You do seem to be holding something back, dear maid?”

“No, your highness,” You lied as you folded your hands together. “I am merely awaiting my next task.”

“I prefer boldness to impertinence,” Loki’s smirk fell, “So I suggest you speak whatever has turned you so sour.”

“I am only curious, shall I ready your bed? Draw you a bath?” You hissed, filled with a haughty breath. “Or perhaps you are more like your brother than you would admit and you’d prefer me on my knees?”

Loki blinked and his lips parted. He nodded and hummed as he considered you. He stood, slowly. His steps were deliberate as he neared and stopped before you. He reached up and played with the collar of the dress around your neck. He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Not tonight.” He said, “This has been quite the day. You are exhausted. You are not thinking.” He took your chin between his index and thumb and made you look him in the eye. “I command you to go and rest for there will soon be another day upon us and much work to do still.”

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 1)

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: You've woken up being hunted by an Alghoul. You were in a death race and hollered for help. Though, it seems like the human you've first seen didn't exactly appeared to look human all through out as his eyes glowed beneath the moon light. You've talked to him but he didn't seem friendly at all except for his awakened friend. The words coming out of their mouth seemed baffling because they were acting like they didn't live in earth, and deep inside you were in denial because they really weren't.

Warnings: Monsters? The word 'whores' and cusses? Blood? A lot of modern references because reader lives in modern day era in earth.

Words: 3,800+

A/N: Hello! Yes, this is my first Geralt fic! There will be eventual smut in the future chapters. I can just tell. LMAO. I ain't good with medieval things but I'm trying! I hope this isn't a failure nor a disappointment, spuds! 😅 Reader lives in modern day earth in this fic but magically woke up in The Witcher’s dimension, alright? This turned to be comedic because of the modern references from the reader. 😂🤣🤣 I had fun writing this! FOR REAL!

TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS FIRST PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters and said monsters aren't from moi as well. (GIF taken from Tumblr!)

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Tweaks of branches echoed around the unspecified woodland. The satisfying crack of the frail wood felt on the soles of your feet which wore some nasty pink Havaianas slippers as the night sky became colder than from what you were accustomed with.

You were running away from god knows what as you've heard a loud thud beside the tree you've woken up with. Taking a trip down the memory lane, your forgetful mind could only recall a lake in which you were drowning in and the sudden flash of lightning occurred above you as the water rested upon your face.

Then after that terrifying nightmare, you suddenly woke up in the middle of nowhere. A slightly dead looking forest before you've heard the rustle of some twigs and leaves beside you.

Having a vacation in the forest of Switzerland has never been a dream and considering how God smacked you in the head unconscious and teleported you in Switzerland was entirely bewildering from the start.

Your heart was hurriedly pounding out of your chest as you sprinted as fast as you can. Abnormal shrills whistled with the wind that made you mewl as you ran for your life. There has been cuts and bruises across your knee from how you've stumbled upon a large log that hid beneath the earth-like soil. No pain has been sent to your nerves yet because of the adrenaline rush rising in every part of your veins with the need for the hushed voices to stop.

"Ah!" Another loss of one's footing, you've tripped over a large rock and fell face flat. Face now covered in grime and soot as you've heard the intangible whisper of words for the tenth time.

"Leave me the fuck alone! If this is a prank, it's not funny because I'm hurt!" you shrieked in the night and no one in particular. Limbs were turning feeble and shaky, but you've offered all your will power to survive in the damn forest if you were about to get murdered and be found after a year where your body has already been eaten by some wild animal.

The hushed voices were coming closer to a definite scare that took your heart out of your chest. You've pushed yourself up and began sprinting with a limp as you saw the end of the forest; like a meadow was waiting for your damn demise as you won't be outrunning the murderers behind you.

You stood in the middle of a grass field. So, this was the end for you. The voices inside your head spoke as you've scanned the whole area and saw a peculiar wooden house in the middle of the vast area.

The wooden house seemed to be made of Hazel twigs, daub and wattle. Its whole structure was darn weird to be seen in the era you knew you were in. Year 2020. It looked medieval, old and superannuated. The house's structure had a timber frame with a light glowing inside the open panels of its windows.

Human. Someone can help you. Based on the clothes that hung on the sides of a wooden fence in logs, you knew there was someone living inside the peculiar looking house.

Then, you've heard a loud roar. It was enough for you to spun on your heels and see who had been chasing you like a wild boar.

Yet, it wasn't a normal wild boar that could calm you down just a slight because it was just an animal.

The one chasing you didn't seem a murderer nor an animal. Its body appeared to live on the ground, like a zombie who came to life and had no lower body. Though, it had a large stomach and uses his burly arms to chase you down the forest. With Bright cardinal eyes wrathfully staring you down as you stood rooted on the ground in the middle of the field; your heart seeming to run out of oxygen because of what you were witnessing.

You didn't know if it was an alien or a zombie. Proper thinking thrown out of the window as you were running away from the nightmare that was bound to kill you in your sleep, if you were even sleeping.

Your feet ran a trek to the house; looking behind. Focal point completely at the fast carcass crawling to where you were, tons of disgusting looking saliva dripping out of its eroding jaw and you were screaming for help as you skedaddle away.

Until your head hit a hard wall, but not enough for you to fall unconscious.

Vision falling like a kaleidoscope world, you blinked repeatedly and squinted you eyes up at the wall. Though, you were met with a clothed robust chest and a strong warmth he radiated through the crispy, cold Autumn wind. You've scanned him from chest to face and noticed a coin-like silver necklace just a meter away from your face that had a symbol of a wolf.

You didn't know if you were just still dizzy from your newly awakened-self but it was as if your world spun around you as the brawny, marvelous man towered over you like a lion over a mouse. His jawline impressively great enough to cut a bitch; a prominent, cleft chin that can be quite tempting to poke at and eyes that were glowing in Aurum like a star in the night sky or a pot of gold in the other end of the rainbow, with majestic half-tied hair that ended below his shoulders tinted in ivory that stood upon the Tartarean night.

Though, despite of how dashing, grimy and haggard he appeared before you. The scowl on his face was enough to take you to step back from how disturbed he looked like.

You've seen him somewhere. In the movies back in your laptop when you were having a marathon of something.

Lord of the rings. Right, you were dreaming about it in the middle of being chased in your nightmare. That explains why he appeared.

You clapped excitedly as you lifted your chin to stare into his beautiful blazing gold eyes. The grumpy looking man cocked his head to the side as he scrutinized and studied your filth-filled face and you couldn't help but notice the concealed scrunch of his nose if you weren't staring a little bit too closely.

"Hmm," it was the first word you've heard from this intimidating man standing in front of you and hearing such an impossible, low timbre of a hum that vibrated from his chest could get your knees weak from such a tone because you didn't know if it was scaring you or telling you to run for the hills instead.

"Legolas?" your voice croaked out loud, voice turning small when you've received only a grimace that wouldn't be considered as a fake smile, much to your dismay. Your scrutinizing eyes noticed something different from one of the Lord of the Rings character and it was the maturity of his face, "--a middle aged Legolas! Help me! Use your arrow thingy--" he pushed your shoulders to stay behind him, making you stumble from the impact but not enough to ignite another bruise to your knees. Your eyes staring weirdly at his back as you studied the long metal knightly looking steel wrapped around his thick, large, powerful looking palms.

"---Oh, a sword would suffice." you muttered, suddenly uninmpressed because you wanted him to have an arrow instead of a sword to live in your fantasies and continued to hid behind the large build of his body, taking a peek as you saw the bizarre looking creature who screeched so loud that it echoed all over the meadow. You've unconsciously held onto the hem of the wool sweater behind the first human you've ever encountered other than the creature who planned to eat you alive.

"There's a zombie!"

Geralt felt the hand tugging at his sweater. He was close to jumping from the sudden physical touch because of how sudden you've reach out for him regardless of meeting him just tonight. His eyebrows in a tough knot and expression unreadable as he eyed the Alghoul running towards you. The hand holding the hem of his clothing was instantly right out of your hands as he prepared his stance and tread towards the critter like he was confident enough he could eliminate him.

He swung the sword, aiming for the head using just one hand as he lifted it with no trouble; like it was his own weapon and you couldn't help but watch the whole scene unfold before you. The Alghoul jumped using its arms but he was stronger, faster, braver and definitely had no sweat with the upswing of his sword as he slashed the head off the creature with one blow.

Well, he was great. Too great with the sword indeed.

Black blood spurt as he'd cut his head off with no remorse, some of its blood flying off to your grimy sleeveless top and face as you winced from the gore and stared at the head rolling on the ground till it hit your toes.

You just wanted to scream out loud but it seems like your jaw has been stuck and you had no voice to start.

The man seemed to be unruffled at the fact that he just cut the creature's head off with his sword, turning his back at face front that you saw black fluids on the smooth wrinkle of his forehead and cheeks.

"It's an Alghoul," he abnormally grumbled so deep that you mistaken it as a growl. You could feel your tongue stuck in your throat and heard his heavy footsteps coming close. Your eyes still focused at the monster's head scratching your feet that you haven't realized that the man who saved you was actually in front of you already, grabbing its head and throwing it away to save you from another nightmare.

Faded set of footsteps came echoing in. Lighting up a startle from you as you heard a door swish out loud in the open. Until, a budding pitch of a man has said the name of your gory savior in the middle of the night.

"Geralt?" Jaskier hesitantly stepped on the creaking, wooden porch. Eyes still weary of sleep and fatigue as he blinked to the both of you who stood at each other in just an arm reach.

Your savior mumbled another distasteful hum as he observed the short woman before him who seemed to be in total shock; staring at the ground where he'd took the head of the Alghoul away before sighing and taking a step back and away from you to take a look at his bloody sword. "Why, who is this adorable, small grimy lady here in the middle of the night?" the light tone of the man's voice made you blink twice; snapping you out of your reverie.

You turned your head and studied the somnolent man standing outside of the porch, hair disheveled like he'd been disrupted by such a beauty sleep. He looked younger, like he was in his 20's and had a youthful beam with lean muscles beneath the white undershirt wore under a Tunic. Jaskier placed both hands on his hips before pointing a finger at you, sending you a bright smile other than the moue you've received from the man named 'Geralt,' "You came here for Geralt, I suppose? One of your..midnight sashays with him?"

Geralt didn't need to look at his friend and ignored everything he said by walking towards a beautiful brown horse, "Jaskier," he lowly reprimanded as he eyed his horse with an indecipherable expression of his.

Jaskier deeply sighed, his shoulders going up and down from how he did and you eyed him with a baffling twist of your eyebrows.

"First and foremost, you ruined his nap and now he can be as grumpy as an--an Alghoul! An amputated Alghoul!" he blinked in surprise, peeking behind you to see the creature who had its head cut-off laying on the muddy ground.

Geralt continued to pet his horse as your eyes snapped to him, his back on you as you heard his horse neigh, the man named Jaskier still rambling about the creature who laid dead on the ground.

"Alghouls appear in old necropolises and crypts," he scratched his temple with a finger, walking down the path till he was studying the corpse on his foot, "It's a miracle that they've hunted you down. They seldom appear in the forest! Also, they knock down their victims and eat them alive. Right, Geralt? You've taught me these!"

Geralt ignored him and continued petting his horse.

You eyed the man named named Jaskier and watched him walk back to you, a solemn smile on his face because of your unfortunate experience with the forest. Suddenly, realizing about the information he'd uttered, you were sure it was just like those creatures in the movies like Resident Evil or The Walking Dead.

"So, it's basically a zombie!"

Jaskier stared at you like you've eaten a dead mouse. Forehead creasing as he tried mouthing the word you've said, giving his friend a once over as he does, "A zom--what? please do enlighten me, Geralt as to what is a Sombre when I can see with my own splendiferous eyes that the monster he'd killed is an Alghoul--"

You've huffed and bit the insides of your cheeks, fists tightening on either side as you stubbornly bantered, "Z O M B I E. Zombie."

Thus, at the retort; Jaskier had his hands on his hips with his chest puffed out like he was trying to intimidate you. But, it was a failure because he never looked intimidating from the start, "A zombie. Alright. I understood you but not entirely, dirty maiden. Geralt--" he looked over his friend who was now already on the side of you, startling the both of you and sky-scraping from your side as you lifted your chin to see him oddly closing his eyes, breathing you in.

Was he smelling you?

You eyed Jaskier like you were finding it peculiar and he just gave you a shrug, "Your scent..It's...It's...otherworldly, " Geralt uttered, completely resonant and low-pitched that vibrated your calming nerves, "It attracted the Alghoul," he continued with a frown and another sniff before humming in disdain.

"Very out of the ordinary," the latter muttered beneath his chest, a snarl coming out of his mouth as you swallowed the butterflies wanting to come out of your mouth by how monumental he was and you feel so small, "Who sent you?"

You took a step away from the man, eyeing him weirdly as he stubbornly took a step close like personal space wasn't known to the world you are in, "Uhm, no--no one?" a pathetic stutter came out of your lips and felt the tremble of your fingers because of a thought running in your mind that he was also as dangerous as the Alghoul they were saying; maybe even more treacherous, "I came out from my mother’s reproductive organ? You know what, Geralt--"

Jaskier suddenly cut you off, crossing his arms behind him as he watched his friend tower over you, an amused grin etched on his face because you were actually crumbling like a rat before the ginormous cat, "Geralt. A letter G. Not a J. G E R A L T---"

"---Alright, GERALT!" you stopped taking steps back and declared out loud, mocking their accent that you couldn't distinguish. Your palms were outstretched in front of you, ceasing Geralt from pushing you away but not enough to be touching his torso. A pleading look in your eyes that made him breath out of his nose, "---Just please tell me where the airport is and I'm off to my country,"

The man in front of you stared you down, completely uncanny at what you were voicing out. You winced and realized you wouldn't get an answer from him and tried to ask help from his friend instead, but Jaskier was fast to distract you and criticize the clothes you wore, "What even is that clothing?"

You blew out air out of your mouth loudly, not believing their words. They were acting like they weren't actually living in earth at all, "It's casual! Don't judge!"

Jaskier also gave a huff, not believing the outlandish behavior from a lady and continued complaining to the Witcher who seemed to never have the decency to give you space, "Cas--what? Geralt, this woman is foolish. Don't even attempt to ravish her in any way. Utterly not worth it! She's a cuckoo with that flimsy short trousers, an odd looking footwear and a thin top like the Alghoul has taken all of her silk. Unless, this woman is actually your type, well--I wouldn't judge you for your taste in women because most of the time it is utmost round the bend--"

His spouts were cut short as you managed to get a proper look at the strangely, beautifully rugged man before you, giving him one of those tired, puppy eyes that made his frown much less more like it as he waited, "I just wanna go home," your voice sounded so vindicated and you were sure his eyes were really glowing under the night sky, "---please tell me where the airport is and I'll go, or you can probably help me with my wounds first before you shoo me away,"

You've felt the burns from your wounds and ungracefully tried to avoid those glowing eyes that seem to suddenly make your heart pound. Damn you and your horrid types, "Do you...have a car?" you asked no one in particular as you watched the stars that also seemed to be peculiar because of how many they were.

His horse neighed from a distance which gave you an idea that their house didn't have a garage nor do they have a car. You peeked behind Geralt and saw his horse standing behind the stables, "Oh, you have a horse. A beautiful brown horse, I take it we're in a province, I see."

Again, no response from him other than Jaskier's sighs. It was like taking to the wind, but actually talking to a corpse.

You could feel the heat of his stare and it was making you conscious of how you actually looked like, so you continued to avoid his eyes and looked at anywhere but him, "We're in Switzerland right? Or in a province in the U.K, Scotland or Australia considering your accents?"

The only response you've gotten from him was a mere seven word that made you scrunch your nose by how weirder they get, "You aren't from here, I can tell."

"Way to tell her that she's a woman and not a man, Geralt. Stop stating the obvious,"

You ignored their utterance as they've also ignored your question. All you needed was an airplane to get you back to where you came from and escape from this madness. Yet, they seem like to be beating around the bush which began to slightly irritate you because you were sounding like a broken record, "So where's the airport, gentlemen? I still need to feed my cat at home and I'll tell the entire universe that its the end of the world with the zombies. Gotta' tell them a zombie apocalypse is happening--my phone!" you patted the pockets of your shorts and felt your Android phone inside. You've fished it out and pressed the home button, the bright light gleaming beneath the night and both men couldn't help but stare at you in oddity.

"Your what?" was the only thing Jaskier has muttered, looking at what you were holding. Geralt observed the unfamiliar looking thing in your hand and squinted his eyes shut at the bright light, "It's--there's no signal! Where are we?" you tapped on your phone repeatedly and found the GPS not working as the results were indefinite.

Jaskier marched till he was beside his friend, clasping a cold hand on his burly shoulders, cocking his head to the side and clasping his other on his own hip as he gave you a look, "Not just simply absurd but also a strange one, Geralt. You definitely pick the best ladies, First was Renfri; the rebel princess, second is Yennefer; that cunning beautiful mage in which you’ve been in love with and the other hundred are your whores--"

Geralt cocked his head to the side, an unexpected small smile lifting his lips as he continued laying his golden eyes on you, "Year 1268. In the far north kingdom of Kaedwen,"

You nervously nodded, crossing your arms at how exposed you feel from the man before you especially that your clothes were also thin for a weather you were in. Fingers were feeling like ice and you couldn't help but shiver, "Kaedwen? Padawan? Star wars references, I see. Okay, okay, this is getting out of hand and I know you're still in character but please tell me that this is a prank and you're just fond of cosplay,"

"Hmm," His smile was quick to fall, like it has only been a hallucination of your imaginations. Geralt studied you from head to toe. Your breath catching in your throat at how barren you felt with just a simple scan of his eyes and also by how beautiful he looked. Such a pain but soothing for the eyes. He caught the bruises and wounds all over your body and heavily sighed another one before turning his back away from you and letting Jaskier lightly stumble on his feet after giving him a manly tap on the shoulder.

"He's letting her in," Jaskier mumbled to himself and watched Geralt walk away, completely amused as he couldn't believe it, "He really is!"

He scratched his disheveled bed-head and huffed another one, pointing at the retreating man who entered their wooden cavern. "Based on how long I've been a friend with this grumpy Witcher, that answer was either a yes, or a no."

"---Unfortunately, it seems like a no because he took off without a word," he gestured with a finger and used his other to welcome you like a humble gentleman giving way for a princess, "---but also an approval that you can stay in our humble abode to cure that wounds you have which is oddly strange because he never lets anyone in, yet here you are. A grubby ground breaker,"

He eyed the Alghoul's blood on your top and face, his face morphing into disgust as he pointed a playful finger at you, "---And you, small rat. Need a bath," before waggling them around to tell you his point, "---However, you don't get to take my bed,"

The hopes of having your sleep or tightly shutting your eyes, repeatedly wishing inside your head to wake up on your mattress back at your apartment would definitely be a difficult task especially from what you've witnessed. Though, maybe closing your eyes shut and having a nap was the only cure to the nightmare you were living in; taking note at how long this dream of yours have been occurring. It was technically a nightmare full of magical creatures and magic that promised you would only be a mere dream of yours.

That is, when you've opened your eyes after repeatedly wishing up at the sky to wake you up in your dream and saw Jaskier walking in, leaving the door open for you to make yourself at home completely answered your questions.

You weren't dreaming and it appears to be like you were in a different dimension.

"Oh, I'll be damned,"

A PART 2? YES? Y’ALL WANT THIS TO HAVE A SECOND CHAPTER? HEEEHEE!! TELL ME WHAT YA THINK ABOUT THIS!

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idontmeantosoundrudebut · 3 years

Text

Many of Horror (Chapter one: This secret goodbye)

Fandom - How to train your dragon (movie franchise)

Ship - Eretlout (+ background relationships)

Wordcount - 3748 words

Fanfic summary - Moving on is hard, especially from something that doesn’t want to be forgotten. But it’s easier when you have someone with you who understands that mind-scarring agony, it’s easier when someone will hold you in the dark when all the monsters come out to play, it’s easier when you’re loved. But Eret is going overseas and Snotlout is left alone in a cold bed.

The dream is back and he feels sick. Sick in the head. (I really can’t think of a good summary for this, so sorry my dudes)

Tags/Warnings for this chapter - Mentions of past child abuse

So I have yet to finish this Fic yet but I’m just so excited to show it to yall that i just had to give you a little teaser!!! This fic takes place a year after HTTYD3 but the dragons never leave and Stoick never died because Hiccup deserved a whole family for more than one day (Dreamworks, i’m talking to you asshole)!

Also please check out The colour of friendship by Sarahenany and The colour of family by Thurdsday26 on the Archive because it they are big inspirations for this fic and if you love Spitelout bashing and Snotlout whump and found family then, oh boy, that is truly the jackpot of all Snotlout whump fics! Also, the title of this fic is based on the song Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro and this to the first like three lines and you’ll understand why!

Please enjoy and give me any feedback that you have, negative or positive, do not hold back bitches!!!! Haha lol bruh

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Eret is leaving today, but he'll be back in a few weeks, a month maximum if the summer storms keep at bay (Ruffnut prayed briefly to Thor before bed last night. She doesn't know why; it was an impulse thing). He, along with six other crewmates, will be sailing far up north to the port-island he once called home to establish a trading route for Berk and to perhaps arrange a meeting between Chief Stoick and the chief of his native village. The Northmen are good people, Eret had reassured during a council a week back, who've long been held under the sole of Drago's boot and will gladly reward those who levered that pressure with both miscellaneous goods and a long-lasting alliance.

The only problem with this grand adventure is that they'll have to travel dragon-less.

The Northmen too have been terrorised by dragons for generations and they will not hesitate to net, bludgeon, and flay the first dragon they see, even if said dragon has a rider on their back. Act first and ask later kind of folk, a mindset which Ruffnut is very familiar with. Eret predicts that the concept of living with dragons in peace and harmony is one his people will be suspicious of for a time, but he assures that they'll warm up to it eventually. So, the first few trips will be dragon-less and slowly they'll weasel their Berkian values in, a very cunning plan indeed if Ruff didn't say so herself.

So today is the day of departure and she's on her way to the docks for the send-off, alone for a change. Tuffnut, eager to be out the house and tired of waiting for her to finish braiding her hair, had nabbed Barf and Belch and left her on her lonesome to walk. At first, she'd been peeved to all Hel, rightfully so, muttering to herself about how easier life would be without her dolt of a twin till she remembered just how peaceful, well, peace was. As vexing as Tuff is, Ruff cannot deny her sibling love for him, but she also cannot deny the simple serene beauty of silence.

She's striding down a street of huts, the docks insight, when she hears a terribly familiar voice.

"You better be back in two weeks, if you're not, I'm coming after you,"

Snotlout.

Ruff pauses mid-stride and takes a step back, looking into a narrow alleyway between two huts. She steps closer and presses herself against the left hut wall, slyly peeking her head out to gaze searchingly into the shadowed alley where she'd definitely heard Snotlout's voice. As mad as she is (and she is mad), she isn't to the point of hearing imaginary voices in the shadows (not for a few years, at least).

There. Stuck between a wall and a bulky silhouette, is the short and distinctive shadow of Snotlout Jorgensen. The figure Snotlout is pressed against lets out a hushed laugh, head bowing and if wasn't for that laugh, she'd definitely be able to identify him solely for the dark outline of his facial profile.

Eret, Son of Eret.

Oh, this... This is interesting, very interesting indeed.

"No promises, we might have to delay returning if we see a storm on the horizon," Eret informs and Snotlout makes a displeased snort, to which Eret adds in response, "But if we don't then, we'll be back as soon as we can. Snotlout, you won't even know I've left,"

"It already feels like you've left me," Snotlout murmurs, head hung low, and it catches Ruffnut by surprise, that statement because it's such a vulnerable thing for Snotlout to say and the way he says it, quiet and anxious, is so alien to her.

The use of the word "me" too, makes her mind turn and burn with theories because there is something so very deep in the small, added word. She doesn't know what yet, but there is something painfully human about it.

Ruff watches the shadowed duo, transfixed as Eret lifts a hand to Snotlout's chin, tipping his head up so that they are looking at each other.

It's such an abnormal gesture for her to witness, especially between two people with whom she's never associated such tenderness before.

Eret has always been this tall, handsome, foreign stranger with a silky voice and a self-assured walk, who is as handy with a sword as he is on a boat, who's always there to help and give back to the people who gave him a better life. Snotlout has always been this hot-headed, confident loudmouth who is way too short to be as brave as he is and is way too good at singing for Ruff to admit, who's full of unyielding loyalty and howling laughter. But most importantly, they hate each other.

Or, now that she thinks of it, they did hate each other.

The last few months have been lacking the usual rivalry between Snotlout and Eret and she doesn't know why it's only hitting her now. At some point, they two of them became friends and she's pretty sure she isn't the only one who hasn't noticed, which is so peculiar because she, and the others, have seen the two of them hanging out at the sawmill and flying together at dusk to light the torches. Gods, they drank with each other last night and there hadn't been a single crass word spoken. When did this happen? She and the rest of Berk have gone blind!

"Snotlout, I'll be back. Soon. I can't promise you when, but I'll be back, and next time I go north, you can come with me," Eret assures, and though Ruff can't see Snotlout's features, she can feel the atmosphere lifting and hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah?" There is something so hopeful and childish in the way he breathes that word, something that tugs at Ruff's heartstrings.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can convince Hiccup to spare you of your very honourable duties for a few weeks,"

"Hey, shut up!" Snotlout's foot jerks out sharply to jab Eret in the ankle, the former laughing breathlessly in response, "My work is honourable, okay? Someone has to test all those crazy weapons Hiccup cooks up and I'm the only man for the job, no one else is as brave as I am," He exclaims, all confident and cocky and familiar to Ruffnut.

"You're sure right about that," Eret says as he again raises his hand and, this time, it comes in contact with Snotlout's cheek, she can see the faint movement of his thumb smoothing over the skin beneath his eye. His voice is awfully soft with a terrible fondness that Ruffnut sometimes hears in Hiccup's voice when he speaks about Astrid or vice versa, it's a tone that she automatically links up to people who are fiercely in love.

Oh, Freya, they're in love.

"You gotta head down to the docks, Eret, you'll be late to leave... or whatever," Again, that insecure whisper is back and by Gods, it sounds so brittle and shaky that Ruff almost considers the thought that Snotlout might be crying.

She would be if she was about to be separated from her lover for an unknown amount of time, Ruff ain't afraid to admit that, but if Snotlout is afraid of anything, it's expressing feelings and emotions (He's afraid of proving he's human, proving he's weak). But then again, maybe it's easier for Snotlout to air out his inner thoughts in front of Eret because, well, they're in love and to be so intimate with someone, they're eventually going to see all the ugly parts that you hide beneath the pretty façade. Eret has probably seen the old insecurity they all know that still lurks deep inside Snotlout, raw and unfiltered, a thing from his youth that made him angry and afraid, a thing that was just as damaging as the scars on his flesh.

Ruffnut, nor anyone else on Berk, will ever forgive Spitelout for what he did to Snotlout. She will gladly say that the day he was exiled was the best day of her life and she will not be alone in the statement. Cruel, merciless, cold-blooded bastard deserved to be Blood-eagled if you ask Ruff and Tuff (probably Hiccup too, no one was more enraged than he was.)

(Ruff has never been afraid of Hiccup, except for once. He's far too lanky, too merciful, too kind, to be a scary guy. But that day, when Snotlout had lifted his tunic in the clubhouse and revealed the ivory scars that were striped across his back and chest, she'd taken a step back at the sight of the inferno that had kindled in his eyes, at the sudden look of mercilessness that had steeled his features, at the trembling fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a man ready to kill, like a man ready to burn then world to the ground, like a man ready to give it all up just for revenge. She was afraid of him that day. So, so afraid that she had nightmares about him for days afterwards.)

"I'll be a bit late, the lads won't mind," Eret says lowly, drawing Ruffnut from her walk-in memory-lane, and she feels her heart tug as he bows his head to press against Snotlout's, "I'll stay here. With you,"

Forehead touching, especially in Viking culture, is the tenderest way to touch the ones who mean dearest to you. Be it a lover, a blood-relative, a shield-brother, anyone who is buried deep in your heart. And here, in the shadows of an alley, hidden and quiet like a forbidden dream, two people hold each other. Soon, they will have to let go and isn't that the most heart-breaking thing? Letting go?

Her heart feels too big for her chest and she almost feels like a changed person by witnessing this, witnessing something she was never meant to see. Will love be like this for her too? Terribly tender and awfully soft? She doesn't know, Gods, she shouldn't be here.

Ruff tries to drag herself back but she's like a moth to a flame, unable to pull herself away from this blindingly beautiful display of love, so raw, so real. She never imaged Snotlout to fall so easily to soft caresses, but of course, he would. It is always our deepest wants that will bring us to our knees and all Snotlout has ever wanted is love, a gentle hand, a place to bury his heart.

They share a deep and long kiss. It makes her feel lonely and she doesn't know why. They part, breathing on each other's lips and holding each other tightly because they know, they know, they have to let go any moment. Their foreheads are still touching.

"Promise me," Snotlout whispers and she sees the silhouette of his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, "promise me you'll come back. To me. Eret, promise you'll come ba-"

A quick but meaningful kiss quietens Snotlout's desperate pleas and Ruffnut has never heard him beg before, not like that, not like he's afraid that Ragnarök is about to fall upon them. Eret cradles Snotlout's face with his large hands. They are so close, they've almost become one shadow.

"I promise you, Snotlout," Eret vows, quiet but vehement, his lips brushing against Snotlout's, "I promise that I will come back to you,"

Another kiss is shared between them, sealing the oath that Eret has made and therefore making it unbreakable. Eret will return, he has to, and Ruff doesn't know what will happen if he doesn't. Something tragic, something unbearable to watch, something she can't allow to happen. She will not see Snotlout ruined again. So, she promises herself that if Eret does not return, she'll fly herself up to Valhalla, drag him back to Berk and the Gods best keep themselves to themselves and not get in the way of her mission, lest the know the true wrath of a Thorston woman.

"Come on, before Hiccup starts a search party," Snotlout says, voice stronger now that the promise of returning has been made, "Selkie's gonna want a proper goodbye too or she's gonna follow you the whole way,"

Eret nods in agreement and peeks his head out of the alleyway, looking up and down the street in search of any unwanted bystanders. In the sunlight, his eyes glitter amber and Ruffnut can make out his hand, large and golden, curled around Snotlout's.

"You sure you can handle her? I know that-"

"Gods, Eret, she's the timidest Thunderdrum I've ever seen! If I can handle Hookfang and a borderline psychotic Terror, among other things, then she's going to be a piece of cake," He reassures, almost sounding offended, and Eret chuckles softly as he gives Snotlout a fond look.

Ruff watches them step out from the alley into the sunlit street, hands no longer intertwined. She can make out the red flush on Snotlout's cheeks and the faint wetness beneath his eyes, which he wipes away hastily. The two of them share a look, secret and quiet, lips curled into gentle smiles, fingers twitching with the longing to touch. Then, as sudden as lightning, the tender-faces fall away and they leave, together but still somehow so far apart. They enter the real world not as lovers, but as friends, as a secret waiting to reveal itself.

For a few moments, she stays where she is, staring into the unlikely place of a secret lovers' farewell. Who knew that a place like this, small and dark, would hold such a tragic and beautiful moment? Ruffnut feels a mixture of emotions, the biggest one being happiness because bless the Gods, Snotlout has found love and if anyone deserves it, it's him.

At the after ceremony of Hiccup and Astrid's wedding a year back, a drunk Snotlout had suddenly embraced her tight and long and said; I'm gonna be alone forever, Ruffy, but that's okay, I got you guys, so... I not really alone. And being just as drunk as he was, she'd laughed and poured him another drink, dancing with him till the sun came to steal the night. She didn't remember what he said till a few days after and it had filled up with such a fierce and sudden sadness that Tuffnut had dragged her home, demanding an explanation for the terrible look in her eyes.

That's the thing with a twin like Tuff, the second her mood changes, he can sense it like a hunting dog catching the scent of blood. She can do it too, but Tuff has never been one to hide his true feelings while she, similar to Snotlout, would rather avoid the conflict of talking sentiments (even with Tuff). Her brother has to drag it out of her most times, corner her and say stupidly melancholic stuff like;

I can smell it, sister. You're sad.

Tuffnut is a curse and blessing all at once and she wouldn't have it any other way.

But anyway, she's overjoyed to see Snotlout in love and loved, but she's also anxious about it. Anxious in a way an older sibling is over a younger sibling when they start to dabble in dangerous things, in things that can get them hurt. And if love is anything, it's dangerous. If love can do anything, it can get you hurt.

Snotlout has been hurt enough. Snotlout has endured and lived through torture and torment, through betrayal and loss, through things she can't imagine surviving. She will not see him hurt again, not by Eret, not by love, not by anything. He doesn't deserve it.

The others will also share her feelings when they discover this secret love story, that she is sure of. Especially Hiccup, who in the past few years has become like an older brother to Snotlout (like the same way that Stoick has become a father to him, the same way Valka has become a mother to him). He takes his new sibling occupation very seriously and it is comical, the wiser brother and the reckless brother always at odds but always there to protect each other.

There's a headache brewing in her temple. Gods, she's been thinking and overthinking again.

It'll be fine, she reassures herself, stepping away from the alley and making towards the docks, the Gods wouldn't curse them all with more bad fortune, would they?

It's probably the most stupid question she's ever thought, in hindsight.

When she gets to the docks, it's jam-packed with dragons and Vikings alike, friends and family saying farewell to the crew and wishing them good fortune on their journey. The sky is clear and blue, perfect for sailing, and Ruff concludes that she wasn't the only one begging Thor to keep his storms to himself.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to Tuffnut, dangling upside down from Belch's neck as he converses with a bemused Fishlegs. She's tempted to go over, but not yet, she has to do something first.

She quickly surveys the area, seeing one of the Berkian members of Eret's crew giving his vermilion Nadder a thorough farewell and a Northman kissing his Shield-maiden fiancé goodbye.

The Northmen, Eret included, were intrigued to see such wild and free women when they first came to Berk. Berkian women are hearty and frightening and hard to impress, daughters of wolves, bearers of warriors, the fiercest things on the battlefield.

So it had been a cultural shock to them, Eret had admitted one day, for their home only holds women who sew the clothes and make the food, who bear the children and tend to the house, who are quiet and timid and easily won over by a half-assed sonnet. Most marriages are arranged and many daughters are traded for land or gold, true love is a rarity to come by. Eret is proud of his home, but these are the parts he is ashamed of.

Astrid was the first woman Eret had ever seen to hold a weapon and he'd never met a woman as savage as Ruffnut before. Ruff will forever be proud that she was Eret's first taste of wildness.

There. She's found who she's looking for.

Eret kneels on one knee before Selkie, his beauty of Thunderdrum. She's orange like a sunset, pale and washed-out, with white flecks scattering her hide like parted clouds, matching her ivory belly, and Ruffnut has never seen a dragon with eyes that blue before. Selkie lets out an unhappy groan as she presses her face further into Eret's hand, eyes low in her grief as she listens to his whispers. Ruffnut can't make out what he's saying, but she's sure it's everything soft and reassuring.

Snotlout is close by, she notices, watching Eret with an open fondness. If Hiccup or Astrid walked by right now and took notice of the raw love in Snotlout's gaze, they would immediately know the truth. Clearly, she isn't the only one thinking this because Hookfang, stood beside his rider, nudges Snotlout with a warning hiss in the back of his throat. Never let it be said that Hookfang doesn't look out for Snotlout, he's ornery and easily distracted, but he makes up for it all with his loyalty.

Soon enough, the ship is ready and it's time to go. People gather along the docks and make their last hurried farewells. The drums begin and the chants of fortune echo across the waters, there's an intoxicating atmosphere permeating the air. Ruffnut hurries through the crowd, easily shoving unmoving folk to the deck in her haste because she has yet to speak with Eret. He's shaking hands with Chief Stoick and is about to go up the gang walk when she suddenly lunges herself at him.

"Ruffnut!" He gasps, surprised and clearly a bit uncomfortable, but he'll have to deal with her for the moment, "Thought you weren't going to- uh- show,"

"Course I was, idiot, and anyways-" She leans her head close to his ear and wraps a hand around his bicep, digging her sharp nails into his flesh threateningly as she whispers, "-I have to remind you to keep to that promise, Eret, son of Eret, I'm not going to have Snotlout hurt again. I was robbed of my revenge last time, I won't be again,"

When she pulls back, she flashes him a smile with too many teeth and bats her lashes with an intimidating gleam in her eyes. She's given this look to men who are now dead and it is Eret's choice if he wishes to be added to that mass grave. Eret stares back at her with shocked eyes, cheeks slightly red, and he clenches his jaw as he swallows thickly, rubbing a hand over the raised welts on his bicep. The drums echo across the water and the chanting voices chase after in earnest. After a bewildering moment, Eret gives her an awkward but thankful smile and nods his head in understanding.

"I'll keep that in mind," He says and all the tension in his muscles seem to slip away as Ruffnut softens her menacing gaze on him, clapping him boisterously on the already injured shoulder.

"Atta boy," She cackles, shoving him up the gang walk as she calls after him, a throaty laugh colouring her words, "You better be back in two weeks, you son of an Eret, or I'm coming after you!"

To her delight, she hears him laugh back at her.

The ship finally departs from the dock, sail high and proud as its pushed by the encouraging wind and the waves part smoothly as the bow cuts through the water, sure and steady. Some of the crew hang off the ratlines, saying goodbye to Berk (for now), and Eret stands, tall and almost warrior-like, on the stern. The salt-touched wind carries his dark hair and the sun reflects off his dark eyes, they glitter with a sadness that Ruffnut wouldn't have noticed if she didn't know the things she knew. His smile is melancholic, Gods, he already looks homesick. He's looking at someone and she already knows who.

Turning to look at Snotlout, she can see that his hands are balled up into white-knuckled fists, that his smile is forced and pained, that his eyes shimmer with tears.

Snotlout has always hated goodbyes. Especially ones that aren't supposed to last. Because they always do.

#eretlout #Snotlout Jorgenson #snotlout whump #httyd fanfiction #httyd #eret son of eret #oh god this is a lot #i have so much planned for this fic

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

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A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever’s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

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