#― you are beautiful like fear

[mundmutter]

@galeleads / sc

   ―   “ I  am.  .  .  Feeling  better  now. ”      aside  from  the  aching  pound  of  force  currently  gnawing  at  the  cerebellum ― ‘better’  was  the  only  word  that  could  describe  how  she  felt  in  comparison  to  the  day  before,  when  each  breath  came  alongside  the  unmistakable  pain  of  being  stabbed  repeatedly  in  her  lower  back.  Ok.  Not  that  great.  She  so  hated  this  feeling.  The  feeling  of  weakness,  that  blight  upon  her  most  important  daylight  of  study  and  productivity.  More  so,  even  with  her  knowledge  of  the  human  body,  even  she  could  not  understand  what  it  was  that  was  happening  to  her.

      “  My  god,  Aurora.  I  don't  think  I've  ever  felt  this  horrid  before.  I  feel  like.  Like  death.  Ohh.  .  .  don't  let  them  take  my  research  when  I  pass,  alright?  Fight  to  the  death  for  it.  Yeah?  God.  .  . ” 

[abbyromanoff]

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE

PAIRINGS: GF!Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 5,142

WARNINGS: Nat is ghost face, smut, killing, blood, dark!Nat, Nat has a dick, cnc, dubcon, daddy kink, begging, praise, degrading, fingering, facials, dry-humping, knives, carving, pain kink, hair pulling, manipulation, size kink, tummy bulges, blowjobs, breeding, unprotected sex, kinda dark!R, very dark descriptions of death, kinda depressed!r, mentions of cheating (no cheating actually happens tho), think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Your eerie apartment was filled with complete silence. You could hear the clock on the wall slowly ticking away at your life, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You couldn’t find it in you to care if your entire existence would vanish in the spot, there was nothing left for you to live for anyways.

You clicked through the channels mindlessly, hoping to find something that could entertain you. The pizza box left on the table had three pieces left - all cold. Your girlfriend had been out for god knows how long. Your phone was next to you, taking Nat’s spot on the couch. It was nearly dead, but that didn’t matter, you didn’t get any notifications anyways.

Suddenly, after minutes of surfing through the tv, the blasting sounds of a breaking emergency filled your ears. The news reporter, a blonde woman most likely in her late thirties, stared dead into your eyes without knowledge of it. She read the words from the telegraph, a small shake in her voice as the man next to her hid a fearful gulp.

It started a few months ago, people reported dead all around the city. The only problem was that it was New York, there were small and large crimes daily; no cop, no matter how good, would ever be able to figure out who was the masked killer.

There had already been over ten found bodies, there was a small part of you who wished you were one of them. Blood would smear the walls of the victim's houses, a new letter to create a large sentence being designed ever so slowly. You wondered what they’d do if they got to each letter, would they stop? Would they be caught beforehand? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to know.

Every video you found online was all about the same topic, who is this new Ghostface, as they called him. When would he strike again? Is it even a he? You didn’t bother, they were just a bunch of conspiracy theorists who had such little to do in their lives that they became so invested in others. So what if they were crazy? Isn’t everyone at least a little bit?

You could hear the sound of keys dangling outside of your door and rolled your eyes, she was back.

“Hey, beautiful.” She muttered when she got near you, planting a kiss on top of your head and climbing onto the couch. She took the spot next to you, accidentally sitting on your drained phone.

“Look who’s home.” She tried placing her arm around your neck, only to feel you shuffle away. You wouldn’t even look at her, only going to stand up and grab the recycling left on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, are you really mad at me?” She attempted to pull you back down, make you sit with her so she can finally hold you; but you shrugged her off. She sighed, rolling her head back and trying to find comfort in the cheap sofa that did nothing for her.

“Why would I be mad? Because you were out all night and didn’t bother to text me or call me back? Or maybe because you smell like that bitches perfume?” You asked, sarcasm evident in your voice. She groaned and stood back up, yawning as she walked into the kitchen where you stood, back facing her as you scrubbed the dishes.

She watched you for a moment, her side leaning on the fridge as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. She waited for anything else, any other comment, but none came. Instead, she grabbed a warm beer from the six-pack box that was resting on the floor next to the counter. She easily popped open the cap and flicked it in the direction of the trash, hoping it made it in.

Your gaze traveled to the side when you noticed the glass bottle being placed next to you and let out a deep and frustrated sigh as you felt her hands rubbing your arms.

“You really think I’d fuck someone else when I have you right here?” She smirked with pure cockiness, it nearly made you want to puke. When you still did not indicate forgiveness or submitting, her smirk dropped.

“Why don’t you believe me, doll? I give you everything you ask and you still don’t trust me?” You felt her crotch poking your backside and tried to hide the goosebumps that arose to the surface. Her hands were gentle as they moved your hair to one side, letting your neck be displayed as you subconsciously leaned into her pecks. She kissed from your exposed shoulder up to your jawline, stopping there as you felt her hot breath against your cold skin.

“Nat-”

“Shh, isn’t this what you wanted?” You showed no evidence to prove her right. You wanted her to feel bad, it’s what she deserved. Who was she to think she can just take off whenever she wants, fuck who she wants, and have the audacity to get annoyed at your worries.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad, makes me just wanna- take you right here.” You felt her hands slide down your pants and dip into your panties. She audibly gasped when feeling your wetness gushing on her fingers.

“You want this, hm? You want daddy’s fingers?” Your palms gripped the ends of your countertop as her middle finger rubbed your clit slowly.

“More.” You choked out, your hips involuntarily grinding into her, chasing the pleasure. She chuckled, shaking her head and tsking.

“No, no, you need to tell me you want it, baby girl.” Your mouth opened, only to release a silent scream as she eased a finger into you. You fucking hated her, despised her, but she knew you perfectly, she knew exactly how to make you tell her how much you love her.

“I want it.” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. You groaned in annoyance, your hand traveling to your chest where you palmed your tits.

“I want it…daddy. I want you, please.” You struggled to get out through gritted teeth, hating how the words sounded coming from your mouth. This was the last time she’d get away with something through fucking you, you’d tell yourself, yet you seemed to repeat those words in your mind every single time. And every single time you ended up back in this situation, orgasms rushing through you while you acted like a desperate whore for any sort of attention she’d offer.

You wondered if her other woman felt the same as you, who couldn’t despise her every move?

“That’s a good girl, you’re daddy’s good little girl, right?” You nodded, your head falling on her shoulder as you tried to find hold of something. Her cock rubbed against your skin as she fucked herself to your pleasured state.

“Cum with me. Make a fucking mess, you slut.”

Your sleeping body laid with the blanket covering only your chest to the tops of your thighs. Nat was next to you, brushing the hair out of your face and smiling at your state. You look beautiful, you always did, but you looked even better when you were shut up for once. She wished she could just fuck that attitude right out of you.

Of course, she wasn’t cheating, no idiot would do such a thing to someone like you. You were a feisty little thing, if you ever found out she was cheating you’d beat her ass into her own grave and plead insanity - she taught you well.

“I’ll be back soon, pretty girl.” She whispered even when knowing you couldn’t hear such words. You shuffled in your sleep and she gave your forehead one last kiss before standing, finding a new pair of boxers and a bra before grabbing her clothing. She had everything she needed in her bag - her mask, outfit, and most importantly, her knife. The best part about it all was that the knife was a custom design you ordered for her for your first Christmas as a pair. It had her initials on it with a heart next to it, reminding her of your love. Your past love for her at least, everything was different now. She didn’t want to hurt you, but you couldn’t figure her out just yet. She’d tell you eventually, she wanted to, she loved nothing more than bragging about her killings, and with you, she’d finally have someone to do so with.

There was still that fear that you wouldn’t accept it though, it wasn’t exactly an easy topic to be brought up. But she couldn’t wait to prove to you that she was in fact loyal, just maybe not clean of her sins.

With one last glance, she left, closing the door behind her and walking down the stairs of the cheap building, shuffling the bag from shoulder to shoulder. She threw it in the car once she found her keys, settling herself in the driver's seat and preparing herself before driving off, her main destination in mind.

“Alright, Mar, let’s see just how well you handle it.” She mumbled to herself, her elbow slamming into the glass of the woman’s back window. She was in, the easiest part was done, and now it was just her time to have fun.

When you woke in the middle of the night, 2:43 AM reading on the clock, you searched for your lover, only to come up empty-handed. You bit back the bile in your throat and threw the blanket over you angrily, grabbing the suitcase you kept under your bed. It was meant for trips, now it was being used to kick out your girlfriend; if she even was that anymore. You didn’t know what changed her, who changed her, but you were done. If she wanted someone else then she could have them, she already used up all the chances you offered her.

Then, there was the sound of the keys rattling, she was back for the last time. You stood up with the luggage in hand, throwing the door open as you were planning to be greeted by a hickey-stained Nat with more excuses pooling out of her, but there was no one to be seen.

“Get the fuck out here, Nat.” You waited for something, but there was no sign of her. You noticed her keys resting on the ground in front of the door, covered in blood. You gulped, taking a step back from nothing.

“Nat? Babe, where- where are you?” You yelled out, your head turning in all directions to look for her. You still found no one, it was pitch black, and nearly impossible to find any sighting of anything besides the luggage by your feet. Your hands were sweaty as your body was stuck in place, you couldn’t move.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Nat, get out here right now.” Hands landed on your shoulders, a low whisper coming to your ear.

“Boo.” You jumped, turning around only to find a person dressed in all black besides their mask. The face covering looked like the design of a ghost, one that a child would draw as their mother praised them for what a good job they did, even if they knew it was horrible.

The man twirled the knife in his hands, watching your fear grow in your eyes and motions.

“Aww, did I scare you, baby girl?” You were able to really listen in on their voice this time, it sounded familiar. You suddenly regretted everything you had said earlier on, you weren’t ready to die just yet.

“No need to be scared, it’s just me.” The man went down on one knee in front of you, knife still in hand near their leg as his hand ventured to his mask, removing the plastic only to see,

“Nat?” She chuckled darkly, reaching up to switch on the light that was sitting on a small table next to you.

“What the fuck was that?” She tried to reach out for your face, only to be pushed away; she wasn’t having that. She gripped your arm tightly, your wrist starting to ache the more she squeezed. She took pleasure in seeing such pain and fear in your features, it somehow made you all the more beautiful.

“Nat- stop it, you’re hurting me.” She smiled darkly as you spoke.

“Perfect.” You thought this was the end, she was going to kill you, your girlfriend was going to kill you. But there seemed to be no move made to do so.

“If you’re going to kill me just get it over with already.” She let go of your arm and you noticed the tensity in her jaw increasing, her head turning just enough for her darkened glare to look all the more dangerous.

“Oh, baby, you really think I’d kill you? There’s no point, it’s not like anyone would miss you.” The words hurt even more than your wrist in the moment, you bit back a remark, choosing to play your cards right and not argue with the woman now pointing a knife at you.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, we’re just gonna have a bit of fun together, alright?” The cold metal pressed against your neck, the sharp tip nearly causing you to leak blood. You whimpered the further she went, your skin barrier breaking as a red substance slowly dripped down your neck.

“Fuck, you don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting this, I’ve been just dying to see you dripping in blood all at the hands of my knife.” You didn’t move, didn’t speak, the fear of what she’d do to you if so indulging you.

“You know, I was planning to come home to my gorgeous little girl laying in bed, ready to take me whenever I want. But instead, I came home to a suitcase of my clothes ready for me, you were gonna kick me out, huh?” You slowly nodded, wetness pooling in your eyes and your shorts. You squeezed your eyes shut in shame, it was so wrong to be needy after such things, she was holding a deadly object to your body and you were still turned on, were you just as crazy as her?

“But seeing that look in your eyes I- fuck, I just wanted you so much more. I was going to tell you, but I- I didn’t know how you’d react, you know?” She was practically manic as she spewed jumbled-up words, her eyes wide and her laugh being as haunted as her soul.

“I mean, just watching Maria on the floor, begging for her life to be saved- it just made me want to shove this knife so deep inside of her and watch as her life slowly drained from her eyes until there was nothing left.” Your own eyes widened at her words, trying to scramble as far away from her as you could. There was no escape though, you were pressed against the wall and she was surrounding every part of you, including your mind.

“Don’t run from me, baby.” She started. “All of this- all of it would’ve been prevented if it wasn’t for you. God, you’re just such a fucking slut, whoring yourself out to practically everyone. Do I not do enough for you? I fucking killed for you and that’s not enough?” You knew this was all the manipulation tactics that she noticed seemed to work with you, and it was working. You were ready to spit out apology after apology, praying for forgiveness, just like all of her victims.

She quickly reached for her bag, and you wanted nothing less than to know what was in there. She grabbed a small book, opening it to show the multiple photos of bloodied victims fallen at her hands. She looked proud, excited, all to show you her work.

“Maybe these people would’ve still been alive if it wasn’t for you.” You tore your eyes away quickly, you couldn’t stand seeing such brutality. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t the one who hurt them, you told yourself. But there was that nagging thought, what if she did kill them because of you? Sure, you flirted, you had old flings but they weren’t contacted since you started your long relationship with Nat.

“Maria didn’t deserve this, none of them did.” You sobbed out, flinching when you felt her hand on your cheek. It was a soothing matter, one meant to calm you, but it did everything but. Suddenly, the same hand connected harshly with the skin, causing it to instantly redden in pain.

“They wanted you, baby, you should’ve known that. You think I didn’t pick up on Maria’s glances at your ass or these, perfect breasts of yours?” She groped your body with desire, shuddering out a breath while doing so.

“Of course, you didn’t notice, you thought she was just being ‘nice’, so fucking stupid.”

“And Wanda? She had a husband, Nat, a family.” Instead of giving you the response you wanted, an explanation to it all, she just continued to tease your nipples with the pad of her thumb through the fabric.

“You know I’d never kill you, right?” It took you a moment before you could get out a hesitant nod, struggling to fully believe her. You always trusted her, but times changed, and so did she.

“I like hurting people, it excites me. But you, I could never do such a thing, I never want to see you in pain, pretty girl.” She murmurs, moving her free hand to her crotch where she rubbed herself thoroughly.

“I just- you ever get so angry, so sick of someone, you just wish you could, like, kill them? Sometimes when we get into those heated arguments, I just wonder how much you’d be willing to beg me not to hurt you.” You watched as she slowly slid the black suit over her head, revealing her black sweatpants. She lowered them to her knees, and let her boxers make way to your vision.

“I’d never act on it, but with others, you don’t need to care about how much they mean to you, because their life costs me nothing but annoyance. I’d kill every last soul on this planet just for you, all you’d have to do is ask.” She grasped your hand, leading it to her confined cock as you palmed her length. Your breathing was ragged, shaky as you refused to look her in the eyes. You knew if you stared too deep into that emerald glaze, there would be no stopping. You wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if you saw the care hidden deep inside of her.

“If I let you touch me, will you stop?” The killings are what you meant, but there was a hidden meaning in the words.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be able to, love.” There was a small whimper escaping her lips as you dipped your hand inside her underwear, grasping her cock in your hands as you stroked with a back-and-forth motion.

“That’s it, don’t stop.” You couldn’t believe yourself, you were sick, insane. Was this normal? No, it couldn’t be. But it felt so good, there was no stopping it. You wanted to see her face contort into pleasure, you wanted to see what she’d do to you. Would she treat you the same as Maria? Would she kill you when you were done? Did she mean it when she sputtered those words? You didn’t want to die just yet, you used to think you did, but that was until you faced death with open arms. How could a criminal, a serial murderer, a psychopath look so perfect? She still looked the same, but there was blood covering her hands and her red hair was messy, her forehead covered in trails of sweat.

“I’m- God, you’re such a good little girl, so fucking perfect.” She noticed the way your thighs clenched, rubbing together as your hips jutted into the air.

“Does someone like when daddy compliments them? Tells them how good they’re doing?” You nodded quickly, your mouth aching to land on her crotch.

“Yeah? You like being a good girl? Or do you like being a good little slut for me?” Both. The answer was both. You wanted nothing more than to prove your worth to her, but you wanted her to treat you like you had none.

“I’m cumming, baby, I’m fucking cumming.” She clenched her jaw tightly and groaned deeply as continuous spurts of cum coated your face. She looked down, grasping your hair in her hands to create a ponytail before forcing herself into your mouth. She could feel the salty tears that had traveled down to your lips spreading amongst her dick, making her grin.

“Swallow daddy’s cum, little girl.” She whispered, dragging you up and down as you gagged around her. Some dribbled down your chin, but she didn’t mind, and neither did you. It had been so long since she felt the warmth that was your mouth, you had been refusing to have sex with her until earlier today. When she finally got her hands on you, it felt magical, like a long-awaiting finale to a show.

“Your throat is so fucking tight,” She said. “I know you must be so wet, you like it when I’m rough, don’t ya’?” She extracted her length from your mouth, causing you to let out a multiple of deep breaths. She tossed your loose shorts to the side after ripping them in half, her biceps flexing in the short moment it took to do so.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, Y/N.” She rarely ever used your name, it was almost odd to hear such a thing. She got ahold of your thighs, pulling you forward and, if it wasn’t for her your hand massaging the part of your scalp she tugged, your head would’ve roughly slammed against the wooden floor.

Your thighs were then lifted to meet your stomach, her cock standing tall as she guided herself to prod at your hole. She rubbed up and down your folds, moaning lowly at the wetness coating you. She pressed herself teasingly against your clit, watching as your lips twitched upward.

“Nat- condom.”

“Oh, no, baby, I have a little something planned for tonight.” She eyed you with a soft smile as if it was the most obvious thing, you wished it didn’t turn you on as much as it did.

“You giving me that look isn’t going to help your case, it only makes me want to fuck you even more.” She stated when you gulped, giving her a nervous and feared look. This wasn’t your Nat, this was someone else, but you loved her just as much.

“F-fuck, you’re so warm and- tight!” She mumbled as her tip slowly opened you up. It was difficult to fit close to half of her inside of you, you didn’t know how you’d manage all of her. She held girth to her, and she was proud to point it out. She loved noticing how tiny you were compared to her, how her cock seemed to stretch you out more so than anything ever has before. No toy had come close; you became dependent on her length to fulfill your needs.

Your shirt soon joined your shorts as she tore it off you, roughly grasping your breast and squeezing as if it were a stress ball.

“Don’t do that. You’re a big girl, you can take it.” You whined pitifully, but her gaze was only filled with lust as her skin managed to press against yours. You had never once been able to take every last inch of her, but you were so wet, more than you’ve ever been. This side of her brought out something inside of you, something so shameful, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But Nat did. She could sense how badly you had been wanting to spice things up for months, it was almost starting to turn out to be boring between you two, and she never expected you to act so compliant.

“Daddy, you’re so big.” She rested both arms at either side of your head, staring down at you with an intensity you longed for. You could see how badly she was trying to hold back from hurting you, but she wanted to so much. The thought of you covered in your blood only made her cock throb and pulse. She leaned down, letting her mouth ghost against yours, causing you to pull her forward to connect yourself with her. Her tongue poked at your lips, begging to get a taste of you. You didn’t let her, only pulling back with your eyes slowly trailing from her parted lips to her forest-green eyes.

“Fuck me, Nat.” She never liked her name all that much, she thought it was basic. But hearing it come from your mouth with your voice, it did things to her.

She pulled her hips back, her length sliding out of you, only to fuck itself back into you. Your tits jumped with your body as the thrust, her gaze couldn’t leave them.

She was in a deep state of arousal, even worse than you. And her knife was right there, it would’ve been so easy to repeat her actions onto her own body, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t care if she was a killer, you still loved her, you were as sick and gross as her. If anything, the thought fascinated you. You always enjoyed gore movies, and she was more than ecstatic when she found someone who shared her deep love for such acts, and you thought it was normal at first. That was until she asked you if you ever thought about doing the same things they did. You instantly said no, a little too quickly. Nat knew you were far from innocent, but she loved this part of you more than anything. You accepted her, even if she was insane.

“That feel good?” She asked, her voice coming out in stutters and cracked moans. You had released a loud whimper when she hit that spot deep inside of you, your nails clawing at her skin. She liked the pain, it sent a thrill through her body.

You felt a sharp poke against the skin of your thigh, looking down only to find her weapon covered in the blood of a previous fool, and now you were just the same.

“Nat-”

“Shh, just- shut up and take what I give you, alright?” She let the knife cut into you, leaving red liquid behind as it trailed down your body. It was warm, yet it still sent chills down your spine.

“You look so beautiful with my design, sweetheart.” She had carved an ‘N’, waiting and hoping for the end result where it’d scar your body forever. She didn’t know why she loved it so much, maybe if she hadn’t lied to the psychiatrists, she’d know.

“You think I should do the same thing…here?” Your skin lied a red trail that followed up until your neck, stopping short as she noticed your breathing patterns change.

“I could easily kill you, and no one would know.” She chuckled, bringing her face to rest on your shoulder, her nose against your neck as she inhaled your sweet scent. The knife pressed down a little harder, letting the skin break as a droplet fell.

“I know you won’t.” You whispered, goosebumps erupting over your skin. You were close, so close. You needed her, anything from her.

“Smart girl you are, hm?” Her hips were starting to lose rhythm the longer she went, it was growing more difficult to keep the same pace. The coil in her stomach had been begging to be let free, to finally relax as she came.

“You gonna cum, baby?” You nodded, moans consuming you making it impossible to speak. She finally leaned back, placing her palms on your stomach where a bulge appeared. She gasped, drawing in your attention as you hesitantly followed her vision. You bit your lip in hunger when noticing what caught your girlfriend’s attention, you had found her loving the way she could overpower you at any moment; taking you however she wanted because you couldn’t deny it. She adored being larger than you, it fueled that pride hidden inside of her.

“Oh, daddy must be stretching you out so, so much, huh? You’re just a cute little slut, so small compared to me.”

“Please-”

“Please, what?” She felt her peak rising further, she needed to release.

“Please cum inside me.” She was already planning to whether you wanted it or not, but seeing your dislike to the thought of children or pregnancy, she thought you’d never let her do so. She grinned, throwing her head back as she tried to muster out a response.

“I am, baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you. Cum with me.” She felt your juices coating her length as your legs shook violently. Pumps of her release shot into you, a deep groan caving its way out of her.

“You’ll look so sexy carrying my babies.” She had the image planted deep in her mind, she wanted to make it a reality.

“Yes! Please- God, fuck!” She didn’t stop after your first orgasm, causing your sensitivity to grow until you couldn’t take such abuse anymore. The blood on your skin had dried, and red hand marks that would soon bruise made way to your vision.

“You’re okay, just relax.” You couldn’t believe it, the murderer you had spent nights praising for their impressive kill count and multiple days fearing was your girlfriend, and you didn’t even hate her for it.

“I told you, I’ll kill anyone for you. I want us to get away from the city, find someplace to lie low for a little bit, at least until they cross me out as a suspect. We can be happy, we can have everything you’ve always wanted, together.” She kissed the back of your hand, letting them leave a pattern up your arm until she reached your face, leaving a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even have money. And there were so many things that could go wrong, but wasn’t it worse in a place like this? There, you’d have a knowing of where Nat would be, she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. But would she ever really stop? Or was she just saying that to ease your worries? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. You’d always have Nat, in any way possible.

“Okay.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: An unlikely encounter brings you and Cassian together, resulting in a decade - long obsession born out of lust and hatred. tw: female reader, hinted non-con, abuse/violence, obsession, jealousy, misogyny, degradation, slut-shaming, bullying, threats, choking, religious trauma, religious imagery, religious inaccuracy My ko - fi <3

Cassian still remembered the day you first met, the one he dreaded the most - the early spring warmth mixing with the smell of frost-hidden snowdrops. The earth being cleansed and reborn after a long, sluggish winter filled with challenges for the sinners' burning souls. Back then he was still working at the altar, freshly out of high school - barely nineteen, somewhere between a confused boy and a man of Christ.

He was called to fetch water from the well - it was nothing out of the ordinary, this was the sole reason he was part of the church, to help the elders with baptising and burying the dead. He was coming back with a rushed step when he saw you - bumped into you, to be exact. You were wearing a light white dress that covered just above the middle of your thighs, your ankles and feet fully exposed with just a pair of brown flowery sandals to go along with. You looked a bit older than the boy - maybe two or three years, he decided, as there was something mature in your beauty, an air of influence most girls his age didn't possess yet.

It all happened so fast - Cassian gasped in surprise as the water spilt all over you, sticking to each and every little crack and hem of your thin cotton dress. The wet fabric hugged all your curves, as if damp just to tempt him. He immediately looked down, covering his face with one hand as he tried to collect the fallen jug with the other, cheeks beet red. You, in turn, smiled playfully, reaching for the small pot before the man could grab it. You wiggled it in the air, laughing with your teeth out - glowing in the soft sunlight. He mumbled something incoherent, perhaps begging you to return it - but you were quick on your feet, running towards the river with the tool in hand, your soft giggles bursting like bubbles.

The boy hesitated for a second before eventually following after you, innocent brown eyes widening with a mix of fear and surprise, heart beating violently against his chest - this was the first time he was so close to a woman. After chasing you around the forest for a while, he stopped to catch his breath just to realise he had lost you somewhere along the way. He looked around, already panicking - too frightened to even begin imagining how the elders would react once they knew he had lost the ceremonial canna. 

“Looking for this?” You suddenly called out to him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your pink lips. He quickly turned to face you, blushing once again as he spotted you sitting among the rocks surrounding the stream with the sun caught in your loosened locks - and his jug in your soft palms. You looked just like the nymphs his mentor had warned him about - cruel, whimsical creatures, yet painfully, breathtakingly beautiful. They liked to trick lost travellers and lonely shepherds, taking their soul for all eternity. 

Cassian took a deep breath and mouthed a quick prayer to his patron, bringing his hands together. He could do this. He wouldn’t be swayed by you no matter how cunning you may be - for his soul belonged to Christ and Christ alone.

“Stealing is a g-grave sin, Miss.” The boy exclaimed, voice shaky yet unrelenting as he took a step towards you. “So please return the can to me at once!” This time he sounded almost breathless, whiny like a mere child. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your parted lips. “Aww, no need to get mad. I am simply borrowing it.” You cooed at the disciple with slight mockery, pretending to eye the item in your hands with great interest. 

“I am n-not mad!” Cassian swiftly contested, crossing his arms to appear more intimidating, if that was even possible. “I am just frustrated - righteously so, since y-you took something that belongs to me, and refuse to give it back.” He continued, puffing his chest out towards you in annoyance. You found his attempts to convince you utterly adorable - but the only thing they accomplished was making you want to pick on him even more. “If you want it so bad, come and get it!” You egged him on, dingling it just above his head once again.

Then suddenly, just for a split second, something in his eyes changed. The brown turned dark and muddy, almost glowing with fury, his teeth grazing his cheek until he could taste the blood on his tongue - and next thing you knew, he had pushed you into the stream, soaked up to your chin. You started coughing, desperate to keep the water out of your lungs, but his hand pressed heavy against your chest, shoving you towards the very bottom of the river.

It was your turn to panic, cheeks heating up with uncertainty. You looked up at Cassian with soft, pleading eyes - begging him to let go. It was all too much for the sheltered boy - your prior teasing, your pitiful gaze, your warm skin shivering against the drenched, transparent clothing, leaving little to the imagination… He subconsciously began tugging at his tight golden collar, feeling the cold sweat creep upon his neck - then he slowly released you, letting your body rise up to the top without any added weight on it.

The disciple stared at your trembling form for what felt like eternity, unable to look away. Soon enough you came to your senses, scurrying to cover your breasts - but despite your best attempts at hiding, his fervent gaze kept threatening to burn a hole into your flesh. You opened your mouth to say something, perhaps an apology of sorts, or even an accusation - yet no sound came out. 

And just like that the boy was gone.

***

Cassian cried the whole night, he cried his little heart out, hugging the Mary Magdalen icon close to his chest - hoping, praying that he could be redeemed. He was sick, utterly sick. The way he had felt, the way his body had reacted to you - it was sinister, devilish, unholy. Something completely unbecoming of the sacred figure he aspired to become once his altar duties were finished. He was supposed to be different, a beam of light in a crowd of darkness and misery, and now he was filthy, reeking of sin - of you.

His racing thoughts left him restless, unable to close his eyes. He had no other option left - he had to confide in his mentor, it was the right thing to do. It was going to be alright, he tried to rationalise. Repent, and you will be saved. A sin admitted is a sin resolved and punished from within, from your very core. That’s what the elders always said - sin was human, but deceit was intentional, it meant that your soul was purposely straying away from God’s love and protection. The ones who were truthful and eager to accept their faults could still ascend to Heaven.

And Cassian was lucky - so, so lucky, because his mentor proved understanding to the troubles of his soul. He reassured him, taking him into his arms, the smell of incense and wax and home enough to soothe any heartache. The old man smiled gently, petting his hair - telling him that beauty was a Godly virtue, and there was nothing wrong with admiring it for his body itself was a fruit of desire and love. Then once the boy had stopped sobbing, his breathing finally even, the priest pulled him to the side and reminded him that he was one of his best students, and as such he simply could not be tempted and swayed by the weakness of the flesh. The deacon had seen him - had felt the cleaness in his eyes, and that’s precisely why he had chosen him; for his unyielding chastity and goodness. And he was never wrong about his pupils - so it was obviously the woman’s fault. 

Cassian could understand it now, clear as day. You had tempted him. You had stolen his sleep and his tears like a siren, like a Jezebel. But that was fine, completely fine. It was all part of the big plan. Temptation was good - faith always had its challenges, and he’d be damned if he let someone as wretched as you lure him into severing his ties to God. This was his future. This church was his home, and so it would remain. He would become the next deacon of Holy Agnes, and you would be no obstacle. Just an underwater stone - a bug he had to crush so he could be free and whole again.

***

Several years passed by with a snap of a finger. Cassian slowly matured, soft cheeks and bright eyes turning sharp and mundane with his newfound restraint. He had adapted some level of unconscious stoicism, set on raising above the lowly human needs. And yet he kept seeing you everywhere he went, like a ghost of the past.

Sometimes you were in the garden by his church, laughing and smiling with avid colours covering your body. Countless dingley pearly bracelets stacked one on top of the other heaving on your little wrists like a fire circle. You were loud, never one to suppress your silvery ringing voice. Other times you were sitting by the nearby lake, sewing or knitting, writing in a worn out notebook with fleeting papers all over your lap. You were in the bakery he walked by after Mass, on the opposite side of the farmer alley he frequented on the Sabbath. Always just a breath away, but never quite close enough. 

He wanted to touch you. He wanted to drag you in by your hair and yell in your ear until it bled - you, who so innocently strolled left and right with your pretty twirly dresses and skirts that never covered your knees, you with your naked hands parading around the park with nothing on your mind, but rainbows and sunshine. As if you didn’t know you had ruined his youth with aching sickness over you - as if you didn’t care he had spent countless hours agonising, wondering whether he’d see you again. Wondering whether he’ll be able to hold back from reaching out and completely devouring you. 

Were you looking for attention, looking so bubbly and careless, bright shouting colours on display? Were you hoping to tempt him again by showing all this vulnerable, ripe skin? Had you completely forgotten about that unlikely encounter that was permanently engraved into his memory with the burning mark of hellfire itself? 

Because it certainly seemed so when the whole village was whispering about you and your countless misdeeds. People were saying that you were pursuing a crafting clerkship in the nearby town - that you were travelling alone, or in the company of strange men, sleeping in unknown taverns on the road for days. Drinking and drowning in debauchery. Rumours had it that you would give yourself away to the highest bidder, thus being able to fund all those adventurous trips across the land. 

Cassian didn’t want to believe them, and he refused to partake in the tired, painfully repetitive conversations of the common folk who flocked to the church for warmth and food like a herd of sheep to a master. To him tattle was a sin of itself, a needless effort to drop the Lord’s name in vain just to curse a harlot or to mock an innocent, unsuspecting widow - but from day to day their words became harsher, crueller, ungodly. You were made to look like Lilith herself, and he couldn’t help believing what he could feel with his own heart.

It was a simple fact, really. You were just a whore, and nothing more - because he could clearly see you clinging to another man’s shoulder through the small glazed window of his, pushing your chest towards the dark stranger - laughing unabashedly at his jokes, gazing into his eyes, prompting him to claim your sweet lips. You were a whore, because you let them all have you, yet you belonged to neither. Not even to him - not even when you appeared in his dreams, tormenting him even in the comfort of his own psyche. 

You would share your warmth with him then, caressing him - letting him rest against your soft breasts, letting him inhale your tantalising aroma. Teasing him endlessly, just to disappear at dawn, just before he had his final fill of you. And just like that the cycle repeated, driving him crazy.

***

It was another warm spring day when you two met again face to face. When he saw you, hair dishevelled and clothes torn apart, he thought he was still dreaming - but you were even more beautiful, even more radiant now. That’s how he knew you were real. He could finally touch you, he could smell the salt and morning dew on your skin, could lick the tears off your puffy, swollen eyes.

You had been dragged to the church early in the morning by the wife of the mayor, kicking and screaming. The older woman had been furiously gripping your wrist, forcing you to trip after her in a desperate attempt to keep up. Once inside the ceremonial hall, she had pushed you down at the deacon’s feet like a sacrificial lamb before a pagan god’s altar.

“Martha, dear, what’s wrong?” Cassian was quick to intervene before the woman could mess you up even more. “You know it’s unbecoming of a lady of such wise age to engage in this ungodly behaviour.” He explained calmly - it was obvious that he held no wrath for her, and this was all just a performance. The mayoress was very influential in the village, so he had to be careful with his words, lest you’d both be in trouble.

“Oh, Cassian, Cassian!” The wife all but crumbled against the man, heavy, accusatory sobs strangling her speech. “This harlot has done it again! She tried to destroy another family.” Martha kept wailing in a theatrical way, hanging off the deacon’s white collar. “My family, Reverend! I saw her talking to my husband, oh, it was utterly despicable! I might faint just thinking about it.” She rambled on and on, cheeks turning comically red. “She must be possessed by the Devil - I see no other explanation behind her constant sinful endeavours.” She fluttered her lashes as if attempting to persuade the deacon, going as far as to use the title only given to priests. “I beg you, Father, do something. Teach her the right way, make her repent. Our village can’t keep tolerating these… these outrageous conducts!”

You looked up at him just as he lowered his head to you, your eyes meeting. Your orbs were wide and filled with fright just like that day in the forest when he had pushed you into the river. You were gripping the end of his robes pitifully, tearfully shaking your head as if trying to deny all those ugly lies, mouthing off little sounds he couldn’t quite understand - and just like that he was nineteen again, sweating and mad all over you, lost in your sweet pleas for help. And help you’d receive.

“Calm your senses, Martha. I will deal with this.” Cassian patted the wife’s shoulder reassuringly, nodding at the big gate leading to the garden. “You must not worry anymore, you know you have a weak heart. Just - just go home for the day.” He looked at you one last time, and the sheer black burning intensity of his gaze made you shiver. “I know what to do from here.” He made an airy gesture at the older woman, smiling benevolently. “You’re right. Enough is enough.” 

With that she finally left, satisfied that some order would be restored ultimately. The hall remained silent for a while; massive, dim-lit, over-decorated with various gorgons, demons and monsters - designed specifically to scare those who wouldn’t give in to salvation. “Leave us alone.” The man mumbled at last, snapping his fingers at the altar servants and nuns, who in turn hurriedly flocked to the back rooms, nowhere to be seen. You could feel the tears drying on your skin from the freezing cold air, leaving trails all over your scorching hot cheeks. He was observing you carefully, scared to miss even the slightest of reactions - your pain was so expressive he wanted to seal the memory forever in his brain. After all, he had dreamt of this for years. The day when he finally has you at his mercy with nowhere to go. 

“I see that you’ve decided to succumb to a life of sin.” Cassian started off haughtily, moving just a bit closer - you were still kneeling on the floor as if you had assumed an eternal repenting pose. His fingertips grazed against your chin, his touch radiating pure ice - cold frost as his head tilted down in rehearsed condescension. “It’s quite unfortunate to see someone so beautiful give up on Christ.” He continued, eyes practically glued to your quivering form from above. It was intoxicating to have you in this position, quivering below him. He wanted to see you like this all the time, he decided. It suited you to be underneath him - you were a filthy, wicked adulterer and he was your saviour. He deserved your worship. He deserved your pain, and everything that would come with it. 

“But then again, you’ve always been a temptress.” The man crouched next to you, quick as a snake - gripping your chin between his two fingers. “It must be oh-so difficult for you to act like an honest woman.” His grip got tighter. “Especially when you possess such a dirty, sinful bod–

“S-shut up!” You cried out, pushing yourself to stand on your knees. “Shut up, you know nothing of me, Reverend. You look at me with those eyes… Don’t think I don’t remember.” You hissed, suddenly gaining back the courage the woman had knocked out of you earlier, adrenaline pumping through your veins. “I’ve seen you follow me, I’ve seen you in my nightmares… You want me! You want me, and it’s driving you insane.” You gave him the cruellest look you could muster.

“The dirty one, the sinful one is you - you, and every single bastard in this goddamn village that seems to think they own me.” You spat it out, everything that had been building up over the past few months. The hurtful rumours, the nasty remarks on the streets, the way everyone was measuring you up, touching you without permission… This was your breaking point. “You don’t own me. You never will.”

Cassian was seeing red. Before he could even begin to summon any reason, his hands had tangled into your hair, pulling on it with malice he had never experienced before in his life. He was a being of love and kindness - yet any time he faced you, he turned to this gruesome, unholy beast of a man. It was all your fault. You had ruined him, since the moment you first met him you had been ruining him. You made him like this and there was no going back now. No amount of tears or pretty pleads could save you from the horrors that inevitably awaited you in Hell - the one on Earth. The one he was going to create just for you. Anything for you.

“Do not sully me with this blasphemous tongue of yours, wench. Don’t you dare utter a single word to me, lest you want to lose it.” The man hissed, venom dripping off every over pronounced syllable. His whole body was shaking with fury, skin red and painful as if on fire. One wrong movement could set him off into a flame that would kill you both. “I don’t want to hear a sound from those tainted lips of yours. Who knows how many have kissed them, hmm?” His face got dangerously close to yours - so close you could feel his warm breath across your cheek. Your heart was pounding violently against your chest in a fruitless attempt to escape the rib cage. You tried to push the deacon off you, but he didn’t bulge an inch. 

“Aww, you’re going to hurt me with the same hands you caress your lovers with?” He grinned manically - you had never seen a man so unhinged. You had always known he was dangerously unstable as the forest incident had proven - which was the reason you kept your distance over the years, but you could never imagine he’d be so… bloodthirsty. “Have you got no shame?” Cassian was spiralling, going in mental circles. 

He finally had you in his arms again, your skin warm and malleable against his - yet the only thing he could think of was all those men you had allowed by your side over the years. It was like he could see their fingerprints all over you, red and scorching on your body as if to mock him. As if to laugh at him for ever trying to fight the temptation in the first place. Your lips were wet and pink, so perfect and vulnerable trembling before him, just begging to be bitten. He reached in to kiss you - just like he had done so many times in his dreams, but he was met with your equally wet, cold cheek instead. You had turned your head away.

“Anyone, but me, huh?” The man screamed at the top of his lungs, beyond wild as he shoved you to the ground, crawling over your body in quick succession. You felt the blood drain from your face - could this be your final moment? “You are willing to give yourself to anyone, but the one who actually deserves you…” His hands travelled to your neck as if they had a mind of their own, voice suddenly dropping to a desperate, shaky whisper. “The one who craves you more than anything.” His fingers danced over your throat, holding your life in one tight grasp.

“What do you mea–”

“All my life I’ve been a good man.” Cassian interrupted you once again, tone back to its initial biting spite. “An honest man, goddammit! And I am not going to lose everything because of… because of some fucking whore!” His words aimed at your heart just like daggers, and your eyes watered. You squirmed like an injured animal, praying to whoever was up in the sky that he would release you, but God wasn’t so merciful to sinners, apparently. “So you’re going to kiss me, right here, right now.” He was holding your wrists over your chest as he positioned himself between your legs. This couldn’t be happening right now, but it was. You were doomed, you had been doomed from the start. 

“You’re going to kiss me like you kiss your lovers.” The deacon paused to lick the tear running down your chin, groaning at the heavenly taste. You wanted to drop dead. “Like you love me.” He pressed down on your neck, squeezing tighter just so your eyes would fill up with hundreds of tiny little tears - it made you look so glossy and cute. “Did you hear me? You are going to kiss me like you fucking love me, you damned slut.” Your face was turning blue from the lack of oxygen. 

“And then I am going to fuck the Devil out of you.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

Lewis Hamilton and George Russel - I'm with a Knight and Slenderman, No One Can Touch Me

It’s part 4 time! This was so fun to write and I laughed so hard at some parts. I feel like George is a really underrated driver. He’s funny and a good person (even though he looks like Woody from Toy Story). And the girlfriend effect has hit him hard. His hair is so beautiful and I need to know what he does with his bangs. 

And then Sir Lewis – good Lord, he needs to go back to that one hairstyle from that one interview that made everyone fall for him 

Specially dedicated to @treehouse-mouse <3

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED] 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 

“Shit,” you muttered as you looked around the now empty paddock. You knew that taking a nap after your media duties had been done was a bad idea. You had played nap roulette with yourself and were now paying the consequences. You shouldn’t have said “oh, I won’t set an alarm. Someone will come get me. I might nap for ten minutes or it might be 3 hours. Who knows!” 

Well, now you knew. It was three hours. 

You looked around for your backpack that you had come with. But as your eyes danced around the garage, it was nowhere to be found. You sighed as you at least remembered your phone. But alas, the world hated you for being a woman: your phone was dead. 

“Ok, there’s no reason to panic. Let’s head to the parking lot and see if someone is still here,” you whispered to yourself. Walking carefully, you exited the dark paddock. The parking lot was no different. 

Dark, cold, and empty. 

“Great. Just great.” You decided to sit on a curb and wait. Maybe by now, Christian or Max would know that you are missing, and will come back to get you. 

Or maybe they were mad at you. Yes, you were on the podium. As a rookie. At your first race. 

But you made a mistake that costed the team a 1-2 finish. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be looked for. 

Before your thoughts could spiral more, two bright headlights blinded you. You raised a hand to try to cover at least some of your face. The two front doors of the car swung open. Your heart started to race. 

It was just you out here and they might be kidnappers. 

“Please I have no money on me. Don’t beat me up or kidnap me. Trust, you do not want to sell me or anything like that,” you spoke out, trying to hinder their unknown wants for you. Your fear slowly melted away at a familiar grandpa laugh and bean-pole build of the two figures. 

“Lewis! George!” You stood up quickly. 

“What are you doing out here?” George peered down. Your neck was bent to even look up at him. 

“Um. I might have been left behind because I was taking a nap. And my phone is also dead.” You sheepishly grinned at the two. 

Lewis sighed before bringing out his phone. “I don’t have Christian’s number, but Toto does. Let me give him a call.” 

Your head cocked. “Do you not have Max’s number?” George let out a laugh. 

“Kid. Think of Abu Dhabi 2021.” Your eyes widened. 

“Sorry.” 

Lewis waved you off and walked a bit aways to hear Toto. George just kind of stared at you as you stared at him. 

“Are you ok?” 

“Of course I’m ok. I’m with a knight,” you pointed at Lewis, “and Slenderman. No one can touch me.” You crossed your arms before giggling. George just gawked at your boldness. You took this time to look at the nice Mercedes in front of you. “Is this the new model?” 

George nodded. “Yeah, Lewis just got it. He won’t let me drive it though.” A pout formed on his lips. 

“I get what you mean. Max won’t let me drive his Ferrari.” 

“Why would you want to drive that junk?” 

Your head tilted. “I don’t know. I like my Porsches better though.” It was George’s time to raise an eye brow. “I haven’t gotten them yet. But they’ll be ready soon. I had to ship one to London and the other to Monaco.” 

“Ah.” 

You looked at Lewis, who was still on the phone. You had an idea. 

A very bad one, but an idea none-the-less. 

“You wanna go somewhere?” You pointed at the still running car. Lewis should have taken the keys. 

“Where would we go?” George was already grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“There’s a burger king a couple of miles away.” 

George was already climbing into the driver’s side. “Let’s get going!”

Back with Lewis, he was still on the phone. For some reason, Toto would still not give him Christian’s number. 

“Please Toto, I am with two children,” he pinched his brow, “and I’m tired and I’d like to get back to the hotel. So please send me Max’s or Christian’s number.” He wasn’t aware of his car that was now filled with said two children making their getaway. He hung up once he got Max’s number. 

His phone rang for a few seconds before Max’s voice sounded over the background noise of a party. 

“Who is this?” 

“It’s Lewis. You left your kid here.” He heard Max curse on the other side. 

“I thought Vito was getting her, but Vito is right at the bar. Can you send me your location so I can pick her up?” 

Lewis waved a hand, even though Max couldn’t see it. “No worries, I can just drop her off. I’m with George and we’ll driver her over. I have my-” Lewis stopped.

“Lewis? Are you there?” 

Lewis’ eyes scanned the now empty parking lot. He groaned. “They took my car!” 

Max laughed for a bit before he realized that Lewis wasn’t playing. “Send my your location, I’m already out the door. We’ll find them.” 

By the time Max got to Lewis, you and George were already having the time of your lives. 

You pointed out the window. “Look Georgie. Traffic cones. Have you ever put one on your head?” 

When George denied that he had, you gasped and told him to pull over. You and him climbed out of the low car and walked over to the traffic cones. By now, your phone was a bit charged, courtesy of the charger in the vehicle. And it was blowing up. 

But you didn’t see it or care. 

You picked up one of the cones and put it on your head. Your giggle resonated through it. 

“Y/n, smile!” You heard George say. You smiled, even though it wouldn’t be seen under the orange hat. 

George told you that he was going to set up the camera to take a picture of the two of you. 

“Let’s put our heads together.” The two cones whacked against the other. George had to bend over so that they would be close.

You laughed as your hair was staticky due to the cone. George’s hair was the same, which made you laugh even harder. “Send that to me, I’m going to post in on the gram.” 

The only notification you looked at was the one from George with the picture. Quicky uploading it, you knew you were about to create even more chaos. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a bit. Your thoughts from earlier quickly sprang into your head, due to the silence between you two. 

“George?” you questioned, looking ahead. He was currently scrolling through his phone, but he made a noise to let you know that he was listening. 

“What was it like having a teammate that you know you’ll never amount to? Not saying that you won’t amount to Lewis at some point, but,” you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. 

The click of his phone let you know that George was now focused on the conversation. 

“I get what you mean. It’s very overwhelming. You get put up with world champions, and people are already expecting you to beat records and perform as well as they do.” George sighed as he reflected on his first year with Mercedes. How the people would taunt that he wasn’t good enough to be Lewis’s teammate and that he should just be second fiddle to him. Suddenly, he noticed a hand had been placed on his shoulder. Tears also wetted his face. 

When had he started crying? 

You continued to rub his shoulder until his tears stopped. 

You tried to console him. “Well, we can be second-fiddle buddies together?” you offered, hoping he would laugh. And he did. 

The two of you decided to sit on the curb for a few more minutes. But at this point, you knew that Lewis along with Max were probably on their way to get you. You pulled yourself up, then held out a hand to George, who took it without second thought.  

Before you knew it, the two of you were back in the car, just chilling. 

“Look what Max and Lewis are saying.” You showed him the screen and laughed. It really was fun to mess with old men. 

“Are we still going to burger king?” 

You nodded your head. “If Lewis can be a knight, I need a crown to be the king.” 

“Don’t you mean queen?” he asked as he started the car back up again. 

“Nope.” You popped the P and that was a good enough answer. George pulled away from the side of the street and made his way to the Burger King. The two of you were thankful that it was mostly empty, except for the employees. The two of you ordered more than enough food for two people. You justified it as giving the workers more money. 

Your companion went along with it. 

“Order number 69,” the tired lady called out. George and you shared a look before the two of you collapsing on the ground, dying with laughter and probably exhaustion. You were still giggling as you took the food from the lady. You muttered a thank you before you and George took a table near the back. 

“Did you get your slushie?” you questioned, holding your cup. 

“I didn’t know they had slushies!” 

You took George’s hand and let him over to the machine. The amount of slushies that you slurped down would never be recorded. As you drank one of your last ones, you suddenly remembered an important detail. 

You looked over at the tired lady who took your order. “Do you have the crowns?”  

Max was still constantly trying to reach you, with one hand on the steering wheel and his phone in the other. 

“Come on kid. Pick up,” he pleaded and cursed when the call went to voicemail for the umpteenth time that night. 

Lewis was texting all the drivers in the group chat, asking if they’d seen the two of you. They came up short. 

“This is ridiculous,” Max seethed. “How could you have let them do this?” 

Lewis shot him a glare. “How could you leave her at the paddock after dark?” he bit back. 

“Like I said, Vito was supposed to take her back to the hotel. She’s not allowed in the clubs.” 

“Then Christian should find some way for everyone to party. The kid got a podium her first race as a rookie, and she was left behind.” 

Max banged his head on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. Lewis was correct. He wondered if you felt forgotten. Knowing you, you probably did. And it was mostly his fault. He’d talk to Christian about alternatives until you turned legal age.

“I’ll talk to Christian about that. What were you and George doing back at the paddock anyway?” 

Lewis grimaced. “I forgot a file back at our garage. George seemed antsy and restless so I invited him. Never doing that again.” 

Max smirked, “Kids. Am I right?”  

“Look!” Lewis pointed at a familiar car in the parking lot of an empty Burger King. Max pulled in on two wheels. As they walked up, their eyes landed on two people, crowns on their heads, hands flailing. 

Max pushed the door open and stopped towards the figures. His hands landed aggressively on the table. “Do you two know how much trouble you’re in.” 

He heard laughing from behind him. 

“Max. That’s not them,” Lewis whispered. 

Max’s head jerked and saw the scared faces of two employees. He heard more laughing and whipped his head around, eyes finally falling on you and George, whose phone was out recording. You looked as if you were about to explode with laughter. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He turned around and stomped towards your table. “Let’s try this again.” 

His palms hit the correct table this time. “Do the two of you know how much trouble you are in?” He looked into your eyes before glancing at George. 

You stared up at the seething Dutchman. You pulled out a french fry.  

“Fry?” 

“Lewis, I got you an impossible whopper.” George held out the wrapped food. 

Max sighed, anger waning by the minute. There was no fighting with the two of you. The two adult-figures sat down and started to eat. Max munched on a fry as Lewis started to eat the burger. 

You and George continued to talk about your so-called adventures. 

“And then George ran a red light.” 

Lewis choked as George winced. Lewis’s head jerked toward George, eyes squinting. 

“You’re paying for that.” George only shrugged, he had enough money anyway. 

Max just stared in silence, mulling over the exhausting night. You could sense that he was still cooling off, and you were scared of what he might say in the car. 

The food was quickly finished and the four of you were headed out the door. It seemed as though yours and George’s energy levels were quickly tanking as the two of you barely said a goodbye. The hug and faux tears though were enough for Lewis and Max to roll their eyes. 

You watched as George and Lewis left in the Mercedes. You gulped as you got into the passenger side of Max’s rental vehicle. You winced at the proximity. 

You mind quickly went back to your dad. How he’d hit the side of your face if you did anything that was “out of line.” Or he’d pinch your thigh until it bruised. Those were the easiest to hide. When your face was a little too red and purple, your helmet stayed on for the entire race day. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the thought of Max turning out to be like him. You didn’t think he would, but you were out of line tonight. 

No fun. No sneaking out. No stealing (borrowing) cars. 

You were sinking into yourself, and Max could sense that. 

He turned to look at you. What he said next was shocking. 

“I’m sorry kid.” 

Your eyes bulged. “Why are you sorry? If anything, I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.” 

Max just stared at you before slowly putting his hand near your head. 

This was it. He was going to hit you and you’d have to live through everything again. You couldn’t tell Christian that his golden-child would do such a thing. And no one would ever believe you. 

You jerked back as your eyes closed tight. Your body tensed, waiting for the repercussion to your actions. Your breaths got a little bit faster and shorter.   

But it never came. 

All that was, was a gentle placed hand on the top of your head. 

Comforting. Loving. Cherishing. 

Max wanted to cry as he saw how your body prepared for something horrible. Something nasty. 

“Kleintje,” Max breathed out. 

Your tears began to make their escape down the hills of your cheeks. You could only repeat and whisper I’m sorry, over and over again. Max couldn’t do anything but wait for you to calm down and maybe tell him what was racing through your head. 

Your breathing evened out as you felt there was nothing coming. Soon you were embarrassed for thinking that Max, one of the only people to seem to care about you, would do such a thing. Yet, your mind always went back to your patterns.

People who should care, didn’t. Hands that were made for comforting, didn’t. Encouragements didn’t exist…for you. 

Maybe you were the problem. 

But, maybe you weren’t. You’d allow some comfort, just this once. 

Max cooed as you leaned into his hand. He knew you were tired. A long day of racing and a long night of adventures would really do that to you.  

He didn’t expect you to explain to so quickly. But you knew how to surprise someone. 

“My dad and mom, weren’t the nicest. They wanted a boy, got me instead.” You harshly exhaled. “They put me in karting because if they had had a boy, they would have done the same. I was just a placeholder.”

Max listened, wanting to hear what you said. 

“It started off small. A push here, a hit to the helmet there. I really didn’t think anything of it. Until I was about 7 and I crashed my kart on the last lap. I was going to win too, but I over compensated and hit the wall. All I remember after that race was my dad grabbing my wrist and yanking me to the car. I hit my head on the dash, I think. Or he was the one to push my head in.” You shrugged at the nasty memory, as if it didn’t matter. 

Max on the other hand, was getting angrier. Yes, his dad did similar things, but he was a boy. He could stand up for himself. And he had his mom and sister. 

You had no one. 

“The next morning, I woke up and there was this giant bruise on my face and smaller ones littered my arms. I thought that was the end of it, except it continued. I was able to hide it pretty well. My race suit pretty much covered everything. I also didn’t have many friends, or, I just didn’t have friends. So there, wasn’t a need to worry. They stopped after I made it to the end of F4, because I was winning and there were more cameras. The moment I made it to F3 in 2019, they disowned me.” 

He did the math. You would have been 16 at the time. Still a kid, but smaller. His heart broke for you. 

“Kid, look at me.” 

You turned your head and made eye contact. Your brows furrowed when you saw tears in his eyes. 

He wasn’t supposed to cry. Why was he crying? 

“I’m crying because no one should ever have to go through something like that.” Oh, you must have said that out loud.

You shrugged once again, “I probably deserved it.” 

“No, geitje, no one deserves that. Ever. You didn’t.” You could only nod along. Your eyes were getting tired by the minute. Max could tell so he started the car. He only had one more thing to say. (translation : kid) 

“My dad did similar things. But I had people to help me. And I know your dad isn’t around, but Y/n,” he said your name, trying to emphasize that he was serious. “I am here for you. Christian is here for you. Mitch is here and so is Vito. We love you. I’m not a good teammate, and you can see that I’ve gone through more teammates than anyone else has in the amount of time I’ve been here. I’m the only constant. But I think that we will actually work out. Best duo right?” 

For the first time since Burger King, where you and him were still parked, he saw your eyes light up. 

You nodded, “Best duo.” 

Max finally took that as a sign that you’d be ok for the night. He carefully back the car out and started on the road toward the hotel. 

“Do you think Christian will let me come to the club next race.” 

Max let out a sarcastic laugh. “Definitely not.” 

Your giggles filled the small space. Max’s heart swelled at making you laugh. 

You’d be all right. He’d make sure of it. 

AN: oh my gosh that got REAL depressing – I apologize. But, Max needed to know a bit more about your lore if he’s going to be able to fend off any unwanted visitors (FORESHADOWING). Anyway, I will see you all at the next chapter! Muah! Much love <3 – author :D 

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[slutshamethesquirrels]

hi im in a bad place mentally so here's the saddest shit ive ever written

tw: domestic abuse?? way too canon compliant geto, violence, mild gore, blood drinking, suicidal thoughts and ideations, depression, trauma, mental health issues

You couldn't take it anymore. Not for a second longer could you watch him in his madness.

Here in the dark of his room, in Geto’s Chambers, as everyone else called it, is where the grief burned the worst. Because here, with his arms tucked beneath his pillow and his hair billowing around him in licorice waves, he looked like he used to all those years ago. When he'd sneak into your room at Jujutsu High and fall asleep right in the middle of one of your stories. It used to annoy you, how he'd show up like it was his dorm and demand your company when he couldn't sleep.

The world was more simple then, it seemed to turn slower.

What you didn't know was that Suguru Geto was a powder keg just waiting to be jostled the right way. Your lip quivers as memories flash through your mind. What had happened to your sweet boy, your first love?

Slowly, cautiously, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his temple, smiling softly as you peer through wet eyes at his peaceful face, drinking in the boyish way his lips were parted and the soft curve of his jaw. His eyebrows twitch when you brush a stray lock of hair away from his face, and you decide it better to quit touching before you accidentally wake him.

Suguru saw crying as a sign of weakness. And he wasn't shy about his irritation with your perceived weakness. And you couldn't take it. Not tonight.

You recall how he used to encourage the way you used your curse technique; for providing beauty instead of fighting. Never in front of Satoru, of course. He couldn't let himself get caught being kind and lame– but early in the morning, he'd sometimes join and watch you as you sprouted pink peonies and yellow lillies in the courtyard of Jujutsu High.

He used to praise you all the time.

“Of course someone as pretty as you would leave flowers in her wake everywhere she goes.”

Now though? You couldn't remember the last time he'd complimented you, and especially not on your technique. The training was brutal; relentless. He wanted you to push yourself, needed you to be stronger. He was obsessed with it.

You used to think that was because of the trauma, the deep rooted fear of loosing you because he couldn't protect you, at least not in this world. But that was before, when you’d followed him in his defection because you foolishly thought he loved you. When he was still him behind closed doors. When Nanako and Mimiko were still babies and he'd toss them far too high in the air, and you'd chastise him and he'd smile and just for a second you'd think that there was hope for him. For you. For the girls.

You slide out of bed as slowly as possible, feet touching the ground first with your toes, and then your heels, shifting off the mattress pound by painful pound so you don't disturb him.

The second it’s safe, you slide your socks against the chill linoleum, not daring to actually lift your feet from the floor until you’re safely out of the room, and not daring to actually allow yourself to cry until you've reached the roof of the miserable building you've tried to make a home out of for all these years.

It's become a ritual of sorts. To teeter right on the edge of the end, staring down at the cold ground below and imagining the fall. You imagined it’d be like pulling a splinter. Painful, sharp, but necessary for relief.

The reasons not to were dwindling. The girls were old enough now; you’d taught them everything you could teach about being a woman. Had the awkward sex and period talks, been through the first hard breakups. There was no longer any hope that you could help Suguru. Any ounce of the boy you once knew was long gone, replaced by dead eyes that would strike you when you failed to hide your horrified looks everytime he killed a non-sorcerer. There were no more stolen kisses behind corners, no more hands on your waist and lips on your neck while you were cooking. No reminders of how much you meant to him. Over time they’d become less and less. Now all that was left was routine. Training, and chastising, and training, and chastising, and training and chastising.

You were a chore to him, a heavy burden on his agenda. He had Manami, who he seemed to like much more these days anyway. She was fun, beautiful, a flirt and a tease. When he killed, she didn't swallow back the bile. She laughed and joked about how gross the monkey blood was. She didn't cry. She didn't eat up his time loosing spar after spar with him, and if she did you’re sure she wouldn't wince everytime she caught sight of the bruising in the mirror.

You didn't think yourself worthless. You thought yourself worthless to him, and you’d given your whole life up to be anything but. There was no help for you, no way to move but forward, off the edge.

There's a stray pebble on the edge of the roof, and you toe it off with your foot, leaning precariously over the edge of the building to watch it tumble down, down, down, down until it lands with an anticlimactic thunk.

“What are you doing?”

You jump at the sound, leaping back from the edge and whipping your head around to see Geto leaning against the open doorway to the stairwell, his arms crossed disappointedly across his chest, long locks rustling in the wind, eyes razor sharp. You think he looks mad but you honestly can't tell, he always looks at you like that these days.

“I couldn't sleep.”

You weren't sure why you were lying. It was too late.

Breakfast the next morning feels like a special type of hell. The girls giggle at their phones, make small talk about boys and shopping while Manami shamelessly flirts with Geto, finding any excuse to put her hands on his biceps, twirl the edges of his hair in her fingers. It's no secret the two of you are an item but it doesn't seem to matter. He doesn't stop her, smiles back and rolls his eyes and scoffs repeatedly.

You push your food around with your chopsticks.

When you lift your eyes, Suguru is boring holes into you. You go back to sorting your rice into categories based on length. Your nostrils sting.

You hadn't ever slept in your room, not even on days when you needed the isolation. You craved Suguru like a drug, even when he stopped holding you. Even when the spark seemed to dim for him and you'd no longer wake to his heavy fingers dipping below your waist band. Even when he’d been cruel, distant, and hateful. You’d simply wait until he fell asleep to cry, count his breaths until you finally drifted off.

Tonight was different though. Training today wasn't at all helpful, and you didn't think it was intended to be. There was no helping yourself. Geto was big, fast, and experienced in combat. You didn't really have much of a clue what happened, except that the hits came and kept coming, harder and faster than they ever had before. He didn't usually aim for your face or head, but here you were wiping the dust off your mirror to pad at the dried blood caked to your lip, split by his knuckles.

His apology comes with force, just like everything he does these days. He enters without knocking, sinks to his knees behind where you're sat in front of the floor length mirror, flips your hair away from your shoulder like it wasn't supposed to rest there and writes his request for pardon with his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck.

You watch his reflection work you wordlessly through heavy lids, your hand dropping the damp rag you’d been using and working it's way into his hair. You pull it and he moans, hands jerking you back against him by your hips and teeth reprimanding you silently; “Appreciate my kindness.”.

You turn around to straddle him, thighs spreading wide to accommodate his large frame, muscles screaming for rest and bruises begging not to be touched and yet you meld into him, gasping breaths of his air and shoving your tongue into his mouth before he can plot his next move. There’s a monster somewhere deep within you that tells you you need all that he will give you right fucking now, before the moments gone.

He grips your throat with one large hand, pushing you back just slightly and you have half a mind to yell at him for stopping you until you notice.

There's a trail of blood trickling from his bottom lip.

For a moment, you're back in reality, realizing your wound must've re-opened and feeling the tender ache of your fleshy pout. His free hand moves to swipe away the blood with his thumb, amethyst eyes gazing at the crimson stain on his finger.

Your heart pounds. He looks back up at you curiously, plotting.

“I-”

You don't finish that sentence, eyes blowing wide as he pops the soiled digit into his mouth and sucks off the excess. Somethings fucking wrong with him. Somethings fucking wrong with you.

Because you can't even get out of your clothing properly before you're sinking down on his reddened weeping cock, your soaked panties pulled to the side and his robes falling haphazardly off his frame.

“That's it, angel. Take it. Take what you need from me.”

In some ways, Suguru would always be a gentleman. You weren't foolish enough to say he loved women, or anything other than the girls really, but it was close, the way he always babied you after.

That, too, was different now. It wasn't the same as when he'd join you in the showers in the dorms, wrapping his large frame around you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He washes you like a dog, pouring the water over your head and shielding your face from the onslaught with a flat palm. His hands are gentle, cautious, but far from caring.

He doesn't give you the option of going back to your room, instead carrying you back into his own, a lazy hand flipping the light switch before all but toppling into bed with you, every jolt reminding you of the way he'd pummeled you earlier, bruises searing hot against the softness of his sheets.

Instinctively, you attempt to adjust but he's not having any of it, a strong arm caging you against his chest, his breath hot against the tender muscles of your neck. Another attempt to situate yourself earns a grunt of protest from him, and you sigh in response.

“Geto, please, I’m not going anywhere. You're hurting me.”

You push at his bicep where it presses against your bruised ribs and he only tightens in response, constricting around you like a snake, until the pain turns from a dull ache to a sharp stabbing sensation and you yelp. It seems to click in his head, though you aren't sure what it is. You weren't sure he’d even registered the marks as abnormal when he was bathing you. If he did, he didn't show it. The level of violence he was accustomed to didn't allow for fussing over bruises and broken skin.

Even still, when he pushes your nude frame into his sheets so he can assess the damage, some distant smoke swirls in his eyes. Cool, calloused fingers brush the purple and you draw a shaky breath, whimpering when he careens down to press feather light kisses to the area, confused beyond words.

Your eyes sting and your throat burns but you bite back the tears. It would only serve to reignite his anger.

“You scared me.”

Words so low you aren't sure you actually heard them, but for a moment he sounds younger, more vulnerable. When he re-settles behind you, he's careful to hold you more around your middle, though his grip feels just as tight.

“Last night?”

Lips on your shoulder feel like a conformation, though he doesn't admit it. Of course he doesn't.

“I don't do well when I feel backed into a corner.”

His tone sounds less like he's making excuses and more like a disappointed observation. You lace your fingers with his and squeeze and he sighs into the curve of your neck.

“I know.”

[moonlightazriel]

The truth about you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel knew everything about her and her family filled with criminals, or that's what he thought, what if the truth was different from what he have heard?

Warnings: Angst, fluff and a bit of smut.

Word Count: 2,9K

Notes: I think I'm slowly finding my way back into writing and it feels so good, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while but still needed to finish it, but here we are. I'm feeling better and thank you for all the patience and support.

Main Masterlist

“I have a mission for you.” These were the words that led him there, the task was simple, receive a package, and take back to the House of Wind. The problem? The package came in the form of a beautiful woman, with dark hair reaching her waistline, cunning brown eyes, and too much attitude.

She kept looking around Velaris all the way until he should fly her to the House, stating that she never saw such a beautiful place before, and would be a nice place to stay for a while. Azriel admired her figure as they walked, she was just a few inches shorter than him and her clothes were a bit too tight on her curvy body.

The stranger also smelled really nice as he pulled her closer, bringing her up and flying towards the balcony of the House of Wind, where Rhys was waiting for them. She clung to him but took the flying adrenaline incredibly well for someone wingless. He smirked at that, liking how she wasn’t afraid of falling to the city below.

Whowever, his hopes of even becoming her friend vanished as Rhysand opened his mouth, greeting her with a rather cheerful “Y/N Caidan, what a pleasure to meet you.” The only daughter of Eldar Caidan, a very wanted man on the Illyrian Steppes for numerous crimes. He felt disgusted, wanting to get as far as he could from her. That was the beginning of his torment.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She moved her hips as she walked, knowing that this drove him mad and his eyes were glued to her back as they made their way to Rhysand’s office, she could hear the annoyed huffs he let out, so used to them in the two years they’d been working together. Azriel wasn’t easy to deal with, especially with the unpleasant side he reserved especially for her.

Three knocks and Rhys shouted that they could come in, dropping the papers containing sensitive information on the dark wooden desk, she sat, legs crossed as she stretched her back, feeling her sore muscles ache from all the effort.

“As you asked Rhys, everything about those secret Illyrian reunions.” He looked at her, his eyes stopping at the fading purple marks around her eyes, behind her Azriel stood, silent as the dead.

“You two are a great duo, despite everything, thank you. You two can go and rest.” She nodded, walking out of the office and heading to her house in the town, all she could think was about the warm bath that she would take later. 

“I don’t want to question your judgment, but why do you trust her, Rhys? Especially with this kind of mission.” He spoke, his throat dry as he barely used his voice in the week they’d been together on a mission.

“Because she’s good at what she does and she’s a good person.” Rhys spoke dryly, tired of this same conversation, this have been happening for the past two years without a break. Azriel had to stop the urge to roll his eyes at the answer.

“A good person that came from a family of criminals.” He knew he sounded like a whining kid but it wasn’t possible that he was the only one in his right mind that didn’t trust her, her family invaded Illyrian camps for years, murdering the females. Azriel had come to the camps a couple of times, blood everywhere, clothes sliced, and the smell of fear mixed with panic, and a scent so familiar the one lingering on her every damned time. If he closed his eyes, he could still see and smell the fresh blood. What made his blood run even colder was that they never left bodies behind, Mother knows what those monsters did with them.

“We cannot judge a child for the mistakes of their parents, can we?” It stung, cuz he knew that Rhysand was right, but he still couldn’t let his guard down around her, he knew that she was planning something, he just needed to figure it out.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How was the mission?” Morrigan asked, sipping on her glass of wine, while Y/N finished with the charcuterie board she was making for the two.

“Good, got everything that I needed, Azriel just made my life extremely difficult but I’m used to it by now.” She took a bite from a piece of cheese, took the board, and headed for the tiny balcony adorned with little lights and a great view of the Sidra, the soft summer breeze made her shiver a little but she sat down, with Mor following her closely.

“Maybe you should just tell him, I know he will understand.” She scoffed.

“Mor, are we talking about the same person? Azriel won’t understand, he won’t even listen to me. And I don’t want to share my story with him, if he doesn’t trust me, I don’t have any reasons to tell him. He can discover on his own if he wants to find the truth so bad.” Mor lifted her hands in surrender while Y/N took a long sip from her wine. “But at least I don’t mind looking at his pretty face.” Morrigan laughed. 

“Don’t even tell me, the Mother took her time making that one, and I don’t even like men.” The two laughed. 

“Morrigan, things got dirty and he headed to a lake to clean himself, I almost drowned in my drool as I watched the water run down those abs, he’s truly beautiful, such a shame he’s an asshole.” She gave Y/N a severe look.

“Even if I don’t agree, Azriel has been through a lot, he just doesn’t trust people easily, and with the outlaw fame your family has, he’s just waiting for the betrayal, once he sees that things aren’t always as they seem, you will see that he’s such a gentle and kind male, he has a good heart.” 

“I know Mor, it’s just…. I’m tired of being judged and treated like a monster, he treats me so badly, he always questions my abilities and makes me feel like I’m less worth it, that I’m inferior to everyone.” Mor placed a warm hand on her knee.

“I’ll have another talk with him, he can hate you all he wants, but he won’t treat you like this.” Y/N smiled at her,  feeling her heart warm at the thoughtful words of her best friend. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You hit like a girl.” Nesta teased and Y/N rolled her eyes, she aimed for Nesta’s right side, where she quickly went to defend but she turned the other way, hitting her left side, making the oldest Archeron gasp for air.

“Thanks!” She offered a hand to Nesta, which she gladly took, and the two headed to the water station on the other side of the ring, the sun was at its highest in the sky, making the temperature almost unbearable, only the girls were training today, so there was a lot of skin showing around that balcony.

She saw the shadows from the corner of her eyes before she saw the Shadowsinger, when she turned, he looked slightly paler, eyes wide and looking like he had seen a ghost, her skin felt uncomfortable under his gaze, still fixed on her, she quickly removed the tie from her hair, letting it fall behind her, hiding her exposed back as she darted out of the room. 

“Cassian’s looking for you.” He managed to say, her smell still fresh in the air, and the image of her exposed back still replaying in his mind, two big scars marking each side of her shoulder blades, in the same place Illyrian wings should be. He turned on his heels, ready to follow after her, but Nesta stopped him.

“Azriel, don’t.” She warned him, her fingertips were cold against his skin, and he knew that he should let that go, for now.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The image of her scarred back didn’t leave his mind for days, and ever since he saw her, she’s been avoiding him, every time she sees him entering a room, her expression changes and she leaves immediately, this pissed him off a bit. But as much as he wanted to ask about it, he knew that he shouldn’t push her into answering, he would have to find it on his own.

Then, he was reminded why he didn’t trust her in the first place, as she poked her head outside Rhysand’s office, looking both sides and only stepping out when she was sure no one was around, a pile of papers clutched to her chest. A chill in his spine told him he needed to follow her and get to the bottom of his suspicions. 

It was nightfall when she emerged out of her room, her leathers and weapons in place, her hair in a bun, she moved quietly, and as she passed by him, he could see that she had the reports on the northern camp that was supposed to receive new females in a few days, the papers tucked on the bag strapped around her torso. His blood ran cold as he understood what was happening.

She would take the information to her family and they would execute the females, he knew he had to stop her, but would be better if he stopped all of them at once. So he quietly followed her, for days, only stopping in an inn, she had taken a room and he was currently drinking some wine and eating the food offered there, regaining the energy to do what he had to.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N watched from the top of the stairs as her brother and cousin dragged the spymaster’s body with them, a lazy smirk on her lips as she thanked the innkeeper for helping her, a bag of gold coins dropped on the counter and she was on her way, to her family’s secret war camp. 

“I’ll take care of him now.” She said as they all reached Miramaris, her family war camp. Azriel was still asleep as the males placed him in the chair, chaining him so he wouldn’t try to escape before she could explain.

Y/n watched him throughout the night, not even once looking away from him, she ran a hand through his soft hair, sighing as she stretched her part of the bond until it hit the emptiness on the other side as it hadn’t snapped for him yet. She had known he was her mate for about two months now.

A late night travel to the library, where he was also reading, it only took one look in her direction, him scoffing and getting up to leave for the bond to snap, leaving her astonished and stuck in the same place for a couple of minutes, wondering what teh hell would she do.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

His head hurt and everything felt dizzy, he didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he could tell the walls were made of stone, people walked outside and he could hear the sound of metal against metal like someone was training. His hands were restrained by chains and the was a soft light on top of his head.

The steps grew closer to his cell, the heavy door swung open and three males walked in, and behind them Y/N was smiling, approaching him.

“See that you met my family, quite nice people, don’t you think?” He scoffed.

“If you think murdering people is a nice thing, then sure, amazing people.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. He eyed Eldar and the other males with pure hatred, fighting against the chains, he tried to call for Rhysand but his mind was still too foggy to reach so far.

“He still thinks that’s what we do?” The older male asked and smiled. “Rhys will be quite disappointed that you think he would let us walk freely if we were really murdering these females.”

“Dad, let me do the talking, I’m used to the pretty frown by now.” His heart fluttered as the word pretty left her lips. “Maybe bring some food, chicken with mashed potatoes is his favorite.” Again, his heart beat faster as she spoke, does she really pay attention to him like that? Eldar nodded, patting his daughter on the head, he could see the love in the gaze he directed to her, at least he loved his daughter, he wasn’t a complete monster.

“I don’t want anything from you.” He spat, and she walked closer, lowering her body until they were facing eye to eye.

“And here I was, ready to give the only thing you’ve been wanting from me ever since we met.” He cursed as his traitorous mind wandered to where his darkest thoughts hid in his mind, the images that would come late at night when he was alone, of her, splayed open to him, soaking cunt as he readied himself to take her how he wanted, the number of times he touched himself thinking about her, he didn’t trust her in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find her attractive.

Truth be told, he still thought about her, and her body drove him mad, usually after training he would rush to his room to take a cold shower to stop his furious hormones from making him walk to her room and do all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. The fact that he was head over heels for her only angered him more.

“I grew up in a very traditional Illyrian family, but you see, my grandfather used to think that clipping wasn’t enough, removing a female’s wings was the way to go for him.” Her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting above her head, the laced black bra was hard not to look at, but his throat went dry as she turned her back to him, the scars were even uglier up close and he felt his heart clenched on his chest. “ My father only had enough courage to leave when he came home one day, he found my grandfather placing a new piece of decoration in the living room.” He knew what it was, but it didn’t hurt less as the words left her mouth. “My wings, so tiny, I was just a child. From that day, he swore no female would ever go through something like that again.” 

She turned to him again, shirt going back to place, as their eyes met, hers were filled with tears. 

“Do you wish to see our work?” He nodded and she motioned for him to follow but he shook his hands and she remembered about the chains. “Right, you’re cuffed. Would love to see you chained somewhere else but we don’t have time for that now.” The words sent a rush of blood straight to his cock.

He followed her, the mountain was warm, and as they walked around, he spotted hundreds of females, some training, some doing chores, but all of them were undeniably happy as they walked around with their wings held proudly behind them. 

“Welcome to Miramaris.” She gestured to the open space. “We raid the camps, and we forge the scene, they don’t bother looking for them anyway. Started with small cabins and barely any resources, but as Rhys’s father learned about this place, he helped us, he was a disgusting man but even he knew this was wrong, Rhys kept helping us after, and he invited me to work with him closely after I've been targeted by a rival camp, he saved my life, and he knows what we’re doing. We’re not the monsters here Az.”

He felt bad for all this time he judged her without even bothering to learn the truth about her. They were looking to an open field, some females were bathing in a lake that crossed the mountain. There were hundreds of them, even children were running around, this place was everything he dreamed for the camps to be. 

“I don’t even know how to apologize to you.” He said honestly.

“Help us save them, the females need me, they need us. You can come with me as my partner… “Nothing would’ve prepared him for the words that left her mouth next. “As my mate!”

“Your what?” He looked at her incredulously. 

“That night in the library? Where I found you in your cute pajamas?” The memory came back to him and he nodded. “ It was when it snapped for me, decided to tell you cuz you know the truth now and I would like to be told if it was the other way around.” He nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the information he received in a short amount of time. “You don’t have to say anything, but if you’re willing to give this a try, meet me tomorrow night right here, we have more females to save.” She said, turning her back to him and walking away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

He saw her before she saw him, and as he watched her frame lean against the wall, dressed all in black and looking around expectantly, he felt, the bond making itself known for him, he could feel her on the other side, waiting for him with a warm heart filled with love, love for him.

“You came.” She smiled. Her eyes glowing with emotion as she felt a wave of feeling flooding her chest and as she reached for the other side of the bond, Azriel was there, waiting for her with open arms. 

“I would never let my mate go alone, never again.” He pulled her close, hand wrapped around her waist as he kissed her, her soft lips made him feel at home as she kissed him back. “Let’s go and rescue them.” He said, grabbing her in his arms, she let out an excited squeal as he leaped to the sky, taking her with him. 

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: I -Eyes-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 2.1k+

♠︎Warning: physical abuse, dead animal, non-consensual touching, murder, stalking, nudity.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Far away from the mellow kingdoms, was the realm of Jeon. From far away, the gloomy, blue-grey sky was evident. No one from other kingdoms even dared to look towards that domain.

It reeked of sins. From far away, one could hear the screams of the commoners. No one dared to even think about following the path after the sun dimmed down. But the thing was that the kingdom was miles and miles away. It took almost three days to travel from the nearest kingdom to Jeon’s realm by horse. That single fact sent chills down others’ spines. Even from that far away, they could hear the wrong happenings.

The skies above his realm looked dull, blue-grey. The clouds of madness always covered the sky. It was all hunted. The King haunted the realm. His bureaucrats danced with the movements of his fingers. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

No one has ever seen his face other than those who worked in his castle. The commoners always heard that sometimes, the King himself would come patrolling but all of his warriors wore heavy masks. Dressed in black cloaks hiding half of their face. The lower half would be covered with black cloth. Metal chains dangling from the big wide metal ferronnière.

They rode their dark horses. Whenever they passed by, the zone would become quiet, eerily quiet. No one in their right mind would raise their head to look at them and go against them. The fear among those peasants was his majesty's pride. He loved the look of fear, the way their eyes trembled, and mouths mumbled for forgiveness even though they did nothing wrong.

This was just one per cent of his wickedness. The dirty secrets remained in his realm but his dirty secrets remained in his castle.

The castle.

It was far away from the region where commoners lived. Everything that came in the way of the castle was creepy. The mist always covered the path. They say that this mist was the souls of those who died there. And there were many… mounds of them. And most of them didn’t die naturally.

It was as if dark mist spiralled over the realm.

“Coronis! Bring back the calf! Draco has to go to get meat from the Henrys,” Coronis’ mother asked from the kitchenette.

“In a moment!” Coronis looked at her reflection through the water in a wooden bucket. Her hair was black, her pretty eyes were painted with Kohl. Her lips were chapped but the tint from the beetroot she patted a while ago was making her lips look luscious. And the natural tint on her cheeks.

She was known to be beautiful in the village. Men felt honoured even if she breathed in their path. Though she didn’t come out of her shack as much. She lived there with her parents, Draco and Martha, an older brother named Onyx, and a younger sister of eight years, Circe. She herself was eighteen soon to turn nineteen.

After being satisfied with her looks, she hummed and went inside and picked up the rope and took a sharp knife with her. Letting her mother know, she stepped out to get her calf back.

Knife.

She wasn't going to kill anyone. Unless.

The chilly air threaded through her hair and her white gown fluttered along the wind.

On her way to the meadows, she saw a man beating a woman, most likely his wife, with a whip. Her face was red and blue from the punches she had received. But no one paid any attention to them.

A little further, she saw a dead pig on the side of the path, and an old man was slicing it open. Coronis scrunched her eyebrows and looked away. It was common to see these heartless humans doing bloody shit.

This realm moved with the saying ‘You live until you survive.’

Near the meadows, she saw a girl being touched by much older men, probably without her wish. Her cheeks were soaking from tears. Her delicate hands were trying to push away the men but her hands were delicate and those men were dedicated.

Reaching the meadows, she made it quick to find the calf. Seeing her stamp on the calf, she tied the rope around its neck and pulled it to follow her back to their shack.

There were stamps embroidered on every cattle. It was to mark them as their property. The one's without the stamp were usually killed for food, leather, and jewellery. The animals that were bred to be killed were reserved only for the castle. The men would come on their horses and would fill up their carriers with goods and take them to the castle.

As Coronis was returning, the sound of horses’ clops started coming closer along with their neigh. She knew better and pulled her calf to the corner of the path and kept walking. The horses started passing her. The village quieted down. Only the horses and their riders could be heard.

The path was broken and uneven, and small and big rocks were peeking out of the ground. A man stumbled and fell in front of a horse that was coming from the opposite direction, making it stop. The man got off the horse and picked up that old man with one hand and made him stand again.

“How dare you stumble our way!” He yelled. “Do you not see who is crossing?!”

The old man fell on his knees and held the feet of the patrolman. “I-I-I st-stumbled a-and fell, master! P-please, for-forgive me!”

The patrol man’s chuckle could be heard. He pulled out his sword and made a quick job and sliced his head off.

To Coronis’ bad luck, the head fell just in front of her feet. His bony face was ugly. His teeth were rotting and his beard was dirty. The blood was pouring from where his neck was supposed to be. She looked up at the man who was now getting back on his horse.

But her eyes fell on the man behind him. His eyes were boring holes into her skull. They all wore black cloth from the nose and down, and their foreheads had metal ferronnière but his was heavier and had sharp, long spikes pointing out. The chains were dangling down and were attached to his mask, decorating his face. He wore heavy chains around his neck. His horse was different from others.

She knew he was not any other guard man. He was different. He held power. To what strength, she wasn't aware of that. The higher-ups kept themselves hidden away from the eyes of the commoners.

Coronis didn’t look away from his eyes. They looked into each other’s eyes. Her eyebrows were frowned up. Her face was covered in disgust.

Slowly, they passed by. But that one man remained behind and passed even slowly all while looking into her eyes without blinking. Just like her, he too had kohl painted around his eyes.

She looked at him up and down, his fingers had heavy jewellery and metal nails attached to them. His cloak covered his head. (Lower left picture in the mood board).

His eyes held darkness. The darkness in his eyes was darker than the whole realm and the night itself. He screamed menace. After what felt like a long moment, he passed by and kept moving while she looked at his back.

It all happened slowly. The picture was stuck in her head. It sent chills through her spine. She wished to never cross her path with him. Ever again.

Turning back around, she inhaled sharply seeing that head still laying there. She kicked it away and kept walking.

The moment she opened the door to her shack, her mother's voice rang, “Those men passed by! Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I'm alright,” she said and went inside the slot that she shared with her sister. “Where is Circe?!” she asked.

“She was in the slot!” her mother said.

“Circe!” Coronis called and went outside. “Circe!” the younger girl turned around and looked at her older sister. “Go back inside! How many times do I need to tell you not to go outside without any of us by your side?” She held her arm and dragged her inside. “And the escorts are marching outside! Do you know how dangerous it is?”

“I'm sorry! I wanted to wander around for a moment. It has been days since I last saw the outside world!” Circe huffed.

“Outside world?! Do you know how bad it is?!” she held her head out of frustration. “Ugh, you will realize one day.”

Coronis was about to turn around when she saw someone outside the window but with a blink of her eye, it was gone. She shook her head and exhaled.

Maybe she was tired.

…

“Here is your liquor, majesty,” one of the guards bowed as he presented the drink to the king.

The King took the glass. He removed his mask from below and drank it all in one inhale and threw the glass away. “Lord, that is Danny's workshop. He still hasn't paid us the tariff. He is behind by one day and owes ten stones.”

The King smirked under his mask and nodded. He turned his horse and proceeded towards his castle. “You know what to do.”

His eyes moved towards a house where that lady with calf went. He smirked and moved ahead. “You too will realize…”

…

The whispers woke Coronis up. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She looked around and saw her sister still sleeping.

It was typical to hear people crying, screaming, or talking outside. But these whispers were eerily low and were coming for one side. She knew exactly what was wrong.

She stood up and walked outside. The people were surrounded by the tall wooden bar that had an arrow above it, there lay a man who was known as Denny. His wife was tied to the pole, naked, and abused. Dead.

Coronis looked at their shack… Burnt.

“Go inside,” Draco asked his older daughter.

“Two hundred and sixty-seventh,” she looked at her father. “This year. On this pole. In only five months,” she remained and counted them too.

“Try to not be the next one,” he said and took her back inside.

“What is going on?” Circe asked.

“Nothing,” Onyx said. “Stay inside.”

“They are doing this more often. They were only a day late in paying the tariff. Just yesterday, when I went to Denny's Housewife for a new knife, she said they would pay the tariff today. Poor them,” Martha sighed and placed the salad on the table with a teapot filled with brewed tea. “Have it.”

Everyone sat around the table and ate their meal. “I'm going to the east,” Onyx said. “They asked me to bring a new supply of opium.”

“When will you be back?” Draco asked.

“Soon.”

…

After an early meal, Coronis helped Onyx with packing. Later she went to her slot and took out clothes for her to wear and stepped outside to take a bath. The wooden buckets were already filled with water that they brought from the well every day.

After getting rid of her clothes, she used soap and washed herself up. All the while she felt someone staring at her. She looked around but saw nothing. But then her eyes fell on the tree in front of her. It was dense. One could easily hide inside it. There she saw a pair of eyes looking right into hers. She gasped and stumbled back. She quickly picked up the drying cloth to cover herself and ran back inside.

Her breath was huffing. She slid down the door and tried to control her breath. Her eyes fell on the fresh clothes that she took and wore quickly and waddled into the kitchenette. “Do not bathe outside,” she gritted. “There is someone up in the tree.”

Martha looked at Coronis with wide eyes. And then at Cirice who was already looking haunted. Then nodded her head. “Are you alright?”

Coronis shut her eyes tightly and let out a sigh. “No,” she whispered. “Just don't go outside.”

She was afraid. This never happened with her. There were times when she needed to attack people just to come back home with her dignity still intact but this was so much worse. She was even afraid to look outside.

But being protective over her family, she looked outside through the window to see if the man went away or not. There was no one on the tree. She looked around and checked everywhere in her sight but no one.

She turned around but stopped. Turning back she looked at the place where she had left her dirty clothes… all were gone. Even the underclothing.

“Don’t look out. Put that cloth on the window and come back,” her mother said. “Betty's mother has some vegetables left after the sale, I'll get them and come back as soon as possible. Please, look after yourself and Circe,” she opened a drawer and took out a butcher's knife. “Keep this with you,” she whispered and took the smaller knife with her.

.....

Sanaa’s note:

The chapters will get bigger I think? There are so many details I wanna include. Hope you liked this part! Lemme know your thoughts on this one. Feedback really helps me and motivates me to write more. Take care!

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes; @darkuni63 @mageprincess7

Have a nice day/night💓

[mothiir]

all is fair in love and war, part i

In which our favourite diplomat faces an assassination attempt, and Sicarius and Roboute must address some feelings.

Cw: gore. No sex. That’s in the next part.

—

—

An Inquisitor is aboard the ship. An Inquisitor is aboard your ship, in your space, they are here. Fear pulses through you; the instinctive dread of a prey animal learning that the wolf is just around the corner. You have no firsthand experience of the Inquisition, but by the Emperor you have heard stories — colleagues who were threatened into taking part in the cruellest of traps, luring rebellious worlds into an accord, only for the Inquisition to burn the planet to cinders. Worse than this: you have heard stories of those who refused — lobotomised, servitorised, and not just them but their families, their friends, punishment that runs along the most tenuous of connections until everyone who heard the name of the would-be hero was dead, or wished they were. It cannot be chance that the Inquisitor has arrived now, when the Primarch has taken all of the battle-ready ships and most of the men to deal with a section of the webway benighted by daemons, coming to the assistance of their Eldar allies, a comradeship that you were instrumental in brokering. Aboard the diplomatic vessel the Hestia, with nothing more than a barebones crew, sheltered deep in Ultramar’s space you thought yourself safe. And you are — but only from external threats. 

The rot within the Imperium still finds you here, apparently. 

As the most senior civilian official here, you join the welcoming party, standing beside Captain Icarus, a now-retired guardsman who — having served decades on the frontline of the Imperium’s battles — knows the ways of the Inquisition all too well. There are no Astartes aboard the ship, only baseline humans — formidable foes, practiced veterans all — and yet as the Inquisitor and her retinue board your ship (the continent-sized bulk of her ship dwarfing your own, blotting out the stars) you find yourself possessed by the mad urge to gather the men beneath your non-existent wingspan, to shelter them. 

“My lady Inquisitor,” you say, with a deep and respectful bow. “It is an honour —“

”Are you really the most senior diplomat here? Hm. I suppose you will do, until the senior officials arrive,” says the Inquisitor. Oh, what a promising start. What a truly excellent start. You straighten up immediately. “I am Kagha, of the Ordo Xenos. I was under the impression that the Lord Primarch was resident here and came to offer my services.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, trying your utmost to keep your eyes fixed on Kagha — and not her Deathwatch bodyguards, looming like obsidian-wrought gargoyles; nor the cherubim hovering behind her, fleshy abominations with blank, unsettling faces. The other woman is a little shorter than you, hard-featured and haughty, but possessed of an ageless, sharp beauty that speaks of those rejuve treatments the upper-classes so love. Her copper hair is swept up in an elaborate braided style, ornamented with gold skulls with glowing red eyes. You would wager your life’s savings on those hairpins being secret, deadly weapons. Her outfit is equally impressive: a long black leather coat, embroidered with a motif of heretics burning in a flaming pit while an impassive angelic figure watches; skin-tight trousers; an elaborate lacy blouse that closes at her throat with a ruby the size of your fist.

She’s wealthy. Well-connected. Experienced. And yet there is something not right; an itch under your skin. 

You look to the Deathwatch marines, as briefly as possible. There are five of them — more than enough to annihilate the paltry crew here, should they wish — and all are helmeted. Two carry shields slung over their shoulders; huge oblongs of metal longer than you are tall, ornamented with strange milky stones, like opals, and yet somehow familiar —

Your blood turns to ice. Spirit Stones. The funerary custom of Craftworld Eldar is to keep the souls of their dead in these psychic tombs, thus preserving their fallen comrades, and keeping them safe from the endless maw of She Who Thirsts. To break a Spirit Stone is to send the soul contained within to eternal damnation; it is one of the cruellest fates you can imagine. And to decorate your weapons with them — and to bring these weapons to the ship of a diplomat you know brokers peace with the Eldar —

You know then what is happening, and you would laugh at the flagrant arrogance of the Inquisition, if you were not so fearful. They are so used to having nothing stand in their way — why would they be subtle about an assassination? You make a quick gesture with your right hand, keeping it pressed tight to your side. In battle-cant it means call the Primarch. Bring him back. We are in danger. 

To Kagha, you beam, trying to appear every inch the young idiot she appears to think you are. “Would you care to join me in my quarters for tea? I can send a vox to my senior — he is currently aboard a ship in the Ultramarine’s fleet, and will answer as soon as he can.”

A bluff, of course. You have no senior. And yet Kagha — arrogant, stupid Kagha — nods tersely. “This is acceptable.”

—

You do not think it arrogant to claim that you are more that a little adept at the finer points of conversation — it is, after all, much of your job to be personable and engaging. Indeed, this talent is in such short supply across the Imperium that you sometimes wonder if you count as a prodigy, just because you can engage in small talk without threatening anyone, or going on a half hour diatribe about the Emperor’s endless benevolence. You once even made a Harlequin laugh! Yes, it was because you fell over — but it still counts. 

And yet Kagha is a brick wall — no, that is an insult to masonry. She either does not answer your questions, or does so in a way that suggests she considers you the stupidest woman alive for even raising the point. Still, she is kind enough to pour the second round of tea, so you sip, and resign yourself to silence. 

After around twenty minutes, the ring on your index finger — a nondescript circlet of silver, set with a tiny little sapphire — tightens minutely. Thank goodness for that. You offer Kagha a bright smile. 

“If I were you,” you say. “I would have a word with your sources.”

Her brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

”Well — they’re clearly quite out of date. I did have a superior diplomat overseeing my work here — her name was Sara Buchanan, and she was wonderful — but she returned six months ago to be with her grandchildren. I’ve been running the show here ever since.”

Kagha’s brow furrows. “If you are suggesting —“

“I am not suggesting. I am telling. Do you really think you are the first member of your Order to come calling to the Primarch’s fleet, thinking that they can disrupt our mission here? Granted, you are the first one to approach myself directly — but we know your sort. The arrogance of you! You’d see the Imperium remain steeped in shadow and ignorance if it kept your position safe.”

Genuine anger bleeds into your voice, and your throat tightens. You cough into your hand, cursing the sudden flare-up of — what? Allergies? Gunshots echo outside; lasgun facing lasgun. The Primarch has returned home, and is not best pleased with what he finds. 

Kagha’s lips skin back, showing her teeth. “You stupid xenos loving bitch — you have no idea what you are doing here.”

”I know exactly what I am doing here. Following my Lord Primarch’s orders. You are the heretic who claims to know better than the son of the God-Emperor —“ you break off into another bout of coughing, this time more strenuous. It feels like something is clawing up your throat. The door to your chambers crashes open, Cato Sicarius storming in, wreathed in smoke, spattered with blood. 

“Careful!” you yell out at the gunfight outside. “Don’t break the stones on the shields!”

”We know that,” Sicarius snaps at you. “We are well-aware of the Deathwatch’s tactics —“

Whatever he was about to say is amputated as you double over and vomit. A dark grainy substance puddles at your feet, like recaf-grounds. Behind you, Kagha sniggers. 

“So, so clever — but didn’t think to check the tea, did you?”

Oh for the love of the Emperor’s left bollock — you curse your oversight. She’d poured the tea. Ample time to slip poison into it, even though you had been watching her the whole time, because Inquisitors are nothing if not swift with their petty, lethal blows. You choke on another upsurge of bile, pain now radiating from your stomach, and collapse onto the floor. 

The next two things happen so swiftly as to be synchronous. Kagha reaches for her hairpin, presumably to activate some kind of suicide device, and Sicarius leaps towards her. Before she can complete whatever last-ditch resort she was planning, Sicarius has flipped her upside down, holding one scrawny ankle in each of his gauntleted hands. Kagha shrieks in astonishment — a shriek that soon turns to a wordless, senseless wail of agony as the Astartes moves his forearms, just a little, and rips her in half. Gore showers him, and you avert your eyes, but you can still hear the wet slop of organs falling to the ground in a bloody puddle; the popping and breaking of bones, rent apart like matchsticks. 

“That is my woman,” growls Sicarius — or, at least, you think he does. The world is starting to blur at the edges; the pain is receding — or perhaps you are receding, falling away into the dark. Your last image is of Sicarius bending down to you, reaching out. And then it is all black, as black as the void between stars. 

—

You blink awake to cool white light, and soft white linen. For an absurd moment you think you’ve perished, and this is the Emperor’s rest — an endless bed, where you can sleep as much as you wish (sleep being the one resource you were always so scarce of). 

Then —

“Ah, the wench awakes. Good. I was getting sick of looking at your sleeping face.”

Cato Sicarius sits by your bed, a paperback book open on his knee. The title reads Duty and Love: The Steamy Romance of a Kriegsman and a Sister of Battle — but before you can comment on it, he’s whisked it away, hiding it in one of his armour’s many compartments.

”How long — how long has it been?”

Your voice is rough; your throat aches. Sicarius tosses you a canteen of water. 

It’s metal. It’s Space Marine sized. You can’t catch it; it hits you in the chest and bounces off, leaving another bruise to deal with. 

“Next time, catch better.”

You have no idea how to respond to that. With shaking hands, you unscrew the lid and gulp at the icy water. 

“The poison ate through your oesophagus,” says Sicarius, conversationally. “Just as well it spared your tongue — a mute diplomat is no use to anyone, and we would have had to get someone new aboard. Can’t be doing with that.”

Perhaps it is your drug-induced delirium, but you smile at him. “Are you saying you’d miss me?”

”Absolutely not. Give me that.”

He snatches the canteen back, spilling water over you both. It’s his canteen. There’s a jug of water on your bedside table, and he gave you his canteen — but before you can dwell on that , Sicarius is back to grumbling. 

“We had to divert our entire mission because of you. Lord Gulliman was not best pleased that the Ordo Xenos was causing trouble for him and his, so we had to go halfway across the galaxy to Kagha’s home base. He’s spent the last five days putting every Inquisitor he can find to the sword. Burned a couple of planets that were still perfectly useful just because they wouldn’t tell us what we needed to know.”

There is far too much there for your sluggish brain to process. You manage: “Five days?”

”Yes. You’ve been out for six. That poison almost killed you. It didn’t. Fortunately.”

You stare down at your hands. They are almost as pale as the sheets: sunless, drained. “And the Primarch —?”

As if in answer to your question, the door opens, and Roboute himself enters. You immediately try to greet him properly — stand, curtesy, even salute — but your body won’t obey, and you just manage to tangle yourself up in your sheets, tumbling from the bed. The Primarch catches you before you hit the ground, swaddling you up in your linen like a newborn babe, settling you back onto the bed. His armour is tarnished, swathes of it stained rusty with old blood, and he reeks of smoke. Deep shadows hang under his eyes. He looks like he has come fresh from the battlefield. 

“There,” he says. “Better? Glad to see you with us.”

Your arms are pinned to your sides, which is just as well, since you suddenly want to stroke his tired brow, comb your fingers through his hair. 

Roboute looks over at Sicarius. “Thank you for your watch, brother.” To you, he adds: “Sicarius stayed —“

”Here because I was ordered to, and now I must leave to attend to proper business,” says Sicarius, all in a rush. 

Gulliman stares at him. And stares at him. Then looks at you. Then back at Sicarius. 

“…is that really what you want to say,” he says, in a tone of infinite, weary patience. “Really. After all this. That’s your parting riposte.”

Sicarius stands up straight, throwing up a parade-ground salute. 

“I fulfilled your orders, my lord. Watched her for the five days and nights. But now I have to return to my battle brothers for my actual purpose.”

Gulliman stares at him for another long, long moment. You twitch in the cocoon that Gulliman has forced you into, feeling deeply awkward but not entirely sure why. 

“Last chance,” says Gulliman. Sicarius frowns. 

“Not sure what else I should say, Lord Father.”

”Right,” says Gulliman, and sighs, turning back to you. He tucks you in more firmly — clearly intending it to be a comforting gesture, but managing to strait-jacket you to the point where you think your fingers are going numb. “Theoretical: the potential of losing you drove me to depths of fury that I had not felt in quite some time. This was in part due to the Inquisitor’s meddling, but largely to do with the prospect of not having you by my side.”

He strokes your hair gently.

”Practical: when you are well enough to stand, you will come to my quarters and we will have nice non-poisoned tea. And we can talk. And enjoy one another’s company.”

You squeak. “S-sounds like an excellent strategy, my lord. Yes. Please. Would like to play my part for you and the Legion and —“

”Perhaps not the entire Legion,” says Gulliman. “Not yet, anyway. Oh, and Sicarius? Why are you still here?”

Sicarius’ face is frozen in a rictus of pure, delirious rage. “No — no reason at all Lord Primarch. I will…I will take my leave.”

No one can say Gulliman did not give his idiot son a chance. He leans forward and kisses you gently on the forehead, pausing to inhale the scent of air. It smells of home. 

[shotofstress]

Dracula is about not only the fears of the author about queerness, but also about the fear of the British Empire to "reverse colonization" and all the sentiments and words reflect that. This fears still exists and the fascists narratives are still used as back then. With the huge rise of far right and hate against The Other (migrants, brown, black ppl, non europeans, the queers, "the uncivilised ", etc) is more than terrible that Re:Dracula make changes to the text bc people don't want to hear slurs and things like science supporting racism, xenophobia, classism, mysoginia, sexism, colonialism, etc. If we apply that logic and censorship to the book in a more care manere to change or erase everything that is discriminatory you would be reading a new book bc they then should censor the awful psychiatric parts bc all the damage and pain that psychiatry did and still do to tons of people like the activists of mad pride and psychiatric survivors, or change the character of Mina totally bc her portrait is rooted in sexist values like the view of the perfect woman that is the emotional support of every men like a virgen Mary figure-like and must be at the level of her husband thus be educated to help him and keep him going to do his duties so this can make feel uncomfortable to the people dealing with religious trauma or the effects of white colonial feminism, and what to say about the class aspects.

If ppl don't want to hear, learn or deal with the feelings that fascist ideas cause, then they should go to live under a rock bc everything you appreciate, learn, enjoy and participate has a history, specially books. You can't escape forever via books or anything, nor back then nor in the present time. The British Empire likes to think that they are "better" now, no longer imperialists, but this is false and if u gonna read/listen to a book that speaks about that fear, then educate yourself. Jonathan and Co. are the good white correct and civilised western people and Dracula is the evil, uncivilised, not really european, not really human, blood thirst warmonger immigrant that don't follow the status quo, the class rules, the hierarchy, the christian ways, that wants to corrupt good british women (the classic "they want to steal and rape our women or even worst also rape our men bc that's how savage they are), want to contaminate good british blood with the evil dirty blood of the emigrant. Dracula has black hair, dark eyes, aquilian nose and big eyebrows that joint in the middle like was and still is the beauty standards in the countries/cultures that the british feared and still fear. I have dark hair and eyes with an aquilian nose. His body is not beautiful bc the portrait works under the idea that criminals are recognisable by how they look, that u can tell, like when europeans and westerns think they can tell who is from their countries and who isn't. Criminal anthropometry is not dead, thats why when ppl like me try to migrate they make biometric records, don't think is for other reasons. Dracula is the eternal fantasy fear that the colonised will take revenge against them and colonise them in return. And censor any part of the book don't help that every present narrative.

You all can have all the head canon you want about Dracula been about a polycule of brown queers fighting against patriarchy or such, i am not against your creations, but you must know about what the book is really talking. For we the mosters, the political and climate migrants, the queers, the colonised ones, the survivors are still been exiled, feared, hunted. I had tried to migrate to UK bc thanks to past and present european colonialism (including british colonialism) my country is in misery, but is more than hard to go there bc I'm the Other that Jhonno and his friends fear and the whole West fears. The far right is rising and censorship is not helping fighting them, the real monsters.

Edit for grammar and clarity

[mundmutter]

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST

FULL NAME: ‘Qistina’ / Christina Quina Leota NICKNAME: Qissy, Belladonna VOICE: Sayako Ohara ( Beatrice of Umineko or Milly Ashford of Code Geass ) / Susan Egan AGE: 30 BIRTH DATE: October 31st, 1887 ETHNICITY: Amestrian, Ishvalan GENDER: Cisfemale ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual MBTI:  INTJ-A

SPOKEN LANGUAGE: Amestrian, Ishvalan CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Pleasant. She has her own home provided for her by the state. OCCUPATION: Brigadier General, State Alchemist ( Belladonna )  / Philosopher

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Brigadier General Harrison Leota / Mary Ellen SIBLINGS: Edward James ( 36 -deceased- ), Agatha Ann ( 25 ), Thomas John ( 23 ) SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Atlas Hawthorne ( Eventual Husband/ Main Verse Love Interest ) verse dependant CHILDREN: NINA - Adoptive PETS: Sol and Luna, canaries. Poe, Raven. Chaffee, chimera.

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: dark red HAIR COLOUR: Silver white HEIGHT: 5'8 BODY BUILD: Curvy NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: Her red eyes and long, silver hair. transmutation arrays on her palms. Scarring that wrap around her wrists like a bracelet. 

INTERESTS

-  Aside from Alchemy, she enjoys listening to the Opera. - She is an avid fan of birds. - Along with being a philosopher, she dabbles in poetry. - She has three absolute favorite books: Frankenstein, Hunchback of Notre Dame, and The Book of Lies.

INFO INTELLIGENCE: Extremely High. LIKES: The opera, Performing alchemy, birds, singing, poetry. DISLIKES: laziness, hypocrisy DISPOSITION: She stays quiet, but opinionated. Determined. Unwavering, highly stubborn.vice: lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / PRIDE / envy / wrath virtue: chastity / TEMPERANCE / charity / diligence / forgiveness / humility / kindness alignment: lawful / NEUTRAL / chaotic || good / neutral / EVIL

 BIOGRAPHY..  

   Miss Qistina Quiana Leota was born in early winter, in the year 1887, and worked in the coal mines as a child. She worked hard for her family, and endured many physical hardships - Moved from her parents home to a large home in the city. She works under the State as the Alchemist Belladonna, more often from the large basement where no one can peek in.

      Qistina had always expressed a passion for alchemy, and thus joined the military. She went on to join the side of the Homunculi, though she has no interest in the promise of immortality, but is rather doing it because she was given such a large amount of material for her own research - to recreate and reconstruct working organs through organic materials. 

Her history is simple, and straightforward. She began to work in the coal mines at the age of four, along with her father and several others ( including a few women, mostly men, and other people ranging from the ages of 45 to 4 ). Qistina longed to sing and learn the Opera, and would often attempt to sing with birds while on lunch breaks and playing outside with the other children. She begins a fondness for birds, especially the yellow canaries brought in by miners. Though, once she spots her brother with alchemy books, her passion switches up on her and she is very often consumed by it.

SHE HAD THREE SIBLINGS. EDWARD, AGATHA, AND THOMAS. BOTH AGATHA AND THOMAS REMAIN IN YOUSWELL, WHILE EDWARD JOINS THE MILITARY ONLY TO RETIRE AS ORDER 3066 IS INTRODUCED AND MURDERED A FEW YEARS LATER.

The age of 16 rolls to the top of the hill, and she leaves home. Not apologizing, but expressing the regret that she could not leave sooner. She and her father still keep in contact, but her mother seems to want nothing to do with her. As of right now, for the past ten years, she has been living a happy life in Central City.

Her goals revolve around Alchemy. The life she was forced into before had consequences. She developed a lung disease known as Black Lung, similar to the long term effects of tobacco smoking, and is similar to both silicosis from inhaling silica dust. Medically, it would be called a Coal workers' pneumoconiosis (CWP). It is caused by long exposure to coal dust. It is a common disease in coal miners and others who work with coal.

Qistina has dedicated her life to alchemy, studying to one day replace the parts of her body that have been slowing her down, killing her. Because of her skills, she has since been working under Father. She has become quite obsessed with alchemy and very often views others under the view of a microscope.         

Qistina was emotionally, mentally, and physically abused by her mother for her love in Alchemy. Not only this, but she was ostracized by fellow Ishvalans, so she grew far far away from their religion, even began to hate her ancestry and never held any sort of care or love for them.

LEOTA MILITARY HISTORY

Throughout her family history, the Leota's have spawned generations of soldiers. From privates to top ranking generals. The majority have fought in wars, and the majority have thus far died while serving both on and off the field. Currently, there are a total of 23 members of her family who are living and in service, while 4 are veterans and living peacefully in the countryside. She personally knows 4 out of her 23 relatives who are in service.

SECOND LIEUTENANT WILLIAM LEOTA,  SECOND COUSIN SERGEANT WARREN LEOTA GREAT AUNT MAJOR MARGARET LEOTA MASTER SERGEANT THOMAS LEOTA GENERAL WILHELM LEOTA, lost his leg. MAJOR GENERAL BLANCHE ACKERMAN, went into retirement at 55 after Ishval and is currently enjoying life with her grandchildren.

Her father, HARRISON, retired at 47 after serving before Ishval. suffers with ptsd.

And finally her grandfather GENERAL FORD LEOTA, has been wheelchair bound since Harrison was a private in the army. He never served in Ishval, and is Ishvalan himself - with stark white hair and dark eyes.

Note the majority of her family does not live in Youswell.

[marichive]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Daenerys Targaryen in A Storm of Swords , the third book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ He was a fool about that, and so much else. ❞

❝ Another year, or perhaps two, and he may be large enough to ride. ❞

❝ Is he lost again? ❞

❝ We are the ones who are lost. ❞

❝ How big will he grow? Do you know? ❞

❝ There are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas. ❞

❝ That would be a wondrous sight to see. ❞

❝ They were bred for war, and in war they died. ❞

❝ It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done. ❞

❝ Men are men. Dragons are dragons. ❞

❝ Did you ever meet my father? ❞

❝ Did you find him good and gentle? ❞

❝ He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies. ❞

❝ A wise man never makes an enemy of a king. ❞

❝ Did you know my brother as well? ❞

❝ It was said that no man ever knew him, truly. ❞

❝ Go on. You may speak freely to me. ❞

❝ A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory. Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm. ❞

❝ Be gentle, my knight. ❞

❝ I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior. ❞

❝ You would be wise to take his words well salted. ❞

❝ A queen must listen to all. ❞

❝ One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found. ❞

❝ I am still half a world away from home, but every hour brings me closer. ❞

❝ Even upon the sea queens take precedence over captains. ❞

❝ I am sorry to disturb your sleep. ❞

❝ I wonder if I might have a few private words? ❞

❝ A dutiful son pays his father’s debts. Even blood debts. ❞

❝ He might want me dead . . . if he recalls that I’m alive. ❞

❝ It might all have been a ploy to win your trust. ❞

❝ I need clever men about me if I am to win the throne. ❞

❝ Clever men hatch ambitious schemes. ❞

❝ He means well. He does all he does for love. ❞

❝ It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. ❞

❝ Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. ❞

❝ He is not what he pretends to be. ❞

❝ I am his queen, not his woman. ❞

❝ You . . . you should not have . . . ❞

❝ I should not have waited so long. ❞

❝ I should have kissed you every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well. ❞

❝ That was not fitting. I am your queen. ❞

❝ My queen, and the bravest, sweetest, most beautiful woman I have ever seen. ❞

❝ There is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me. ❞

❝ They might be adequate to my needs. ❞

❝ He has larger breasts than I do. ❞

❝ I call that madness, not courage. ❞

❝ Even the bravest men fear death and maiming. ❞

❝ There are other ways to tempt men besides flesh. ❞

❝ What a soft mewling fool this one is. ❞

❝ Such wonders do not come cheaply. ❞

❝ Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons. ❞

❝ I will gladly serve her . . . and service her as well, if she is more woman than she looks. ❞

❝ Leave this place before your heart turns to brick as well. ❞

❝ The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. ❞

❝ Better to come a beggar than a slaver. ❞

❝ There speaks one who has been neither. ❞

❝ Do you know what it’s like to be sold? I do. ❞

❝ He made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. ❞

❝ Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid? ❞

❝ Only lies offend me, never honest counsel. ❞

❝ I have a dragon’s temper, that’s all. You must not let it frighten you. ❞

❝ He has a good face, and great strength to him. ❞

❝ Could he be jealous that I have found another man to talk to? ❞

❝ No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. ❞

❝ He wants to kiss me again, I see it in his eyes. ❞

❝ You’re no bedslave. ❞

❝ The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. ❞

❝ There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. ❞

❝ I wanted an answer, not a compliment. ❞

❝ He fought valiantly, he fought nobly, he fought honorably. And he died. ❞

❝ I mean to prove a few things of my own. ❞

❝ I can give you freedom, but not safety. ❞

❝ All men must die, but not for a long while, we may pray. ❞

❝ He knows my moods too well. ❞

❝ You ought to be asleep. ❞

❝ You’ll need your strength. ❞

❝ I was alone for a long time. ❞

❝ I was such a small scared thing. ❞

❝ He should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. ❞

❝ Why do the gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves? ❞

❝ Some kings make themselves. ❞

❝ He was no true king. He did no justice. Justice . . . that’s what kings are for. ❞

❝ I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. ❞

❝ A dragon is no slave. ❞

❝ The clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength. ❞

❝ I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me. ❞

❝ I have heard that sellswords are notoriously unfaithful. ❞

❝ You bray like an ass, and make no more sense. ❞

❝ Woman? Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man. ❞

❝ I would remember a man of such magnificence, I have no doubt. ❞

❝ You are worth fighting for, it is true. ❞

❝ I would gladly let you kiss my sword, if I were free. ❞

❝ And perhaps a kiss besides, eh? Or more than a kiss? For a man as magnificent as me? ❞

❝ I will like the taste of your tongue, I think. ❞

❝ You have a big thirst. ❞

❝ If blood is what you wish, let it flow. ❞

❝ You shall rue this arrogance. ❞

❝ Why? Because you are so beautiful. ❞

❝ I count no day as lived unless I have loves a woman, slain a foeman, and eaten a fine meal. ❞

❝ My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command. ❞

❝ Then live, and fight for me. ❞

❝ Is that what you’re telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust? ❞

❝ Do you think I’m still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words? ❞

❝ You have been a better friend to me than any I have known. ❞

❝ I honor and respect and cherish you. ❞

❝ I do not desire you, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me. ❞

❝ It will not make me love you any better. ❞

❝ I cannot sleep when men are dying for me. ❞

❝ Your place is here by me. ❞

❝ A man who fears battle wins no victories. ❞

❝ I will see them. I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their  faces. And I will remember. ❞

❝ It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood. ❞

❝ I will not march my people off to die. ❞

❝ Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? ❞

❝ Take me back to my tent. Please. ❞

❝ I have told you no lies. Yet there are truths I have withheld, and for that and all my other sins I can only beg your forgiveness. ❞

❝ What truths have you withheld? ❞

❝ The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal. ❞

❝ If he sent you to kill me, why did you save my life? ❞

❝ I am yours, if you will have me. ❞

❝ There has been an informer by your side selling your secrets. ❞

❝ Do all gods feel so lonely? ❞

❝ She is brave as well. She had to be, to survive the life she’s lived. ❞

❝ I am going to take you home one day. I swear it. ❞

❝ I am content to stay with you. ❞

❝ Is this the face of a conqueror? ❞

❝ Harsh justice is still justice. ❞

❝ The widows will curse me all the same. ❞

❝ To prove his faith, he offers to seal your alliance with a marriage. ❞

❝ He means to put them all aside if you consent to wed him. ❞

❝ Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. ❞

❝ I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. ❞

❝ Some truths are hard to hear. ❞

❝ Why ask for truth if you close your ears to it? ❞

❝ He once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. ❞

❝ So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying? ❞

❝ You warned me against everyone except yourself. ❞

❝ I am no man’s creature. ❞

❝ I must not weep. I must not. If I weep I will forgive him. ❞

❝ You are trembling. ❞

❝ I wish I could have known him. ❞

❝ If I want him, I need only say so. ❞

❝ Never lie to me. Never betray me. ❞

[my-blind-album]

Lady Leonora Lesso x Female Reader - Killer Dean

{it is recommended that you listen to the song while reading it helps for a better understanding}

Requests; OPEN

Pairing; Lady Leonora Lesso x Female Never Teacher Reader

Category; I don't know

Warning(s); Mentions of blood, and possible killing, cursing

POV; Professor Clarissa Dovey finally asks Y/n about her secret girlfriend that no one knows about but the things Y/n says of her girlfriend are cruel-some and Dovey is left in shock and fear.

Friendships between Evers and Nevers weren't that possible or normal to be seen but since the unison of the schools of both good and evil, things have changed...for the good of course and everyone's more social and enthusiastic which hasn't been seen for over 200 years by both schools.

So there they laid on the ground in the Ever garden looking at clouds. Two close friends who never thought to have close in the first place. "Y/n?" A hum was sent to the golden dean or the previous dean of good. "You never told me about your secret girlfriend, yet" the dean looks over to the female beside her who just continued to look at the clouds with a wide smile forming on her mouth. "Yet" "Excuse me?" the dean asked looking back to the clouds. "You said I haven't told you them, yet, meaning I will someday not now" it was now the previous never teacher's turn to look at the woman beside with a cheeky grin knowing how her friend would react.

"Oh come on Y/n! You've been saying that for the past weeks!" "And I'm sure they're still more weeks to go by till you'll see her" "And why's that?" "She went away for a lil-trip and won't be coming back until supposedly next week or the week after" "Oh, when did she leave?" "Last night" the golden fairy squinted her eyebrows. "That's the same time Lesso left for a lil-trip as well, although I don't know where really" "Mhm" "Do I know your mysterious girlfriend?" "Quite so, yes you do" "Please Y/n just tell me who it is, or at-least describe them for me!" "Describe?" "Yeah what is she like? do? enjoy? her backstory? anything really!" "Anything?" Y/n says looking over to her best friend who was already looking at her with the biggest grin on her face. "Mhm!" "Alright then!" Y/n gets up and sits down, using her finger glow to magically appear a book filled with all the fairy-tales of heroes and villains. Flipping through the pages she stops once she reaches the one she has been looking for and smirk forms on her face and she glances at her golden friend who looked more than amused.

There is this girl, the most beautiful in the world

She has all the boys in town wrapped 'round her finger, oh

She would walk the halls and everyone would whisper and talk

'Cause all the girls in town wanna be her

Dovey looks eagerly at Y/n, her eyes filled with curiosity and excitement and Y/n smirked at this. Phase one of the plan was already in place and from looks of it, soon phase 7 shall be complete.

But behind those emerald eyes, she's a devil in disguise

The prom has blood on her hands

Every boy and girl she dates disappears without a trance

So be careful if she asks you to dance

She's a motherfucking killer queen, a psychopath at 17

A beauty in a blood stained dress

The look of curiosity in Dovey's eyes faded to be erupted by something else, fear.

She'll fill your heart with kerosene

And light you up till you can't breath

If you cross her path you just might end up dead

Y/n switches up the lyrics to not only show that her girlfriend is a victim but to also disclaim that her life was torture and killing people who wronged her and others was only her way of getting revenge.

There is this girl who was broken by the world

'Cause every day at school they'd push and shove her, oh

Getting up from the ground, Dovey and Y/n's surroundings change into darkness till a flashback imagery appears, showing a young and naïve redheaded girl getting mocked and abused by her agemates and her witnessing other people like her getting made of as joke as well and clear rage is seen in her eyes as her hands clench into a stone cold fist.

But she had a plan, one day she would get her revenge

And those cheerleaders and jocks would be six feet under

But behind those angel eyes, lies a devil in surprise

The prom queen has killed for her crown

Every boy and girl she seeks never comes back in one piece

So be careful when she tries to ask you out

The girl had given herself an entire makeover to turn what others saw as plain to stunning. Everyone boy in town loved her, for her looks of course and the girls all envied her. She would ask out all the boys who mocked her for being unattractive and murder them the next day without living any traces towards her.

She's a motherfucking killer queen, a psychopath at 17

A beauty in a blood stained dress

She'll fill you up with kerosene

And light you up till you can't breath

If you break her heart you just might lose your head.

She'd invited all the girls who bullied her to a sleepover and end their lives within their sleeps, one by one.

She's dancing by herself

She's crowned the queen of hell

Tears will sink into her skin

She's gonna get revenge

You're all gonna know her name

She's the one and only killer queen

The imagery changes to show an older looking version of the girl. Her red hair is no longer straight but instead a curly mess. A black cane within the palms of her hands and her rosy pink lips form a sinister smile. Her eyes, however, are merely covered by a shadow but with a blink of an eye you could see a sort of emerald spark shine through one of them.

She's a motherfucking killer dean, a psychopath at 17

A beautiful and broken mess

She'll fill your heart with kerosene

And light you up till you can't breath

If you break her heart you just might meet your end.

"So you're telling me that you're girlfriend is actually a serial killer on the loose?" Dovey asks with a bit of panic. "Yes but she would never kill me." "Really?" "I don't know, to be honest, it all depends on whether or not she'll love me till the end because I know I would never leave her." "But why? she's basically a Jeffery Dahmer with no control, expect the part of cannibalism!" "I love her because I know that under all of flaws and beauty, there's a broken girl who never got the chance to experience love cause everyone as always against her." Y/n finishes changing back their surroundings back to the garden. The book she held disappeared into thin air and she laid down on the ground once again, going back to watch the clouds.

"Okay but could I ask you something?" "Sure, go ahead." "What did you mean by 'killer dean'?" "Seriously? even after that whole song you still couldn't guess who I was talking about?" "No! Like- I have a hunch but I don't know if it's right" "Just say it." "Is it Lesso?" Y/n just merely sighs, turning her head to her friend and nodding her head. "Are you mad?" "What? No! Why would I be mad?" "I mean, I don't know whether or not you're cool with homosexuals or not so I assumed that-" "Well don't assume, I have no problem with you and your preferences, it's who you are, you have to embrace it, is that why you've been so secretive about her?" "Yeah, I mean if you hadn't found out that day, there's a high chance that I would have never told you, so I'm glad you found out." "I'm glad too."

---

I was bored and this has been in my drafts since last year so I was like...sure why not?

[faith-forgxtten-land]

idek what you'd do with this but you're a Taylor fan so peaky blinders characters and their corresponding Taylor song/s

ooooh this is a good one. and surprisingly difficult. and i'm trying not to repeat songs which is hard when all of these people are so desperately mentally ill...

Peaky Blinders Characters + their Taylor Swift songs

warnings: needlessly long

Tommy Shelby

mr perfectly fine - does this need explaining? he is mr casually cruel, mr everything revolves around you

so dignified in your well-pressed suit / so strategised, all the eyes on you / sashay your way to your seat / it's the best seat, in the best room / oh, he's so smug, mr always wins / so far above me in every sense / so far above feeling anything

dear reader - burn all the files, desert all your past lives

Alfie Solomons

london boy - i laughed with this but i will stand by it for obvious reasons

getaway car - i will take no comments on this

i knew you were trouble - he is trouble

beautiful ghosts - it mentions london and that’s good enough for me

i know this life isn’t safe / but it’s wild and it’s free

style - we never go out of style (alfie to tommy probably)

look what you made me do - honey, i rose up from the dead, i do it all the time

Arthur Shelby

this is me trying - i’m not sure i can find a song more fitting

they told me all of my cages were mental / so i got wasted like all my potential

renegade - is it insensitive for me to say “get your shit together so i can love you”?

you fire off missiles ‘cause you hate yourself / but do you know you’re demolishing me?

forever winter - he’s up, 5am, wasted / long gone, not even listening

in short, poor arthur

Polly Gray

sad beautiful tragic - it just feels right

mad woman - i’m struggling to explain these choices but they’re correct

castles crumbling - yes

my tears ricochet - also yes

Ada Shelby

dorothea - i thought hard about this one so you better agree

you got shiny friends since you left town

it’s never too late to come back to my side

fearless - she is

a place in this world - i'm just a girl / trying to find a place in this world

ours - communism

John Shelby

i forgot that you existed - i am sorry john

the way i loved you - he and esme are crazy

but i miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / it’s 2am and i’m cursing your name

can you tell i struggled

girl at home - you’re married john

Michael Gray

foolish one - he’s dumb as hell

never grow up - just is, could be him or polly

the lucky one - you wonder if you’ll make it out alive

bad blood - well

Grace Burgess

when emma falls in love - when emma falls in love, she paces the floor / closes the blinds and locks the door

she won’t walk away, unless she knows she absolutely has to leave

and all the bad boys would be good boys / if they only had a chance to love her

Lizzie Stark

don’t you - this fits her so well and i will not entertain any arguments about it

i heard she’s nothing like me / i’m sure she’ll make you happy

sometimes, i really wish that i could hate you / i’ve tried, but that’s just something i can’t do

you’re losing me - we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won’t

now i just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time / do i throw out everything we built or keep it

May Carleton

august - you weren’t mine to lose

Finn Shelby

exile - i’m hilarious

you’re on your own, kid - see above

Esme Lee

crazier - yes

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 7: Shallow Roots (Normal P.O.V.)

I was wandering around a forest. It felt strange, almost unnaturally natural for me to be here. The small chirps of these weird, long red beaked birds surrounded me. The trees were massive. The forest dim and wet.

I walked what seemed aimlessly, but then in the center of the forest laid a small table covered with meats and plants. I felt my stomach growl. How long had it been since I had eaten?

I walked up to the table and sat down. There was a bowl of what I assumed to be zaytun peaches. I had only seen pictures of them in catalogs in the Kamisato main house. Sitting down, I hesitantly grabbed one and took a bite. It was much more sweet and tangy than I'd thought.

"They're good, right?" The deep female voice from my dreams said from behind me, "They were my favorite snack when this forest was my home."

I quickly turned my head and saw a lovely woman with deep black and forest green hair strode into the clearing. She was wearing relatively revealing clothing that was clearly meant for desert travel. But beyond her beauty, one thing stood out. Her eyes were glowing a harsh yellow.

"Yes, the peaches are delicious. Are they yours? If so, I deeply apologize for taking one without permission." I said, staring back at the juicy fruit.

"Fear not little one, I'm not mad I placed them out for this meeting. I must say your hair is as gorgeous as your father's." She said, reaching out her nails dragging through my hair

"You knew my father?" I asked curiously as my eyes carefully followed the woman.

Sitting at the other side of the table, she grabbed a peach, "I knew him and his family. They were a horrible set of humans bent on stealing the dendro dragons' power and bending her to their will. Your father was the only one who saw what monsters his family were."

"That's awful, hmm, what's this?" I said suddenly, feeling something cold and heavy form in my pocket.

I reached down and grabbed the sensation in my pocket. It was a sphere of some sorts. When I brought it up above the table, a confused look appeared on my face.

"More facts to show that you are your father's child," she said chipper in tone, but her eyes seethed, "He also had a hydro vision. The gods saw his thirst for justice for the dendro sovereign."

"Justice, huh? Ironic given what happened to him." I said, turning my head away.

"Apep felt his demise through the plants in that awful place. The dendro Dragon, who had decided to give humanity one more chance thanks to your father, wept that day. Its hatred towards humanity grew to insatiable bloodlust at that point and hid itself amongst the sands of the desert." The lady said, 'You have yet to ask me my name, little one."

"It felt irrelevant. After all, I'm not even awake, am I?" I said, looking straight ahead, staring the woman dead in her glowing eyes, "Isn't that right, mother?"

"When did you figure it out?" She asked, her voice unchanging.

"The moment I entered this place, the dendro energy pulsating through this dream, rather this sub plane of consciousness. It's yours, correct?" I asked, biting into my peach.

"You could tell that. So you are more closely entwined with our element. I believe you know exactly who I am, daughter." Her form and forest started to blow away into sand, "Seek me out, child. You will learn your place in this world."

I felt like I was swept away by a gale in the desert, the sting of the sands etched onto my body. Things were spinning, and I felt this bright light surge from behind my eyes. Then, the nausea set in.

I opened my eyes and jolted up. Quickly, I scanned the room I was in. The dim lights and the brass walls, the shitty creaky bed, I was in Meropide. A white sheet draped over my body.

I grabbed my stomach and bent over my bed. Thankfully, someone left a bucket next to me. Feeling the waves of nausea crash through my body, I hurriedly grabbed the bucket.

The next few moments were painful as I felt the mixture of bile and blood leave my lips. The smell made my stomach curl up tighter than it already was. There is no reminiscent taste of the sweet peach I had eaten in my dream moments ago.

After the storm of aliment passed, I noticed I wasn't in the infirmary. Rather, I was in my assigned dorm on a seemingly plastic tarp on my bed. There was no one next to me or in the room.

I saw that his grace had set the crate of items from Baizhu on the table in the center of the room. Wriothesley... his face flashed through my mind. Panic and sorrow filled his face when I last saw him. I made him promise me we'd have tea again.

I chuckled. Tea sounded so good at the moment. I wondered if he had an Inazumian ginger blend. Liyue had multiple good ginger blends, but they could never top Inazumas subtle numbing sensation. 

I stood up shakily, but still I stood. Leaning on the wall, I slowly walked out of my cell. I had most of my weight against the cold metal. I felt the scratchy bandages against my skin as I walked.

"I'll need to thank Sigewinne for patching me up." I mumbled as I made it to the main causeway. The only people around were gaurdes. It was probably late.

I kept my head down and walked to the lift to take me to the main floor. I stumbled out of the lift as another wave of nauseating cramps hit. I let out a soft groan as I tried to hold back the building vomit.

"WHO'S THERE!?!" I heard a familiar voice shout near the cafeteria.

I crumpled to my knees from the force of the bile ejecting from my throat. I heard a few sets of metal soles running towards me. I curled in on myself as I heard a gasp and something shatter on the metal floor.

"YOU TWO GO FETCH HIS GRACE AND SIGEWINNE! OH ARCHONS SILVA!" The familiar voice shouted and ran over to me.

"Hey Sam... ugh damn what did I eat, right?" I chuckled, looking up at Sam, who wore a surprised expression.

"How is this even possible? How are you even walking around? Hell screw that question, how are you even alive?" Sam asked, helping me sit against the wall.

"You think that bastard renard could do lasting damage? Ha, I took worse injuries as a kid..." I coughed, and multiple bones cracked at once, "oof, that was pleasant."

I looked into Sam's eyes. They moved as if they were quickly examining my body, and then tears started to feel up. He was crying. Why?

"Hey, what's wrong? Geez, you're acting like someone died." I let out a weezing laugh.

"That's because someone did." Another familiar but much huskier voice said, "You, to be precise,  Ms. Silva."

I felt a smile grace my lips, "Wriothesley, I was just coming to see you. I did make you promise, right? And how could I have died? I'm still breathing and moving about, right? Not to mention,  i was promised tea right, your grace."

I saw what appeared to be relief in his grace's eyes, but the tone that was in his voice was one of almost abject horror. The relief quickly left as a stern look presented itself. He stared into my eyes as if trying to figure out some puzzle.

"Sir, you should bring her to your office. I'll have maintenance clean up this vomit." Sam said as Wriothesley nodded.

"Come on, Silva. I bet you're starving after all you've been comatose for about a week and a half." Sam said, pulling me up and helping me drape my arm over Wriothesley's neck.

"Not to mention dead for the past three hours." His grace said as we started towards the oh so comforting massive doors of his office.

Once we entered the office, I heard soft sobbing. It was definitely feminine and quiet. The gentle tone only reminded me of one person, Sigewinne.

"Come on, upsie daisy." Wriothesley lightly chuckled when we arrived at the stairs.

I felt my lips curl upwards, "Yes, Wriothesley."

We slowly made it up the stairs. When we reached the top, I saw Sigewinne and Monsieur Nuevillette sitting on the worn-out old sofa. She was definitely crying.

"Hey Sigewinne, I found a patient that needs to be looked at." Wriothesley said kinda bluntly.

"Your grace, I don't think I can currently." She choked out as the Iudex rubbed her back.

"Please, Ms. Sigewinne, I haven't stopped throwing up since I woke up."  I said, and as soon as I spoke, both her and Nuevillette's head shot up.

I hardly noticed the Iudex's reaction. My eyes were drawn to Sigewinne and how her streaming eyes widened at the sight of me. It was barely a second later when she ran over and hugged me.

"How! I check your pluses and breathing like four times! We did cpr for about fifteen minutes!" She cried, holding me.

"I'm sorry, I worried you so much, Sigewinne." I bent down to fully hug her.

When I bent down, loud crunching and snapping noises came from my back. Sigewinne looked horrified. I felt no pain, but I could tell she wanted to look at my back. She quickly ran behind me. When she lifted my shirt, there was a substantial thud on the floor.

"Why were you covered in branches?" She asked.

"You discovered something, didn't you, Ms. Silva." Monsieur Nuevillette asked, walking over towards me.

"I saw her... my mother. I think she's a Dendro Elemental." I said, noticing a hydro vision on a chain on the coffee table, "That's my vision, right?"

"Yes, it is, but how did you see your mother? You've been in a coma since I saved you." Wriothesley said, picking up the vision.

"Higher up elementals can sometimes produce sub planes of existence, your grace," Nuevillette said, his strange eyes staring straight into mine, "Please hand Ms. Silva her vision."

Wriothesley simply nodded and walked over to me. His expression was grim, but as he approached, it softened greatly. He extended his hand and set the vision in my palm.

"You said you believe your mother was a dendro elemental. Ms. Silva, you weren't being completely honest with us. Were you?" Monsieur Nuevillette said.

I lowered my head and bit my lip, "No sir, she didn't even fully confirm her identity. I just knew by the way she spoke about her and my dad's past in a third-person perspective."

"Wriothesley, Sigewinne, why don't you both go grab some food for yourselves and Ms. Silva. I need to have a private word with her." Nuevillette said, standing in front of Wriothesley's desk, his hands clasped tight on his cane.

They nodded and made their way down the stairs. I could tell by the energy permeated throughout the air that wasn't a suggestion. Rather, it was an order.

Once the doors slammed shut, the Iudex motioned for me to sit on the couch. The pressure this man was exuding was terrifying. It was different from the kind facade he wore. It was similar to hers, to the being I just saw in that dream. I sat as he began to speak.

"Tell me, Silva. You only just found out your mother is the dendro sovereign, correct?" He asks, turning to face me his lilac eye standing out.

"Yes, sir, at least that's what I'm lead to believe. The only name she mentioned was Apep and how that Apep felt when my father passed." I hung my head.

"What did she tell you to do? Dragons are fickle, and Apep has a very strong distaste for humanity." Nuevillette said, turning a kettle on.

"Seek me out, child. You will learn your place in this world." I spoke, repeating my mother's words, "I'm not even sure if I could at this time. That person who stabbed me on the road is still out there."

"It is quite off-putting, to be in the same room as a sovereign progeny. I'm remiss with myself for not telling that you were sooner." He said, sitting next to me.

"Please, Monsieur, to be fair from what I've read on dragons in general, they are quite territorial. I'm glad that you haven't acted that way. You are like my mother, right? The hydro energy in the air is comparable to my dream with her." I said, burying my face into my hands.

"Yes, little hatchling. You're correct, but unlike Apep, I have a genuine love for humanity." He ran his thumb over the gem in his cane, "I must apologize, I feel that if I had shown up sooner the day you were injured."

I simply put my hand up, "If you had, I probably wouldn't have met Apep or gained my vision. It's obvious Celestia has plans for me, even if it's spiting her. I feel like I have somewhere I belong. Even when I was in Liyue, I felt I was on the outside. Yet here in an underwater prison, just waking up from being apparently dead. I feel more at home than ever."

My mind raced to Wriothesley and Sigewinne. Then Sam popped his head in my thoughts. I looked up, and Nuevillette had a smile that was reminiscent of Zhongli. I wonder if they were told, Zhongli and Baizhu.

"You have planted your roots here, young hatchling. While they barely have scratched the surface, I've seen the impact your short time here has had. The way Sigewinne tried so hard to bring you back." Nuevillette looked deep in thought.

"Monsieur, I want to stay in Fontaine when I'm released. Do you believe that's possible?" I asked as the door opened.

"I'll see what I can do to help you find somewhere. After all, I do believe you were born on your parents' herb farm, and that makes you a Fontainian." He said, "but let's discuss those matters later. You need some form of nutrition. Hopefully, Wosley was awake, and they didn't just pull to random dishes from the fridge."

"What kind of man do you think I am Nuevillette? I wouldn't give someone who just returned from the dead some suspicious food. Wosley was actually doing prep. He was more than happy to whip something special for Silva." Wriothesley said, setting a meal box in front of me.

As if on cue, my stomach let out a loud growl. I blushed and opened the box. The smell was heavenly. When I gazed down, I noticed there was a glistening broth that was extremely clear with a nest of herbs on top.

"Seeing as you haven't eaten in over a week, I told Wosley to make you something easy for you to digest." Sigewinne said, sipping one of her infamous milkshakes.

I grabbed the spoon that was next to the box and slowly took a sip of the soup. I felt my stress melt away as the herbs danced on my tongue. The consúme was a delicious and delicate texture.

Wriothesley poured the water in the kettle into various tea cups he had lined up, grabbing an extra one from the cupboard. I could tell he was trying to hide his glance at me. Maybe he felt guilty for what happened to me.

"Silva, what type of tea would you like?" His grace asked.

"Ginger tea," I chuckled, "Inazumian, if possible."

"Would you look at that? I have exactly enough left for us all to have some." He said, pulling down a jar with four bags.

After about thirty minutes my food was gone and everyone had finished their tea. Nuevillette had left stating he had a full day tomorrow. Sigewinne finished checking my body. Once she was satisfied, she said for me to get some rest that the doctor they had contacted for my coma should arrive tomorrow.

At that, she told Wriothesley to bring me to my room. He nodded, and she left.

The walk to my dorm was quiet. Wriothesley wore a sullen face. Once we arrived, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an embrace.

He smelled of bergamot and a pine beach. His suit was a course texture, but the feeling was pleasant against my skin. I heard it. His heart was beating strong and on rhythm.

"Thank you, Silva." He said, pulling me closer for a brief second.

"For what your grace?" I asked as his bandaged hands loosen their grip.

"For allowing me to keep my promise. Please try and sleep. You don't have to worry about anything. I had the ones that hurt you kept in a separate portion of Meropide. They won't be able to hurt you." Wriothesley said as he leaned close.

"I said I keep my promises, right? I hold the people I make promises to the same standard." I mutter as I feel my face heat up.

At this distance, I noticed all the small scars along his face and collar. It only solidified my thoughts on how gorgeous and handsome he was. The way his icy eyes looked so ironicly warm in this moment was causing fluttering in places that hadn't since been mine and Ayato's small romance in my teen years.

"Sleep well, Silva. I'll have Sigewinne or Sam bring you breakfast. I need you to get your strength back. I'm not teaching you to fight in your condition." He chuckled as he walked away.

I lay in the bed on the wall opposite my own bed. I didn't think laying down in the bed I was dead in, not even six hours. I felt my eye slowly sink closed. Wriothesley's scent lingering on my clothes very lightly. It made my face ease up as I drifted to sleep.

[master-missysversion]

Boom thoughts

Liveblog under the cut as usual

Tldr: this episode was absolutely brilliant, so much tension, a brilliant storyline, some hard hitting criticisms of capitalism and Christianity/blind faith, side characters you can't help but get invested in and soo many emotional scenes. I can't see anything this season topping this episode for me but it has left me far more excited for the rest of the season than i was previously

Something about the video looks weird. Like it very much just looks like these soldiers are standing in front of a greenscreen

Child character :) Moffat loves a child character and I eat it up every time

Mundy is so beautiful

"They ran out of money" I wonder if the "ambulance" kills injured soldiers to save resources

Ohhh my god that whole sequence with Carson stepping on the mine had me on the edge of my seat and then my jaw on the floor

This episode so far is off to a brilliant start, im already feeling really invested in these characters and the tension is thick

ohh I'm thinking I was right about soldiers being killed to save resources or something

THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS

Rip John Vater I was legitimately so invested in you, but i had a feeling that would happen

"Stay there!" *ruby casually walks out "okay, coming!" Dhfbdkdm

Also I love how he says to stay there then leaves the door wide open like bffrrr you knew she was coming

I think for the sake of saving time, the doctor should probably tell ruby that you don't actually need to lock the tardis behind you

The Skye Boat Song 💃🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

This reminds me of Merlins death in Kingsman tho

"I was kinda hoping for a beach" you'd get along great with Yaz

I missed the doctor telling random stories so much 😭 I'm gonna hc the lesbian gymkhana adventure happened with Yaz and she was sooo annoyed the doctor ruined their outing with a stupid bet

Okay I know its probably just because she's being written by Moffat but I am reallyyy seeing the similarity to Clara now

And we're back to music....this seems to be a recurring theme

WHAT was that poem?? "The moon and the presidents wife" is a clear reference to the doctors own life. Gonna be thinking about this one for a while

"Beyond acceptable parameters for a conflict as budgeted" I knewww it

"People don't usually bring that up" yes they do. Literally all the time 😭 I know he's just trying to appeal to the kid

Ohhh is there even an enemy?

"Hush" the return of moffats favourite word 😆

NOOOO NOT CANTO

how could you do that to me 😭 poor Canto Poor Mundy

Is this woman Susan twist btw? Im not good with faces but it could be right?

KISS KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ty John Vater I always loved you

The way he just pushes Ruby down lmaooo

Mention of a diary will be feeding the "river is Ruby's mother" theorists

Beautiful

"He's not gone, he's just dead. He's not gone" i love how this is a twist on the "they're not gone because they're always there in spirit" trope

The vworp vworps are back!

Now time for the next time trailer

This looks really interesting, I think this episode has really got me excited for this series in a way that I wasn't before, its a shame moffats not writing more of it but I'm excited to see what happens in 73 yards

I love that they're finally back in Wales

Who issss sheee. I need to know

Also I just saw the credits and I was right about the Ambulance being Susan Twist! I think she's the person talking about Mad Jack too isn't she?

Final thoughts: this was an absolute banger of an episode, honestly I fear that none of the other episodes in the season will live up to it. I just enjoyed every minute so much, the build up, the tension, the emotions, the engaging side characters, the running themes and hints at the overall season plot were all absolutely brilliant. It was so good parts of it had me skipping back a few seconds to watch scenes again. I wasn't sure what to expect going in but this exceeded my expectations nonetheless

[archoniluthradanar]

An empty heart can still love : a Marcus Volturi one-shot

An empty heart can still love : a Marcus Volturi one-shot

The Twilight "Zone" series

From an idea given to me by @emma5685

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Marcus was alone in his garden, trimming dead buds off one of the rose bushes he grew in his first mate's honour. Didyme always loved her roses, and this chore of tending this area of the flower garden kept her forever in his memory.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Turning to see his newborn mate standing at his side, Marcus smiled and stood. "Good morning, Aurora." He bent to kiss her, then embraced her tightly, loathe to let her go.

"Good morning, my love. My, what a greeting." She allowed him to hug her, then when he finally released her, Aurora scanned the flowers. "The garden is looking positively beautiful today." She walked between the rows, looking over the bushes and bending to sniff some of those that had a more intense fragrance. Marcus was pleased his new mate liked the garden that he'd dedicated to his long-dead mate and without any jealousy.

She turned to him, saying, "When do I get a rose dedicated to me, Marcus? You're so talented in your cuttings."

"What would you like, my dear?" He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders while she looked over the various bushes and the colours of roses on each.

"You know I love red roses, so perhaps something that's a cross between a red and a yellow?"

Marcus wrapped his arms around his new mate from behind. "Your wish is my command. I'll start work on it tomorrow," he said, nuzzling the back of Aurora's neck.

Marcus had once been mated to a beautiful woman, but when she had been killed by a rival coven, he had gone into such a deep depression, his fellow leaders of the coven, Aro and Caius, feared he would never recover. Final death was preferable to the ancient vampire over an enforced lifetime of loneliness. Only the influence of another coven member kept him loyal to the coven and not seek an end to himself. Marcus wasn't even aware of this influence binding him to the Volturi.

Then one day, he met a young woman who was pretty, witty, and so filled with positive human qualities that Marcus missed, he had to have her. He wooed her slowly, then revealed his secret to her. She did not fear him, being in love with him already. When Marcus explained the world of the Volturi to her, she accepted the immortal life he had to offer her.

Aro and Caius were not as welcoming to her as Marcus had hoped. At times, they would barely acknowledge her presence. This saddened him and his mate as well.

Marcus and Aurora were in the bedroom of their chambers, lying in bed. Marcus had just spent hours pleasing his mate while they made love. He sought to make Aurora cry out his name more than once when she came, and only then would he take his own pleasure of her.

Later, they lay side by side, talking low while touching and caressing one another. Such a simple act bonded the two vampires into an inseparable couple. Aurora would rub her nose against Marcus', then cuddle him while nuzzling his neck, inhaling the sweetness of his scent.

Marcus had gone thousands of years without a woman's touch, but he had found his love now. Aurora always showed him how much she loved to touch him, as if she couldn't get enough of him. He had memorized her completely. Her scent, the taste of her, the feel of her. The day he had changed her was the second happiest day of his existence. He would never be alone again.

"My darling, I going to go take a shower. Will you join me?" Aurora gave Marcus a kiss that told him he should not say no. She rose from the bed and sauntered to the bathroom door, looking back at his naked body, the memories of last night fresh in her mind. She bit her lower lip, something that, for whatever reason, drove Marcus mad with lust. He got up from the bed to follow her, when he heard someone coming into the chamber's ante-room.

Aurora sighed and went into the bathroom entrance. "Come join me, my love, when you get rid of whomever decided to interrupt us, now of all times." She then shut the door behind her.

Marcus threw on a robe, and went to the outer room, only to be greeted by Aro.

Seeing Marcus in his robe, he asked him, "Why are you not dressed? You were to be in the throne room at 2:00p pm."

"I've been busy, brother, and had forgotten the time. Allow me to dress, and I'll be there soon." Marcus looked toward the bathroom, hearing the shower running, and turned back to Aro. "Give me a few minutes, brother."

"All right then, but hurry. The prisoner is a possible flight risk. He's being closely guarded by Felix, but may attempt an escape."

"I will be there, Aro." Once his brother had left his chambers, Marcus went into the walk-in closet to choose a suit to wear.

"Aro can be very intrusive," a voice said behind him.

"I know, my heart, but it is important business. It won't take long. You may join us if you wish." Marcus saw Aurora beside him, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her head. He patted her shapely behind, telling her to dress, lest she tempt him again, causing him to miss the upcoming trial.

"I'll be there as soon as I dress, Marcus. Now you'd better hurry along, or Aro will come back," she said, laughing. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Marcus, then turned to choose a dress to wear.

oooooooooooooooo

The throne room had become a trial room, with Aro and Caius waiting on their chairs. Felix and Santiago held the prisoner's arms, leading him to the center of the room.

Marcus saw Aurora enter through one of the carved wooden doors and come stand at the side of his chair. He gave her a smile and reached out to hold her hand. "You haven't missed anything, love. The trial is about to start."

Aro heard Marcus speaking, but to whom, he wondered. No time now. He would ask him later. For now, he had a rogue vampire to judge and execute.

oooooooooooooooo

Once the trial was over and punishment had been meted out to the guilty vampire, the guards cleaned up the remains and left the room. Only Aro, Caius and Marcus stayed behind.

Aro turned to Marcus, his eyes scanning the area. "Brother, to whom were you speaking awhile ago?"

Marcus smiled at Aro. "I was only telling Aurora about the trial. The requirements on how judgements are made, how punishment is administered. She's very interested in all that."

Aro looked at Caius whose expression was one of confusion. Who was Marcus talking about?

Aro stood and walked over to Marcus. "Who is Aurora, brother?"

Marcus turned to his mate, taking her hand and kissing the palm. "This is Aurora, Aro. Why are you asking me these questions?"

Caius rose from his chair to stand beside Aro. "Marcus, there is no one there."

Marcus felt Aurora's hand slip away from his, and when he turned around to her, she was gone. He stood quickly, spinning around in place, his eyes seeking her out. He sped to the first set of doors and opened them to see nothing. He called to her, with no reply. He sped to the other set of doors, and again, saw no one. His mind raced. Where had she gone?

Aro sped to Marcus' side, placing his hand on the ancient vampire's shoulder. "Brother, calm yourself. There is no one here in the coven named Aurora." He came up with a theory, as grim as it was, and explained it to Marcus.

"Your state of depression, my dear brother, has brought you so low, that your mind must have created a figment of a woman, one posing as your mate. It's the only explanation."

"No, it cannot be. She was with me last night, in our bed. She was in the shower this morning, when you came to our chambers."

"I didn't hear the shower water running. There was no one in the bathroom, or I would have known."

Marcus' mind attempted a reset. It tried to tell him Aro was right. "Not possible. She was with me all night. She came to the throne room after me, to watch the trial. She was here. I was holding her hand!"

Aro and Caius had never seen Marcus so animated. But they knew the truth. There was no Aurora, and Marcus was close to madness.

Reigning in his annoyance, Aro stated firmly, "Brother, please forgive me. Aurora doesn't exist. She never did!"

Marcus looked around the throne room one more time, then sped from it, heading to his chambers. "Aurora? Please, my love, do not hide from me." He sat on the edge of the bed, the same bed he had been in last night, with his mate. They had loved each other for hours. Was it all in his mind? "Please come back to me." He waited to only hear silence. "Please?"

oooooooooooooooo

Marcus sat in the garden, his unbeating heart feeling empty and broken. He had suffered the loss of another beloved mate taken from him. She had not been real, but she felt real to him. First Didyme, now Aurora.

Aro had said that Marcus' mind was in such a state of loss and melancholy, it had created a mate for him. One that he could see, feel, and even smell. She was as real to him as Didyme had been.

Marcus, however, felt the loss of his imaginary mate as strongly as he had when Didyme had been destroyed. Was he fated to lose every woman he ever loved, even one who wasn't real? Why did he deserve this hell?

Even the birds seemed to agree with Marcus. They did not sing in the sunlight among the trees. His grief was like a heavy fog blocking out all sound from the garden.

Aro told Marcus he needed to face the fact his one and only mate was gone. His latest mate was gone as well. No, he had said, annoyed. Not gone. Never existed! Aurora was nothing more than a figment of his brother's misery.

Lowering his head, Marcus deplored his solitary existence. There would be no one to greet him with a kiss and an embrace. He would have no one to sit, and talk or read with. There would be no one to yearn for him and lie with him in bed. There was no one left to love him.

The silence in the garden was about to overwhelm the melancholy vampire...when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.