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dbnightingale24 · 10 months ago

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Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had.

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you.

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside.

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it.

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent.

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you.

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room.

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else.

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all.

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now.

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking.

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table.

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes.

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart.

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all.

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod.

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind.

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you.

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud.

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment.

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled.

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you.

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps.

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner.

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

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gingerbreadmonsters · 7 months ago

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glass jaw

or: bruised, the apple of my black eye.

graphic blood, violence, and injury warnings, cutesy gory found vampire family shenanigans. i went to the haunted theme park in the middle of the woods at midnight, and all i got was this candy apple of temptation. what's up with that? alexis being the world’s best big sister in just over 8600 words.

warnings for gratuitous blood, violence and gore, graphic descriptions of injury and intent to grievously harm, and, like, one teeny tiny moment of cannibalism. i strongly encourage you to mind the warnings, and to stop reading at ANY point if you feel uncomfortable. reader discretion is advised. minors dni, 18+ only. please consider yourself warned.

longtime readers may be aware of my sinophone!solaires hc, so ENGLISH SPEAKING READERS - for the love of GOD please check this pronunciation guide i made for the mandarin you're about to see. i PROMISE it'll help!! 💕💕💕

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s a shame. The room was quite tidy when they started – ugh, don’t say it’s got onto the upholstery again. Vampiric blood is impossible to get out of silk, and it costs a fortune to get it professionally cleaned. At least the wooden panelling in here is dark enough to hide most of the spatter.

(Thankfully, baba’s off entertaining the little ankle biters at the moment – and something about a meeting with an old friend, later on? He didn’t say when he was coming back, but it can’t be soon. Hopefully they’ll be able to deal with most of the mess before he gets back. Damned old man never wants them to have any fun.)

How long has it been? Seconds? Hours? It’s difficult to tell. She’d only come in here to sit down, feet hurting from her patrol at Wonderworld, wanting to just lie across the sofa and scroll mindlessly on her phone for an hour or two. She'd almost succeeded, too – until the furious pacing from the other side of the house had got closer and closer.

Vincent had spotted her through the doorway, carelessly cracked open, and… well. He must have had a pretty horrible day.

He’d surprised her, hurling the glass of water in his hands at her head with a sudden hiss. She’d only barely caught it in her peripheral vision, jerking back against the sofa just in time to let it whistle past her face and shatter against the far wall.

No words necessary. Vincent had snarled at her, slamming the door shut behind him, and she’d known exactly what he wanted.

It’s a habit of theirs. A bad one, maybe, but knowing it doesn’t make it any easier to break.

Heavy bodies hitting the floor, skin and spit and bone, this time it might be different. Her shin slamming into his ribs, his elbow smashing into her jaw. Blood clots underneath elegantly manicured nails, and the splinters of what used to be a wisdom tooth are spat onto the side table. It’ll grow back.

Gravity. The inescapable pull. Space bends and folds at the mercy of an impossibly strong grip, worlds and stars and planets collide, and the precious children of William Solaire once again destroy each other.

You might think that it’s madness. That it’s like some crazed, bloodthirsty, animal state that descends upon them, that it’s like they’re totally different people. You’d be wrong. Both of them are perfectly, boringly sane when it happens. There’s no madness here, no delusion – just a brother and a sister who hate and hate and hate.

She’s entirely rational when she tries to sever his spinal column with her teeth, he’s not confused about why he’s trying to rip her arm from its socket. It's never an accident. Tearing each other apart comes naturally.

Cruel spikes of broken glass glitter in Vincent's hair, the smashed mirror above the mantelpiece reflecting the thousand shallow cuts that now litter his scalp, leaking bright, scarlet blood down the back of his neck. Her forearm aches from the impact, the force of a vampiric skull smashing through the glass and into the bricks behind having radiating up through her hand, where her fingers were twisted into Vincent's hair – mostly for grip, but also to keep him from biting them off completely.

It hadn't quite worked, but whatever. She glances down at the ragged chunk of her wrist that isn't there any more, shredded fibres hanging loose, and glares at Vincent as he finishes chewing his mouthful of skin and veins and raw, twitching muscle.

He grins, wide and pretty, fangs slick and gums stained with her blood. “New perfume?”

Bastard. Like he didn't steal it off her vanity this morning, like she couldn’t fucking smell it on him when he came downstairs for breakfast.

“Depends,” she replies, and lets the fistful of dark, meticulously-conditioned and carefully-styled hair still in her hand fall to the floor. “New haircut?”

Vincent's eyes narrow, black and predatory, and, as always, she feels her mouth start to water. He's imagining what it’ll feel like to kick her through the picture window and watch her impact the paved surface of the driveway below, and she's imagining what it'll be like to dig her fingernails inside his stomach and claw out all of the softness she can find.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, the cleansing rage. Nothing but fury, white-hot and shameful as it roars alive under her skin, until she's scraped raw inside and out. The same manic look paints itself across their faces, the same sadistic glee that only comes with doing something you know you shouldn’t.

Well, they're both just as bad as each other. Perhaps it runs in the family.

She lunges, teeth bared, grabbing his shirt to try and slam him back into the brickwork – but like lightning, he lurches to the side and uses her momentum to grab her waist and hurl her bodily into the wall. Wood splinters and flecks of glass go flying as they claw at each other, blood spatter dripping down the window panes and soaking into the finely-patterned carpet.

Her ears ring when Vincent seizes the back of her head and slams her face-first into the doorframe, but she gets her own back as her broken nose puts itself back together, watching the side of Vincent’s chest collapse when she clubs him hard in the side with a metal candelabra. Sweet revenge.

Gasping for breath, he dodges out of the way of her fist and grabs her arm, pulling her painfully into the front of the heavy, wooden console table. She manages to catch his ankle with her foot as she goes, though, hooking it out from under him and shoving him down to the floor. His other hand is still locked around her wrist, so he yanks on her arm to twist himself around, landing heavily on his back instead of his front.

Luckily, she manages to keep her balance, but he can see it coming now – instead of the satisfying crunch she was hoping for, he barely manages to jerk his head out of the way so the sole of her slipper impacts the carpet instead of his eye socket. It sends a spike of pain up her shin, but she ignores it in favour of shielding her head, so the impact of him kicking her backwards into the bookcases doesn't stun her too much.

It’s kind of hilarious, when you think about it. Other families don’t cause thousands of dollars of property damage trying to violently maim and murder each other when they get bored, do they?

In hindsight, it seems almost inevitable they’d turn out like this. For a long time after Vincent’s turning, they’d fought almost constantly, and nobody had ever been able to quite understand why.

It used to be unbearable, having them in the same room together. Bitter glares and cutting remarks, sniping and biting at each other from across the table. Ba always complained about how they gave him headaches – the static whine of furious, mutual hatred, the pressure of all that blinding intensity in one place, with nowhere else to go but him.

He never took sides, and it stung every time. In her head, she knows he was right to. There aren’t the words to describe how much worse that would have made it. But deep inside, she couldn’t help the sick, dizzy feeling of her Maker abandoning her, leaving her – a necessary, instinctive fear of being cast out from the safety of his world and the shelter of his presence.

She’s his blood, she’s his, she’s his. They’re a family.

You can’t say that either of the two of them is entirely innocent. Alexis knows that there are parts of her that Vincent’s right to hate, and there are parts of him that she’s right to hate, too. They’ve both done terrible, awful things, too many to name, to other people and each other alike. Anyone else would say that one is just as awful as the other, and that with the way they’re carrying on, neither of them is making it any better whatsoever.

A boring answer, in short.

Because it’s not actually about that, is it? There’s something else too, something too tender and complicated for them to ever really unravel, the sugary decay of undeath that turns their spit to venom and their hunger to thirst. Vincent’s all the things she left behind, and she’s all the things he never had, and it’s all bundled up with the howling wasteland of the world that neither of them should ever have left.

Everyone regrets their Turning, whether they say so or not. Some regret it more than others, it’s true, but nobody gets away unscathed. The only reason it’s ever been a problem is because the House of Solaire tend to take their regrets out on each other.

(She rakes her nails across Vincent’s pretty face, deep, intentional gouges that would surely scar if he couldn’t sew himself back together so fast. He drives his foot into her knee in return, forcing the joint to fold in on itself the wrong way, and the world goes white with agony for the split second before it begins to heal.)

Sometimes, people wonder how they fixed it. How they get along so much better now, like a real brother and sister should. They never actually ask, and nobody will ever tell, but she isn’t stupid enough not to know what they’re thinking.

It shouldn’t be real. They bicker and pinch and steal each other’s clothes – she takes his keys from the drawer and drives his car instead of hers because it’s nicer, and she deliberately won’t leave him any money for petrol. He plays his music far too loudly in the room next door when he knows she’s got work to do, and eats her snacks out of the fridge without remorse, even if they’re labelled. Annoying, yes, but hardly the curse-yelling, death-threatening carnage their house used to be.

In fact, you could almost say they’re too well-behaved. They stay up late together in the living room, surrounded by every phone and laptop and tablet they can find, refreshing and refreshing the stupid ticket lottery website for the concert Vincent wants to go to of the band that she hates. They wear as many layers as they can stand and bring those UV umbrellas that block out the sunlight, so they can go out in the daytime and queue up for that pop-up event downtown that she’s been dying to go to.

Even the endless, complicated trappings of polite vampiric society are standard fare for them now. Vincent doesn’t complain when he has to stand by her vanity for twenty minutes passing her hairpin after hairpin, and Alexis waits by the front door to do his tie for him, because she’s better at doing the complicated knots that go in and out of fashion. They dress up nicely for every society ball, kissing each other on the cheek and fetching each other drinks and dancing the volta just like everybody else.

She lends him whatever jewellery he wants out of her jewellery box because it’s prettier than his. He pesters their father into letting them go to Disneyland in the evening when it’s dark and they won’t get sunburnt, three days in a row when they should be working because it’s her birthday and she wants to take pictures in front of the castle and eat the special coloured candyfloss they always have at this time of year. They proofread each other’s work documents and curl up under the same blanket on the sofa and leave their shoes next to each other by the door every day.

Shiny, red, and utterly forbidden – a devil’s deal is a wonderful thing. The apple seed of temptation took root in her sour, bloated stomach, and a shallow grave blossomed into a beautiful family tree.

It makes baba so happy that they get along now, and that makes them happy too. They’re never going to tell anyone how they do it. Isn’t there some saying about magic and secrets?

(Her arm isn’t quite back in its socket yet, shoulder screaming in pain, but it won’t stop her trying to choke Vincent unconscious against the bookcase. He spits a warm mouthful of blood and venom into her face in thanks, and knees her hard in the stomach.)

Vampiric houses are famously secretive, especially the older ones. It pretty much comes with the territory – the diet alone tends to be rather off-putting for outsiders, to say nothing of the other… well, the other habits that vampirism bestows. Generally, vampires prefer to keep the company of their own kind, and the intrinsic bond between maker and progeny is a rather powerful reason to stay.

Clans have always been compared to families in that way, and the House of Solaire takes it very seriously indeed. More so than most, although it’s not an uncommon thing. Turnings tend to isolate a person from their human friends and family. It would be remiss of their new clan, surely, not to step in and fill that void however they can?

As different as some things are, there’s no escaping human nature. If William’s taught them anything about surviving in this world, about protecting their family, it’s that nothing is off-limits. Whatever is necessary, they do without question. Knowledge, money, sex, power. Blood is blood, always. How else would the Solaire name have prospered for so long? How else will it continue?

Perhaps it’s cliche, but it’s true. Old blood means old money, and it doesn’t get much older than vampiric blood. Her world is a world of private invitations, expensive dresses, and strategic gossip – whatever you could imagine about the secretive lives of a shadowy vampiric aristocracy, it’s probably true. Champagne was made to be whispered over, after all. Long lives mean plenty of time to develop some rather particular tastes, and an instinctive thirst for blood does lend itself well to a certain nonchalance about the insides of a human body.

She’d been surprised at first, an uncomfortable revulsion that she’d had to unlearn, but she’d got used to it eventually. Vincent had too, and although it took him a little longer, he’s almost as good at playing this game as she is. Say what you will about the House of Solaire, but they are very, very good at what they do.

Nothing breeds rumours like success, and William Solaire is truly blessed. A golden name, a golden fortune, and two golden children to match.

There were always going to be rumours, certainly. Of what they might be doing behind closed doors, their ambitions for the future of their house, the secrets that lie at the heart of it. Of fresh scars in strange places, the truth of their allegiance to their father, of brothers and sisters doing things that brothers and sisters shouldn’t be doing.

You couldn’t prove any of it, obviously, and nobody ever says the words out loud. But she hears them all the same, ringing in her ears as she kisses her father on the cheek at breakfast, filling up her mind as she steals Vincent’s jacket out of his room to go shopping, and she smiles wider than ever before – because if they really knew what was happening behind the gates of Wonderworld, they’d have much more to talk about than wondering what William could possibly be holding over their heads to make them finally behave.

(In all honesty, it’s somehow more and less than you’d think. That’s not the point she’s trying to make right now, but it’s worth saying, all the same.)

They’re never, ever going to let it slip. Nobody’s ever going to know about the way she forces her brother back down onto the floor, driving her elbow into his face, feeling cartilage crack and splinter as he falls backwards in a spray of blood. He tries to scramble away, one hand reflexively covering his face, but he’s too slow - her foot comes down hard on his shin, and the scream he lets out isn’t quite loud enough to cover the sound of bone shattering under her slipper.

Vincent tries to drag himself away, fingernails tearing at the carpet, and she plants her foot on his chest to keep him in place. The break in his nose is almost fixed, crimson blood splattered all over his face, but it seems like his attention has… shifted.

That can’t be right.

He’s not that stupid, surely. What else could he be thinking of, when she could so easily crush his heart in a split second? He’s focusing on something else, but it doesn’t seem to be her – is it behind her? Is there something she can’t see? Why isn’t he paying attention?

And then, for some unknowable reason, apropos of apparently nothing… he smiles.

“What?” she spits, pressing down harder and feeling his ribs creak under the ball of her foot. “What is it?”

Infuriatingly, he chokes on a laugh, thick blood bubbling in his throat as it heals, and gestures weakly up at the wall behind her. His eyes are fixed on something there too – no, not the wall, it’s the—

“You little – fucking hell!”

She barely manages to dodge the chandelier as it comes crashing down on her head, feeling the room spin as Vincent yanks on the ceiling chain hard with a burst of psychokinesis. He manages to throw himself in the opposite direction, hand shielding his eyes as the metal hits the floor and the room fills with the deafening sound of shattering crystal.

Both of them hiss as they’re pelted with broken crystal, slicing tiny, stinging ribbons into their skin that seal up almost as soon as they appear. Shit, that hurts.

“Zhidi!”

She glares at her stupid little brother, half-crouched behind the arm of the sofa. “You’re fucking fixing that.”

“Why?” he snickers, pretending to pout, and she’s so tempted to just drag him out into the hallway by the hair and sling him down the stairs before he can finish the thought. “You’re so much better at magic than me, lili…”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, crossing her arms in the face of his unapologetic grin, “which means you need the practice more.”

Vincent groans, downcast. “But he’ll be so mad if I do it wrong!”

He huffs when she just sticks her tongue out at him in return, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Can’t you just do half, and I’ll copy?”

Narrowing her eyes, she shakes the debris from her slippers and picks her way over to the window. It takes some concentration, but she runs a hand over the splintered mess of the frame, watching as it sews itself back together. “This is my half.”

“But it’s so hard!” he whines, little brat that he is, and she hates how the obvious manipulation still tugs at her heartstrings. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of the sofa now, hands extended over the sparkling rubble of the chandelier. “You make it look so easy, jiejie…”

Alexis sighs, and begrudgingly reaches down to ruffle his hair. Tiny flakes of mirrored glass fall onto the carpet around him as she does it, slicing little papercuts into the tips of her fingers.

“You do all the light fixtures and the mirror, and I’ll do the rest.”

He looks up at her, suspicious. “Half the mirror.”

“Two thirds.”

“Three fifths.”

“Two thirds, and I don’t tell ba you dropped the chandelier.”

“Deal,” he graciously concedes, and they pinkie promise.

She rolls her eyes and pretends she can’t see him grin, knowing full well she’s being far too soft on him. “If he blames it on me, I swear I’ll key your goddamn Volante and make you watch.”

“What? No!” Vincent gasps, looking betrayed. “Don’t you know how much that cost?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says sweetly, “which is why you’re not going to fuck it up, are you?”

He mutters something unflattering in French under his breath, and she snaps her fingers accusingly in his direction. “What was that, didi?”

“Nothing.”

She smiles winningly, before waving her hand and dragging all the books up off the floor and back into the bookcase. “That’s what I thought.”

They clean up in silence for a little while, their earlier animosity dissolving unnoticed into dust. It’s slow going – neither of them are especially gifted with magic, or have very much of it at their disposal, so they have to keep stopping every few minutes or so to recover.

Before long, they’re both out of breath and exhausted, smashed crystal still crunching beneath their feet and coughing up white plumes of plaster dust.

“When’s he even coming back, anyway?” Vincent asks, peering at the tall jade vase he’s trying to coax back together. “Tonight?”

She nods over her shoulder, trying to stitch the long gash in the sofa cushion closed and failing miserably at getting the complicated pattern to match up again. “He didn’t say when, but it can’t b—”

“Fuck.”

Vincent cuts her off, staring down at his phone as it buzzes, before looking up at her with a grimace and turning the screen to face her.

I’ll be home in ten minutes. I’m sure nothing will be broken or out of place when I get back.

Of course he’s coming home earlier than they thought. Of course. Why wouldn’t he?

“What should we do?”

Christ, he’ll be furious once he sees what they’ve done to this room. If they really, really hurry, they might be able to get away with at least a little bit of it, right?

With a huff of exertion, magic builds beneath her palms, and all the fragments of mirrored glass scattered across the room start to shiver as she prepares to sew them all back together. The mantelpiece needs to be fixed, and there’s a whole section of the doorframe that’s almost totally gone, and she doesn’t even want to think about the horrible, gaping wounds in the wooden panelling that need to be repaired and relacquered…

“Come here,” she mutters to Vincent, beckoning him over to her and pressing her palms flat to his chest. He closes his eyes and nods, resting the tips of his fingers at her temples, and they slowly, carefully, start to reach out to each other.

Her threads brush clumsily against his, once then twice then three times, the connection weak and fluttering as they try to concentrate. She stretches as far as she can, searching for that familiar feeling, anticipating the sickening lurch in her stomach that she knows is surely going to come any second, the momentary freefall as her core latches on to his.

When it happens, it takes her by surprise – her knees buckle for just a moment, and she sways slightly from side to side. Vincent rests his forehead against hers to try and keep upright, and she feels his wordless reassurance through the fledgling bond.

How does he do it? Vincent’s only a few inches taller than her, even less so when she’s in heels, and yet he always seems to tower over her – the looming shadow in the corner of her eye, the impossible weight of his gaze on her through the crowd.

The perfect height for dancing, their father had said, laughing gently as they stumbled through a clumsy waltz around the living room. She’d stepped on Vincent’s toes almost as many times as he’d tripped over the hem of her long dress, a poor stand-in for the real one she’d be wearing at the summer ball in a few months’ time. Elbows up, xiaozhi. They will not be so forgiving in Marseille as I am, you know.

Magic pools beneath her skin as she siphons it greedily through the bond, flooding her core with Vincent’s stolen power, and she luxuriates in the sensation for a long, languid moment. Then, she grits her teeth, and focuses.

With the extra rush of his magic, it’s almost laughable how fast she manages to race through most of the remaining cleanup – the blood dripping down the windowpane vanishes, the claw marks in the carpet disappear, and even the mirror above the mantelpiece clicks neatly back together as if it were never broken. The slashes across the back of Vincent’s shirt close up, and all the little chunks of bloody cartilage stuck in her hair vanish without a trace.

Her brother staggers in her arms as she keeps pulling on their bond, and she manages to ease them both down onto the sofa without too much fuss, still trying to get as much of the chandelier fixed as she can. About half of the crystal is back in place, but the chain just won’t – she can’t quite—

“Enough!”

Vincent breaks away from her with a sharp, sudden breath, slumping backwards onto the newly-repaired cushions and clutching weakly at his skull. “Too much, lijie, too much…”

He gestures vaguely towards the door with one hand in what she thinks might be thirst, and she runs out into the hallway and downstairs to the kitchen as fast as she can to get some blood out of the fridge. There’s already a glass on the counter that he must have got out earlier, so she fills it up with the half-empty bottle of O positive.

Sharing their magic always does this, but once he gets enough blood in him, he should be fine in about twenty minutes or so. It’s a lot like bridging, that way. Their cores will be synchronised for a little while, and they’ll be more keenly aware of each other’s magic, but that doesn’t really mean much when their senses are already so sharp.

A vampire’s core isn’t magically rich enough to do a huge amount all at once, so sharing magic like this is generally their best bet for doing things quickly. It lets them make the most of their limited reserves – rather than working individually, one of them can keep feeding the other magic as they concentrate on the whole picture.

Her steps are quiet but urgent as she runs back upstairs with the blood, slippered feet sliding a little on the kitchen tile. How much longer have they got until ba gets back, again?

When she pushes the door open, Vincent hasn’t moved, still sprawled across the sofa with a hand pressed over his eyes. Gently, she folds the fingers of his other hand around the glass, and he mumbles out a slurred thanks as he gulps the whole thing down in almost one swallow.

She’s just about to try the chandelier again, threads uncomfortably sore and stretched, when there’s a sudden sound from downstairs. The faintest jangling of keys, the scrape of tiny metal pins in the cylinder as the lock turns, and all of a sudden—

“Hui jia le.”

Downstairs in the foyer, he doesn’t have to shout. He already knows they can hear him.

Vincent curses silently, staggering up off the sofa and disappearing off to his room as she flings whatever magic she can at the chandelier chain. If she can just get it to stay together until he goes out again, they can probably recover enough magic between them to be able to fix it properly, right?

“Lili?” Ba’s voice is soft yet confused, the quiet sounds of him taking his shoes off and hanging up his overcoat, wondering why they’re not saying anything. “Xiaozhi, where are you?”

The question is entirely redundant – they all know that he can feel exactly where in the house they are. Vincent isn’t saying anything, so should she keep quiet as well…?

No, it’ll be too suspicious if neither of them goes and sees him, so she throws one last worried glance at the chandelier and hurries out of the room. When she gets to the top of the stairs, he’s just putting his slippers on, and she does her best to keep her heart slow and her smile easy when he looks up and notices her.

“There you are,” murmurs baba, and holds out his arms for her.

Is it embarrassing, how quickly she scrambles down the stairs and throws herself at him? He laughs, strong hands catching her waist and lifting her clear off the floor in a brief, joyful circle. “Ah, I have missed you, chérie.”

“Missed you too,” she says into his shirt, curling happily into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, fondly kissing the top of her head. The Maker’s bond between them sings at their closeness, warm and comforting as it bubbles in her chest, and she feels him smile even though she can’t see it.

“Vincent is upstairs?”

“He, um…”

The words freeze on her tongue as she tries to figure out a half-truth that she’ll actually be able to say – she can’t lie outright, but she can say something that’s technically true, even if it’s not the whole story.

“Headache,” she mumbles noncommittally, and crosses her fingers that he won’t push it.

Ba hums quietly in acknowledgement, seemingly in acceptance. “I see. Was the patrol alright?”

He smooths his hand over her back in wide, slow circles, just the right amount of pressure. “No trouble, I hope.”

She shakes her head, and tries her best to relax. “Just some unempowered kids, looking for somewhere to have a bonfire. It was easy.”

There’d been about six or seven of them piled into some beaten-up old thing, driving down the abandoned road that leads to the gates of Wonderworld, clearly not sure where they were going. Even if she hadn’t spotted the dim headlights through the trees, or heard that god-awful music from the speakers inside, she probably could have smelt them coming – whatever they were drinking, it seemed less like moonshine and more like rubbing alcohol. If they go blind, it’s not her fault.

They’d stopped just before the gates, about to get out when she’d suddenly appeared by the driver’s-side window. He’d been surprised to see her, tapping at the glass until he rolled it down, and she’d taken the opportunity to have a little fun with it before she’d have to trance them.

Mm, you boys are out late, she’d drawled, leaning forwards and resting her arms along the edge of the window. Can I… help you, with anything?

She’s not stupid – she knows exactly what she looks like, and she knows exactly what to do with it. There’s always college students from the nearby towns sneaking into the woods at night, and they fall for it every single time.

Ah, it really had been cute. She’d had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way all of their eyes suddenly couldn’t stay on her face, conspicuously flicking back up to her eyes whenever she moved.

Just, uh…

The one driving had really, really tried, shifting awkwardly in his seat as she tilted her head to look down at him. Just lookin’ around, ma’am, nothin’ serious…

Nothing serious? She’d smirked at that, careful not to let them see the sharp tips of her fangs as she reached out to gently brush a stray lock of blonde hair out of his face. Honey, you’ll break my heart, with talk like that.

His friend in the passenger seat still hadn’t stopped staring, slack-jawed, and she’d pushed herself up on her tiptoes to stretch her arm out towards him, pressing the tip of her fingernail under his chin to snap his mouth shut. Oh, it was like something out of a movie! She’d always wanted to do that in real life.

I can think of somewhere you’ll like.

Foolishly, they’d all been very liberal with their eye contact – trancing them had been as easy as anything.

As soon as I stop talking, you’re going to turn this car around and drive all the way back to the freeway, and you’re going to drive all the way to the next city before looking for somewhere to have your little party. You won’t remember this conversation at all, you won’t remember ever meeting anyone here, and you won’t remember anything about me.

She’d smiled nice and wide, scarlet eyes burning into each of them in turn, listening to their terrified hearts race at the monstrous sight of her. Isn’t that right, hm?

They’d nodded in unison, the driver’s hands already back to the wheel, and she’d blown them a kiss as they drove away and disappeared back into the trees. Ah, humans.

“Well, that’s good.”

Ba’s voice shakes her from the memory, slowly guiding her away from the door and towards the kitchen. “That reminds me – you should have heard the little ones tonight, my goodness…”

“Really?” She’s curious, not having met them before. “What did they say?”

Deft fingers pull the carafe of A positive out of the fridge door, and he blinks down at the bare countertop for a second before reaching up and taking a glass out of the cupboard.

“The Aguilars are… they are unchanged, shall we say.”

It makes sense. He’d been over at the Aguilar estate tonight to meet their new blood informally, before the Summit in a few months’ time when they’ll be properly introduced. The family is always very friendly, and she gets on very well with the aunties there.

Poor Vincent doesn’t like them as much as she does, but that’s mostly to do with that god-awful girl – a cousin from one of the branching bloodlines, she’s fairly sure – who’s had a crush on him ever since he was Turned, and who follows him around incessantly whenever they’re at the same parties. It’s hilarious to watch him try to shake her off, and the look of relief on his face when she finally steps in and makes up some lie about how he promised to dance with her is well worth the hour of complaining he’ll do later in the car on the way home.

The only thing is that it’s a big family. Much bigger than theirs, and it can be rather overwhelming when it gets loud. Obviously, ba doesn’t like to say anything about it, but she can feel his headaches building in the back of her own skull – his stronger senses mean he’s a lot more sensitive to the noise than she and Vincent are.

Still, they’re far more pleasant company than the House of Bennett. The only one who can make that family bearable to be around is cousin Porter, and that’s only because he likes to add a little of his own blood to the drinks so that they actually feel like they’re alcoholic.

She nods, leaning back against the sink. “Chatty, I take it.”

“Little… ah, what is it?” Sipping his glass of blood as he leans against the kitchen table, he gestures vaguely in the air with one hand. “Little pitchers that have big ears.”

It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Big houses mean more gossip, and freshly Turned vampires do love to put their shiny new senses to use.

She shrugs. “As long as they’re not spilling state secrets yet, it’ll be fine.”

“If the state tells its secrets to the House of Aguilar, we are already doomed, mon ange.”

They both laugh, washed in the pale light streaming through the windows, and baba closes his eyes as he reaches up to gently pull the fa zan from his hair.

He likes to tie it back when he goes out, partly to stop the wind from tangling it, and partly because it’s the way he says gentlemen used to be when he was young. Over the years, he’s amassed an almost staggering collection of little clips and ribbons and pins – a not insignificant number as gifts from her and Vincent – that he likes, but he generally just wears it down when he’s at home and there aren’t guests.

The moonlight turns the edges of his black hair to silver as he shakes his head with a relieved sigh, running his fingers through it quickly to smooth it out before flicking it back behind him. He likes to keep it long, at least several inches below his shoulder, and she’s always been so jealous of how he seems to make every hairstyle he tries seem so effortlessly elegant.

“Still,” he continues with a wicked smile, “you will see for yourself when we see them next. I think they will have many things to discuss with you, perhaps.”

He tips his head languidly to the side as he pushes his phone across the table, the screen lit up with a photo of Vincent from last summer. If she remembers correctly, it’s from when they were taking a break at the summer house down by the coast – he’s shirtless, knee deep in the water, turning back to the camera with a rakish grin, dark hair already wet from the splash fight they’d been having and fangs glittering in the moonlight from above.

In short, he looks painfully, achingly handsome. Scandalised, she smacks her father in the shoulder and gasps theatrically, like she can’t believe what he’s done.

“You didn’t!”

“I certainly did.”

“He’ll die!” she whisper-shouts, trying desperately not to laugh too hard. “He’s already having trouble outrunning marriage proposals from one of them, and you’re setting the new blood on him too?”

Ba just shakes his head, imperious, looking down his nose at her like he’s imparting some grave wisdom. “They asked to see a picture of my progenies.”

“So it had to be that picture?”

“I showed your picture as well.”

Resigned, she buries her face in her hands. “I dread to think.”

“Oh, you are so dramatic, chérie,” he laments, and he even has the gall to click his tongue in faux-disapproval when she narrows her eyes at him. “See? The picture is nice!”

It takes him a second to find it, but it’s just as bad as she feared – it’s from the same holiday as Vincent’s photo, probably taken later that night. She’s wearing that nice floaty sundress she bought in Singapore, barefoot in the sand as she blows a kiss to the camera, lips still stained with blood from whatever scarlet cocktail she’s holding in her other hand.

This was exactly his plan, in other words, and she’s going to fucking murder him in his sleep. If any of those upstart little ankle biters tries to chat her up, it won’t be pretty – the last one got a cake fork stabbed straight through his hand and several inches into the table beneath it, and the one before that still visibly trembles at the sound of her stilettos clicking softly against the floor.

“If I kill an Aguilar new blood at the summer ball, it’s your fault,” she mutters threateningly, hissing and baring her fangs at him when he reaches out to take her face in his hands and draw her closer. “I mean it!”

“Of course you do, xiao gong zhu,” he murmurs indulgently, and kisses her forehead. “You are telling me, so it must be true.”

Upstairs, the sound of floorboards creaking, fabric rustling. Vincent.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” ba adds nonchalantly, “about broken things.”

Shit. She blinks, innocent as anything as she beats back the guilty urge inside her that yearns to spill the truth. “What’s broken?”

“Lili.”

He raises an eyebrow, discreetly tapping the shell of his ear, and she strains to figure out what he’s hearing. “I am old, baobei. Not stupid.”

If she listens, really listens, she can just about make something out. Another noise, something much quieter – a sort of stiff, metallic creaking from upstairs, on the other side of the house to Vincent’s bedroom…

Her smile wavers as ba swans serenely past her, disappearing out into the hallway, deft fingers picking up his fa zan from the table as he goes past. “It is nothing, surely. Perhaps you will bring Vincent something for his head while I am changing?”

God fucking damn it – she might be able to fix the chandelier without him noticing, but what are the odds? He’s meeting that friend tonight, and if he’s going to change now then it probably won't be long until he goes out, but there’s no way of knowing if it’ll hold until then.

Scowling, she pours another glass of blood for Vincent, and one more for herself, before reluctantly trudging upstairs.

It's a fact of life, or at least a fact of vampirism: you can’t really have any secrets from your Maker, and that’s even without the whole truth-compulsion thing. No matter what you do, your Maker is always aware of what you’re feeling, when you’re feeling it.

The emotional bond never goes away, though the strength of its effects ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s so faint as to be almost nonexistent, a tiny shiver down the spine – and sometimes it’s almost overwhelming in its intensity, foreign emotions bursting out of nowhere like fireworks, blindingly bright and terrifyingly loud.

For young vampires, it’s a lot to get used to. Some take years to become accustomed to the bond, while others are oddly comforted by it. New Makers are often surprised by the strength of as well – it goes both ways, but generally the Maker feels more of their progeny’s emotions than the other way around. Nobody's really sure why.

More complicated feelings don’t come through especially clearly, apparently a little bit difficult for the bond to transmit, or perhaps for the other body to decipher. But simpler, more basic emotions are very, very easy. You might even say they’re too easy, in fact. Things like fear, sadness, joy – and, well…

He must already know what they’ve been up to. That sort of anger, the instinctive viciousness that comes so easily to them. They all know from experience how quickly that can wash over the bond, twisting and curling as it spreads like dark ink through water. After a while, it stops being so intrusive – it’s just how it works, and it’s not as though they can stop it. It’s possible to tune it out, and before long it generally goes away.

But a Maker with two progenies, both of whom are busy winding each other up at the same time? Who never seem to know when to quit, chasing that addictive, acidic feedback loop of rage that only ever seems to push them higher?

Ba doesn’t mind what they get up to, per se, as long as they keep it discreet and clean up after themselves. But even so, it’s not difficult to see how it could be… distracting.

He definitely knows what they were doing, is the point. And he clearly knows that there’s something they broke that she hasn’t been able to fix yet. She just needs to make sure it’s all neat and tidy by the time he gets back later, and hopefully they can all pretend that it never happened.

“What.”

Vincent glares at her from under his duvet when she pushes the door open with her foot, crimson eyes staring out from the blackness as she gets closer and closer. The lights are off and the blackout curtains are closed, so it’s almost entirely dark, but she can make out the shape of the bed well enough.

“Blood.”

She holds out one of the glasses, not breaking eye contact until a single hand slithers out from under the duvet and takes it from her.

He doesn’t seem to have thought about how he’s going to drink it, lying flat on his stomach and sprawled sideways across the bed, and she snickers under her breath as he blinks stupidly at the glass. With a flourish, she takes the second straw out of her own glass and drops it into his, sticking her tongue out gleefully at him when he mumbles something unintelligible into the mattress beneath him.

She shrugs – it’s close enough. “You’re welcome.”

Perching herself on the edge of the bed, she watches in amusement as he drags himself forwards under the duvet so he can get the straw in his mouth without having to lift his head, occasionally poking the mound of blankets that claims to be her brother in the side to see if he can feel it or not.

(He can. She knows. It’s just funny.)

Because she’s very generous, she gets up to grab a few of the books off his desk, stacking them up by the side of the bed, level with where his face is. He complains when she takes the glass back out of his hand, but acquiesces as soon as she puts it back down on the books, army crawling towards the end of the straw that’s now level with the top of the mattress and haughtily sticking it in his mouth.

“Better?”

The Vincent-shaped duvet creature next to her slurps loudly at his glass of blood, and doesn’t say anything.

She’d use telepathy, but she needs to save all the magic she can get. Quickly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, turning the brightness down all the way and typing a message in her notes app to show him.

He knows something’s broken, and the chandelier chain isn’t going to last long if I don’t go and fix it. Do you have enough magic to help yet?

“No,” Vincent grumbles, and coughs pointedly.

Great. How much longer?

He coughs again, baleful red eyes turning to look witheringly up at her from his blanket nest, and she doesn’t have to be able to see his hands to know the gesture he’s making at her.

Fine, she types, as sarcastically as it’s possible to be when you can’t say anything out loud, but if he hears, I’m blaming you. Distract him.

Obediently, he starts moving around again, making sure the sound of mattress springs and sheets rustling is loud enough for her to slip out of the door and towards the drawing room they ruined earlier. Luckily, it’s in the opposite direction to baba’s room, but she still holds her breath and tiptoes as quietly as she can in case he—

“Lili?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

She whips around, totally innocently, to see her father beckoning her down the stairs as several sets of cufflinks rattle in his palm. “Come and help me choose.”

Helpless to protest, she’s forced to follow him down into the foyer, umming and ahhing over which cufflinks she thinks will suit his outfit the best. In her head, though, she can’t stop worrying about that damned chandelier, the creaking sound from upstairs that she’s sure is getting louder, the increasing amount of magic she’ll need to fix it as it surely gets worse and worse…

“A good choice as always, mon ange.”

She startles slightly as baba nods approvingly, smoothly taking the silver pair she’d mindlessly chosen and putting them on, before leaving the rest in the dish on the low console table. “I won’t be back until the morning, so you will look after Vincent, won’t you?”

Hastily, she nods. “Yeah, I will, I will.”

“Alright.” He rests his hands gently on her upper arms as he kisses both her cheeks, before taking his car keys out of his pocket and heading out of the front door. “See you later, chérie. I love you very much.”

“Love you too!”

She waits the agonisingly long half-second it takes for the door to close behind him before racing back upstairs, and she hears Vincent, still clutching his half-empty glass, scrambling out of his room at the same time. They nearly crash face-first into each other in their haste, yanking the drawing room door open and tumbling through it as fast as they can.

“I thought your head still hurt?” she says quizzically to Vincent, watching his hands trembling faintly around his glass, but he just makes a face.

“The alternative’s worse,” he replies, and she nods. He’s right.

She reaches for her core, willing the magic to come – it’s slow and it’s weak, but she yanks on her threads as hard as she can to try and summon it to her fingertips. The chandelier sways ominously above them as she screws her eyes shut to concentrate, and she can feel Vincent’s aura flicker next to her as he does the same thing. Come on, come on…

She’s nearly there, power surging under her skin and ready to be channelled outwards, when there’s a sudden—

“Shit!”

The magic fizzles uselessly away as her eyes fly open to see Vincent, clutching his head in pain, cursing as the front of his shirt is drenched in blood. There’s shattered glass all over the floor from where he’s dropped his drink, and she chokes down the irritated vampiric growl that rises in her throat. “Fucking hell, xiaodi!”

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” he moans, slightly unsteady on his feet, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Look, at least it’s not the—”

Something moves, just at the very edge of her vision.

Above her head, the room plunges into blackout as something snaps.

“Move–!!”

She barely manages to shove Vincent away from her before the heavy metal body of the chandelier comes crashing down on her head. It’s not heavy enough to knock her out, but the surprise is enough that all she can do is stand there as 15 kilos of brass and crystal and electrics falls directly on top of her and shatters.

He skitters backwards, recoiling from the spray of tiny crystal shards that covers the floor for the second time today, nearly tripping over the leg of the side table as he goes. A thousand stinging papercuts split their skin, sealing themselves up and leaving tiny droplets of crimson blood dripping down their arms and faces.

Without even noticing, she instinctively catches one of the twisted metal arms of the chandelier that must have been sheared off when it impacted her skull, raw edge snagged painfully in her hair as it slides neatly down into her arms.

They’re so fucked.

They both freeze guiltily as a floorboard creaks outside in the hallway, far too close to be a coincidence, and she winces as there’s a polite knock, knock, knock at the door.

“We—” She chokes, breathing in a hacking lungful of debris, voice cracking slightly from her dry throat. “We’re in so much trouble.”

Vincent stares wide-eyed at her through the sudden dark, blood dripping slowly from his chin and soaking into the carpet..

“Yeah,” he mumbles distantly, “probably.”

The drawing room door swings open, and both their heads snap towards the open doorway so fast it would give a human whiplash. There, silhouetted against the light, car keys still jangling in his palm and running an exasperated hand through his long hair—

“What,” hisses William Solaire, raising an irate eyebrow at his children, covered in glittering crystal dust and leaking blood into a very expensive carpet, “did I say about breaking things again?”

The clan always sticks together. Family comes first – nothing and nobody could make them betray each other, and they’d rather die than leave one of their own behind. It’s the central tenet of their existence, the core fact of their messy, gory lives.

Some things are just… true. The earth is round, the sky is blue, and there is no power known to men or gods that could turn the House of Solaire against itself.

Baba shifts his weight slightly, eyes narrowing accusingly.

And very, very slowly, Alexis and Vincent both point at each other.

link to the glass jaw pronunciation guide

main masterlist

this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vincent #redacted william #redacted alexis #redacted solaire clan #redacted porter #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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hold-him-down · 4 months ago

Text

Belleview Chapter Two (Part D): Day One

Notes: This is the final part of chapter 2. Now, pretend all 4 of those parts were posted in one thing because that is really how it was meant to be but things got away from me :)

Belleview: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Part A), Chapter 2 (Part B), Chapter 2 (Part C)

TW: Institutionalized slavery, Med Whump, Dubcon Medical Care, References to Human Experimentation

✥ ✥ ✥

Day one, Lincoln thinks, goes by in a sort of semi-organized frenzy that makes up for a lack of rhythm with the undiluted tenacity of every person who has been assigned to this site. It is a flurry of organizing volunteers, scheduling with local hospitals, reviewing the notes of the medical team and pausing, occasionally, to ask how his two patients are faring. River remains isolated, but no one pushes him, and Felix remains alive and that, for what it’s worth, counts as a win.

Beds are built inside of the tiny rooms with impressive efficiency, while volunteers sort through the floods of donations, things from clothing to food to entertainment. At some point, an entire truck full of televisions, courtesy of the mayor, pulls up, and at another, a florist brings a van-full of indoor plants to help make the place feel more ‘homey.’ Three restaurants deliver catered lunch, and seven bring dinner. The residents, by and large, refuse the food, and it is not until the prepackaged meaty substance that has been their daily meal for their entire time at the site is found, heated, and delivered, that most of them eat anything at all.

The phone rings non-stop with offers for food or ‘any other support needed’ over the next week. News vans come and go, with volunteers offering cursory updates on where things stand at Belleview, but never on the residents themselves. Their identities are protected, and no one seems to mind regardless.

The community, much to Lincoln’s surprise, rallies behind the residents, and he is left to admit, reluctantly, that even here, in this somewhat small community in southern Florida, where so many vocal supporters of the system fought tooth and nail to keep contracted labor intact, there are countless pockets of good. He doesn’t have the time to rearrange his opinion on the town, but he recognizes the necessity to reassess where he stands.

For now, he throws all of his energy toward the task at hand.

Three of the residents, Felix, Gabriel, and Ari, require hospital visits for diagnostics. Lincoln makes a note to check on them before leaving for the night. Seven more have been hooked up to IV fluids and are being monitored while they sleep, but will be treated at the site once the med rooms are set up. Three (River, chiefly among them) refused any care, and seven allowed themselves to be examined without fighting. Notably, the team suspects that many did not understand, or believe, that things have changed, and so the pretenses under which they cooperated were dubious at best.

It’s eight o’clock, and with one full twelve-hour shift under his belt, Lincoln accepts that it’s nearly time to call it a day. The first group of volunteers has begun packing up and leaving for the evening, with the new group filing in and orienting themselves to their tasks. Lincoln sits in the empty office, twenty-one folders strewn haphazardly across the large metal desk.

He reaches for the newest folder, marked ‘Felix,’ and opens it. He reads through the notes– his notes– and stands, placing the lone file into his bag. He picks up his keys, and he turns off the light to the office, and he starts making his way through the bowels of the building that, just yesterday, housed horrors that he has not yet begun to wrap his head around.

Lincoln passes several volunteers setting up a common area out of what was once a waiting room, which includes putting together sofas, hooking up the donated TVs, stocking shelves full of books, and hanging art. There are half-broken down boxes strewn everywhere. He greets the volunteers with an exhausted smile and half-wave as he passes. Once he reaches the tip of the main corridor, he pauses. It’s quiet now, with an almost eerie quality to it. A couple of the fluorescents are dull, with one outright flickering. It gives the wing a sort of post-apocalyptic ambiance befitting its history. If not for the doors, each cracked open in a bid to encourage the residents to explore their temporary home, it would look exactly the same as it had this morning, save for one of the plants that made its way to a corner.

“How did it go today?” Dr. Anthony Schiller, the assistant director of the site, who will oversee it during the overnight shifts, asks as he pulls up beside him.

“It could have gone worse,” Lincoln responds. They are silent for seconds, maybe minutes, staring down the long hallway. And then, “I’m worried about them,” Lincoln says softly. At the doctor’s expectant look, he continues, “About where things go from here.”

Schiller nods in agreement, and Lincoln hands him the key to the office with a half-hearted smile that is meant to be encouraging, but might read closer to reluctant.

“Files are on the desk, notes are in the files,” Lincoln says. He gives a rundown of where they’re at, what they’ve done, who to keep an eye on overnight.

Once Anthony has retreated, Lincoln makes his way through the corridor toward the exit. He listens for any signs of distress as he does. In one room, the light from the TV flashes through the crack in the door. From another, he can hear crying. He pauses, knocking on the door. “Do you need anything?” he asks, and the boy’s– Ethan’s– eyes snap up to meet his.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan whispers.

“It’s okay,” Lincoln replies. He takes a step into the room, where there is a barely-eaten dinner and an untouched pile of blankets. “I’m sure this is overwhelming,” he says. He picks up the top blanket and unfolds it, then sets it on the untouched bed. “Have you had a chance to eat?” he asks.

Ethan nods, visibly holding back as much emotion as he can.

“Okay,” Lincoln replies. He sits at the edge of the bed, and pats the space next to him. “Will you come sit with me for a minute?” he asks then. Ethan, predictably, does as he is asked, and Lincoln hands him the blanket. “I’m going to head out for the night,” Lincoln explains. “Is there anything you want me to grab you for tomorrow?”

Ethan shakes his head quickly. “Okay,” Lincoln replies. “Try to get some sleep. If you’d like to turn on the TV, you can. Anything you need, please let the volunteers know, okay? I know this is confusing,” he continues, “but things will get easier.”

Ethan smiles, his eyes downcast, and Lincoln squeezes his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

As he continues down the hall, he wonders, idly, how many of these beds will be untouched tonight. How many of these men will go hungry tonight. How many will sleep at all. River's room is quiet and dark, and Lincoln resists the urge to check in on him. He is okay. He refused lunch and dinner, but has a bed, has clothes, and has access to food and water. No progress has been made throughout the day, but, Lincoln hopes, they will try again tomorrow.

He reluctantly continues walking.

He pauses, finally, at Felix’s door. As one of the three critical patients, the volunteers have been on top of him all day, reporting back at least hourly on his status. With the medicine and with the fluids and with the constant care, he’s been stable, which is something.

Lincoln pushes the door open as quietly as he can, and buried under a weighted blanket, curled up on his side, lies Felix. An oxygen mask covers his mouth and nose, and, under the covers, Lincoln knows a slew of monitors cover his body, feeding them data on his condition. After a thorough review of that data, Lincoln turns his attention back to Felix.

Even in the darkness, it is obvious that he has been bathed, he has been given clothes, and his wounds have been tended. He looks… peaceful, Lincoln thinks. He looks comfortable.

As he takes a step back toward the hall, Felix’s eyes crack open, instantly seeking him out. His fingers lift, just slightly, in something that vaguely resembles a wave, and Lincoln makes his way to his bedside.

He kneels next to him, squeezing his fingers gently.

“Hey,” he whispers. With his free hand, Lincoln brushes the hair off of Felix’s forehead, then runs his fingers across the bruising on his neck. “I was just on my way out,” he continues, “I wanted to check and make sure you have everything you need?”

Felix doesn’t respond, but he keeps his eyes on Lincoln. Lincoln smiles and stands, with a soft, “I’ll see you in the morning,” as he moves away from Felix’s bed.

The panicked look, the same from earlier, ghosts across Felix’s features, and he reaches for the mask. It doesn’t take more than a split second for Lincoln’s mind to be made up. At home, his boyfriend will struggle to understand what happened here today. He’ll be chastised for taking his work too seriously, for not setting boundaries, for giving too much of himself to his job.

But, he thinks, as he pulls out his phone to send the text message: I’m going to stay here for the night. I’ll check in in the morning. Will explain tomorrow, he knows it’s right. By the time he drags the small armchair over to Felix’s bed and settles into it, Felix’s body has lost the fight for consciousness. Still, when Lincoln puts his hand on top of Felix’s, and the tension in his shoulders immediately lifts, Lincoln knows that this is where he’s meant to be.

Belleview Taglist:

@pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings @pirefyrelight @i-eat-worlds

@taterswhump @squishablesunbeam @inpainandsuffering @distinctlywhumpthing @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@handsinmotion @whumps-and-bumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @alexmundaythrufriday @itsawhumpsideblog

@hellodecisionparalysis

#institutionalized slavery #Med Whump #Dubcon Medical Care #References to Human Experimentation #ok SO #this was really all one big chapter #and we went a little up close on some things that maybe didn't need to be as up close #BUT who am if not an oversharer of every detail of every interaction #anywayyyy #im gonna take a stab at making some edits to river's chapter and i do apologize for that but i think it reads slightly adjacent to where-#-i wanted it to #then we'll get moving

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m-jelly · 1 year ago

Note

I had this in mind for a while now, a levi x mermaidfem!reader I have no context I just need fluff rn in my life 😭

Sorry this took a while to make, I was coming up with the plot for it and I wanted it to be different and new for you all <3

@ladycheesington <3

The Club

Pairing: Mafia Levi x Mermaid Reader

Tags and warnings: Future AU, fluff, falling in love, scars, past physical abuse, healing, blood, mentions of violence.

Concept: Levi and his gang raid a club and find many of those working there were abused by the gang that had run it. While investigating the club that was now his, he sees a tall big tank in the middle that goes up many floors, inside was you. Levi takes care of you and keeps you employed at the club. Now with a better life and hope, you get to know your new boss and you both fall in love.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn @bisexual-bucky-fan

A tooth flew through the air with blood closely following. A body slammed into the table causing it to smash and glass to cover the floor. Irritated, the creator of the pain in the broken body on the floor clicked his tongue. Smart shoes stepped on the glass around the broken man.

Pleads and begs came out of the mouth of a man with teeth missing, blood and spit flying out. With arms raised he hoped his life would be spared, but the man above him was angry. He saw no mercy in the cold steel blue eyes that looked down at him.

With a calm mind and a choice made, a gloved finger squeezed the trigger causing a bullet to rip through the man's hands and finally through his head. The room went silent as the pleas for mercy stopped. Peace filled the club.

Levi sighed as he felt his head throb. He pinched the bridge of his nose before putting his gun away and investigating the club. As his men checked the bottom floor, Levi was more interested in the grand tank in the middle. He climbed the stairs to the top floor for VIPs only and saw the top of the tank was open.

The top of the tank had a resting area on a fake beach. Around the tank was seating, as if something was to entertain them. Levi was aware that supernatural beings were used as entertainment, he was also aware that this club had a mermaid.

Levi took a seat before leaning on the edge and looking into the water. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help." He reached down and put his hand in the water. "You can drag me in if you want." He dragged his gaze over to a little cave used for hiding. He smiled softly when he saw movement. "You can bite me too."

Levi's eyes widened when you slipped out of hiding. His heart raced in his chest as you moved through the water towards him. He felt nervous and flustered all in one. You were so beautiful in his eyes, like a goddess. He held his breath when you rose out of the water and leaned on the side right in front of him.

You tilted your head and hummed. "You going to hurt me like the old boss?"

"No."

You grabbed his hand with your webbed one and started reading him. "There's a lot of goodness inside you." You sighed a moment. "So, what's your plan with me?"

He held your hand and smiled. "I would like to keep you."

You hummed a laugh. "I'd like that."

He pulled you closer. "You're really pretty."

You blushed at his words. "Thank you."

He moved your arm out of the water and inspected you. "What are these scars?"

"He would beat me, taze me, burn me and cut me."

"I'm sorry."

You sighed. "You didn't do it or make him. You don't need to be sorry."

"Do you have a home?"

You whined. "You're looking at it."

Levi reached over and grabbed you before lifting you out of the water. "This won't do. You'll have a new place. For now, you'll live with me."

You gasped and felt flustered. "Hey, I need a towel!"

Levi saw your tail slowly turn to legs. "Oh, shit." He sat you down and grabbed the guest towels and gave it to you just in time. "Sorry."

You hummed a laugh and wrapped it tightly. "Thanks."

Levi looked over your scars all over your body. "Tch, fuck. I'm glad I killed that fucker."

"Thank you for killing him. He was trash."

He scooped you up and smiled. "Let's get you to my place to relax."

"Thank you again. What do I call you?"

"Levi, you?"

You smiled and said your name. "Nice to meet you."

You danced in your tank for those watching. You laughed as joy filled your heart. You were actually enjoying your job now and Levi was being so sweet and kind to you. You spent as much time as possible with Levi and it was wonderful that you lived with him. You were supposed to have your own place, but two months on and you were still with Levi.

You smiled when you saw the VIP light come on, which meant Levi wanted to see you. Levi wouldn't let anyone go into the VIP room anymore, it was just for you and him. You felt something for Levi, so whenever he wanted to see you, you swam to him fast.

You shot up to the top and smiled brightly. "Levi!"

Levi leaned on the side and smiled back at you. "How are you?"

"Better now you're here."

Levi blushed. "Tch, flirt."

You leaned up and smirked. "That's right." You sighed as your lips almost touched Levi's. "I like you."

"I like you too."

You tilted your head. "No, I really like you."

He gulped hard. "Me too. Can I kiss you?"

You purred. "Please do."

Levi crashed his lips against yours and moaned against your lips. He tangled his fingers in your wet hair and pulled you against his body. He didn't care that your wet breasts soaked his shirt. Levi just wanted you as his own. He bit your bottom and tugged a little.

Levi pulled back and sighed. "Fuck, I've been dying to do that for so long."

You moaned a little. "Me too. I want to pull you into my tank and show you so loving, but there are people here." You giggled at Levi's blush. "We can have fun at home, right?"

"Of course. I'll spoil you at home."

"You spoil me too much there."

He hummed in thought. "No, not enough."

You lifted up and sat on the edge of the pool with the end of your tail in the water. "Can we keep kissing, or will you go into boss mode and make me work?"

Levi dragged you close. "We'll kiss all day."

"Good."

Levi ran his hand over your scales. "So smooth. I love how it looks and feels."

Your fin ears wiggled in delight. "I'm so glad!"

He leaned over and nipped the top of your fin ear making you squeak in delight. "Fuck, I could eat you up."

"Le-Levi."

He nuzzled his nose against yours. "I don't want to scare you, but I have a confession, it's more than like."

You mewled. "Mate and love?"

"Yes."

You gave him a pleading cute look. "Promise?"

"Promise." He pressed his lips against yours. "Sweet mate and love."

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missr3n3 · 3 months ago

Text

Augusnippets Day 16

humiliation/dehumanization/conditioning

fandom: cabin tales (rotten roots AU) TW: home invasion, beatings, kidnapping, dehumanization, threats of torture, unreliable narrator word count: 560

@augusnippets

Everything happened so fast. One second, Peter was having breakfast mostly alone – save for several attempts to shoo Mittens away from his cereal.

Then, his front door opened, Mittens hissing at the intruders before Peter saw or heard them.

All hell broke loose.

Mittens, luckily, was off like a bullet – Peter could only hope he found a safe hiding spot. Peter bolted out of his chair, heading towards the kitchen – specifically, his knife block. He barely reached the doorway when he was tackled to the ground.

He should've listened to his father, should've gotten into sports. His frail limbs did nothing to defend himself from two pairs of fists and feet slamming into his body – hitting him, kicking him once he hit the ground, beating him.

By the time Peter was dragged into a van he only briefly caught a glimpse of, his whole body ached, burned, an eye was swollen shut, blood filled his mouth from a tooth knocked loose and dripped from a broken nose.

Within seconds of a heavy car door slamming shut behind Peter's bruised, limp body, his wrists were tied tight, and a rough sack was pulled over his head. Someone – a male, if the large size of his hands were anything to go by, pinned his bound hands above him. Someone much smaller sat on his torso. Cold air and ripping fabric told him all he needed to know.

“Look at it, squirming like a little maggot!” a feminine voice jeered above Peter, likely belonging to the captor who cut his shirt off.

“It's about the right color for a maggot after we kicked its teeth in, too,” added a masculine voice behind Peter. “And just as disgusting. You goddamn monster.”

“Save it for when we get to the manor,” a new voice chided – slightly further, probably the driver. It was feminine, but much lower, older than the person sitting on Peter. “You can let it all out during the initiation.”

“There's no rules against just talking,” the younger captor argued.

“Of course!” the male captor concurred. “Especially since there's so much planning to do! We’ve gotta make this one last longer than the previous initiation after all. Given what this shit-stain did.”

“Very true. We've got so many options, too.”

“Do tell.”

“I was thinking… maybe we start by cutting its fingers off.” Peter thought his heart would be merciful enough to stop at the younger captor’s words. “Oh! And then we can gouge its eyes out, since it doesn't deserve to see our newest member after what he did to her!”

What I did to…? What are they talking about!?

“I think the old man added a drill down there,” the male voice continued. “We could use that on its ears so it can't hear her.”

“I don't know… I think forcing it to hear its screams would be far more entertaining.” The younger captor sighed. “Maybe we save that for later, when it starts dying.”

Dying…?

One thought emerged in Peter's mind, a sliver of light he held to like a lifeline within the dark situation he found himself in.

At least they didn't have Sarah. Her sudden, unannounced work trip had become a blessing in disguise. Surely, she'd raise hell once she realized Peter was gone. Anyone would do so for their loved one.

#cabin tales #cabin tales fanfic #augusnippets day 16 #ct rotten roots #peter cabin tales #peter ct #officer wong #steve cabin tales #isabelle cabin tales #r3n3 writings #this is basically what happened b4 sarah showed up at the mansion #augusnippets

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pinkskytwst · 2 years ago

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Of Princesses and Queens

Epel/Reader (not Prefect) Riddle/Reader (not Prefect)(End Pairing)

Reader gender is not specified but the term 'princess' is used the same way Riddle and Vil are called 'Queens'. It's not meant to be a term tied to their gender.

Warning: ANGST, near death experience with ice.

(I shamelessly stole Jack's death scene from Rise of the Guardians)

===================

It was inevitable that you and Epel would be friends.

You were literally the only two people under the age of forty in your entire village and for the sake of both your sanities, you clung to each other like lifelines.

Growing up in the country in a community centered around the prosperous but ultimately uninteresting apple orchard meant that the two of you had to create your own entertainment. Learning to climb trees together was one of your first clear memories – along with the subsequent fall that left you with a broken leg and Epel with a sprained shoulder from where he had tried to grab you.

The moment you healed up you were both at it again until playing tag among the branches was your go-to game.

With your mom’s and Epel’s grandfather’s help you were able to create what you both decided was the best tree house to ever exist. It had winding steps, a second story, a ‘look out’ post that was accessible by a hanging bridge, a trap door with a climbing rope, a swing big enough for two, enough pillows and blankets to create a nest more than big enough for the both of you, and best of all a sign that read in large letters ‘no old people aloud’.

Princes would be jealous of your treehouse.

Your dad nearly laughed himself sick when he saw the sign and Epel’s nana just sighed and insisted that you at least add a protective railing around the ledges.

Epel tried to argue that you weren’t babies but no one said ‘no’ to his nana and your mom was nice enough to help add what was needed for the woman’s approval.

The both of you practically lived in that treehouse.

When you weren’t in lessons or helping around the orchard, the two of you were having grand adventures high off the ground in imaginary worlds you created.

“Nah, pirates are lame.” You rolled your eyes as Epel gasped in utter offense. “We should be knights! They’re super cool and tha’ book I got from pop has all these neat facts about fighting dragons and saving princesses!”

“But we don’t have any dragons to fight!” Epel insisted in a huff, crossing his arms over his chest, wooden pirate sword clutched in his smaller fist.

“Well, we could go fight Silas’s turkey!” you argued back stubbornly, using your taller status to try and bully your friend into playing your game instead.

You had been playing pirates for weeks, you wanted to play something else! Besides, that turkey was a bloodthirsty monster!

“But pirates are cool!” Epel shot back, just as determined, his pout and scrunched up nose the same expression that your dad always cooed over whenever he saw it.

You inwardly scoffed, Epel wasn’t that cute.

Just a little.

“Oh, fine.” You huffed, throwing your hands into the air. “Then let’s at least go look for treasure.”

Instantly Epel lit up, nearly sparkling with his wide, beaming smile and gapped tooth.

Maybe a little more than a little.

“Yeah! Come on!” he said, snagging your hand and pulling you towards the trap door.

When the sun had finally set and his grandpa came out to call you in, you were both curled up in your nest and surrounded by your ‘loot’ of strangely shaped apples, a dried snakeskin, pile of acorns sorted into ones with and without ‘hats’, a stick in the shape of a corkscrew, and a particularly sparkly rock that you thought looked cool.

Epel grumbled as you trudged after the old man that was basically your grandpa, the smaller boy limp on your back and face smooshed into your hair.

Being country kids, you and Epel were no strangers to injuries. Scrapes and bruises were common, and you had lost two teeth after a particularly stupid stunt involving a prank gone wrong with a neighbor's stubborn mule. Thankfully one was still a baby tooth and was replaced naturally anyway, but the other had to be magically regrown and you STILL remembered the lecture your pop had given you about that.

The point was, that the both of you had a very skewed view regarding safety and were far too used to situations that would have caused city parents to grasp their pearls and balk.

That was why, during a normal winter day when you were thirteen and Epel had just turned fourteen, neither of you hesitated when you went out to your favorite hill to sled and caught sight of the creek frozen over.

Well, it was called ‘the creek’ but it was actually a small river that wound around the edges of the northern part of the forest, past his family’s orchard. It was a decently calm one and ice skating was normal when it froze over, so you both jumped on the idea.

Typically, an adult would check to make sure the ice was thick enough, but you weren’t babies anymore and Epel loved to ice skate. He was way too impatient to wait long enough for you to text your dad to come and check for you.

It was getting harder and harder to deny him anything, and so when he begged to be pushed around on the ice with the sleds you agreed.

Everything was fine at first, walking on the ice wasn’t exactly easy so you didn’t get very far from the edge as you tried to push him. As you re-adjusted to the skill, though, you were able to push him farther.

Epel was laughing and climbing off his sled to switch places with you when he slipped.

The sled glided away from him and he hit the ice hard.

A crack of ice spiderwebbed out from under where your friend was on his hands and knees and your laugh died in your throat.

The world stilled to a terrifying silence as your gazes met, his filled with sudden panic and yours with something so sharp and grasping you couldn’t begin to name it.

“It’s okay…” you whispered, somehow afraid if you spoke too loudly everything would fall apart.

Epel swallowed thickly, tears beading at the corner of his eyes as he tried to control his breathing, tried not to move as each tiny shift drew more snaps and tiny breaks to shoot across the ice.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

The words were tumbling out of your lips desperately like a mantra, not sure if you were trying to calm Epel, yourself, or beg whatever deity was watching to not let your friend fall.

“I’m going to save you. I’m the hero this time, remember? Heroes save the princesses. You’re pretty like a princess, so it’ll be fine. You’re safe.”

You honestly weren’t even sure what you were saying at this point as you tried desperately to figure out a way to get to the lavender haired boy without putting more weight on the ice and causing it to break.

“I’m not a princess.” Epel managed weakly, voice warbling unevenly.

“Sure, you are. You’re a princess and I’m the manly hero.” You said firmly, spying a fallen branch that looked just long enough. “And manly heroes always save the princesses, right? That’s how the stories always go. Princesses never get hurt.”

You darted over and snatched up the branch before hurrying back to the ice and carefully stepping out as close as you could. You needed to be able to reach him.

The ice began to creak ominously under your boots, but it didn’t crack so you continued to slide yourself over until you could hold out the branch close enough for Epel to reach it.

Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Hold onto it, ya got it? See, see it’s going to be okay.”

Epel wrapped his mitten covered fingers around the branch and clung to its rough surface desperately as he eased up on his knees.

“Come on, I’ll pull you. It’s okay. I’ll save you-“

You felt it more than heard it. A shutter through the ice below your boots.

You swung as hard as you could manage, putting all your weight against slinging Epel to the riverbank.

You felt the world drop out from beneath you, felt the freezing water engulf you to your very bones, stealing your breath.

You thought you heard your name being screamed but then you were being dragged down and only knew darkness.

It was sheer luck that one of your neighbors had been out hunting and heard Epel’s screams.

It was sheer luck she was able to use her weak water magic to drag you from the depths of the river and onto the snow-covered shore while also holding back the small boy from simply leaping in after you. It was luck that you hadn’t been under more than a minute or two.

It was luck that she was able to get you breathing again.

Your stay at the hospital lasted only a couple of days but Epel refused to leave your side for weeks.

He clung to you, large blue eyes swimming with guilt and tears he refused to let fall.

All he could think of was the determination and terror that had washed over your face when you yanked him towards the safety of the snow.

Of that instant of relief, he had seen in your eyes even as the ice gave way beneath you.

You were the bravest person he knew and neither of you had ever shied away from adventure or danger. He had walked proudly at your side knowing that you were best friends, and you could trust him to have your back. You never looked at him any different for being shorter or ‘cute’ as some of the other residents cooed. You never doubted that he could handle himself just as well as you could. He never doubted he could protect you if you needed it.

You were both wrong.

If he had been better, if he had been more like you – fearless and determined and strong – you wouldn’t have had to save him.

He wouldn’t have had to watch your still body with too-blue lips be dragged from the ice.

Wouldn’t have felt his world disappear beneath him with the earth-shattering terror that had sent him to his knees.

Wouldn’t have realized what it felt like for his heart to shatter while it still beat in his chest and know that the only possible way it would heal was if your own started beating again as well.

Wouldn’t have suffered the agonizing moments that dragged on like an eternity that clawed at his lungs and prevented him from breathing until you gave a sputtering gasp and clung to him as you coughed up lungful’s of water and mucus.

He wouldn’t have realized how weak and useless he was.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He whispered one night while you were both bundled up in your bed, fireplace crackling and more blankets than normal layered over you.

You couldn’t handle the cold as well as you used to.

He made sure never to go anywhere – no matter the weather – without a thick sweater tied around his waist or tucked in a bag. Just in case.

You gave a small snort and pinched his cheek.

“What are you talking about, of course a hero saves the-“

“I’M NOT A PRINCESS!” he snapped, voice hissed and full of disgust.

His chest heaved, arms trembling, but his eyes were dry.

He had sworn on the day in the hospital – when your first words were asking about his safety – that he was never going to cry again.

He would never make you worry about him again.

“I’m not a princess, ya got that!? I don’t need you protecting me! I don’t need you saving me! I’m not weak! Call me that again and I’ll punch ya!”

You blinked up at your best friend and could only manage a small nod.

“Okay.” you agreed with a whisper.

Epel glared at you like he was expecting you to say more, argue, or something, but when he saw that you didn’t plan on it, he relaxed somewhat. The tension easing from his shoulders as he flopped down and tugged the blankets over your heads again. He created a cocoon to trap in the warmth and fight off the small shivers he could feel starting to work down your spine again.

He tugged you against him so that your head was tucked under his chin, despite you still being taller.

“Good. I’m the hero from now on so don’t you forget it.” He snapped, burying his face into your hair, and tightening his hold around you, determined to fight off any chill you might get.

Determined to not let you wake up cold or alone.

“I won’t. Promise.” You whispered softly against his neck, arms wrapping around his waist and holding him back just as tightly.

You never doubted him. Even after he failed you, you never doubted him.

He was going to become a man that could live up to your trust.

The kind of man you deserved to have protecting you instead of the other way around.

He failed you once.

He’d never fail you again.

It was a relief to Epel that he had magic. Oh, he knew he had some, you both wouldn’t be able to fly brooms without a little bit of magic at least. But to have enough to be accepted into Night Raven College was something he had silently worried over.

If he wasn’t powerful enough to go with you – because, of course, you would be amazing enough to be accepted – how could he get strong enough to protect you?

Your matching letters on thick, ebony parchment and written in silver ink appeared at your houses on the same morning.

Epel hadn’t even bothered to put on shoes as he raced out the back door and sprinted across the fields and the orchards to the treehouse. He scampered up the rope, through the trap door and hurled himself inside but he was the first one there.

Nearly vibrating he scrambled up to the lookout and paced around the small balcony until he saw your figure sprinting through the knee length grass. He let out a whoop of excitement as he could see something dark in your hand and began wave his arms around wildly to show off his own.

He could hear your delighted laughter and wasted no time darting back down to the main ‘base’ room. By the time you had pulled yourself up the rope he was helping to yank you up through the trap door and causing the both of you to go tumbling into the nest together.

“Wediditwediditwedidit!” you babbled, throwing your arms around him.

“Night Raven here we come! Whoooo!” Epel crowed, kicking his feet in the air as he felt you laughing into his shoulder. “We’re gonna be the most powerful mages Twisted Wonderland has ever seen!”

When you had both tired yourself from the flood of excitement and adrenaline, you were both sprawled out on the blankets with your still messy bedhead resting on his stomach as you both stared up at the ceiling of your sanctuary. You knew every board and knot of wood, had watched it darken with age but not weaken over the years. Had worked together to repair the shingles that had been blown off by a particularly bad storm.

He began running his fingers through your hair, easing the tangles out absently as a warm sort of quiet settled around you both.

“…Pel?” your voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“’Course not! I’m not afraid of anything!” he replied habitually.

There was a small pause.

“I am.” You whispered, so soft he almost missed it completely.

He blinked widely, propping himself up on his hands and looking down at you as you flushed darkly and looked away.

Epel opened his mouth to insist there was nothing for you to be worried over but something about the look in your eyes made him hesitate. He watched you for a moment before laying back down again and returning to untangling your hair.

“Why are ya nervous?” he finally asked.

You didn’t answer at first, shifting better so it was easier for him to continue running his fingers through your hair.

“…What if I’m not good enough?”

Epel didn’t understand. The thought was ludicrous to him and the mere idea that you would actually believe something like that just didn’t compute in his mind.

You were amazing. You were…you were…you. He didn’t have words to explain how wrong it was for those words to leave your lips.

“I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to say you aren’t.” he all but growled, his hackles raising at the mere thought of someone saying something like that to you.

You gave a small laugh, and it warmed his chest knowing you weren’t doubting him in the slightest.

“Try not to get us expelled on the first day.” You teased.

“Oi! You say that like I’d get caught!”

“You always get us caught! What about when we tried to hide in Carroway’s truck to-“

“Hey! We agreed not to talk about that again!”

Your laughter sounded better than the pensive tone from before, so he didn’t protest too much. He did tug on a piece of your hair though, playfully.

“Seriously, if someone messes with you just tell me and I’ll take care of it.” He said.

You tilted your head faintly to smile up at him.

“I know you will.”

Because you trusted him.

And he wasn’t going to let you down.

When you were placed into Heartslabyul while Epel was sent to Pomefiore you were disappointed.

When Epel stormed over to you the next morning at the breakfast table you were saving a seat for him at, you could only stare.

You friend was…he looked…

“I’m joining your house.” He snarled as he dropped down beside you, painted lips pulled back and narrowed eyes lined in indigo.

You blinked, unable to form words for a moment before clearing your throat and managing a weak sort of smile.

“I-I don’t know if that’s a good-“

“I am not staying there! I can't!” he ranted, slamming his fists – nails painted the same shade as his eyeshadow – on the table.

“Our Housewarden is really strict and I don’t think you can just-“

“Epel! What did I tell you about running!” a smooth, cultured voice said sharply, making you turn to look up at one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen.

“I’m not staying in Pomefiore!” Epel spat back stubbornly, spine straight as he glared daggers at the tall blonde looming over the two of you.

The blonde heaved a sigh like he was suffering the start of a migraine, lightly rubbing at his temple before his gaze flickered down to you.

You in your vibrant – garish - Heartslabyul uniform and the crooked heart you had painted on the corner of your mouth with uncertain hands. His expression shifted minutely and the tilt of his lips with the rise of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow spoke volumes of just what he thought of you.

Or rather how little he thought of you.

As in not at all.

You swallowed and quickly stood, offering what you hoped was a polite smile and bow of your head.

“Hello, I’m-“

“I do not care.”

Your words died as his attention returned to Epel and he wrote you off completely, forgetting your very existence as unnecessary and unsightly.

“I certainly won’t be allowing you to leave for a house with such low standards.” He replied coolly. “Now come, you’re better off making friends with your fellow-“

But Epel snarled and was suddenly in front of you, glaring up at who you could only assume was his Housewarden.

“Don't talk about them like that.” He growled, hands clenched, and you could smell the flowery shampoo from his soft curls.

His eyes sparked and even though you could see over his head – he never did quite catch up to your height – you were absolutely certain he was ready to throw himself at the guy.

The blonde eyed him carefully and must have seen something in his expression or determination because he simply gave another tired sigh.

“Oh, very well, I will allow you to remain friends but you won’t get out of the skin care routine and if you’re going to be seen around this…potato then you should at least bring them with you. Perhaps I can make something of them so they won’t be a complete embarrassment to your reputation and our dorm.” He said, waving his hand slightly before spinning on his heels and sauntering off.

You could only blink, too stunned to really respond, and watched your best friend turn to face you.

“We’re going to the headmaster and I don’t care what I have to do but I’m not staying there.”

Epel was staying in Pomefiore.

The headmaster said that he had to have at least two weeks where the mirror had placed him before he was given the chance to go through the time consuming process of switching dorms.

Every time you were able to see each other he complained non-stop about his Housewarden and his overbearing nagging while you shared your laments about the red headed tyrant that ran yours.

“Maybe we can move to Scarabia…” you muttered with a weak smile during one of the evenings you were allowed to spend with Epel in his dorm room – with the caveat that you went through his skin care routine and makeup practice along with him. “Their Housewarden seems nice.”

Epel readily nodded, reaching out for the liner he had chosen specifically for you, to match the color of the heart you painted on the corner of your mouth every day.

“And they have cool uniforms, I’ll look way more manly in those than these.” He glared, reaching out to your face.

You had been close since you could learn to walk and touch was nothing new to you, but somehow, suddenly, sitting there with your -maybe too pretty – friend holding your chin felt different. The way his large eyes focused on you, leaned in a little closer than normal and began sketching out the shape of the heart on your skin and over your lips. The way his thumb brushed over them absently to fix a mistake. The way he smirked proudly when he was done and looked up to you to throw in your face how much better he was at this than you-

You both froze.

It wasn’t that you thought your friend was any more beautiful with the makeup than he had always been, or that the luxurious uniform accentuated it more than the work clothes when you would both swing around branches to harvest apples.

It was that shadow that had been there since the ice broke beneath your feet was pushed back. His chin held a little higher. His gaze fiery and more determined than you had ever seen him except for that night where he refused to be a Princess.

A bit of the confidence that you had always loved about Epel was starting to bloom again, despite his rantings about his annoying Housewarden. Vil Schoenheit had the highest standards for his students and especially the one that he was grooming as his protégé. Self-assuredness was a requirement and he certainly wasn’t about to let Epel have a weakness so easily exploited.

It stole your breath away and suddenly you had a very strong suspicion about why your heart fluttered every time he touched you now.

“I-I should go.” You stammered, scrambling to your feet and snagging your backpack from where you had dropped it by his bed. “Housewarden Rosehearts will be calling curfew soon and I don’t want to be collared.”

You fled before Epel could answer.

Epel did not end up leaving Pomefiore.

You didn’t end up leaving Heartslabyul.

Or rather, you weren’t allowed.

Vil had firmly declared Epel as his successor for Housewarden and with everything that happened in Heartslabyul…well you didn’t exactly get a chance to try. And then, you really didn’t want to anymore.

After the strange magicless student and their monster ‘saved’ your Housewarden somehow, it was like your dorm changed overnight. The rules remained but they were more flexible, your fellow students more quick to laugh, and the overall atmosphere lighter.

You liked your dorm mates and Housewarden now.

You enjoyed the movie nights in the lounge and the tea parties in the afternoon. You liked taking care of the hedgehogs and flamingos. You liked doing homework with your dormmates and helping Trey-senpai bake and doing makeup tutorials with Cater-senpai. Spending an afternoon painting the roses with the other first years and trying to keep Ace and Deuce from wreaking havoc in the gardens.

It was so different than your life back home but it wasn’t bad.

The etiquette was strange at first but it was also kind of fun, like rules to a game, and you really looked up to Riddle-senpai after he had apologized to you and the rest of the dorm. He was so confident and always knew what to do and what to say. He didn’t let anyone speak down to him because of what he looked like.

He reminded you of Epel, but lately you had been doing your best not to think about your best friend and so focusing on being the best Heartslabyul student you could be was easier.

You had even started experimenting with adding a little more makeup to your ‘look’ the way Cater-senpai suggested.

Not a whole lot but he made sure to point out that your eyes were ‘way viral’ – whatever that meant – so he showed you how to use liners and eyeshadow along with the heart that you had perfected on the corner of your lips.

You even worked up the courage to ask Vil-senpai for his suggestion on colors and he had sat you down for more than an hour and walked you through color matching and seasonal shades while Rook-senpai waxed poetic in the background.

He was strict and straight to the point about what he suggested you work on, but it wasn’t the cruelness that you had felt from Riddle-senpai before and so it was easy to brush off any hurt that might have come from it. Epel had always been blunt too so you were hardly a stranger to such words. You knew how to listen to what was behind them.

You knew he never meant to hurt your feelings and you were beginning to think that Vil-senpai was the same way. Or maybe, at least, that he didn’t always mean the acerbic insults he could come up with at a moment’s notice.

You could ignore it.

What wasn't easy to brush off was the look Epel shot you when he found you in his Housewarden’s room. Chin in his hand and eyeshadow being carefully applied.

“Epel! Look, we-“ you started excitedly when you noticed the lavender haired boy in the doorway.

You were having a particularly good day so far, had done well in class, gotten a head pat from Trey-senpai, and Vil-senpai had given you some good tips that you wanted to share with your friend. You thought, maybe, you could work up the courage to do HIS makeup this time. And maybe if you asked Rook-senpai he could give you help on how to tell Epel how you felt about him.

It was a terrifying thought but also electrifying.

How would it feel to hold his hand, not just as a friend? How would it feel to kiss him? Would he blush like he did when he was flustered, or would he smile at you? Would he let you wear his extra jersey to the Magift games? Would he let you take him on a date to Mostro Lounge?

“Would you just STOP, Vil!?” your friend cut you off, glaring daggers at the taller blonde and grabbing your wrist to pull you away from the vanity you had been sitting at. “No one likes your stupid makeup! They look ridiculous!”

You froze, the warm bubble in your chest disappearing as if it was never there.

“Epel, lower your voice and watch your manners.” The blonde glared, looking actually, honestly angry for the first time as his violet eyes flickered to you and then back to your best friend.

“No! You don’t get to force what you want on them! They don’t need your girly makeup or the stupid outfits!”

You liked the outfits that Vil had made him.

“Epel stop.”

“Monsieur pomme sauvage, perhaps you should-“

“Not everyone’s like you Vil.” He spat, derision dripping from his lips. “And you’re not going to drag them into all this useless shit you keep pushing on me! I’m not going to let you turn them into some kind of pathetic princess for one of your stupid shows! They’re not weak like that! I’M not weak like that! So FUCK OFF!”

Epel spun to face you, to drag you out of the room away from his now eerily silent Housewarden.

He froze when saw your expression.

You don’t know what he saw but you suspected it had something to do with the hollow feeling in your chest.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

You saw something in his eyes that you were too hurt to understand at the moment.

You silently pulled your wrist from his hold and without a word, left the room. Left the dorm.

He didn’t come after you.

You had known Epel as long as you could remember.

You knew he hadn’t meant what he said.

You knew he didn’t think you were weak or silly or ridiculous.

But things had started to change while you were at NRC. You had started to change, grow and experience things you never had before. Cultures and habits so different from your small country home. A home you still loved, still wanted to return to, but one that you could now see wasn’t the whole world as you had once thought it to be.

You didn’t like everything here. You didn’t like how certain foods were restricted to certain days in Heartslabyul – that did seem silly to you – and you could agree that Vil-senpai was a little too strict on what he expected of his housemates’ presentation to be at all hours of the day.

But there was so much that you did like.

You liked being creative with makeup and trying clothes that had certainly never been available in the stores near your town. You liked learning dances and practicing with the other first years and Riddle-senpai. He was stern but kind, now, and never degraded you for not knowing the different waltzes and ballroom dancing that were so common in his Queendom. You liked how pretty things could be with lace tablecloths and polished tea sets.

It was new and interesting and lovely.

But Epel hated it.

Epel hated all of it and while he had regained a lot of his stubborn determination that he once held, he didn’t see what you saw. He didn’t want to be anything like Pomefiore or Heartslabyul. He wanted to be in Savanaclaw where he could prove how strong he was.

You didn’t think he needed to prove anything.

But he still hated it.

You realized there had never been a chance to see him where he hadn't complained about something he didn’t like about Pomefiore or his Housewarden.

Complained about his love of makeup.

Complained that he was vapid and shallow, only caring about looks.

Complained that Vil was hardly a man at all with how he dressed.

So many things that he hated.

So many things that you were starting to like.

But then…did that mean he wouldn’t like you anymore?

If you admitted to liking the makeup and enjoying tea parties where you laughed with friends over pastries…

Would he hate you too?

“Sometimes,” Cater-senpai had said as he patted your head. “People change. Sometimes that change brings people together…sometimes it pushes them apart.” He glanced over to where Trey-senpai was helping their housewarden with the hedgehog pens. “There’s not much you can do about that but stay true to yourself.”

“But I…I don’t know who I am without Epel.”

“Then maybe you should find out.”

Epel didn’t text you.

For a week neither of you called or texted or interacted with each other at all.

It was…it hurt.

You hated it.

The other Heartslabyul boys didn’t miss your dispirited mood and did their best to spend time with you. Ace, Deuce, Jaq, Kai, Hachi, and Sei dragged you into every ‘first years only’ get together they had. Trey always seemed to need an extra pair of hands in the kitchen whenever he saw you. Cater would insist that you were the only one that could help him with his Magicam videos.

And Riddle-senpai decided that you needed extra tutoring and so would spend evenings going over homework with you – sometimes with the other first years or Trey and sometimes just the two of you.

It left you with little chance to miss Epel except when you were alone in bed, shivering as you couldn’t quite warm up despite the heavy velvet blankets.

But…you started to have fun again.

It was nice having friends, so many friends that were there to tease and support you. To urge you into what you liked and to try new things but also didn’t hold back from playfully insisting that you were the ‘Heartslabyul Princess’ now.

The one time Riddle-senpai heard that he blushed such a dark shade of crimson that you were afraid he would pass out.

You wished you could share it with Epel. You wished he could see all the great things you saw.

“Then you should show him.”

You glanced up to see Riddle watching you from across the table, expression serious and thoughtful.

“Tell him how you feel and what makes you happy. If he does not accept that…then he is not good enough for you.”

Those words didn’t make sense at all to you. Epel was the best. He was amazing in so many ways, he was…he was Epel.

If anything, you weren’t good enough for him.

“If he cannot see you as you are and respect that, love you for it, then he is a fool.”

“Ah, there you are little potato.”

You looked up from where you had been wandering down the halls in the direction of the library. Vil and Rook stood before you, perfect as always. You thought you saw a flash of something in the Housewarden’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly to understand.

“Vil-senpai, Rook-senpai, it’s nice to see you. Did you need my help with something?” you asked, uncertain why they would approach you when you hadn’t been around their little ‘apple’ for weeks.

“Nothing of consequence.” Vil assured as he pulled a liner from his pocket.

It was the exact shade of crimson that he had decided was best for your complexion before Epel had interrupted you.

You blinked as he held it out and then placed it in your hand.

“I simply noticed that your lines are not as smooth. Your old one must have started to dry out so you this one instead and be sure to put the cap back on securely after each use.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the gorgeous upper-classman and stammered what you hoped was a ‘thank you’. It must have at least been passable since the Housewarden’s glossy lips pulled into a bemused smile before he moved to continue on past you.

“W-wait!” you said suddenly, not really sure why you were doing this.

You could just text.

You could call.

But you were terrified.

Vil paused to glance back at you, an elegant eyebrow arched in question.

“Vil-senpai, is….I-I mean…” you swallowed thickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “H-how is…”

When it was obvious you couldn’t manage to finish what you were trying to say, he simply gave a soft huff of a sigh.

“Seeing as how you are not nearly as troublesome as your fellow dormmates, I suppose I will allow you to continue to visit Pomefiore. So long as you act accordingly, of course.”

Your heart leaped in year chest and Rook flashed a cheeky smile your way.

“Oui, we have quite missed your lovely visits, petit coeur.” He winked. “Our talented magift team will be practicing this afternoon but I’m sure a treat of the apple pie you baked last time would be greatly enjoyed.”

A bright smile bloomed on your face and you quickly nodded.

“Y-yes! Yes, I’ll be there!” you said quickly before spinning on your heels and darting back the way you came.

You had some baking to do after all and not very long to make it perfect.

Maybe you could talk to Epel and figure this all out.

It would be okay.

Epel didn’t know if he hated Vil more…or himself.

He tried so many times. Opened your text thread so often and typed out so many different apologies he had stopped keeping count.

And each time he had frozen.

Each time his thumb had hovered over the ‘send’ but been unable to gather the courage to press it.

The expression on your face would flash through his memory and he would desperately erase whatever he had been trying to say, knowing none of it would be good enough.

Growing up together you had squabbled before, of course. It was what kids did.

With it just being the two of you, though, there had been no other choice but to make up if you didn’t want to be friendless for the rest of your lives.

And none of the fights had been like…this.

Nothing he had ever said or did had caused you to look…had hurt you so deeply.

Like he had grabbed one of Rook’s hunting knives and stabbed it into your chest with his own two hands.

What could he say, what could he do to make up for that?

He didn’t even really get it.

He didn’t understand why you were warming up to Vil or Rook. He didn’t get why you were so willing to eat lunch with the other Heartslabyul boys when he was right there. Why you let Cater paint you up and then plaster your picture all over his Magicam page with tags like #Heastlabyulprincess or #twocuteiestoocute for everyone to see. Why you didn’t mind when your Housewarden would stand so close to you while fixing your uniform.

Why did he have to fight everyone else off just to enjoy some time alone with you now?

You were his best friend!

He was your best friend!

Wasn't he?

Why did you care about these other guys now over him?

Couldn’t you see how much he loved you? How much he wanted to be the perfect guy for you? Wanted to make you proud to be with him and hang on his arm. Wanted you to know that he would protect you like you had protected him?

Did you not think he could?

Did you not think he was good enough?

Had watching Vil paint him and dress him up like a doll make you think that he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe? That he would leave you to go with Vil into some celebrity fantasy that his annoying Housewarden kept blabbering on about? As if he could possibly be happy with all this frilly shit instead of a small cottage with you near the orchard that he would inherit, and you would both care for together?

Clearly, he had to prove to you that you were what he wanted. That no matter what stupid house he had been put into or the stifling rules that the tyrant was strangling you with, he would be the same. He wouldn’t let it change who he was. He would always be the boy you had grown up with and held against nightmares and picked leaves out of your hair when you would both jump into piles of them during the fall.

He would be the anchor for you in this ridiculous school that obviously didn’t see how amazing you were just as you always had been.

He would prove it to you.

He just needed to make himself better first. He needed to learn what he could from the strong students at NRC and prove to them all that he wasn’t the delicate little flower that Vil was trying to turn him into.

He tried talking with Rook first, of course, since he was the most easily accessible – and really the guy was rather terrifying despite that ridiculous haircut and personality – but he could only understand about a third of the weirdness he spouted off so Epel gave up on that avenue quickly.

Leona was the second person he tried attaching himself to. The prince was everything he wished he could be. Tall, strong, fearsome. No one would dare try to say he was weak and even if they did they would regret it.

Unfortunately, the Savanaclaw Housewarden wasn’t the mentoring type and even though he was the magift captain all of his ‘training’ and help revolved around the game and that was it. He barely gave Epel the time of day outside of the field. He even tried bugging Ruggie for hints of what the lion might suggest but the hyena just rolled his eyes and brushed him off like all the rest.

It was only when he stubbornly attached himself to Jack’s side and refused to let go of the wolf’s track jersey until he agreed to give him pointers, that he was able to make progress.

“I don’t get what you’re trying to do.” The therianthrope admitted as he ran his hand through his hair exasperated. “I’m not trying to be ‘manly’ or whatever. I’m just being me. If you’re trying to get stronger, though, I guess working out more and doing weights might help.” He shrugged. “I jog with Vil-senpai in the mornings. You’re welcome to joi-“

“No!” Epel snapped angrily, not wanting to have to spend even more time around the older teen than he already did.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Fine, whatever, I weight lift every other day and there’s a gym in Savanaclaw. If you want to join me it shouldn’t be a problem as long as you don’t keep trying to pick fights with my housemates. Leona-senpai is getting annoyed at all the noise.”

Epel beamed up at his new friend, nearly bouncing on his toes.

“Great! I’ll be there!”

You might not be talking with him at the moment but just wait, he’ll be super manly when you did and he’ll sweep you off your feet!

“So who is it that you’re trying to impress? Not that I care or anything.” Jack said after one of their now regular workouts together, running a towel over his face.

Epel sputtered, face flaming as he quickly hid it in his own towel with the excuse of wiping off the sweat that had gathered.

“N-no one! Why would you think I’m trying to impress anyone!? I just want to get stronger!” he said, though the unusual pitch of his voice gave his lie away easily even if Jack couldn’t practically smell it on him already.

The wolf raised an eyebrow down at the shorter boy and Epel stubbornly looked away, draping the towel around his neck and busying himself with fixing the short ponytail he had pulled his hair into.

“Sure.” The wolf snorted under his breath. “Then who are you not trying to impress? Your Housewarden? That Heartslabyul friend of yours?”

“Why would I want to impress Vil!?” he hissed instantly, ruffling at the very idea.

It only made him look like an angry little kitten.

“So it’s the little heart princess?”

“Princess!? Don’t call them that!” he snapped back. “They’re not like Vil, okay! They’re strong and brave! They wouldn’t be a princess.”

Jack just wrinkled his nose at him.

“What are you talking about? Vil isn’t weak and what in the Seven’s kind of fairytales have you been reading?” he asked dryly. “More than half of our school’s founders were fierce Queens that no one could stand up against.”

He gave a derisive snort.

“That’s different, Jack. Besides, it’s not going to matter because I’m going to get stronger and then join Savanaclaw with you. Then I won’t have to worry about Vil or whatever stupid play or modeling practice he comes up with.”

“I thought you said the Headmage said you couldn’t change houses.” The wolf asked as they exited the Savanaclaw mirror and started towards Pomefiore.

He usually followed him to at least give a hello to Vil before he started on his afternoon run.

“Yeah, well I’ll change his mind.” Epel said firmly, tilting his chin up stubbornly as they stepped through the mirror and started up the perfectly manicured walk to the elegant castle.

“Right, well, when you join Savanaclaw you’d better be ready for initiation. They’re not going to go easy on someone with a face like yours.” He warned.

“Oh yeah, well they’ll just find out what I can do!” Epel grinned viciously, already imagining himself in the leather and yellow uniform.

How cool he would look and how he could impress you by taking down all the therianthrope and taller humans that wanted to bully him for his face. The same ones that he knew would try to tease you for the Heartslabyul tea parties and makeup. He’d show them how cool you were too and then you could come with him! You’d look great in leather!

He just had to figure out the best way to words things so that you’d know how sorry he was for not being able to make Vil leave you alone.

Epel’s day dreams were cut off, though, when he started towards the grand staircase up to the dorm room floors and heard your voice call out to him. He froze, not having expected to see you so suddenly and definitely not at his dorm around the other Pomefiore students.

He looked over to see you coming from one of the side parlours. Your smile was small and unsure but warm as always. Clearly awkward but at least not with that hollow look in your eyes anymore.

“Hi, Pel.” You said, your gaze flicking over to Jack for a moment before back to him. “I…uh, Vil-senpai said you would be out of practice but then Stefan said you had gone to Savanaclaw to meet a friend. I’m not…interrupting, right?”

“N-no, not at all! This is Jack, Jack meet my best friend.” He said quickly, telling him your name before focusing on you again. “I just wasn’t expecting you. It’s…nice to see you.” He admitted, something in his chest settling as he hadn’t seen you in so long and it felt like a breath of fresh air having you beside him again.

Warmth flooded your eyes and he watched the little heart on the corner of your mouth dimple that made him wonder why people thought he was cute when you were right there.

Still, he saw the clear signs that his Housewarden had gotten his hands on you. Your eyes were lined even more elaborately than usual with a mix of crimson and gold. Your heart was shimmery as if an extra layer had been added to your normal design. Your hair was even up in a style that he had seen Cater post on his Magicam.

Epel had watched the video of the older teen’s hands brush through and fix your hair while narrating what exactly he was doing and what kinds of hair types the style would go with until he had it memorized. The only reason he hadn’t watched it on mute was every now and then you’d make a comment or laugh at one of Cater’s jokes and he had missed the sound of your laugh so much it physically hurt.

He remembered how Cater’s fingers had lingered along your neck or tucked accessories into place so gently and he couldn’t help but scrunch his nose.

“Come on, you can come up to my room and get all that mess off you.”

He saw Jack wince out of the corner of his eye and quickly make an exit, but he was focused on you. He reached for your hand but you wouldn’t let him pull you up the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing into the parlour where he could see his Housewarden and Rook chatting quietly around an overly decorated table with tea and what he thought was apple pie.

He was surprised that Vil actually allowed such an unhealthy food in his dorm.

“Epel…I wanted to talk with you.” You finally said, pulling his gaze back, though your smile was a little more uncertain before.

“Sure, come on, you can spend the night. Nan sent me some of our normal soap so you wash off that flowery shit.” He said, hoping to entice you to stay with him.

It’d be like back home. He could hold you close and keep you warm like a real boyfriend would.

He could ask you to let him be your boyfriend.

He didn’t understand why your smile kept fading.

“Epel…I know you don’t like Pomefiore. I know you don’t agree with what Vil-senpai is trying to teach-“

“Force.” He interceded.

“…force you to do. I talked with him. He said maybe we can try different things. You don’t have to do everything exactly like him. We can find our own styles together and-“

“I have a style!” he pointed out, feeling a bit defensive now.

Why had you been talking with Vil and not him?

Why did you seem to want to be around everyone else except him?

“I know you do, Epel, and I like you the way you are. That doesn’t mean we can’t try things though, right? It’s like the lemon crisps Trey-senpai made. Riddle-senpai said it’s best to try it so you can find out what you like and don’t like. I didn’t like it but I’m glad I tried it at least. I tried the treacletarts even though I didn’t think they looked good and I ended up really liking them. Maybe if you tried different things you could find some things you do like. Things that we can do together and-“

“Is Vil forcing you into this? Hm?” he finally snapped, gripping onto your hand tighter. “You shouldn’t listen to him, you know. He wants to turn you into one of his little dolls. He wants to use you as an accessory and then throw you away. You don’t need any of that stuff! You don’t need to stay in Heartslabyul. We can go to Savanaclaw together and-“

“But I like it!”

He blinked.

“What?”

Your fingers trembled in his.

“I like learning about makeup, Epel.” You said softly, eyes hurt and unsure but also not backing down. “I like baking with Trey-senpai and trying different hairstyles. I like seeing the different kinds of clothes that Vil-senpai designs even if I don’t want to wear them all. I like dancing and reading and tea parties. I like magift and flying. I like climbing trees. I like playing croquet with the flamingos and hedgehogs. I like it and I don’t want to stop or leave.”

Epel’s chest was tightening, and he didn’t understand why you were saying this.

“But you look better without it.” He said desperately, trying to make you understand.

Wishing you would see what he saw. How people were changing you.

He just wanted his best friend back.

He wanted things how they used to be.

“Then why are you trying to change?” you finally ask in a small voice. “You keep saying how you’re going to get ‘stronger’ and ‘manlier’. What if I like you the way you are too?”

Epel’s nose wrinkled again in disgust.

“Stop teasing me. Don’t you think I know what others say about me? How even people from our town still call me ‘cute’ when I’m already sixteen!? I’m not a kid! I’m not some pretty princess that’s going to dress up and smile for a camera! I’m not going to let them talk about me like-“

“THEN STOP CARING ABOUT WHAT OTHERS THINK!” your voice broke, wobbling as Epel just didn’t understand.

“I never thought you were weak or less ‘manly’ than anyone else!” you added, neither of you noticing that the other Pomefiore students had been quickly ushered out of the foyer by their Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden. “You're the one that thinks that! You are the one that’s trying to force me to do what you want, not Vil-senpai!”

Epel’s eyes widened as you pulled your hand away again.

He felt your fingers slipping from his grasp and his breath went with it.

You were shivering.

“I don’t want you to change into something you don’t want to be…I don’t want you to force yourself to be something you’re not.” You whispered, lip trembling. “But I’m not going to let you force me to be something you want, either.”

“I…wait, stop, it’s okay. I don’t mind you liking that stuff! Really!” he said desperately, grabbing at your shoulders to prevent you from leaving. “I think you’re cute with or without makeup! It’s fine! And if you want to stay at Heartslabyul that’s okay too! You-…you could spend the night over in Savanaclaw with me sometimes! And you can try all the stuff you want before we go home! I don’t mind! Really! We can tell nana and your pop and I bet they’ll all laugh about it! It’ll be great and it’s okay if you’re a princess, right? You’d make a much better princess than me anyway and-“

“So…it’s okay to be a princess?”

“Yes! Yes definitely!” Epel said, trying to figure out what the right thing to say was.

What he needed to say to make you stay.

To not lose his best friend.

“But it’s only okay if I’m the princess.” Your tone was…he wasn’t sure.

Something was wrong and he could tell but he didn’t know why he was suddenly so terrified. Why it felt like you were already out of his reach.

“I-…”

“Because you don’t want to be a princess because they’re weak. They’re silly and shallow. It’s okay if I’m one though. It’s okay if I’m silly and shallow and weak.”

“That’s not…that’s not what I meant.” He swallowed thickly, realizing that maybe…maybe he should have listened more to Rook and watched how he said things…

“I know what you meant.”

No. No you didn’t understand. You didn’t understand how much he needed you to be with him. How he just wanted you back. How he wished neither of you had come to NRC at all.

You could have stayed at his orchard for your entire lives. You could have gotten married and grown old together and maybe even had kids someday or adopted. He would have made you so happy. You would have been so much happier than the hurt and resigned state you were now.

He wouldn’t have had to feel you letting go.

“Wait…” he whispered as you took a step back and out of his grasp. “You can’t leave…please, you can’t…”

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Epel.” You said sadly. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll forget about me soon…it’s not like you seem to like who I am anymore, anyway.”

Epel couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

Just like he had been on the riverbank years ago, he could only watch as you disappeared from view.

But this time there was no one there to drag you back to him.

Because he was the one who pushed you away.

That winter break he slipped wordlessly out the back door, ducking his head away from the worried looks his grandparents sent him.

The trudge to the treehouse was unusually silent with a fresh blanket of snow heavy on the ground with only the crunch of it under his boots breaking it.

He climbed up the rope and pushed open the trapdoor, hearing it creak in protest after being unused for so long.

He would need to oil the hinges.

Things were exactly as they had been left. The blankets still rumpled in the corner, a couple of books you had been reading stacked on the small end table, the sparkly rock that you had found while treasure hunting still decorating the shelf above the window.

But you weren’t there.

After the argument you had had, the other Heartslabyul boys had apparently named him enemy of the state and done everything they could to keep him from being able to talk to you. To apologize. To do something to make you see just how sorry he was and how much he missed you.

He even tried talking to Rook about how to get you to understand how much he needed you.

The hunter just gave him a sad, almost disappointed look.

“Aa, but that is the thing, pomme sauvage.” He said gently, patting his shoulder. “Have you asked them what they need?”

He hadn’t been able to answer.

He put in the request to move to Savanaclaw again, and this time Vil did not refuse it.

He was glad about that. It made it easier. And Savanaclaw was great! Really! He loved how free it was and hanging out with the others and he could focus on training for magift and working out with Jack. The uniform was way more comfortable and so cool!

It didn’t seem to matter anymore when he watched the Heartslabyul Housewarden slide off his uniform jacket to drape around your shoulders.

He suddenly didn’t care that no one forced him to fix his hair in the mornings before class when he watched the red head escort you with all the chivalry of a knight.

It was all pointless as he watched you smile and laugh, bringing a softness to your Housewarden’s face that only you seemed to be able to cause. Listen to you chatter about random things the way you used to with him, only for it to be directed at Riddle now instead.

Watched as he treated you so kindly but with so much respect, like an actual princess.

Watched as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

You had gotten permission from your parents to stay with some of the other Heartslabyul boys over the break.

He only learned about this because they had told his grandparents.

Epel crawled over to the blankets and didn’t even bother shaking them out before wrapping them around himself and trying to block out the world.

You should have just let him fall through the ice.

It would have been less painful.

==================

Whelp I did not mean for this to become so long and rambly but it just kept going and getting angstier. (Blame Ciel, they supported the angst brainrot) This really was supposed to be a cute fluffy Childhoodfriend! AU but turned into kind of a character analysis-ish on Epel's views on masculinity and such. I don't hate Epel but he's a dumb teenage boy with a complex and he doesn't always know how to see past his own views. Hopefully he'll grow!

Tell me what you think <3

#pinkskytwst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst vil #twst rook #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #twst epel #epel felmier #epel x reader #twst riddle #riddle/reader #epel/reader #riddle rosehearts

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purplebass · 1 year ago

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What are your kell/lila headcanons?

Oh anon, I have a lot! and with my tendency to turn things into fan fic, they might become one shots in the future 😉

Lila knows Kell used to collect stuff, and even if he barely talks about it, she knows he misses having some unique pieces that he nicked somewhere. Something that only belongs to him, basically. So, every time they dock somewhere new, Lila tries to find weird trinkets that he may like so he can add them to his new collection (at the moment every thing she gave him is stashed somewhere in her cabin. She sometimes finds him looking through the things and smiling at her like an idiot hehe)

Kell knows that Lila is sensitive to the cold and he likes to be her natural radiator because she claims his body his warmer (the truth is that she just wants to cuddle lol). When it's cold outside and they are on the ship, they stay in her cabin and she sits between his legs so he can wrap his arms around her to warm her up. The position is too comfortable that Lila dozes off without even realizing it

Lila likes to steal (uhm borrow) Kell's vests because they are fancy. He pretends not to notice and lets her keep some, but he also steals some back just to annoy her

One time Lila lost a bet with Kell and she let him be captain for a day, which meant he was allowed to tell her what she had to do. It wasn't bad, really, and she was amused that he could handle it well

Kell knows Lila has a sweet tooth and he tries to find nice things for her to eat whenever they are on land. She has box full of candies in her quarters, and she shares them with him (but not all the time lol)

There are nights when Kell tosses and turns in bed while he's asleep. Lila is afraid he might be having a nightmare, and she passes her hand through his hair to try to comfort him. Sometimes he wakes up crying while she's hugging him, but he can't remember what he was dreaming about. But it doesn't matter because seeing her face is enough to make him feel safe

There is also one time when Lila got a bad cold while on the ship. Kell's magic was broken but he still wanted to heal her, but she refused. So he looked after her as a loving partner would do and made her hot tea and brought her broth until she felt okay

Kells finds it entertaining brushing Lila's hair, because he thinks she has beautiful hair (which makes her blush). She loves when his hands touch her hair. When he lifts heavy things on the ship or off the ship, she exchanges the favor by giving him a long shoulder massage

#adsom #kellila #lila bard #kell maresh #the fragile threads of power #kell x lila #delilah bard #tftop #ve schwab #kellila babies #shades of magic #yes this is a tag I invented #posta

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ariathenovice3 · 8 months ago

Text

FNAF headcannons!

William-

Born in 1942 in England, as the second of 6 children in his family.

Had a twin sister who died shortly after birth

Lost 2 brothers and almost died to a illness outbreak in 1950, Les to a lifelong fear of death.

Got sent to a boarding school for troubled youth as a young teen by his parents due to some very concerning behaviors, it had no effect but teaching him to get away with things.

Left to the United States in 1962 at the age of 20 to attend university (and escape a reputation he had built).

Attended university for engineering, he met Henry who was attending for business, and Joanne, who was attending for medicine.

Joanne is the first Mrs.Afton, she and William started dating in 1963, started living together in 1967, and got married in 1969.

Williams first job was a repairing broken machines in factories.

He and Henry started Fredbears family diner in 1973, he worked there part time at first and quit his full time job to focus on the diner when it started succeeding.

William was an entertainer, repairman, maintenance worker, and security guard at Fredbears family diner, he designed half the employee uniforms.

The springbonnie and fredbear suits were originally cloth suits made by Henry’s wife, they were replaced by spring lock suits that William designed in 1976.

Joanne died in the birth of Evan in 1977

William rushed into his second marriage, with a woman named Claire, in early 1978, just half a year after Joanne’s death.

Williams first murder was in 1979, of a teenager who had wondered into the restaurant after hours, when he worked alone as the only security guard at the time.

William survived a partial (no head, but the rest of the suit failed) springlock failure while attending a child’s birthday party in 1980.

William was responsible for another’s child’s disappearance in 1981

He gifted his children “tokens” he had taken from his victims

After Evan’s death in 1983 he lost more then half his body weight in the following months

Fredbears family diner closed down, and Henry took over all of the runnings of Freddy’s while William recovered

In early 1984, just a few weeks after Evan’s death, William killed Charlie, her murder was unsolved.

In 1984 William opened circus babies pizza world, after noticing that the puppet was acting very weird and was oddly aggressive towards him.

He took Elizabeth there for her 12th birthday, he told her not to wander off without him but she didn’t listen, she wandered off while he was distracted and got killed by circus baby.

William had Micheal help him cover up Elizabeth’s death as her “running away”.

During the trial first MCI William was found innocent but as he walked out he was attacked by Cassidy’s father, making him loose a tooth.

William and Claire divorced in 1986, William made Micheal lie in court so Claire didn’t get custody, Claire died shortly after the divorce in mysterious circumstances.

There was a second MCI in 1987, of 6 kids, with 1 barely surviving. This girl identified her attacker as a man matching Williams description, when the police went to get William he was gone.

William traveled along the country and took new names each time, during this year and a half period he took another 8 victims (including 2 police officers after he was almost caught once).

In 1988 William took the name Dave and started working the night shift at a local mall, this is also where he had his last wife, a woman named Sarah Miller. They had a daughter named Katherine Miller (oc) in 1990.

William returned to Utah with his new family and took a job as the dayshift guard at the new Freddy’s in 1993, around the time of sister location.

A few months before Fnaf 1 he tried to disassemble the animatronics and accidentally released the spirits of the children. In a panic he hid in the old springbonnie suit and was springlocked. The company walled up the room, trapping him there.

William possesses Vanessa in security breach, while under his control she has no control of her actions, and while not under his control he’s like the voice in the back of her head.

The remainders of his consciousness die with Vanessa at the end of security breach.

Micheal-

Born in 1970 as his parents first child

Wanted nothing more then his fathers affection, and so tried to act out to get it as being the good kid didn’t get him any attention.

Liked to play with fire as a little kid

Was always the least favorite, a disappointment, he looked so much like William but acted nothing like him.

Got curly hair, tan skin, and freckles from his mother, got everything else from his father.

Artist

Hated Evan for being responsible for his mother’s death, or at least that’s how a 7 year old Micheal saw the new baby his mother had died having.

His doodles inspired the designs for foxy and chica.

Became a social outcast after 1983, his father hated him, his sister feared him. Only his stepmother cared enough about him to make sure he was ok and even get him therapy.

Never forgave himself for lying in court during his parents divorce.

Was made to lie to police and be an alibi for William due to fear.

Was 17 when his father vanished, was adopted by Henry.

Started working jobs under his mother’s maiden name (Schmidt) since no one in Hurricane would hire an Afton.

Had a girlfriend he met at a college party he was snuck into, her name was Rachel. She helped him through a lot of issues caused by his father, mostly panic attacks and flashbacks.

They had 2 daughters, Kate (oc) in 1991 and Vanessa in 1993

Sister location happened when Vanessa was 3 months old, she never remembered her father.

Rachel took the girls and she and Henry left for Washington after Micheal was scooped, mostly due to the fear of something impersonating Micheal.

Micheal started trying to find his father because he was confused and scared and angry, and he wanted answers.

After Fnaf 1 he started traveling to places his father might be around the country, this is what happened over the next 22 years until 2015, when he got a add for Fazbear frights and went to see if his father was there.

Recognized his father as springtrap almost immediately, tried to burn the building down to kill him and failed.

In 2018 Henry moved back to Utah and opened a new Freddy’s, Micheal became a manager.

Henry, knowing the manager was Micheal, left a note for Micheal on his desk, it had the address and phone numbers of his ex girlfriend and daughters.

Micheal visited them, Rachel and Vanessa were happy to see him again, but Kate wanted nothing to do with her father and wanted him to have nothing to do with her children.

Micheal died in the Fnaf 6 fire, I don’t personally see him as glamrock Freddy because this man deserves to rest.

Vanessa-

Was obsessed with finding out more about her father and his family, especially after only getting to see him once in her life that she could remember.

She became obsessed with researching, and when an opportunity to join the production of a game that involved her family in some way popped up, she gladly took it.

She was possessed by glitchtrap (William) in 2021, during the final months of the games production, this is when she started killing her therapists and making kids go missing.

She died in security breach in 2026.

#fnaf #william afton #micheal afton #vanessa afton #headcannons #fnaf headcanons #long post #fnaf hcs

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years ago

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how about some general sherlock taking care of john fics? (am scrolling through your list of ready to post lists for stuff that catches my eye)

Hi Lovely!

AHHHH I'm so glad you picked something from my list because it makes my weekends so much easier, hahah. I absolutely am happy to share this next part with you!! Enjoy!!

JOHN WHUMP / SHERLOCK TAKES CARE OF JOHN Pt 4