#I shall inflict my hope upon you

[sansaorgana]

— DAMAGED GOODS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Rabban/Harkonnen!OC

SUMMARY — The servants have been telling Baron Harkonnen many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his twin sister is close. Very close. Too close. The Baron only chuckles at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha is a warrior he wants him to be and his sister remains out of his sight.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader is a Rabban/Harkonnen. I've described some of her looks – her skin is pale but not because she is *white* but because they're all pale (due to the pollution and lack of normal sunlight I guess). She has hair but it's white. I didn't describe the structure of her hair or anything and the colour is caused by the lack of pigment. Her facial features are not described in any way. Oh, and she has black teeth, too... 😁 It will be explained in the fic. I tried to make it an x Reader fic but, yeah, quite a lot about her looks is described. On the other hand, I hope it's understandable since she's Feyd's twin. I am very happy that I received this request because I've been itching to write something like that for a long time. 🤍

WARNINGS — INCEST, SMUT, non/dub-con, breeding

WORD COUNT — 6,610

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAMAGED GOODS

Baron Harkonnen was ready to leave Lankiveil with his two nephews – small Feyd-Rautha in one of the female servants’ arms and teenage Glossu on whose shoulder The Baron was keeping his hand on. He didn’t have any heirs of his own so one day he’d name one of the boys his Na-Baron and give them his Harkonnen surname.

They nearly reached the ship when one of the female servants of Lankiveil ran up to them with a small bundle in her arms.

“My Lord,” she called out and The Baron turned around, irritated. The woman was terrified of him but she still had her duties. “What about the girl, my Lord?” She asked.

The Baron squinted his eyes at the child in her arms. Feyd-Rautha’s twin sister (Y/N) Rabban – he had no use for her.

“Give her to the Bene Gesserit or kill her, I do not care,” he commented as Glossu’s muscles stiffened under his uncle’s touch.

“She is my sister,” his eyes widened at those words. “Please, let her come with us.”

“You will soon realise that women on Giedi Prime hold no significance. A girl…” Baron Vladimir winced. “I do not wish to raise her. She will be a burden.”

“Then I will raise her. I will take care of her,” Glossu pleaded. “And one day you will find her a match, someone to marry to create a powerful alliance. She will be useful,” he kept convincing.

The Baron wanted to be feared even amongst his family members. But he didn’t want to be hated by his older nephew from the first day. Irritated, he sighed and waved his hand at the maid.

“Fine, I shall take her,” he sighed.

Hesitantly, the maid handed the child to Glossu Rabban as his uncle gave him a scolding look.

“You’re responsible for her now,” he reminded.

“She is my sister. Her place is with me and Feyd,” Rabban nodded.

About this one thing he was stubborn and about this one thing he would fight even his own uncle. Baron Vladimir decided it would be for the best to let the boy have it his way.

(Y/N) and Feyd were raised differently – he was raised to be a strong warrior and his uncle’s pet. Relentless in combat, obedient to his Master, an enjoyer of pain. Inflicting it on others but also the pain being inflicted upon him. Psychotic and murderous. His twin sister was kept away from such an environment by her older brother. He wanted her to become a grand lady. Of course Glossu Rabban had no idea about women’s education but he made sure that his little sister had dozens of tutors. The smarter and more courteous she was, the easier it would be to sell her in a marriage union one day. It didn’t mean she was easy to manage. Ever since she was a little girl, she would cause trouble by following her twin brother everywhere and wanting to be as mischievous as him. He was given the Harkonnen surname and the title of na-baron. She was just Countess (Y/N) Rabban. Many thought she was actually Glossu Rabban’s daughter. Despite being raised differently, her and Feyd were inseparable.

They were not identical twins – she was a splitting image of her mother while he remained a mix of both parents. He was born bald like most of The Harkonnens, she was lucky to keep her hair even though it lacked pigment and was snowy white. The only thing in common they had was their sickly pale Harkonnen skin… and their blood.

The servants had been telling The Baron many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his sister was close. Very close. Too close. The Baron would only chuckle at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha was a warrior he wanted him to be and his sister remained out of his sight and out of big trouble that would require him to intervene.

(Y/N)’s chambers were connected to Feyd’s with the tall, black doors. In fact, they resided in the chambers of The Baron and The Baroness Harkonnen. These chambers had not been used in many years before Feyd was given them by his uncle in his teenage years. It was only natural that (Y/N) followed to the room attached to his. But most mornings, the servants would not find her in her bed. She was being found in her brother’s embrace, their legs intertwined, her hands wrapped around his muscular chest. As if they were still two embryos in their mother’s womb.

She could swear, she could feel pain when he was experiencing it. And out of them two, only he enjoyed it. It brought her no pleasure to see his scars from their uncle’s punishments. She would kiss them all better, every thin line of scarred flesh upon his back would be soothed with her lips. She loved to watch him train, following him around like a puppy at first but then she grew to be a fine woman herself and she no longer gave such innocent energy. All the years of trying to be invisible for her uncle had taught her how to slither around the fortress like a snake; always observant, always on guard, always quiet and unnoticeable. 

(Y/N) focused so hard on not being a bother for her uncle that she forgot other people might notice her, too.

The Baron was staring at the veiled old woman in front of him with a contemptuous smirk. Of course he would follow the Bene Gesserit's order in the end whether he wanted it or not but he needed her to see that he was not as easy to control as most of the lesser lords.

“What are you asking of me, woman?” He asked as he looked her up and down.

The Bene Gesserit sighed. She knew perfectly well that he had heard her before.

“I want to put Countess Rabban to the test of Gom Jabbar to see if she’s fit for the marriage union that shall be arranged between her and Prince Paul Atreides,” she repeated her words.

“I am not fond of that girl but she is the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had,” The Baron shook his head. “What makes you think I would give her away to an Atreides?”

“Atreides was supposed to have a daughter who would be a match for your nephew Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. His concubine gave him a son instead but it doesn’t have to mean the match cannot be arranged. After all, Feyd-Rautha has a twin sister sharing his genetic material with him.”

“And what do I get of this union?” The Baron snorted.

“Control over your enemy; The Atreides family,” the Bene Gesserit nodded her head.

“Control over them? By sending that girl over there?” The Baron laughed at the idea. “She’s a weak woman. She won’t have control over anything.”

“Paul Atreides is a boy of a gentle nature, I have tested him already. Countess Rabban will easily push him in all the directions you will ask her to,” the woman tried to convince The Baron. He knew that if he’d argue even further she would just use The Voice.

“Alright then,” he shrugged his arms. “Put her to a test. If she dies, you’ll be the one breaking the news to her brothers. I won’t deal with their pathetic tears.”

Feyd didn’t know where his sister was. It was unusual for her not to wait in her chambers in the evening. Either way, he ordered the servants to fill the bathtub with water and then told them to leave as he sank into the warm liquid after a long day filled with combat training.

The doors opened after a while and (Y/N) entered the room. She had an odd expression on her face as if she was bothered with something and he spotted a few beads of sweat upon her forehead.

“Where were you?” Feyd squinted his eyes at her.

“The Bene Gesserit asked me to join her for a while. She did something weird to me,” she answered as she worked on her dress swiftly to take it off as quickly as possible.

“What do you mean weird?” Feyd tilted his head as he watched her undress. The folds of her skirt and bodice fell down to the floor and revealed her smooth skin and all the curves.

He had asked his older brother about their mother only once. His question had been about her looks. “What did she look like?”, young Feyd had asked. And all Glossu had answered was – “Just look at our sister”.

“She put me to a test. You’d like it,” (Y/N) smirked at him as she turned around to face him and join him in the bathtub. “It was painful,” she admitted and leaned her back on the edge, facing him. She let out a relaxed moan at the feeling of the warm water.

“She hurt you,” Feyd’s question was more of a statement as his jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) let out a laugh at his reaction. “Such a strong warrior you are and look at you, your older sister is your weakness,” she teased.

“Twenty minutes older,” Feyd scoffed as she chuckled at his annoyance. “Age does not matter, I could snap your neck in a second, dear sister. You have no idea how to defend yourself,” he pointed out angrily.

“Grumpy, grumpy, Feyd,” she giggled as she moved closer to him and sat astride him. Her hands caressed his muscular chest. “Don’t be so sure I’m that helpless… I’ve been watching you train my whole life. I’ve learnt a thing or two,” she lowered her face to whisper into his ear.

He felt his cock twitching at the feeling of her body on his; her sweet breath on his ear, her whisper sending shivers down his spine. He knew she didn’t mind. In fact, she was feeding off of his desire; teasing him mercilessly over and over. One thing Rabban had made very clear was that she could not be touched by any man before her wedding. But it did not mean that Feyd hadn’t been fantasising about it many times before.

She was an absolute perfection. She was like a reflection in the mirror. And who could be more beautiful and breathtaking than Feyd-Rautha himself? She was his missing part like he was hers. They completed each other in many ways but in other ways they were exactly the same. Their heartbeats and breaths were in sync, their desires were the same and he could not tell anymore whether he craved her because of the strong resemblance or had he been the one to spoil her. His childhood experience full of violence and cruelty turned him into a hypersexual predator who would fuck anything and anyone. He had been the first one to put the sexual context into their innocent touches and kisses. On the other hand, she had played along very quickly.

In the whole wide world, his twin sister was the only person who knew and understood him. They had no secrets with each other.

“You’re getting too excited, brother,” she pointed out with a smirk as she threw her arms around his neck. He looked up at her face looming over his. She was even more beautiful like that – on top of him, in control.

“You’re mine,” he let out a raspy whisper as she raised one of her white eyebrows at him. “You’re mine and only mine. Forever,” he breathed out.

“That’s an interesting concept, Feyd-Rautha,” she smiled, “but you do know that our brother is raising me to be another man’s lady.”

“You will be my Baroness and if our brother stands in the way of that happening, I will slay him,” Feyd threatened and his sister moved uncomfortably at his words.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she rose up to leave the bathtub already but Feyd grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down again as she hissed out of discomfort. He hated to inflict pain on her out of all the people but sometimes he just… had to.

“I do mean that,” he drawled as her eyes widened at him.

“I know,” she only said and he licked his lips at the sight of her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. He let go of her and watched her leave the bathtub and the bathroom without a word.

Feyd left the bathtub, too. He put on a simple black robe and went back to his room. His sister was laying on his bed, completely naked and playing with one of his short knives in her hands. He sighed with relief at the sight. He expected her to be offended and go to her room before locking the doors for the night.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her and approached the doors leading to the corridor. She snorted and he froze.

“You’re like a dog, dear brother. You men are so easy to control with your sexual urges and desires,” she commented and Feyd clenched his jaw as he turned his head around to look at her.

“I’m trying very hard not to violate you. Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Your own sister?” She grinned, showing off her black teeth.

As a child, she had insisted on dyeing them just like her twin brother. Glossu had refused – it would make her look less appealing for the future suitors. Even The Baron had told her it had not been the best idea. (Y/N) had not listened. She had sneaked into the medical wing and had done it herself. At twelve years old she had ruined herself for the first time for Feyd-Rautha.

That had been the only time when Glossu had actually punished her physically. Feyd still remembered because he had been waiting for her by the doors leading to his brother’s chambers. She had been screaming and kicking her feet while getting her arse spanked. After leaving the room, she had sniffled all the tears back and grinned at Feyd with her new black smile. “I’ve gotten my arse whooped,” she had told him proudly as if it was an achievement.

Some time later she had been caught wanting to shave her head off but it was Feyd this time who had stopped her – telling her how much he loved it, how it was making her look different than all the other women around. How much power that hair was giving her. It had made her hesitantly put the scissors down.

And now, Feyd did not answer her teasing accusation as he left the bedroom to go to his concubines, leaving his sister alone. He would join her later, when she would already be asleep. He’d pull her closer and she’d open her arms to welcome him. He’d fall asleep caressing the soft curves of her body and feeling her heartbeat pressed to his.

Two weeks later he trained as usual while (Y/N) sat nearby and watched. She would clap her hands excitedly each time he’d succeed and make a boo sound each time he’d lose. There was lots of mockery in her exaggerated reactions but he couldn’t imagine training without her around anymore.

At the sight of his brother entering the courtyard, Feyd lowered his blade and gave him an unpleasant look.

“What do you want? Why are you interrupting me?” He asked Glossu.

“I am not here for you,” his brother extended his hand towards their sister. “(Y/N), come with me. It is important,” he insisted and she whined. “Our uncle requires your presence.”

“Why?” Feyd barked. He did not like the idea of his uncle wanting something from his sister.

“It is none of your business, Feyd,” Glossu snapped at him and a second later he already had his brother’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Everything regarding (Y/N) is a business of mine,” Feyd hissed.

“Leave him alone,” she approached them as she ordered her twin brother. He took a step back and lowered the blade but only because it was her ordering him. She would always defend Glossu in all the arguments between the brothers. Feyd knew why – their older brother had been the closest thing to a father she had. He protected her, too. And that was the only thing Glossu and Feyd had in common. The love for their sister.

But only one of them loved her… so much.

She put her hands around Glossu’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of the courtyard. Feyd waved his hand dismissively at the servant he had been fighting with as he decided to follow them.

“Your presence was not requested,” his brother remarked.

“Don’t tease him so,” (Y/N) scolded him and he shut his mouth.

Glossu led them to the throne room where their uncle was sitting. But he was not alone. He had guests. Feyd and (Y/N) recognised them immediately from the pictures. The Atreides family – dignified and regally looking Duke Leto Atreides with his beautiful concubine Lady Jessica of The Bene Gesserit. Between them there was a young man standing – their son, Prince Paul Atreides. He was visibly trying to put on a brave face but he was scared and his eyes avoided the siblings who had just entered the room.

“Ah, here they are,” The Baron beckoned them over with his hand as he announced them. “My eldest nephew Count Glossu Rabban and his beloved younger sister, my niece, Countess (Y/N) Rabban.”

She let go of her older brother’s hand and stepped out to bow down slightly. Feyd sneered at that. He always would whenever she’d act like a lady – like their brother and uncle wanted her to. Like she had been taught to ever since she was a little girl.

“That insolent young man standing behind her is my heir and (Y/N)’s twin brother, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” The Baron gave Feyd a scolding look.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords, my Lady,” Duke Leto nodded his head at all of the siblings.

“(Y/N), child, come closer,” The Baron cooed to her unusually. He would often put on such a show in front of important guests as if he wasn’t treating her like air most of the time. But Feyd was glad that his uncle actually ignored his sister. Otherwise it would be more difficult to protect her.

She approached the guests with furrowed brows, visibly confused by this situation. Feyd’s heart already squeezed inside of his chest as he had a feeling what that was about.

“You will be married to Prince Paul Atreides,” The Baron informed her as if it was nothing.

Feyd looked at Glossu first but his brother did not look surprised at all. He had to know already and it made Feyd feel even angrier as he treated it as betrayal. He shot his uncle a furious glance and then he laid his eyes on his twin sister. To his surprise, she was smiling softly at the shy and gently looking young man.

“It is a great honour,” she bowed her head and Paul Atreides flinched a little. She noticed it. “Do not be scared of me, my Lord,” she chuckled delicately. “I am nothing like my brothers.”

Feyd gritted his teeth. Without a word – rudely and risking his uncle’s punishment – he turned around and left the room.

He saw her again in the evening. He had been training intensely for the past few hours, trying to let the frustration go. The doors leading to her bedroom were ajar and he peeked inside. (Y/N) was packing her things into black wooden chests.

“What are you doing?” Feyd asked her as his blood ran cold.

“I shall take a different room from now on. It is inappropriate for us to share one,” she muttered without even looking up at him.

“Since when do you care?” Feyd leaned on the wall and watched her carefully, trying not to show how much he was panicking on the inside.

“Since I am getting married soon,” she shrugged her arms and he snorted at her.

“You really think I’m going to allow this union, dear sister?” He asked and she turned her face around with her brows furrowed.

“You have nothing to say in that matter, brother,” she reminded him. “You are nothing but our uncle’s pet. The psychotic and fearsome Feyd-Rautha… If only they knew that you’re not scary at all,” she remarked as his jaw clenched.

“I will kill him if I must. That boy, Paul Atreides,” Feyd threatened.

“We both know you will not. It would have consequences greater than you and I can even imagine,” she smiled but he noticed the curls of her lips twitching. She was nervous.

“How can you not oppose this marriage?” Feyd let his guard down as he asked genuinely, expecting an answer just as honest.

His sister’s facial expression changed as well. She approached him and cupped his face in her delicate, soft hands.

“I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime eventually. I could only hope for a good husband and Paul Atreides is good. He is young and pretty and naive. My life as his Duchess will be easy and pleasant,” she explained softly. “I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime and I couldn’t wait for that day. I want to… No, I need to get away from here… from you,” she whispered as his eyes widened at her revelation. “You’re poisonous, Feyd-Rautha. You have spoiled me already, ruined me, stained me. And everywhere I go, our uncle’s sticky spiderweb surrounds me, suffocates me,” she finished before leaning in to place a gentle goodbye kiss upon his lips.

She wanted to move away but he grabbed her cheeks and aggressively pulled her closer once again, kissing her yet again but possessively and hungrily. She didn’t kiss him back this time.

When he finally let go of her, they were both breathing heavily but there was nothing but anger in their eyes.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Paul Atreides,” she warned her brother and he walked out of her room before slamming the doors behind him, furiously.

But Feyd did not stay away. Whenever he was not in the courtyard, training vigorously and slaying his opponents one after another with the ferocity he had not displayed before, he would follow (Y/N) and her husband-to-be around the fortress. He didn’t trust any servant to spy on them for him, no, he had to do it himself.

Paul Atreides was left alone for two weeks on Giedi Prime and after that time he would take the Countess with him to Caladan. He was scared of his betrothed’s planet as he was widening his eyes at everything as she explained to him gently. Usually Feyd was catching them in the maze of countlessly corridors as they walked together. Soft laughter of his sister occasionally filled the cold marble walls. 

He was nearly always there; creeping in the shadows, watching, observing, gritting his teeth at her every smile or blush. Paul Atreides, visibly scared of her at first, was slowly starting to get used to her presence. And one day he dared to lean in and steal a delicate kiss from her lips.

Feyd clenched his fists at the sight as he was hiding behind the pillar. His sister’s lips had never been kissed before by any man other than him. His blood boiled when he realised that not only Paul Atreides would kiss her but also claim her as his own and put his weak and pathetic heirs inside her womb.

No, that could not happen. She was made for him, she was his other half. Feyd-Rautha would not let any other man take her away from him.

He turned around and quietly went to the living quarters where he found the room that now belonged to his sister. He barked at the servant girls to leave him and they ran away, startled by his anger. Once he was alone in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he patiently waited.

After a while, he heard her footsteps down the corridor. He would recognise them everywhere. He stood behind the doors as his heart pounded in his chest from the anticipation.

She pushed the doors open and walked inside, looking around for her servant girls. Feyd was standing behind her and observing her carefully, wondering when she’d notice him.

“I know you’re here,” she sighed without looking back. “I can recognise your stench,” she drawled.

He growled at her insolent words as he swiftly moved forward and grabbed her by her hair, pulling it by the roots and making her hiss out of pain. He pulled her closer to him, rested her body on his and smirked while pressing his cheek to hers.

“You’ve never seemed to complain about my scent before, dear sister,” he pointed out.

“I meant that you stink of sweat and blood at this very moment,” she fixed herself, still wincing out of pain he was inflicting upon her. “What do you want from me?”

“I saw you with him,” he breathed out.

“I know. I see you in the shadows every time,” she sneered. “I recommend finding a different hobby.”

“You’re mine. If you think I’m going to let you leave Giedi Prime, carry his surname and bear his filthy Atreides children in your womb, then you are mistaken, sister,” Feyd whispered angrily into her ear before biting on her earlobe.

She did not answer but in her eyes he spotted fear. Real fear, not her usual playful demeanour. For the first time in her life she was truly scared of her twin brother. Perhaps for the first time she understood why others feared him.

Still holding her by her white hair, he walked her to the bed and threw her on it. She immediately tried to crawl away and run away from him but he grabbed her ankle and watched her struggle with a smirk.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to command him. And usually he would listen to her orders but not now, too blinded by jealousy.

In one swift movement he brought her closer by her ankle and tore her dress and underwear open with his small knife. She looked up at him with anger, fear and a dose of excitement that made him smirk. Her body betrayed her – she wanted it, too. 

He was rock hard already at the sight of her like that for him. She was like a prey on display for him to feast upon. Feyd licked his lips and turned her around. He took his cock out of his leather pants as she tried to stand up on her shaky hands and legs to get away. Before she’d move too far, he pulled her close once again with a laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he threatened and pressed his blade under her chin.

On her hands and knees with her beautiful white hair resting on her back – he had been dreaming of claiming her from behind this way for years now. She was trembling out of fear and anger but she couldn’t scream for help when his blade was so close to her larynx.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. “You’re my other half.”

He felt her swallowing thickly under his blade as he smirked to himself and moved the knife away. Before she could scream, he pushed her head down into her pillow, muffling any sound that would leave her mouth.

“No Atreides will fuck you. No other man will at all, for that matter,” he barked at her, his cock twitching already at the sight of her exposed womanhood. “You’re mine,” he reminded her.

She tried to protest but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. He pressed her head even deeper into the pillow and with his free hand he ran across her folds, finding her clit and pinching it as she squealed and kicked her feet.

She was so delicate and sensitive, his dear sister. He took a deep breath in as he was starting to get dizzy from the sight and smell alone. He worked his fingertips around her sweet spot and noticed her muscles relaxing as her will to fight him off started to subdue gradually. At the first feeling of her warm wetness, he gathered it and brought his fingers to his mouth. Feyd hummed at the taste.

“Do you know what you taste like?” He asked her angrily and pulled her hair again. She shook her head. “Like me,” he pointed out. “Because we belong together,” he reminded her and she whined.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her now. He pumped his hard cock a few times before lining it up with her tight hole. Feyd nearly felt bad for his sweet sister, for the pain she would experience now. But no feeling was stronger than his lust.

He entered her in one deep thrust while she yelped and writhed; even the pillow was not able to muffle the pathetic sound leaving her mouth. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her warm and tight walls spasming around his length. She was perfect, she was made for him and him only. They were finally complete again; one body, one soul.

“You will rule with me as my Baroness,” he hissed as his hips began to thrust into her. “We will bring back the old traditions, keep our bloodline pure. And you will give me heirs,” he crooned to her maliciously. “You were made to do that, sweet sister. Made for me. Me,” he kept repeating.

She drooled and sobbed into the soft silky pillow as her hands were clutching on the sheets. She was helpless under him but what she hated the most was that part of her that did not want him to stop. That part of her that felt the same way as her brother – complete at the feeling of him fucking her. Like she was finally connected to the long lost part of her body.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with each of his thrust, filling her so thoroughly, making her feel full and overwhelmed as he was hitting all the right spots inside of her. She knew that sweet and gentle Paul Atreides would never claim her this way. No one would. Only her twin brother knew how to please her. He understood her more than anybody else.

He spoiled her, he ruined her, he was poisonous. But who said she didn’t want it? Her body betrayed her as it admitted that she craved it.

What she feared were the consequences of this act. The consequences of breaking the fragile truce with The Atreides, the consequences of breaking up the engagement that had been not only prepared by The Baron himself but also plotted by the dangerous Bene Gesserit.

None of it mattered, though. None of it was important with Feyd's cock buried so deep inside of her, his hand pushing her face into the pillow and making her suffocate slightly, which only enhanced the pleasure. His free hand was squeezing her hip and marking it as he grunted and cooed to her all those blasphemous promises about their shared life together, their compatibility, their bodies being made for one another.

She came first; suddenly and without a warning. Her body spasmed and trembled as her limbs went numb. At the feeling of her tight walls fluttering around his cock, Feyd reached his peak right after but he did not pull out for a long time, emptying himself as deep inside of her as he could; straight into her womb.

His sister whined at the feeling of his thick, black cum coating her walls but now, after his release, most of his anger was gone as well, so he just caressed her head and shushed her.

“Shh, dear sister, just take it like you were made to,” he cooed and she didn’t have any strength in her body to fight it anymore.

When he eventually pulled out, he watched her pussy twitching deliciously as a small streamlet of his black cum leaked out of it and stained her grey sheets, mixing with a few droplets of blood.

“Now, when you’ve been claimed by me,” Feyd smirked to himself proudly as he hid his cock back into his pants, “no other man will want you. Not when you’re surely carrying my spawn in your womb,” he added and left the room without a word.

He refused to watch her laying there and sobbing silently, trying to collect her breath and clumsily stand up to go to the bathroom. Some part of him regretted his act and seeing his beloved sister in such a state was bringing him no pleasure. He couldn’t take this back now, though, and he didn’t want to. It just had to be done.

The room was dead silent. Old Bene Gesserit woman was staring at Countess Rabban in disbelief and the young woman held her head down with her hands clasped around her abdomen as if she was protecting her spawn from The Reverend Mother’s gaze.

Both Baron Harkonnen and Duke Atreides looked displeased but only the second one was also visibly disgusted. His son was standing by his side; shocked and scared. Saddened. Disappointed.

Glossu Rabban’s face showed nothing but disappointment and disgust as well. His anger was aimed mostly at his younger brother. He refused to believe his sister could be as rotten as Feyd-Rautha – the only person in the room who actually looked proud as he straightened himself and smirked at everyone gathered inside.

“What are you smiling about, boy?” The Reverend Mother scolded him. “Have you got any idea what you have done?”

“I’ve claimed my sister as my own. It is an old tradition of the Great Houses to practise,” he reminded her.

“Which was abandoned a long time ago for a reason!” The Bene Gesserit snapped at him. “Your sister was supposed to give birth to Paul Atreides’ son and bring Kwisatz Haderach to life!”

“I do not care about your schemes,” Feyd rolled his eyes as he moved closer to his sister.

“Stay away from her,” Glossu barked.

“Or what? She’s already carrying my child inside of her, is she not?” Feyd asked, proudly as most of the room flinched with disgust.

“She can still bear Kwisatz Haderach,” The Baron tried to desperately save the situation. “We can get rid of that spawn inside of her and still give her to Paul Atreides. Obviously, not as a wife anymore,” he assured Duke Leto. “As a whore that she apparently is.”

Feyd clenched his jaw at his words as he took a step ahead of (Y/N) and covered her body with his from the sight.

“Over my dead body any of you will touch my sister or my child,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“Inbreeding your bloodline might have morbid consequences,” The Reverend Mother informed him. “She’s carrying a demon.”

Feyd snorted at her. Was he supposed to be scared of her words? They only made him even more proud.

At those words, Baron Harkonnen squinted his eyes at the Bene Gesserit woman. He visibly liked the idea of having demonic heirs as well.

“I've changed my mind. We will not get rid of the child,” he decided. “Feyd-Rautha is my na-baron. If he chooses to marry his twin sister, then that is his right,” he said.

“That is plain disrespect!” Duke Leto raised his voice. “We have agreed to this union despite the bride being… not of the best quality. We have brought our son here, to this poisoned planet and nothing but humiliation awaited him here.”

Duke Leto pushed his son lightly in the direction of the doors as they walked out, offended. The guards looked at The Baron Harkonnen questioningly.

“Let them go,” he chuckled. “Soon, their time will come anyway.”

“Not before we secure young Paul Atreides’ bloodline!” The Reverend Mother widened her eyes at him as she ran after Duke Leto. “My Lord, please wait, I have another brides to offer that will suit your son just right…!” Her voice disappeared when the heavy doors closed behind them all.

“So, it’s settled,” Baron Harkonnen took a look at his nephews and niece as he puffed on his pipe and sighed. “You owe me for that, Feyd,” he pointed out and his young nephew bowed down. “I knew that you children would bring me nothing but trouble.”

“I am sorry!” Glossu exclaimed all of sudden as everyone looked at him, surprised. “I am sorry for failing, uncle! I was supposed to look after her, to protect her, to make sure everything goes right…”

“But everything did go right,” Baron Harkonnen laughed contemptuously. “(Y/N), darling, come here…” He reached his hand out and the young woman nodded her head before approaching her uncle, obediently. “When you were a little baby, I wanted to get rid of you,” he admitted as he held her hand. “Your brother Glossu was the one to convince me you would be useful one day. He swore to raise you.”

(Y/N) didn’t react to those words. She only stood there and looked deep into her uncle’s eyes.

“Turns out he was right,” The Baron continued, “you are very useful for The House Harkonnen. You will bear us strong heirs that shall take over the whole Empire…” He hummed and she nodded. “From now on, even before your wedding to your brother, you will be known as Countess (Y/N) Harkonnen. I adopt you,” he announced as her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, uncle,” she let go of his hand to take a step back and bow her head down.

Feyd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Glossu was staring at them as if he wanted to kill them both at that moment. Even his baby sister whom he had raised was suddenly more important in the family hierarchy than him.

“You have my blessing,” The Baron told them and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand.

Feyd walked his sister out of the throne room with his hands still on her shoulders. He was as protective as ever with her now when she was in her delicate state.

He took her back to their shared chambers to which she had returned recently. He sat her down on the edge of his bed and approached the vanity table to get a brush before sitting behind her and taking care of her long, white hair. Delicately working on every small tangle, sniffing the scent of her favourite hair oils, smiling to himself at the thought he would have her for himself forever from now on.

“Are you happy, dear sister?” He asked as he gathered her hair to throw it out of her left shoulder and place a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“We belong together,” she answered, her hands still clasped on her abdomen protectively as if that demonic spawn inside of her needed protection. “I was made for you,” she added.

She would not get away from Giedi Prime. She would not be given to any lord and run away from The Harkonnens. In fact, now she was a Harkonnen, too. Her fate was to rule alongside Feyd-Rautha as his sister-wife.

“I asked, are you happy, dear sister?” He repeated the question, squinting his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath in. She knew that he would know if she lied to him but she didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him. Therefore, she spoke the truth:

“I am.”

MASTERLIST

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

22. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽

Dorian's velvety croon filled the room as the girl's eyes fluttered open, a testament to the success of his work. With grace, Dorian ran his fingers through her hair, an almost paternal gesture with an undercurrent of possessiveness. She appeared disoriented yet curiously aware of everything surrounding her. 

In a ritualistic display, Dorian's sharp fangs pierced his own forearm, crimson droplets welling up and rolling down his arm. The scent, intoxicating and thick, traveled through the room, luring the fledgling. The girl, smart child that she was, picked up on the scent in no time. A swift realization flashed across her eyes, and she keenly picked up on the aroma.

The offered forearm hovered near her mouth, and Dorian's honeyed voice encouraged her, "Drink." The fledgling, displaying an instinctive hunger, moved to partake almost savagely, but Dorian intervened with a gentle touch. He held her jaw delicately, his fingers grazing her cold skin. "Use your fangs, doll. Show me your little fangs."

The girl, her newly formed canines revealed, elicited a proud smile from Dorian. With approval granted, she sank her fangs into his flesh. She drank with a fervor, as if trying to quench a centuries-long thirst in mere moments. The room resonated with the sound of her eager feeding.

Eventually, Dorian, the indulgent sire, halted her actions. "That is enough," he whispered, and she whimpered, a primitive plea for more escaping her lips. With a reassuring shake of his head, he spoke softly, "I know, I know, you're thirsty. You shall have more later." 

As much as she wanted. He was her sire, her creator, and her provider. He would ensure she lacked nothing. He wouldn’t leave her and, in return, she would stay by his side. He was her caretaker. ☾ Gradually (Y/n)'s reason took back control over her instincts. Her memories were hazy, as if a fog were enveloping them, but the panic and fear she had felt before still remained. She recognized the two men in the room. Recognizing the two men present, the sentiments of transformation and of an existence forced upon her hung heavy in the air.

"Killian.. Stay.." Desperation tinged her whimper as she reached out to Killian. She sought solace in the man she knew, yearning for his presence as a shield against the monster who had inflicted this vampiric fate upon her. This man had tried to protect her against the one who turned her. She felt safer with him. 

She observed the man's hesitation, her eyes filled with a profound sense of hope and despair intertwined. His gaze held a tempest of emotions, reflecting the inner conflict he, too, experienced.

Dorian, now the creator of her newfound existence, leaned in, a calming presence amidst the chaos soothing her whimpers with a gentle, almost hypnotic murmur. Safe. "Oh, he won't leave, darling." His words cut through the uncertainty with a promise. "He may have contemplated leaving, but that's in the past now. He shall stay, and he shall stay for you." ☾ She remained oblivious to the sly, dark smile Dorian gave to the other vampire — a subtle pact woven between them, one party more willing than the other.

Reluctantly, Killian approached the girl, a silent turmoil raging within him. Dorian released his hold on her, allowing her to find solace in the arms of his companion. As Killian tenderly stroked her hair, a tide of resentment surged within him. The venom in his voice was palpable as he muttered, words laden with scorn, "You are truly deplorable."

The words danced in the air for an instant, carrying with them years of resentment. The surroundings whispered tales of lives lived, choices made, and the eternal struggle between what once had been and what remained now.

Dorian smiled faintly. His eyes were wet and he leaned on his shoulder. “I know,” he whispered, his words feeling heavy in the room. “Anything for my family. My coven.”

The blond’s arms locked around Killian and he could feel the other’s tremors. "I love you so much,” he muttered, almost inaudibly, "I love the both of you so much." He repeated the statement like an endless mantra. 

Killian remained quiet, with the youngling resting on his chest and the other vampire leaning on his shoulders.

A part of him realized they could all leave. Windows were open; doors were unlocked. Walking out was easy. Just as it had always been.

"We have a daughter, Killian," he continued on. Killian suddenly felt a wetness on his shoulder. "You wouldn't leave her behind, would you? Please… She needs me, and — and I need the both of you."

He drew in a shuddering breath, the blond’s voice, his words, his touch… All of that was so suffocating. He felt caged. Not physically, no; his prison was of another kind. He would have liked to say Fate had intricately woven and meticulously pulled the threads of their lives until they were inevitably entwined. That description would have sounded poetic, or perhaps even romantic in a twisted way. Yet, even that was false, wasn’t it? Tthe truth was often less fanciful.

They were trapped.

Trapped in a tragedy of their own making.

[doodleimprovement]

As per your draw request ask, Wicked's got me in a death grip so now I shall inflict my brainrot upon you:

Elphaba and Fiyero getting up to shenanigans. Oz has not known a day of peace since those two were born into the world.

Fiyero thinks he's talking her into his shenanigans, but Elphaba has already come up with all the logistics for pulling it off. She just wants him to keep talking

I hope every day to win the ticket lottery so I can go see and have more context orz

[asa-do-your-thing]

Alone and Alive

18+ MINORS DNI Theon Greyjoy x F!Reader 4.3 k Warnings: DARK, self harm, mentions suicide, grief, smut, commitment issues mentioned, Dead dove, no proofreading this one goes out to whoever requested Theon smut, @legitalicat and @zaldritzosrose <3

Slowly dipping your screaming hand back into the stream, you savoured the sting as you saw your skin paling considerably. The snow fell thickly - it was one of the first proper ones, you noted and sighed, trying your hardest to stop yourself from thinking about him.

No, you scolded yourself, now you’ve thought of him again, just by trying not to…

You pulled your hand out of the water and placed it onto your thick woolen skirts, looking out into the distance, letting the heat of your blood rush back in. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he told you with his stupid, grey eyes looking down at you in pity as the whole of Winterfell seemed to watch you, ‘there is just no way you can come with me. This arrangement could have never worked, my Lady. I shall serve the realm at the Wall, where I belong. I wish you all the best and hope that you will find happiness with your future Lord Husband,’ he said so coldly, his eyes not even on you.

He’d never called you ‘my Lady’. He had always just called you by your name, but no, he was ‘a bastard, and bastards cannot call Ladies by their names’.

The pain in your hand was not enough. The cold wasn’t enough.

You had come out here in just your dress, your simplest one - was this penance? or a sort of pain you wished to inflict upon yourself? - without a cloak or gloves. Shivering, you glanced around, trying to ascertain if anyone could see you, but you were well hidden between some dense pine trees.

Slowly slipping out of your dress, you took some measured deep breaths, took off your boots and stockings and stepped into the small river. You couldn’t stop the yelp escaping from your throat as you sat down, but the cold immediately soothed you. Stopped you from thinking of him. Well no, not truly - but it didn’t hurt anymore.

The pebbles hurt. The water hurt. But thinking of Jon Snow didn’t hurt anymore.

You behaved like a child back then, in the courtyard. You should’ve given him a token. Something for him to remember you by. But all you did was freeze like a stupid little girl and pushed him. Jon didn’t expect it but stepped back, still staring at the wall behind you with no emotion, after which you ran away in disgrace, tears streaming down your face as you wept disgustingly, like a slaughtered sow, for all to see.

You leaned back, slowly lowering yourself into the frigid stream. The shock of the cold water against your bare skin made you gasp, but you forced yourself to remain still. Your long, dark hair fanned out around you, floating on the surface like tendrils of night. The water lapped at your ears, muffling the sounds of the forest. At first, every nerve in your body screamed in protest. But as the minutes passed, a strange warmth began to spread through your limbs. Your breathing slowed, and your eyelids grew heavy. The gentle current tugged at your hair, and you imagined it was Jon's fingers, running through the dark strands as he used to do.

The falling snow melted as it touched the water, creating tiny ripples that danced across your vision. You watched them, mesmerized, as a creeping lethargy settled over you. Your thoughts began to blur, memories of Jon's smile and the sound of his laugh mixing with the gurgle of the stream.

The urge to close your eyes grew stronger with each passing moment. You told yourself you'd rest for just a minute, then get up and return to the castle. But the water cradled you like a mother's arms, and the cold no longer bothered you. In fact, you felt warmer than you had in days.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, and you sighed contentedly. The world faded away, leaving only the sensation of floating. You barely noticed the sound of approaching footsteps as your body sank deeper into the water, rising up the side of your cheeks and slowly crept over your forehead.

Freedom. Warmth. Love. Hands.

Hands?

A pair of smooth, long-fingered hands were touching your face. Warmth. Why were they warm? You frowned and tried turning your head away from them. You wanted to sleep, why was someone disturbing you? You were so tired…

Your eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead. The world swam before you, a blur of white and grey. Slowly, shapes began to form - the dark silhouettes of pine trees, the glittering surface of the stream, and a face hovering above you, eyes wide with shock and fear.

Theon Greyjoy.

His usually smirking face was pale with concern, his lips moving rapidly as he spoke words you couldn't quite hear. The ringing in your ears slowly subsided, and his voice came into focus.

"...mad? You could have died! Fucking hells, what were you thinking?"

You blinked, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The cold hit you then, a bone-deep chill that set your teeth chattering. Theon's arms were around you, his body heat a stark contrast to the icy stream. He was dragging you out, his boots slipping on the smooth stones of the riverbed.

With a grunt of effort, he pulled you onto the snowy bank. The shock of the frigid air against your wet skin jolted you further into consciousness. You gasped, your lungs burning as they filled with the crisp winter air. Theon quickly shed his fur-lined cloak, wrapping it around your shivering form.

"T-Theon?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes met yours, a mixture of relief, curiousity and anger swirling in them. “Yes, who else could I be? Fuck, have you lost your senses? Why would you do this? Don’t tell me this is because of the bastard,” he said with a sneer, but you know that was meant for Jon, not for you.

The shame of hearing this - Theon was right, you truly were a pathetic creature to do something like this because of Jon Snow - made you start crying again, yet this time no sound came out. Small, hot tears ran down your freezing cheeks, your toes burning in the cold snow as you slowly inched towards Theon.

Warmth. Theon was warm. He radiated warmth.

“I’m s-sorr-sorry,” you stammered out and looked up at him, trying to see if he was angry with you or if he would mock you. You wouldn’t be able to deal with this, not here, not now. “It… It hurts. I’m… I should… sorry that you… had to see th-this…”

Theon's expression softened, the anger melting away as he looked at your tear-stained face. He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Hells," he muttered, then pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "You're freezing. We need to get you back to the castle before you catch your death."

You nodded weakly, your teeth still chattering. Theon glanced around, spotting your discarded dress and boots. "Can you stand?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You tried to rise, but your legs were numb and unresponsive. Theon cursed under his breath, then scooped you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped through the cloak, and you instinctively pressed closer. The embroidered squid stared back at oyu with taunting eyes.

"Hold on," he murmured, then began trudging through the snow towards your abandoned clothes. He bent awkwardly, managing to snatch them up without dropping you. "We'll have to sneak you in through the godswood," he said, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air. "Can't have the whole castle seeing you like this."

As Theon carried you through the woods, you found yourself studying his face. You'd known him for years, but you'd never really looked at him before. His sharp features were softened by the falling snow, and there was a determined set to his jaw that you'd never noticed.

Features that weren’t Jon’s. A small sob shook through you and you sniffled. “I’m p-pathetic. Theon, I’m so pa… pathetic.”

It was clear that Theon was highly uncomfortable with this situation as he glanced down at you and cursed as he stumbled over a root. As Winterfell’s keep came closer, the lights cast shadows on his sharp features, making his earring glint softly.

“The bastard’s pathetic, not you. He… He shouldn’t have done this in front of everyone,” he muttered quietly and then put up an anxious grin.

"At least his cock’ll freeze off at the Wall, eh?”, he japed, obviously trying to lift your mood in any way he could.

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. Theon's crude humor, usually so grating, was oddly comforting in its familiarity. You let out a weak chuckle, which quickly turned into a cough as the cold air irritated your throat.

"There's a hint of a smile," Theon said, his voice a mixture of relief and triumph. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how."

As you approached the castle, Theon's steps became more cautious. He ducked behind outbuildings and slipped through shadows, avoiding the night guards with practiced ease. You realized, with a start, that this wasn't the first time he'd snuck someone into the castle after hours.

The godswood loomed behind you, ancient and imposing. The heart tree's face seemed to watch your departure, its red leaves rustling in the night breeze. Theon paused for a moment, as if steeling himself, before entering the exiting grove. The snow fell more softly here, caught by the canopy of leaves overhead.

You expected Theon to turn towards the guest wing, where your chambers were located. Instead, he headed in the opposite direction, towards the guest quarters where he resided. Curiosity overrode your exhaustion, but you found you didn't have the energy to protest.

Theon managed to open his chamber door while still holding you, kicking it shut behind him. The room was warm, a fire already crackling in the hearth. The sudden heat made you shiver even more.

“Th-theon, I… you saved m-my… l-life…,” you stuttered out as he laid you on his messy bed, trying your hardest to calm your spasming muscles.

He halted and looked at the ground, before slowly, wordlessly, pulling back from you. He went towards his wardrobe and pulled a long shirt out, handing it to you, not quite knowing what to say. “Take your shift off and then lie under the furs,” he said, and took his boots off, his eyes fixed on you.

You’d forgotten all about your propriety in the moment and gently wiggled out of the cold, drenched shift, your pale skin immediately raising itself into goosebumps. Theon’s eyes widened at the sight of your chest and only then, slowly, turned his head away. His shirt was warm and very big, but it covered you nonetheless. Bunching up your shift, you slowly tried standing up, shakily handing him your undergarment.

“Y-you don’t happen t-to have smallclothes?” you asked shyly. They were wet and cold too and you knew you had to get them off as soon as you could.

Theon's cheeks flushed slightly, but he nodded, turning back to his wardrobe. He rummaged for a moment before producing a pair of linen smallclothes. "They might be a bit big," he said, handing them to you without meeting your eyes.

You took them gratefully, your fingers brushing against his. "Thank you," you murmured, clutching the garment to your chest. "Could you... turn around?"

Theon nodded, spinning on his heel to face the wall. You quickly shed your wet smallclothes, replacing them with Theon's dry ones. They were indeed too large, but they were warm and soft against your skin.

"You can look now," you said softly, climbing under the furs on Theon's bed. The warmth enveloped you, and you felt your muscles begin to relax.

Theon turned, his eyes searching your face. "Are you... alright?" he asked, uncertainty clear in his voice. It was strange to see him like this, stripped of his usual cocky demeanor.

You nodded, pulling the furs up to your chin. "I think so. Thanks to you."

Theon ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you'd never seen him make before. "What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice low. "If I hadn't found you..."

"I wasn't thinking," you admitted, shame coloring your cheeks. "I just... I… needed to distract myself. From the pain. From him.” Another wave of tears threatened to spill and you bit your lip and looked away, ashamed of the way you were acting. Ashamed of how you felt. Ashamed of how you acted.

“Shh, fuck him,” Theon tried to say soothingly and sat down next to you, awkwardly patting your cold, wet head. “No need to think of that droopy idiot. He was right, you are too good for him.”

Somehow, shamefully, this made you cry again. Your body moved against its own will as you turned towards him and hugged his thigh, crying into it.

Theon froze for a moment, clearly unsure how to respond to your sudden display of vulnerability. Then, hesitantly, he placed a hand on your back, rubbing small circles as you sobbed into his leg. "Hey now," he said softly, his usual bravado absent from his voice. "It's alright. You're safe now."

Your tears gradually subsided, leaving you feeling drained and empty. You loosened your grip on Theon's thigh, embarrassment creeping in as you realized how you must look - a highborn lady, clinging to him like a child. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I don't know what came over me."

Theon's hand stilled on your back, but he didn't remove it. "You don't need to apologize," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "We all have our moments of weakness."

You looked up at him, surprised by his words. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something - understanding, perhaps, or shared pain.

"Even you?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not really," he said, his pained expression suddenly changing to something akin to fake cockiness, yet his eyes were just as sorrowful as yours. Theon's hand tightened around you as he pulled you closer, giving you a small smirk. “Enough sadness now, hm? Jon’s gone and you, Lady Icicle, need warmth.”

You wanted to push him away until it hit you that what coldness was to you, warmth was for him. And, in your sad, weepy state, you decided to indulge him. What harm could it do? This way no one froze and it didn’t hurt. No, that was a lie - it hurt so badly, to be held by him. To know that Jon could’ve held you thusly. To know that Theon probably didn’t care for you, but needed you to quell his own pain. You gave him a sad little smile and snuggled closer to him. “I think that’s a splendid idea. Thank you…”

Theon's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer to his warmth. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, steady and reassuring. For a moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything - Jon, your impending marriage, the expectations of your family. Here, in Theon's arms, you were just a girl seeking comfort.

"You know," Theon murmured, his breath tickling your ear, "I always thought Snow was a fool. But I never realized just how big of an idiot he truly was until now."

You tilted your head to look at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "What do you mean?"

Theon's eyes met yours, and there was an intensity in them that made your breath catch. "To have you here with him and to give it all up? For the Night's Watch?" He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Only a complete lackwit would make that choice."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a mix of pain and something else - something warmer - flooding through you. "Theon, I-"

But before you could finish your thought, Theon's lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, so unlike the brash Greyjoy you thought you knew. Then, as you responded, it deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

You found yourself clinging to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him down on top of you, your kisses becoming faster and messier, your freezing thighs wrapping around his hips. You were mad - this was madness. But you knew this was what dulled the pain, at least Theon’s, whatever pain he carried with him. And just as he saved you, you wished to save him, to grant him respite between your thighs.

Nothing mattered - any thoughts of marriage, your maidenhead or whatever else would have come into your life after Jon’s departure had disappeared into the icy stream in the Godswood.

“Take what you need,” you whispered and looked up at him and saw the pain flashing over his features. He nodded gently and gently pulled off your clothes he had only just given you before he took his own off. Leaning gently back down over your cold form, he shook his head and kissed your neck, his hand brushing down your body. It was as if he wanted to say something - to thank you, to curse you, or whatever the Gods knew went through his head - but decided not to say it anyways.

You gasped at the warmth of his fingers between your thighs, gingerly opening you up to him. Biting your lip, you watched quietly as he brought them up again to wet them, before he spread his spit over your cunny. A small moan escaped your lips as you closed your lips, savouring his touch, his scent, his warmth.

Theon's touch was gentle but insistent, his fingers exploring your most intimate places with a tenderness you hadn't expected. You arched into his hand, seeking more contact, more warmth, more of anything to drive away the lingering chill in your bones and the ache in your heart.

His lips found yours again, swallowing your soft moans as he worked you towards pleasure. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to this moment, to this feeling. For now, there was no Jon, no Wall, no expectations - just you and Theon and the heat building between you.

When he finally entered you, the initial pain was a welcome distraction from your emotional turmoil. Theon paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in short pants. "Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice thinner and shakier than you’d expected it to be.

You nodded, unable to form words. You rolled your hips experimentally, drawing a groan from Theon. He began to move then, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. “Theon, I… Oh gods, please…,” you moaned and clung to him like a shipwrecked sailor would to a cliff. “You… this… yes…”

Theon's pace quickened, his hips driving into yours with increasing fervor. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your shared gasps and moans. The fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the intensity in his eyes.

As you gazed up at him, you noticed something glistening on his cheeks. At first, you thought it might be sweat, but as he thrust into you again, you realized with a start that they were tears. They fell silently, dropping onto your chest like warm rain.

Your heart clenched at the sight. Without thinking, you reached up, gently wiping away a tear with your thumb. Theon's rhythm faltered for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him down to you. Your lips found his cheeks, kissing away the salty trails left by his tears.

The tenderness of the gesture seemed to break something in Theon. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering with silent sobs as he continued to move within you. You ran your fingers through his hair, whispering soothing words you didn't even understand.

The pleasure building within you was almost unbearable, a tightening coil of heat and tension. But you fought against it, focusing instead on Theon's pain, on the way his tears felt against your skin, on the trembling of his body against yours. You held him tightly, your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him deeper into you with each thrust.

"It's alright," you whispered into his ear, your voice breaking. "I'm here. I've got you."

Theon's movements became erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck. You felt him tense, a low, broken moan escaping his lips as he found his release. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body arching beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you.

For a long moment, you lay there, tangled together, both of you trembling from the intensity of what had just transpired. Theon's weight on top of you was comforting, grounding you in the present. You stroked his back gently, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

Finally, Theon lifted his head, meeting your gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before. You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Thank you," you murmured, though you weren't entirely sure what you were thanking him for - saving your life, comforting you, or sharing this moment of vulnerability.

Theon's lips quirked into a small, sad smile. "I should be thanking you," he said softly, his voice hoarse. He rolled off you, settling beside you on the bed. You immediately missed his warmth, and without thinking, you curled into his side. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, draping an arm over you.

You lay there in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and the steady beat of Theon's heart. The room was warm now, but you still felt a chill deep in your bones - a remnant of the icy stream, or perhaps something else entirely.

"What happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theon's arm tightened around you. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we can't stay here forever. Someone will notice you're missing."

Reality began to seep back in, cold and unwelcome. You thought of your family, of the betrothal your father was no doubt arranging even now. Of Jon, riding towards the Wall, perhaps thinking of you. Of the life you were expected to lead.

"I don't want to go back," you said, surprising yourself with the vehemence in your voice.

Theon shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His eyes searched your face, a mix of emotions playing across his features. "What are you saying?"

You sat up, latching yourself onto him with such an intensity that shame flooded you. “I don’t want to marry a rich, dim witted, old fool. Please, Theon, I… You know of my pain, I know of yours. You took my maidenhead and… well, filled me. I… don’t want to go back and I cannot go back.”

He stiffened beneath your touch and clenched his jaw, staring off into the distance. “You… You don’t know me. You don’t want me. I can’t offer you anything. And… Lord Stark wouldn’t let me go.”

You felt a pang in your chest at Theon's words, but you refused to let go of him. "I may not know everything about you, Theon, but I know enough. I know you're kind, even when you try to hide it. I know you're brave. And I know you understand pain, just as I do."

Theon's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "You don't understand what you're asking," he said, his voice low and strained. "I'm not... I can't be what you need. What you deserve."

"And what do I deserve?" you challenged, your voice rising slightly. "To be married off to some lord I've never met? To live a life of quiet desperation, always wondering what could have been?"

Theon flinched at your words, but you pressed on. "You saved my life tonight, Theon. And not just from the stream. You saved me from myself." You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I'm not asking for forever. I'm asking for a chance. A chance to choose my own path, even if it's not the one everyone expects of me."

Theon's expression softened, a mix of longing and fear in his eyes. "And what of your family? Your duty? You would throw it all away for... for me?"

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm not throwing anything away. I'm choosing you.”

He scoffed and drew you closer, pressing a small kiss on your head. “I… whatever you say. Sleep now. You’ve had a long day behind you.”

You felt a pang of disappointment at Theon's dismissive response, but exhaustion was quickly overtaking you. The events of the day - your near-death experience, the emotional turmoil, and the unexpected intimacy with Theon - had left you drained.

"Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up," you murmured, your eyelids growing heavy.

Theon's arms tightened around you, and you felt him nod against your hair. "I promise," he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion you couldn't quite place.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought you heard him say something else, but the words were lost to the encroaching darkness of slumber.

At least, you thought tiredly, you were warm.

[kisses-for-you]

Blood - Vlad Tepes

Dracula X Fem!Reader

Summary: You hate being a vampire and you don't believe anyone can change your mind. But can Vlad do the impossible? Or will he fail?

Word Count: 1,134

Vlad slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom in his grand castle and his eyes stop on your small, frail body laying in the bed. Vlad observes your weakened state. He can't help but notice the sickly paleness of your skin and the fatigue in your eyes. His gaze now holds concern as he decides to address what's been bothering him lately.

"Why do you persist in these inefficient methods, my dear?" Vlad questions, his voice a velvet whisper. "You must drink blood to thrive, yet you deny yourself."

You almost physically recoil from the mere suggestion, fear etched across your face. Just the thought of consuming the blood of another human being sends shivers down your spine.

In the dimly lit room, Vlad approaches you, his presence commanding yet strangely gentle. "My love, you need to embrace your true nature," he urges, a hint of desperation in his voice. As he reaches out to caress your cheek, you can feel the familiar warmth of his touch, giving you a sense of comfort.

You meet his intense gaze, torn between your human morality and the undeniable reality of your weakening state. "I cannot, Vlad. I did not choose this fate, and I shall not inflict suffering upon others due to it," you protest, your voice wavering.

As Vlad contemplates your words, a conflicted expression crosses his immortal face. The tension in the room thickens, accentuated by the flickering candlelight. "I understand your moral quandary, my dear, but you are withering away before my very eyes," Vlad murmurs, his crimson eyes reflecting both love and worry.

After a moment of pure silence, you decide to speak up, your voice slowly getting quieter as a result of your lack of energy. "Why can't you see that this is not about morals? Vlad, I truly loathe what I have become. And if I must continue to live like this... then I harbor no desire to continue living."

Vlad's eyes darken with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You do not mean that," he mutters, unable to comprehend that his wife, the love of his life, would feel such a thing as this. You love him, despite the fact that he is a vampire, yet you despise yourself for the very same thing.

"I love you, Vlad. However, I do not wish to continue this conversation for any longer. I am far too fatigued and simply desire some rest," you say, hoping that he will finally stop talking about this. Yes, you hate yourself for being a vampire. You didn't choose this life so why should you make others suffer for it? Animals, humans - it isn't their fault that you are the way you are so you will not inflict harm upon them simply to sustain yourself.

With a deep sigh, Vlad reluctantly nods, his expression a mix of resignation and concern. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, "Rest, my love. We shall revisit this discussion another day."

He gets up to leave but you reach out, grabbing his hand. "Can you stay with me?"

"Of course, my dear," he responds softly, settling beside you. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. He wraps a protective arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

As you drift into a troubled sleep, Vlad remains by your side, watching over you with a worried gaze. After some time goes by, Vlad carefully gets up, making sure not to wake you. He leaves the room and returns minutes later with a vial of blood in hand. Vlad carefully approaches your sleeping form and with a tinge of guilt, he administers you a small dose of blood, hoping it's enough to keep you alive until he can find some way for you to drink blood without harming others.

Silently, he curses you and your stupid morals; if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be suffering like this. But he knows he can't change the way you are so all he can do is try to find a method to sustain you without resorting to the traditional vampiric ways.

He heads to a different part of a castle where he immerses himself in ancient scrolls and tomes, seeking a solution. Vlad can't bear to see you so weak for much longer. He knows that if he doesn't find a solution, the fate that awaits you is something he doesn't even want to consider a possibility. He can't fathom losing you.

The next morning, you wake up to find the room filled with an eerie silence. Vlad's absence is palpable, and a sense of foreboding settles over you. As you explore the castle in search of him, you suddenly feel very dizzy. You lean against the wall for support but it's not much help. After a couple of seconds, your vision goes black and you faint, your body falling to the floor.

Vlad hears the sound of your collapsing body and within seconds, he's by your side. He finds you unconscious on the floor, and panic grips his undead heart. His eyes are wide with worry, concern etched on his face. He gently lifts you, cradling you in his arms. The guilt gnaws at him; he wasn't able to help you in time, and now you're paying the price.

"I should have been faster," Vlad whispers to himself, regret coloring his words. He carries you back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed with utmost care. As Vlad lays you on the bed, a mixture of guilt and determination fills his crimson eyes. He gazes at your unconscious form, vowing silently to find a solution before it's too really too late.

With a heavy heart, Vlad continues his relentless search, the castle's ancient texts and hidden knowledge becoming his refuge. Days turn into nights, and Vlad's desperation intensifies.

But in the end, it just wasn't enough.

In your final moments, Vlad kneels by your lifeless body, grief-stricken. His crimson eyes, once vibrant with determination, now reflect the emptiness that consumes him. For the first time in years, he is truly alone. He clutches your lifeless hand, feeling the chill that has now replaced the warmth he once cherished.

As Vlad gazes at your lifeless form, a single tear slips from his eyes. "I'll love you forever, Y/N Tepes," he whispers, wishing you were actually here to hear his words. But you're not. And Vlad feels that it's all his fault. It's all his fault that the love of his life died. All his fault that you're no longer here. He wishes he could bring you back, but this isn't some romantic fantasy where you can just magically come back to life; this is reality.

[girlactionfigure]

Each of our life stories is but a mosaic of experiences - some fragments shine with joy, others bear the heavy strokes of pain and adversity. We are each the authors of our narratives, but often it's the challenging chapters that try to take over the pen, seeking to imprint themselves onto the pages of our future.

We are each like the clay in a potter's hands, shaped by experiences but defined by our responses. The furnace of adversity can harden us, but let it not distort our form. Let not the imprints of hurt guide the strokes of our hands as we shape our destiny.

The Torah reminds us in Leviticus 19:18, 'Do not take revenge or bear a grudge against members of your community.' Why? Because it's easy to replicate the actions that cause us pain, to reflect the wrongs that have been done to us, to become a mirror of the harm we've experienced. I once heard, “hurt people, hurt people”.

But to hold onto resentment, to dwell in bitterness, to allow ourselves to become a mere echo of the hurt inflicted upon us, is to relinquish our power to shape ourselves.

Even as we nurse our wounds, let's not become the salt that deepens them. Let's be the water that cleanses, the balm that heals. In each of our hands, we hold the power to shape ourselves into vessels of kindness, understanding, and forgiveness.

Life’s furnace will heat us, but remember, it's the skilled hand of the potter that determines what shape the clay takes. The decision is ours - shall we choose to be vessels of love and empathy, or replicas of those who have caused us pain?

Let's commit to choosing wisely. Each day, let's resolve to echo not the hurt, but the hope; not the resentment, but the resilience; not the grudges, but the gratitude. Herein lies our power, our freedom.

My blessing to you… May we shape ourselves into the best versions we can be, filling our vessels not with the bitterness of past hurts, but with the sweet wine of compassion and forgiveness.

Rabbi Yisroel Bernath

[eggtartz]

✧ 9th October ✧

Reiner Braun // Therapeutic (f! civilian reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : angst with comfort, heavy spoilers, self blame, sunshine reader

reiner awoken from another nightmare, jolting from his bed as he looked outside his window. oh, the war is over and freedom is guaranteed (for now). as one of the formers warriors of marleyan, he has nothing but regrets of his past, having horrible dreams and nightmares of the people he has killed when he first wrecked the wall. he sighed and held his head, another day to live while being haunted by his own doings.

he managed to find silence in the city, looking for a quiet place before he dies peacefully because he inherited the Nine. he wishes to suffer as much as the people he has inflicted suffering on, punishing himself to a degree where he thinks he's unforgivable. he walked outside the small cottage that he has built, a lake where he spends his days spread in front of him. but today, he noticed a figure crouched down at the bay of the lake. strange, considering he was located far from society.

"may i help you?" he asked gently as you turned around, a basket in hand and a scarf on your head "hello! i'm assuming you're the owner of the lovely cottage? i'm sorry, i got a little lost while i was chasing butterflies and ended up here so i kinda don't know where i am" you smiled, trying to hide your clumsiness that ended you here. reiner looked at you and saw nothing but a ray of sunshine, a fresh air and nothing but a innocent woman. your eyes were shining with life while his was dead, how different were you two.

"yes, the town is downside of north" he said and you grunted "i'm so sorry.. could you show me? i'm horrendous at directions" you almost plead "if you don't want to, that's okay!" you smiled "i don't want to burden you further" he quickly said "it's okay, let me change my clothes. please, come in." he urged you to come in his cottage as you looked in awe "such a beautiful home! did you built it?" you asked as he vanished to change clothes "yes, from scratch"

your eyes almost bulged in surprise "you're so talented!" reiner's hand on his shirt's button stopped, no one has talked this tenderly to him. "I wished I could do a good job like yours!" your sincere tone was visible from behind the door as he tried not to cry from the comforting words so he cleared his throat and came out from the room "thankyou, you didn't had to say that. i'm sure you're also a talented woman. shall we?" he said, showing the door as you nodded and walked out, him following closely.

upon arriving at town, you turned to him with gratefulness in your face "thankyou! I didn't catch your name?" reiner almost flinched at your obliviousness. he was intending to lie, to let you in the dark about this identity but he has done that in the past. he won't do it again.

"reiner braun" he said, almost vulnerable but he saw you smiled "reiner.. i'm y/n! i hope we get to see each other again, until then. bye bye!" you went your own ways, bidding goodbye with a smile that left his heart pounding and for once, alive. the next day, he purposely came to town again (something he rarely does) for one specific person, you. he silently looked through stores, just a glimpse of you is already enough. at a dining cafeteria, he sat at a table alone while looking outside. he strangely misses you and wishes to see you again but caught no sight of you at all, it was difficult to not sigh. "welcome to- reiner?" he looked up and there you are. in your full glory and a uniform with that usual warm smile you always had that it shined through him. "y/n? i thought i lost you" he blurted as you laughed "lost me? i never left here" you smiled, his heart aching and yearning for comfort.

he grunted "uh, y/n. this might be.. fast but can i possibly ask you on a date tonight?" he said, trying not to stutter and leave a decent first impression. your eyes widened and gleamed with a specific excitement "oh! i'd love that, reiner!" he managed to smile, how he feels his heart is full again despite all these years of pain. decades of guilt. that night, he bought you dinner to a nice place where you two had good food. apparently, you came to marleyan using the planes, just after the rumbling. you mentioned how terrifying it must've felt for the people also for the people who has stopped them. reiner listened intently as he felt like barging in, saying that he's the armored titan. your spoon dropped "you cant- are you truly?"

"yes, y/n. i inherited the armored titan and is doomed to die for several more years. and i shall die with my titan powers" he said, a bit relieved to get it out from his chest. "reiner, you're so.. cool" you said softly, it made him flinch again. "c-cool?"

"i understand how you feel. i understand how it feels to live in guilt but reiner. you have limited time, will you spend these last years hating yourself?" you found a courage to ask him as his breathing hitched "i- y/n.. i.. i have done many wrong things.. unforgivable.. i'll be damned in hell for what i have done.. these.. powers.." he sniffled, looking down to his hands "these powers bares a heavy responsibility" dinner went awkwardly for the rest of the night however he can't help but feel much better than he usually does. he was able to speak about his guilts better and express himself better. things ended up back at your house where you welcomed him, something he hasn't felt for so long.

"please, make yourself comfortable" you said gently, taking off his coat for him and hanging it. "would you like something to drink? some snacks?" you asked gently "i think i had enough desserts but i can't decline a lady's offer" he softly smiled, looking into your shining eyes as you smiled "i'll bring out the cookies then."

fresh baked cookies are on the table as you placed two mugs of tea in front of him, sitting beside him. the silence was both comforting and confusing as you tried to dig on some words to initiate. "thankyou, y/n." you looked at him "for what?" he looked into your gentle eyes, found peace in your existence. "for showing me that.. that kindness still exists" he genuinely smiled and as you blushed "y-you're welcome" your cheeks were warm as he shifted closer to you, watching your lips. you noticed and also leaned to him when eventually your lips met. it was fireworks, as cliche as it sounded. reiner never thought something could be so soft, yet another person's lips. he found a steady pace on the kiss, placing his hands gently on your neck to guide you as you let him because it felt so perfect. so right.

when he finally let go, both of you were panting. you stared into his eyes as licked your lips "reiner, can i help you?" you asked, voice almost inaudible "help me with what?" you caressed his cheek "with the pain. let me take all your pain away, let me hold you" you said as his lips quivered. it was a moment of vulnerability as he hugged you, face buried on your shoulders as you caressed his dirty blonde hair. he sobbed, saying incoherent words all while your hands hold him, something no one has ever done.

not even his own mother.

your shirt is wet due to his uncontrollably sobs and you gently placed a kiss on his temple. "let your past go, reiner. let it go" you soothingly said.

one thing lead to another and you found yourself kissing the former warrior with tears staining his cheeks while you caressed his jaw. it was slow but meaningful as you bought him comfort and warmness. he found peace in you and he intends to stay here. your lips trailed to his neck and sucked the flesh gently as he swallowed his saliva, bobbing his Adam's apple. "y/n.. you don't have to.." he said with a strained voice, hands struggling to not grab your hips to ground on his crotch. he wants you to take your time even if it meant he had to wait.

you shook your head "it's okay, i want to" you said with lustful eyes that reiner gulped again. you slowly took off your top, revealing your undergarments "reiner, would you want me to continue?" you asked as he gripped your hips "y-yes.. do anything you'd like..." he struggled to gaze upon you, concerned that he'll bust the moment he does.

you two moved to the bed, hands tangled in each other's hair as you yanked his pants down. "y/n.. i.. i'm.. you won't go right? you'll stay right?" he was vulnerable and weak, a side he wasn't able to show all these years. all the pent up feelings were harbored as you smiled to him "never, reiner. never" you whispered, pushing your undies aside to sink on his dick. he groaned as you took a slow pace, hands tightly on your hips "so good.. reiner, you can hold on me.." you raised your hips, your pussy sucking his cock back like it was always meant to be there. like he was home.

"can i be with you forever? marry you? make you the mother of my children?" he looked at you who's riding on his dick, hands steady on his abs for stability "yes.. i do want that" you smiled as he smiled as well, finally being able to find peace and happiness. he sat up, thrusting up to your warm cunt, hands slithering to your clitoris and you yelped "wait!" you squealed as he kept a steady pace with his thrust and his rubbing that you came with a moan while he kept thrusting. "thankyou.. y/n" he painted your insides white, holding you so you won't fall.

"thank you."

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Memories, Held Back Feelings and a Vow (Snow Owl AU)

After much, much, much, trial, error, self inflicted perfectionism, Grade A writer's block and sheer reluctance to finally post this, here’s my latest official fanfic.

The following takes place in an Alternate Continuity of the DC Comics Universe in which the character of Mary Lloyd Grayson, mother of Richard John 'Dick' Grayson' aka the first Robin, the Boy Wonder, not only survived the infamous performance of Haly's Circus at Gotham but later went on being a crime fighter in her right, hence Snow Owl.

I would like to dedicate this fic to my many friends and mutuals on this beloved hellsite for your patience, honesty, and support throughout this time.

I shall tag the following: @thattimdrakeguy @spider-jaysart @celaenaeiln @mothnem @lightdusk96 @camo-wolf @missmadness145 @starlightbelle @adalineozie @tarisilmarwen @sillymanwithocs @bluerene @nightglider124 @bluegarners @orange-s-mario @vampirehal @snothing @confusedhummingbird @lesbiananitafite @richard-grayson-wayne @batboyblog @gothicghost2000 @sbd-laytall @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Of course as with anything; All characters, concepts and locations both in story and in reference are owned by DC Comics Inc. and Dc Entertainment, a subsidiary of Warner Bros. Discovery.

Please Reblog and/or Reply for any constructive criticisms. I will be more than happy to address them and they are very appreciated

And now, enjoy your feature presentation, thank you

As nighttime produced a clear and starry night that draped over the city of Bludhaven, its two protectors, Snow Owl and Robin the Boy Wonder had just barely wrapped up with patrol and stopped any plots and schemes from the superstitious cowardly lot that creates chaos in the streets. With the tight and combined efforts, the streets were safe, their job and their vow to protect innocents in pursuit of justice had prevailed, at least for the night. Thankfully, as they enter the bedroom window to Snow Owl’s room and slip off their respective boots before stepping on the bed right before them, they are reminded in their minds that the upcoming morning was a lazy Saturday so they could sleep in after such a wonderfully exhilarating night.

Since he goes first onto said bed, the Boy Wonder proceeds stepping unto the beige soft wall to wall carpeting, a quick yawn almost escaping his mouth as he does so. Shortly, his mother goes right after him, stepping off the bed on the opposite. As she closes the window right behind her, Snow Owl takes one quick last glimpse to the clear and star-filled skyline that hovered over the city they just finished patrolling across.

She looks to her son, now barely getting off her bed and stretching his arms out in hopes to loosen up that exhaustion he feels all across. “You know what, Snow Owl,” he says as he then lifts up one of his legs behind him, “We might need something much more discret for our security than just your window.”

His mother also proceeds to stretch out one of her own legs to shake off her own exhaustion, while shrugging her shoulders in agreement.

“Well, you do have a fair point there son. Last time I checked though we don’t have a chimney so sliding in like Santa Claus isn’t exactly an option as far as I know”, Snow Owl lightheartedly snarks while making her way to her dresser. From there, she takes out a light blue t-shirt and black sweatpants, meant to change into them once she showers off the dried up sweat and even grime they both got throughout this night.

Upon seeing his mother with some fresh laundry in her arms and realizing he best do the same, he makes his way to first his own bedroom for his own clothes to change into before heading for the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to make sure to get every single part washed up”, Snow Owl reminded her son while slipping off her domino mask and gloves, “you never know where any dirt or other stuff might be left on you...”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I got it”, Robin says with confidence and a firm understanding. “I'll also make sure not to take too long. We have to make sure the water bill doesn’t go up too high in how much we pay for it, right?”

Snow Owl nods. She remembers their last bill having an additional zero than their usual ones. She gives her son a thumbs up. “You got that right; I’ll make sure not to take too long as well. Good thinking.”

With a simple thumbs up to his mother, Robin also takes off his own mask and continues on his way. However, as he does so, there’s something about him, Snow Owl notices. For a briefest of seconds there, she thought she was looking at…someone else. Snow Owl cannot help herself from feeling a sort of…. feeling. Her love for her son allows her to see something in him. She cannot help but see…. her husband, the boy’s father in that smile, that confidence he exudes, just this sort of spirit present within him that reminds her of the man whose unfortunate tragedy those years ago molded the crime fighters they are today.

She closes her unmasked blue eyes as a sort of burning sensation starts slowly igniting in them. A sudden heaviness weighs upon her knees, her ability to stand up slightly slipping away and her breathing picks up. Grief, sorrow and loss. In trying to remember the good times and happy life she had with her husband, those emotions accompany them.

It’s a part of her that’s getting better every day but even after all this passed time, it’s still not easy to completely let go of. What does matter though are as such; in her and her son’s hearts and memories, her husband lives on, they both have brought in the criminals responsible for that loss to justice and above all else, they have each other. It’s those facts that helped Snow Owl overcome her grief numerous times before as it does now. She takes a deep breath in clearing her thoughts. Those thoughts might come back another day, but she’ll be a tad bit more prepared in dealing with them when the time comes. In the meantime, gently holding her domino mask in her hand and regaining her composure, Snow Owl fixes up her bed after the landing both Robin and her made on it and makes her way to the living room.

Once there, she takes note of the pillows, notebooks and pencils littered on the carpeted floor right in front of the couches. No doubt, her son was in the middle of homework duties before immediately jumping at the chance to join her on patrol. She cannot help but have a chuckle as she picks up the notebook and pencils, placing them on a nightstand next to said couches and the pillows back to where they go. Despite being one smart cookie, her son was never really the biggest fan of doing homework. But hey, at least he knows better than flunk it completely, lest he face her wrath. As she prepares to take her seat on the couch, finally giving her legs a break from their use throughout the entire day…. that feeling suddenly comes back to her. Next thing she knows, as her back lays down on the softness and smooth surface of the leather couch cushions, her mind has painted something else entirely for her eyes to see.

As she opens them, Snow Owl’s see…him. But wait is that…her son?

It can’t be right, his jawline looks a bit too firm, and the pupils in his eyes are a dark shade of green, almost emerald.

“Mary? Dear?”

That baritone in his voice and that nickname.

Suddenly the memory in her memory begins to play. She’s not in full control of her past self. She’s at that moment not Snow Owl, defender and hero for the downtrodden of the city of Bludhaven. She was Mary Elizabeth Lloyd-Grayson, wife of John ‘The Flying’ Grayson and mother of her son Richard, you can call him ‘Dick’ for short. Now, she’s not in the well-kept, simple and modern apartment within the smaller urban neighborhoods next to the gym she calls her job sight, she looks within her memories, finding herself at the small, thin steel made trailer, a bit more cramped in spacing but with also similar beige wall to wall carpeting. This wasn’t just a dream; this was her life.

She finally answers her husband who calls for her attention. “Yes John?”

John flashed a content smile as he heard his wife’s reply, “You know that I love ya, don’t ya?”

She nods with a peaceful and all too real smile on face. She doesn't even have to say a single word to let him know. John then leans to press a small yet all too loving kiss on his wife’s cheek.

“Well, it’s always good just to double check,” John says as he lifts himself off his seat and offers a hand for his wife to help her off her own like the gentleman he can be. She takes it and right on cue, both hear a familiar small voice call out from the entrance to the front door.

“Hey, guys! C’mon, we’re gonna be late for practice!”

Both parents chuckled at their seven-year old’s impatience since he was so excited to show them his newest tricks on the ropes. She cannot but smile upon seeing her little boy bounce on his two slipper clad feet right in front of the trailer door with a pouty look on his face. His father proceeds to lay a firm hand on his jet-black hair and slightly ruffle his fingers across it.

“All right, Little Man. We’ll be on the way”, John tells his boy with a firm smile. With her son excitedly leading the way and her husband by her side, she reaches for the handle of the door, turns it, and slowly opens the door, stepping out into the bright day ahead of them.

“Hey, Mom?”

A voice that belonged to her son but now very slightly older sounding snaps Snow Owl out of her memory. Her unmasked blue eyes open to see another smaller pair of blue eyes that belonged to her partner, her son. Instead of Robin the Boy Wonder, he was now Dick Grayson, clad in a blue cotton T shirt with an all too familiar red and yellow S shield that symbolizes Metropolis’ own resident hero, black sweatpants not dissimilar from his mother’s and in his hands his Robin outfit as he was taking the red, green and yellow modified acrobat suit to the laundry machine.

Upon bringing her senses back to the present, Snow Owl stands back up, remembering about her own clothes back at her bedroom and gives her a small smile.

“Sorry about that”, she says as she makes her way to said bedroom, “just was...,” she had to stop herself since usually, whether it was good memories or bad ones, any reminder of the life she had with John before it got so cruelly taken away always was a bit of a sore spot for her soul. She couldn’t bear having her son see if she could help it. He doesn’t need to see his mother in grief, he already has enough on his plate, especially his own reminders about the father he lost. Before even a sign of impending tears can make their way to her eyes, Snow Owl takes a deep yet quiet breath so that her curious son wouldn’t hopefully notice and collects herself before continuing her way to her bedroom...

“Were you thinking about Dad”, Dick asks just as Snow Owl reaches the hallway. She turns around with a surprised look on her face to see Dick’s own, which had a mix of curiosity but also...shame and guilt.

Unable to withhold her answer, Snow Owl sighs and looks at her boy with her head a bit down as she tries maintaining her composure. “Y-yes, Dick. I was”, she finally answers. Then it was her turn to ask something, “but, how do you know?”

Dick’s face scrunched up a bit upon hearing that, which immediately got her mother’s worry since she might have a suspicion about just how long he knew about her own grief despite herself trying to be strong as he is for her. Finally, Dick sighs sadly and looks up to his mother with his eyes having a guilty look on them before he finally opens his mouth to say what he has been meaning to for quite a bit.

“I... I kinda knew ever since at least... when we first moved in here”, Dick says with his voice beginning a hint of crack before taking a deep breath to collect himself before continuing with his answer. “It’s just... I sometimes hear you cry some nights when you can’t sleep, usually after you had a dream about what happened to Dad and well.... the fact he’s.... not here anymore. Is that true?”

Snow Owl stood there almost at a loss for words on how much her son knew about it all. Unable to come up with any counter at that moment, only able to nod slightly at her son’s inquiry.

Dick once more sighed sadly in guilt as he put his Robin outfit on top of a seat on the couch while taking a seat. “I just wanted to say.... I’m sorry.”

This got Snow Owl’s attention like something else, she was kind of expecting it but nonetheless found herself surprised. “w-Why would you be sorry?”

“b-Because....”, Dick once more had to breathe out before stating his answer, “because...I-I know I know shouldn’t worry about it since it’s your business, your own thing and all. I shouldn’t spy on you like that and….” Before Dick can go on, an ungloved hand rests upon his shoulders. He looks up to see his mother with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Dick”, Snow Owl says with an equally understanding tone, “you miss your dad as well?”

Once her question reaches his ears, Dick silently buries his face into his hands. He nods a ‘yes’ while his breathing starts getting a bit more ragged. He was trying best not to lose control of any impending tears himself.

“Dick,” Snow Owl calls with a concerned and worried tone to him, “Just breathe. Nice and easy, okay?”

Dick once more silently nods as he struggles to keep his breathing under control. After some effort and time put into it, Dick can collect himself just enough to speak coherent words again. He puts those words to the forefront by taking his face off his hands and looking up at his worried mother, tears seemingly wanting to be free from eyes but through sheer will of his own, he’s able to keep them in.

“Yeah,” Dick croaks out as he looks up to his mother’s worried face, “I miss Dad too.”

Snow Owl nods in understanding and sympathy. She now understands what goes through her son’s head with only a few words. They are both in the same boat regarding how that loss impacted them to this day more so than she thought. She does wonder something though before taking a seat next to him. “Well, why didn’t you tell me about that earlier?”

Dick takes a deep breath and clears his throat before looking back at his mother with hope for him, the tears in his eyes being all dried up. While the tears had certainly faded out, they left a sign via redness in Dick’s eyes. Nonetheless, he pushed himself onward with his answer. “It’s just that,” He briefly pauses to clear his throat before proceeding, “you go through enough. Some nights.... I....I can hear you cry yourself to sleep. Especially on Dad’s birthday...or yours.”

Snow Owl tries to reach a hand, but her son then continues.

“I mean...you have enough to worry about already. With your jobs, both at the gym and when you’re called up to protect Mrs. Drake, trying to keep our house clean,” Dick feels something in his voice start cracking very lightly before continuing, “me. It’s a lot, Mom and I can’t just make it worse and harder for you by bringing up Dad and how much I miss him all the time. Because...well, you miss him too.” Dick finally finishes, taking a deep breath to collect himself now that he has said what he needed. Now it was just a matter of his mother’s reaction to it.

At first, Snow Owl found herself at a loss for words once more. She hadn’t anticipated how much this life was hurting her son. The signs were all there though now that she can think; the dour look on her son’s face after dealing with bullies at school, the distant and heavy sighs he has whenever he visits the park and seeing other boys his age with their own fathers, while he’s there at the corner and just doing his own acrobatics or other such small things more or less with only his mother as his audience. In all that, all she was able to do was leave him be given he’s always been one to do it on his own. But she couldn’t just backpedal everything after what they had been through together. She takes a deep breath; she might not know what to say exactly but she has to say something. Something for her son to hear, something that can either cheer him up or get her message across to him. It’ll be preferable to remaining utterly silent. Damn if she does, damned if she doesn’t.

“Look, Dick, you’re right, I do miss your father as well”, Snow Owl says, hoping whatever words come out of her mouth will be some sort of breakthrough for him. “And yes, there are some moments and nights where I have thought of him and all he is, what he has done for our family back then and how much I’m sure he still matters to you and...

At that moment, Snow Owl freezes right in her tracks, looking ahead of her and seeing a truly distraught and baffled look on Dick’s face. That came out wrong, the tears in Dick’s began to reform, she had to do something about it, and fast if she is going to...

“Wait…what do you mean that you’re sure he still matters to me”, He was getting started with his rebuttal, Snow Owl for sure now knew she screwed this royal, and it was about to get worse, “Is that supposed to mean that…he doesn’t?”

She closes her eyes cause that Grayson temper was starting to quickly ignite inside of him, so best to let him let it here rather than trying to counter, it’ll only make far more violate. She sees Dick take a deep thought; he was going to say more, a lot more.

“Mom....What makes you believe that what happened to Dad doesn’t matter to me? Do you really believe that every single day I am reminded by my own memories of all those times we were all together and when we were happy doesn’t matter to me? You think the reason.... like just tonight Me joining you on patrol to make sure the people in this city don’t have to lose a loved one to crime like we lost Dad …. you think the reason is something other than Dad so therefore... It.......Doesn’t.... matter? Well get this, it does matter. My school, my crime fighting, where I’m from and what I do that isn’t crime fighting stuff. All that matters to me but who the hell are YOU to say that Dad doesn’t matter to me...Huh?! I get what you go through, why else do you think I try helping whatever I can; laundry, getting some days to make our dinners, paying our bills and watching out if we get things too pricey for us. You’re not the only one doing all that, Dad would’ve done it too, that’s why I do it because he would’ve...I can’t just let you be Miss Dad when I know how to do all that too, someone else must be like how Dad was back then. Thing is though” Dick was breathing heavily; he was losing more control of his tears now on the brink of spilling out of his eyes.

But he can’t stop right now, he had to keep going, she needed to hear this, two damn long years after the fact, she must. Taking one more deep breath, Dick continues, “Here’s the thing.... I....I don’t how I’m even able to do it! I just do it because it’s the right thing to do. But...but...I hate how my school can be. I hate how even if I do fit in the best I can and make sure my grades are top notch, I... I can’t help but feel like I still don’t fit given where I’m from and who I am. I hate how this entire city just, one day after another, no matter how much we try to help, they’re always.... ALWAYS...an ambulance that must get because we failed, and someone got hurt or even worse. I hate that we can’t see Pop Haly every day like we used to, Harry, Regina, Calvin, Raymond, Zitka...all of them, we had to leave them once we lost Dad. I hate, hate, hate, hate Zucco for what he done, for ruining you and me...I just...I HATE IT HERE!! I....just want...I want to go back to how it was before all this...If I’m gonna be someone who can help you take care of the house, can’t it be our real house...the trailer? I just want to go home...our real home” With that, at the end of what he had built up and hurting in his heart and soul for the longest time finally coming out, Dick once more tries his darn best to break through his tears, glaring hurt and heartbroken eyes towards Snow Owl’s own masked ones. Masked eyes, that were also beginning to develop tears of their own....and Dick saw this once he was able to focus on the sight in front of him.

Now he’s all too happy to stand up for what he thinks or believes in if need be; after all he’s done with that man dressed like a flying rodent during those times his mother and him work in Gotham. But this was Snow Owl, the one he was meant to help, both here at this quaint apartment with all he can do as the man of the house and in the streets of Bludhaven almost every night as the Boy Wonder, the one he made an oath by a candlelight to aid in protecting the innocent and stick to the path of righteousness when donning the red, green and yellow those two years ago, the one who makes him his breakfasts, lunches for school and even sometimes dinner when he’s not doing it, the one who was the very first face his eyes ever saw less than five minutes upon entering the world on his personal very first Day of Spring. Snow Owl is his mother and he just made her cry, breaking her heart. He broke her soul and reduced her to tears, tears she tries now to control herself and taking her own deep breaths.

“I...I’m sorry”, He immediately stands up, wiping away his own tears from his eyes and slowly walks his way out of the living room. Snow Owl is too lost within her thoughts to pick up on her son’s bare feet stepping on the carpet floor. Once she’s able to briefly come out of her thoughts to realize this, it was already too late. She only takes one step forwards before she then hears the door to Dick’s bedroom close. He was guilt ridden and self-hating; she hates it when this happens because it’s one of those case where she can’t be there for him no matter how much she really wants to be there for him, but knowing him, he’ll just gently tell her to leave him be, no matter how many knocks to his door she wants to do. Besides, if his guilt induced self-isolation wasn’t bad enough for her, Snow Owl has a whole cavalcade of other feelings and thoughts running through her head; Shame, her own guilt, helplessness, regret, and just overall, grief. As far as she knows, it’s justified she has these thoughts permeating her mind and soul; it’s a punishment for her.

What kind of Mother is she supposed to be? What kind of Mother allows her child to bottle in so much of this soul darkening negativity and sorrow in their hearts? What kind of Mother forces her only child to grow up far faster than he can handle? What kind of Mother spends more time grieving the loss of her beloved husband than trying to help her child recover from such a loss himself? What kind of Mother does all that and it only takes her child finally and seemingly buckling under all that pressure, all because she didn’t do anything prior to stop it and step up as that mother she should be?

Snow Owl, as she slumps into her seat on the couch, cannot help but come to that conclusion. She’s been a bad Mother and as of now, she’s lost in a sea of fog in her mind telling her very much that. Within that fog clouding her mind, some other words, some sounding awfully like herself or some even sounding like her own mother, start coming in from and reach her ears internally. The words themselves are not a pleasant type for her to hear.

Inside her, she felt a sense of failure; yet she also claims that no, a true failure would be if he outright stated he hated her straight to her face. Though he did hate where they were.

This place they live in indeed provides only bitterness over what they lost; though what other choice did Snow Owl and her son have frankly? Their old home was about to go bankrupt via all those lawsuits had they stayed there. It was either them or their home, there was no other way out and nowhere else to go.

Inside her, she now knows she shouldn’t have let her son join in her crusade to fight crime since he has already so much to do at a mere 12 years old; however even if Snow Owl wants to agree with that one, it wouldn’t have stopped her little boy from joining anyways. He was just as determined if not even more so to find the culprits responsible for what happened to John in that fateful performance. There was no stopping him and she knew it. What better way to help alleviate that burning passion of justice for their family than letting him in as her partner.

Despite her best efforts pointing out what was the reality of their lives up to this present day and how much could’ve been done given what they were faced with. But those harsh words kept going and going in her mind, her guilt and self-hatred, as far as she’s concerned well justified, pounding her consciousness like artillery shells exploding across the trenches of the Western Front a century ago. Every time she seemingly gets a rebuttal to those questions and her doubts, a new one would pop up in the middle of it. They just kept coming, each one pounding in her head with intensity, figuratively more artillery shells kept coming by the second.

It was that intense and no matter how hard she tries, they just keep going to the point she can barely even move out of her seat on the couch, her t-shirt and sweatpants still right to her side, awaiting the moment she can change into them after her shower. Finally after shutting her eyes, reigning herself in, Snow Owl notices her breath was getting heavier and with one gulp of her, she snaps her eyes open. Those voices and doubts had almost instantly stopped. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t feel like it was done. Far from it, she’s been dealing with them for years by now, and given what happened right now with her son…those are more that’ll come in the near future.

Realizing her clothes to her side and thinking to herself that maybe a shower can help clear her mind out of....

Suddenly, in her utility belt, Snow Owl’s communicator device starts buzzing, and upon looking at who’s calling, she can see it’s the BPD Chief. She knows this must be serious given how rarely he ever calls her unless there’s either a super criminal on the loose or probably some sort of morbid case not even the forensics department can stomach. She dreads if it’s that type since Dick might be the Boy Wonder but his pained look of discomfort upon seeing a cadaver that either hits too close to home or just unpleasant enough for him to start losing his lunch, that’s a look on his face Snow Owl strives into making sure he doesn’t have to feel if she can help it. Hence, usually in these cases would come Robin being noticeably absent from meeting with their allies.

Snow Owl in short order puts back on her domino mask and presses the answer button. About two seconds later, the face of the Chief of the BPD appears on her screen. “As much as you might or might not like me and how much I certainly don’t like you, it looks like there’s a little something I think you can handle over here. Even my crew certainly can’t stomach doing this one, maybe except our local Medical Examiner, I know for certain she likes you, but I don’t know why the hell she does, but even she might need you around for it.”

Snow Owl went through a torrent of emotions as the Chief spoke to her; amusement in hearing the jealousy in his voice over how much Robin and her were able to do compared to his crew, shrugging her shoulders in acknowledgement of her friendship with said Medical Examiner Trini, but at the end of it a cringed look on her face despite her best efforts to hide it since it was exactly what she was expected but not she didn’t want it, since he mentioned Trini at all can only mean one thing.

“Body turned up, Chief Bruno?” Snow Owl asks with the tiniest silver of nervousness in her voice despite her vocal range accommodating the stoic persona her mask dictates she shows. The fact right after Chief Bruno then sighs and shakes his head while pinching his nose only helps confirm it. However, it didn’t truly prepare Snow Owl for the Chief's next reply as he once more opened his eyes to see Bludhaven’s local vigilante’s masked eyes right back at him. “It’s male, found underneath Little Drawbridge by some kids, probably street punks, looks like it’s recent. We don’t have all the details of it yet, hence why we’ll need your stinking bird butt over here, but best we can tell, victim’s been dead for at least since yesterday and given by the marks we saw on him, no doubt first degree murder, combination of bullets and a knife......he’s a kid.... about 12 at most. Real nasty.”

Snow Owl couldn’t help but gasp. No wonder Bruno’s guys or even Trini need help with this one. Poor kid is probably about Dick’s own age and for someone to do such a horrible thing to him and seemingly dump him to hide their crime so carelessly and cruelly, that’s something she won’t stand. She makes a vow to prevent this from happening and strikes back against the criminal element if it does. One thing is for sure though as she takes a deep breath to process this news; Dick can’t come over tonight, not just because of the nature of this case but given his little moment he had not too long ago, he needs time to himself.

After taking one more deep breath, Snow Owl looks to the Chief on her communicator, “I’ll be there shortly. Tell Trini to meet me in the Examiner’s office and get that victim ready. I’ll bring over my tools for the autopsy if need be.” With a nod, the Chief disconnects, ending the call and allowing Snow Owl to head back to her bedroom and quickly find her boots. As slips them back on and prepares to open the window, she makes a vow within her mind; it was a vow for Dick.

“I know tonight was a little rough, but I want to let you know I’m not mad at you for saying you needed to after so long. There’s nothing wrong with feeling like the pressure is a bit much, especially with all that you have done for so long, too long already for me and this home we live in. I am so dearly sorry you had to bottle it all in when I should’ve said something to help with it. If you don’t accept my apologies and hold it against me, I’ll be fine with it. At least though, you must know that I will try to be better starting today. You made a vow to protect the innocent and be my partner as best as you can. Well, here’s my vow for you; I promise that I will try to be more open with myself for you if you ask. I’ll step up when I need to with the things that need to be done around here. I’ll be as much of your partner as you are mine. After all, family at the end of the day are just that. They’re partners to each other. Sure, I’m leaving you to take your time off for the night during this case, but I promise you, you can be involved in it in due course. I vow from here on out.... I’ll try, Dick. I’ll Try.’

With those words in her mind, Snow Owl, her secret identity being Mary Grayson, locks the windows after stepping out of them, double checks her utility belt for every tool she needs, takes out her escrima stick to fire off a grappling wire and makes her way to the BPD Precinct.

It’ll be Saturday tomorrow anyways so if this thing goes all-night, at least she can still sleep in. Still, a real shame that there’s no movie night but what can she do about it.

[ask-the-denalis]

It is me again, you will all have to kick me out of here :p

This one is for Tanya, anyone can answer tho, how is it to live with a thousand year child? (Def not looking at any Kate :p) Just kidding here comes the real question I am a huge werewolf fan, but like real werewolf kind of creature and I have always wondered how strong they really are? You have been roaming this Earth for like a very long time and I was thinking the three of yiu had ever crossed paths with a Child of the Moon? If you did, what happened? What they really look like? Because I have in mind kind of a van hellsing werewolf kind yk more wolf-like than the old movies which held a more 'human' appearance, did they truly lost control of the beast during full moon? And if so how have they been able to hide their existence from humanity for so damn long? I mean vampires are subtle but an out of control werewolf is kind of hard to hide, especially nowadays with so much technology, which makes me think how are you and your coven dealing with that? I mean arent you kind of breaking the rules by exposing yourselves to the internet?

That... Was long I am sorry I got carried away by my curiosity... Anyway! Thank you so much for answnering, have a good day/night :D

Goodness, no! We would never do such a thing!

Has Katrina evoked this train of thought with her brazenness? If so, I sincerely apologize on her behalf. She tends to speak before her mind has had the chance to catch up...

On a brighter note: I believe that more or less answers your very first question, does it not? ;3

Now, let us address the more pressing matter...

Let me begin by confirming that my sisters and I have indeed crossed paths with these loathsome creatures. On multiple occasions at that, unfortunately...

Darling, believe me...calling them "wolves" is exceptionally far-fetched. Those are ghastly things - half human, half beast in appearance. The image painted by today´s adaptations is hardly accurate, and I sincerely hope you shall never come across one of these "children." Or multiple, for that matter...

I have searched the internet in hopes of stumbling upon a more fitting depiction, as I believe an image speaks louder than my words ever could.

This is the closest I could find:

(Granted, they may not be quite as bald, but I find the rest to be dreadfully fitting.)

Regrettably, it is not uncommon for such encounters to end fatally for our kind. These creatures possess a strength that rivals our own - few of them are needed to extinguish an army of newborns. Those of us who have survived an attack describe the wounds inflicted upon them as agonizing, with a dragging healing process.

Kate once sustained such an injury during one of our encounters with these beasts. It was the three of us against only two of them, but we had been in the middle of a hunt, blinded by bloodlust. They took advantage of our frenzied state and ambushed us.

Contrary to popular belief, they are exceptional hunters themselves, who often operate in well-organized packs. We were fortunate to have encountered only two that day.

I dread to think what might have happened, if not for Kate´s gift…

...

Forgive me. The event has left us all rather...shaken. To this day, I find it quite difficult to speak of.

...Right, let us move on, shall we?

You correctly stated that "hiding" a child of the moon is rather impossible. As a matter of fact, there have been numerous incidents in which entire communities were torn apart by their devastating raids. Word spread, naturally, revealing not only their existence to humankind but also risking the exposure of ours.

It was for this reason that the Volturi eventually intervened, hunting down their kind to near-extinction.

We have not crossed paths with a child of the moon since our near-fatal encounter centuries ago, leading us to believe that not many, if any, are left today. Nevertheless, I advise you to remain watchful and, if possible, to stay clear of sparsely populated areas. Especially at night.

As for your question about our presence on this platform-

Why...

Should I be concerned about you, love?

Yours truly, 💋

- Tanya, leader of the Denali coven

[ctheathy]

Survival instinct didn’t make the cut

Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader

Angst oneshot

Imagine making your first Tumblr post and it’s this. But I swear, this scenario has been living rent free in my head for the past months-

I believe it turned out quite alright though, hope whoever comes across shall be able to enjoy it themselves too =} Goodluck, darling~

Ticci Toby/Reader

⚠️Warnings ⚠️ :

•Toby lmao. •Yanderes •Reader’s demise •Obsessive behaviour • Abuse in all varieties •Implied non-con // r#pe •Indirect su!c!de •Slight detail of gore // blood •Derealization ?? •Tobitch going through the five stages of grief

Angst time babiee

____________________________________________

Now he’s done it.

Before you is where he stood, body trembling as the smell of bitter iron was dancing alongside his nostrils, mocking him.

His throat was aching, easily confirming the assumption that he had in fact been screaming at you. He hadn't expected this, but he should have.

He should have realised his self-restraint was reaching it’s limits.

He had lost count of the amount of speeches he had prematurely given you in warning over the course of just six months, the amount of punishments he’d given you in an attempt to put you in your place, his already thin patience having decreased into absolutely nothing. Why the fuck couldn’t you just be all ears and listen to anything for once in a lifetime?

You never listened.

It seemed like not too long ago he would have once again had your fragile figure cornered in an obvious out of control burst of rage. Figuring he had the absolute opposite of innocent intent, as he has done many, many times before in his quote on quote “regular” state alone. Yet the now deafening silence was haunting to Toby. You never enjoyed crying when he was in the same area as you were, he knew this, but some whimpers here and there did always manage to slither it’s way out of your throat. Especially when battered like this, you’re not supposed to be this quiet.

Conversations were rare, but it surely wasn’t like they weren’t there at all, despite how minor they might have been. He’d recall you flat-out ignoring his entire existence for a long time before that, and when you did reply to a sentence or two; your answers were always kept as short as possible, too short. Cold, even.

You and your blunt statements.

It angered him, following with Toby developing a habit of literally demanding your attention and cooperation, which surely wouldn’t be considered all that bad by a majority of people,

if it didn't include inflicting damage if a hint of resistance was even shown, that is.

Neck twitching severely with his eyes scanning over your once gorgeous form; one he wished to have held onto for the absolute rest of eternity, now beaten into a bloody pulp. Truthfully saying, your state had already been quite the wreck from these so-called “punishments” you had endured from him formerly, but they were nothing in comparison to whatever the hell he did to you this time. Your body structure wasn’t even recognisable to the bare eye anymore. The only thing left confirming your identity being your facial features, those you had instinctively tried shielding with your arms; arms who were now bend in uncomfortable positions, whose bones were now much so similar to your ribcage as they were clearly showing, sharp tips that had been broken off of the full bone structure poking out of the bloodied flesh.

You seemed to have gotten on his nerves once more, didn’t you? Who were you even kidding, you were always at fault from his point of view. You swore it had gotten to a stage where he just reached out for whatever excuse he could get his grabby hands on to cause harm upon you. His frustration streaks being no help in the matter, whatsoever.

That being said, this too included suffering the most whenever his torturous desires came over to front within his own mind, lashing out and resulting in unimaginable that when given too much detail would probably get me banned discipline instances in itself. He was trying to tame you into being some compliant little lap dog,

the perfect significant other.

And you? You were absolutely not having it.

You were very well aware of the fact that you, too, weren’t exactly the easiest when being in his presence either. Seemingly almost intentionally setting him off, having caused many broken limbs, bruises in all colours of the rainbow, deep wounds and screaming matches that could have easily been prevented otherwise. You just could not help it, the thought alone of being obedient to this- this monster made you sick to the stomach. The strict mental promise you made to yourself literally keeping you sane from his either constant cruelty or unwanted affection.

It was no surprise to say that he just went along with everything he desired as well, not caring about the clear signs of major discomfort your own figure had been showing Every. Single. Time.

Well.

He simply continued to take, greedily getting some sort of emotionally high on all that you'd indirectly have the possibility of giving him. Your blood, tears, cries, whatever sound he managed to get out of you, your body; he wanted all of it, the most suffocating part being that he wouldn’t ever hesitate to be selfish when it came to his wants, his needs. You could yell, squirm and resist all you wanted ...but deep down you knew attempting to resist his lustful urges would be futile. You knew he would continue to take until you were nothing short of an empty husk.

That was the case, atleast.

Until there was nothing left to take from you. His wrath didn’t hurt you anymore, it couldn’t.

Toby swore he could have felt the last bit of basic common sense alongside the last pinch of emotional stability left inside of him fading right then and there. Slipping from his grasp as he was clutching together excuses to desperately try and get himself somewhat in the clear, to not have the realisation of his actions setting in.

No. He wouldn't be able to handle it

This wasn’t his doing. No- nonono he has always told himself he had everything under control. It COULDN’T possibly be his own doing.

He’d never meant to ...

Yet despite these protests profusely swirling around in his head, slowly having it drag itself more into insanity, the axe was right there. Clutched in his own shaky hands with the oh-so-familiar dark red substance dripping from them. In fact, his own entire being was soaked in blood from head to toe. Creating a dried up pattern on the fabric he was wearing.

Was it his own?

Despite the constant weak state you managed to be in, how low in power you were compared to him; you never failed to catch him by surprise when still managing to put up the slightest bit of a fight, often even shedding blood yourself, his blood. Even as time passed, you should have clearly gotten the hint by now that struggling against your capturer, your abuser, did absolutely nothing for the both of you.

It caused you yet more and more harm. But much to Toby’s irritation, you never gained the desire to lower this stubborn behaviour of yours. Continuously keeping up your nagging nature, almost like you were trying to make him snap with no questions asked in the matter. Your motives were foreign to him, even questioning himself if you even had any to begin with. Heck, everything you once seemed to hold a liking torwards was either destroyed to bits, crumbled on the streets for the passersby to find or dead;

So, why?? Was tormenting him truly that important to you?

Muttering nonsense to himself and still being as shaky as ever, Toby dragged his now numb legs across the floor in a sad attempt to get the situation in hand, to get closer to you.

Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel hesitant, his racing mind still not seeming to have left the state of shock he’s been in for the past hours. He was very much aware by now that your life had been taken this night. Taken in a brutal act of fury.

You weren't there anymore.

the axe slid right onto the cold floor, the metal leaving a clunk sound that echoed clamorously along the room as his body now realised how heavy the pressure on his arms had actually been.

Weakly he started counting down the reasons on how and most importantly, why this could have happened in the first place. He knew how massively petty you could be at times, but this was FAR from the wishes of his main desires.

This should never have happened.

He loved you.

It shouldn’t have.

He loved you. Helovedyouhelovedyouhelovedyouheneededyo---

He completely set his current thoughts to a stop for a good minute at that one. Needing you.

What did that even mean?

He knew he held you in massively high priority, he adored you even, but. Even that sentence in itself caught him off guard. His head had been over flooding for sure, it all just felt void-like, not real.

All he was left with now were his own heartbeats growing their ways into his ears as the organ was struggling to keep itself at bay, the strange yet all too familiar hollowness he felt in the deepest pits of his stomach and the liquid that has unconsciously been falling from his now blurry eyes.

He bit his cheek until blood was drawn from them, fighting back a choked sob as he crouched down to the bloody mess in front of him. Gently stroking your cheek with his knuckles, he flinched at how cold it actually was. The sensation of suffocation in his throat having reduplicated itself in a way he doesn't wish to remind himself of, clenching his jaws at how difficult it had become to keep in his whimpering. But enough of his tears were being shed for sure. And to make matters worse, the usual lack of emotion burned into your expression you’ve had ever since he’s been holding you hostage was now gone.

Instead, the frown Toby had been forced to grow used to was now formed into a soft smile instead. It was small, but unquestionably there. You were safe now, making peace with the outcome that had been created for your life. The outcome created by the absolute greed of another.

The outcome he had made for you.

This realisation he had tried to deny so damn badly had finally hit him, hard.

He quit fighting, the walls he created as a defence mechanism crumbling completely. Giving in as the overwhelming emotions that had been building up finally came to a releasing end. His usual mockery demeanor had been thrown out of the window once and for all, as all he managed to shriek out now were rushed apologies while just pleading for your living form. Just begging to hear your breathing for one last time. You seemed so small. Had you always been like this?

Please come back... please...

Hands were clinging onto the little bits of what was left of your body like his life depended on it. Big chunks of flesh were hanging from the body parts of your figure, laying limp against his own with his weak grip being yet as needy as ever, tears streaming out like a waterfall and unsteady breaths forcing their ways out into the crook of your neck. He had nothing to say anymore, the room instead being filled with high-pitched sobbing and convulsive gasps coming from nobody but himself.

God, he could have heard you call him pathetic right on the spot.

And that thought of you alone was enough to force a muffled screech out of him as his grasp grew only stronger, his veins being filled with nothing but desperation and grief; The constant loop he was in, slowly but actively breaking him down entirely. Your faint words out of memory repeating themselves over and over again.

And that smile.

That damned smile of yours being left to haunt the back of his mind.

Oh how that little motivation of yours had become clear to him now . . .

[malkavi-ann]

When the Truth Hurts. Chapter 4

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree fanfiction

Rating: Mature (May change in the future)

Relationship: F/M

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler/Original Female Character

Tags: Self-Loathing, Reference to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Messmer is bad at feelings, Mommy Issues, Abandonment Issues, Mostly Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Tarnished never arrives to the Land of Shadow, Friendship/Love

Link to Ao3

Chapter 4: The Shadow Keep

Meanwhile, Messmer’s men were waiting for his liege to return outside. Some of them were having an idle chat, while others were watching the door closely, and Commander Gaius was one of them. Truth be told, he was concerned about Messmer’s well-being. They had known each other since they were serving the Golden Order in the Lands Between. Both of them suffered from afflictions that made their life miserable, and perhaps because of that their bond grew stronger as the years passed. When Marika ordered Messmer to wage war on the Hornsent, he personally appointed Gaius to lead his army into the Land of Shadow. All these years they fought their enemy side by side. When they weren’t fighting, Messmer would confide in Gaius about his fears and feelings related to his mother’s absence. Therefore, the albinauric warrior knew very well how deeply Messmer was concerned about this mysterious woman who could be Marika’s imposter.

Gaius’ thoughts got interrupted by a loud rumbling “oink” that came from his mount, a giant boar which he gently called his other half. “What’s that, Penelope? Have you grown tired already, my dear?”, he playfully asked his beloved animal. Penelope shook her head and grunted, expressing her disagreement mixed with concern. “Now, now, no need to fuss over me. I’m just a wee bit worried about my dear friend. But I’m sure he will be alright. He has been through a lot, but he’s a strong man.” The boar got quiet for a moment and then grunted softly as if she was trying to reassure her companion. “Ah, I do appreciate your concern, my dear.”, Gaius said as he patted his loyal mount on the back of her head. Penelope squealed with delight and finally calmed down.

The sun slowly started to set when two figures finally emerged from the hut. Messmer’s men sighed with relief when they saw their leader appear unharmed, but their demeanor changed drastically when their eyes fell on the female figure following Messmer. Many soldiers and knights in Messmer’s army were Marika’s followers who worshiped her with fervor. And so they were also hoping for their Queen’s return; however, nothing could have prepared them for what they saw: a visage resembling Marika but plagued with a mark of their sworn enemy. Morgana could feel all those looks filled with disgust pointed towards her and it made her skin crawl. She wondered what exactly about her presence had made these people so deeply upset. Messmer also took notice of how the attitude of his soldiers had changed once they saw Morgana. He stepped in front of her, his figure hiding her from the silent hostility.

“We shall take this woman to the Shadow Keep for further interrogation. No harm shall be inflicted upon her.”, Messmer announced. His men exchanged puzzled looks as they couldn’t understand why they should spare this imposter from death. Nevertheless, Messmer’s orders were not to be argued with, so they had to obey.

Messmer turned to Morgana, “You said you could awaken my soldiers from their slumber”. She nodded, “As long as they are moved away from the blood fiends, yes. Otherwise, the soldiers might attack them again once they’re awake”.

“Fair enough”, Messmer said. He ordered his men to move the sleeping bodies of the scouts away from the blood fiends. Once they were at a safe distance from the shack, Morgana closed her eyes and whispered an incantation. In an instance, the sleeping soldiers started to wake up, yawning as they were getting up from the ground. After they finally came to their senses, the envoy was finally ready to return to the Shadow Keep.

The journey back to the Shadow Keep was quite uneventful and mostly silent. Every now and then some soldiers would quickly look over the horned woman and exchange hushed murmurs of disapproval. It was getting dark when they finally reached the gates of the keep. One of the Fire Knights approached Messmer and Gaius, “My lord, where should we take the…uh…prisoner?”. For a moment, Messmer considered the options: there wasn’t a functioning prison in the keep as his army didn’t tend to keep captured Hornsent alive for too long. He was trying to remember if there were any spare rooms where Morgana could be kept under lock when Commander Gaius chimed in. “We could take her to one of the prayer rooms in the church district and put a couple of guards at the door to make sure she doesn’t escape.”

Messmer nodded, “That sounds reasonable. Thank you for your suggestion, Commander”. He then turned to the knight, “Take her to the prayer room and arrange guarding shifts. Keep an eye on her day and night.” The Fire Knight bowed slightly before heading towards Morgana, who was surrounded by the foot soldiers. Messmer and Gaius heard him give orders to the soldiers and after that, they took Morgana away.

”Well, that was certainly an unusual encounter”, Gaius said.

“Indeed. Out of all possibilities, I didn’t expect this to happen.” Messmer remarked.

“What exactly happened in that shack? And why in the name of the Erdtree did you decide to bring this woman here?”, asked Gaius.

”Let us speak in private. I do not wish anyone to overhear us. Come with me, my friend.” Messmer turned around and headed towards his chamber while Gaius followed behind him. After taking a brisk walk through the keep, they entered the Dark Chamber. The room greeted them with silence and complete darkness. Messmer made a slight gesture with his left hand and the candles around the room lit up with his flame.

“I was worried about you, Messmer”, Gaius began. “I know that your mother means a lot to you, but I still cannot comprehend why you kept that woman alive. She looks like a Hornsent.”

”Oh, believe me, my friend, I did want to kill her on the spot once I saw those wretched horns. To distort my mother’s visage like that? Such a blasphemy. And yet I couldn’t do it. Despite the horns, that woman reminds me so much of her. It’s like she’s back here with me.”, Messmer said.

”I see. Can’t say I blame you for that.”, his albinauric friend was always incredibly understanding, and this time was no exception. “In any case, my other question still stands: why did we bring her here?”

”She mentioned that she comes from the Lands Between, so I reckoned she might know something of the current state of affairs there. And perhaps she may have information about my mother too as she said she used to live at a palace.”, Messmer replied, his words filled with desperate hope.

”That is rather curious. But couldn’t you get that information from her when we were at the hut?”, Gaius questioned his friend further.

“The woman has lost her memories so she couldn’t give me any details about her life in the Lands Between. So, I thought that maybe with time she could regain her memories, and then we could interrogate her.” When Messmer was trying to explain his reasoning, he could feel that Gaius was hesitant to accept his explanation.

“Hmm, I suppose that could be possible. But what if her memory doesn’t come back? What are we to do then?”. It was clear that Gaius had doubts about this plan, and quite frankly, Messmer was also unsure if it was possible.

“In that case, we’ll get rid of her.”

Gaius nodded in response, seemingly satisfied with Messmer’s reply. “Is there anything else we should know about her?”, came another question.

Messmer hesitated for a few seconds: he needed to consider what information he could share even with his friend. Though they’d been close friends for a long time and they trusted each other deeply, Messmer was still afraid that Gaius would think less of him for his true intentions.

”Her name is Morgana, and she’s been afflicted by the Omen curse since she was born. That’s why I mistook her for a Hornsent.”, he finally spoke.

”An Omen? From what I recall, Omen folk are much bigger and more violent than this woman.”, Gaius remarked, and Messmer had to agree with his friend.

”Indeed, I found it hard to believe as well. However, since she comes from the Lands Between, and the Omen curse doesn’t exist in the realm of shadow, I’m inclined to trust her on that.”

The two men stayed silent for a while as both were processing the events of the day. Gauis looked at his friend intently: was there something Messmer was not telling him? While his reasons for keeping this woman alive had some validity, it seemed as if Messmer was trying really hard to convince Gaius that there was a legitimate need to bring her to the keep.

”My friend,” Gaius said gently, “if there’s something you wish to get off your chest, I’m always here to listen to you with an open mind. And I swear on my honor that everything we’ve discussed here shall remain a secret.”

Messmer smiled wearily, “Thank you, Gaius. Your support means a lot to me.”, he paused. “Now, if you excuse me, I wish to be alone for a while.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted, my friend. I shall leave you be. Rest well.” And with that, Gaius exited the Dark Chamber, leaving Messmer alone to ponder the events of the day.

Messmer turned his gaze towards the statue of Marika which was hidden in the shadows of the chamber. He still couldn’t believe that everything that had transpired earlier that day was real. Now that he was back in the Shadow Keep, it all felt like a distant dream. Yet, that woman was here, locked up in one of the prayer rooms of the keep. Messmer sighed heavily: now that he could think a bit more clearly, he realized how desperate and irrational his actions were. And, judging by his conversation with Gaius, his loyal friend remained doubtful about Messmer’s true reasons behind Morgana’s imprisonment.

Truth to be told, there was another reason why Messmer decided to bring her here. After seeing how much this woman looked like his mother, he simply couldn’t let her go. All these years he’d been yearning to see Marika once more. And when he looked at Morgana, he could almost see his mother right there in front of him. His common sense and rational thinking kept telling Messmer that he was wrong for hoping that this woman could somehow replace Marika’s presence in his life. Nevertheless, he chose to follow his heart. Was he really that desperate and weak? Just thinking about this situation made him despise himself even more.

”Pathetic.”, Messmer said out loud to himself. “You have always been pathetic, and you shall remain that way till your very end. Maybe you deserve to be abandoned by the one who you love most.”

He looked at his Mother’s stone visage once again. “O Mother, forgive me for my sins.”, he prayed silently. There was, of course, no reply, but Marika’s statue always watched over him with a smile. In his mind, Messmer preferred to believe that she would forgive him no matter what for her maternal love was unconditional.

* * *

Morgana was following the knight through the keep. She was surrounded by a couple of soldiers who kept a very close watch on her. Agreeing to come here was most certainly a mistake since everyone treated her like a dangerous prisoner. However, it was too late to regret her past actions. Besides, she didn’t have much choice to begin with. Maybe the man with the serpents was right, and her memory would come back to her with time. Or maybe it was all a ruse to get her captured.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the chatter between the guards. “We should take her through the Specimen Warehouse if we want to take a shortcut.”, one of the soldiers to her left said, addressing the knight in front of her. “I’m well aware of that. Now shut up and stick to your duty, soldier.”, the knight cut the guard off.

As they entered the Specimen Warehouse, Morgana was taken aback by how enormous this part of the keep was. There were multiple levels connected by stairs and elevators, and each of these levels contained hundreds of thousands of ancient tomes, scrolls, and stone inscriptions. Who knew what kind of knowledge and wisdom could be gained from perusing this collection? Morgana, who had been mostly looking at the floor on the way to her cell, started looking around the warehouse with excitement and curiosity. But the most astonishing thing about this place wasn’t its size or its extensive amount of books. It was the mummified specimen of animals and even people whose bodies were covered with horns. Their corpses were either suspended by the chains or displayed on large platforms around the library. The mere sight of these dead creatures was both breathtaking and terrifying. An eerie thought crawled into Morgana’s mind: would this be her fate if she didn’t regain her memories? Would she be murdered, mummified, and put on the display? Thinking about it made her sick to her stomach, and the sliver of hope that she’d had before began to wane. Disgusted by the morbid sights, she averted her gaze and tried to concentrate on the positives: she was still alive, and there was still a chance, though slim, for her to reach her goal.

Morgana was so consumed by her thoughts, that she didn’t notice that they’d reached a stone platform that took them to the lower levels of the keep. As they made their descent, the air changed drastically: the warm scent of parchment and leather of the books was replaced by a stale odor of something cold and damp. When the platform came to a halt, Morgana realized why it smelled so putrid: this level of the keep was surrounded by murky water.

“Thank Marika, we’re almost there.”, one of the soldiers murmured, avoiding being heard by his superior. “Can’t wait to bugger off and get some bloody rest”. The guards were obviously not happy with their duties. But it seemed that the knight didn’t hear - or pretended to not hear - the soldier’s rumblings. Soon enough they reached a wooden door tucked away in the corner of the building they were in. The knight opened the door and gestured for Morgana to enter the room. “Get in.”, he ordered sharply. Morgana obeyed silently and walked into a dimly lit prayer room. The door behind her slammed shut, and she heard the sound of keys rattling in the keyhole. She was now locked in a room that had no windows except for a tiny opening in the door with iron bars that separated her from the rest of the world. In a moment the rattling stopped, and Morgana could hear the sound of footsteps that grew fainter and fainter as the knight with the soldiers were making their exit from the building.

Morgana looked around the room, which was now her prison. There were a few benches and a couple of chairs that faced an altar adjacent to the back wall. As there were no windows, the only source of light was candles placed on the wooden holders. Most of them were almost completely gone, sitting in the solidified puddle of wax, while some were still giving off feeble light. It seemed as if this room wasn’t frequented by the keep dwellers and therefore was as solitary as its only occupant.

Morgana wanted to consider her next steps, but she was too exhausted to even think. There was no sign of a bed, and the chairs were too small for her. “Looks like sleeping on the floor is my only option. Good thing I’ve already gotten used to it”, she said to herself. She took off the cloak and threw it on the cold stone floor to make it slightly less comfortable to sleep on. When Morgana finally lay down, she whispered a quick prayer to the Formless Mother. Even though her sacred seal had been taken away, saying a prayer brought her a sense of comfort. Feeling slightly better, Morgana closed her eyes and drifted into the world of dreams.

__________________________

Note: Hello dear readers! First of all, thank you for your patience! I know it's been a while since the last update. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to work on this chapter the previous week due to some IRL stuff. I also felt a bit uninspired, so that sucked. Anyway, I feel like I'm getting a bit better at writing longer chapters. I also realized that I really enjoy describing the characters' interactions with their "pets". I think it shows their kinder side of personality well. Speaking of the pets, I couldn't find any info about Gaius' boar gender, so I just decided to make it female lol. Finally, thank you all so much for the likes, comments, and reposts. I really appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter <3 Until next time :)

[pnk-berri]

Ensnared - Eros Vasilios

by any means necessary, he shall claim you as his own

Content Warning: The following text contains explicit and violent content. Reader discretion is advised.

—

The grand ball at the Imperial Palace was a sight to behold. The lavish decorations, the elegant gowns and tuxedos, and the symphony of laughter and music filled the air. Eros, as the host, radiated an aura of grace and charm as he greeted his noble guests.

Among the crowd, you stood out like a rare gem. Ever since that initial encounter in the distant past, you instantly captured Eros's attention. Dressed in a stunning gown that highlighted your every curve and complimented your features, he couldn't take his eyes off of you as you moved gracefully across the ballroom floor.

As the evening progressed, Eros finally approached you during the waltz, extending his hand with a charming smile.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?" he asked, his voice a deep velvet that resonated with a touch of intrigue.

You graciously accepted his invitation, placing your hand in his. The moment your fingertips touched, a jolt of electricity shot through your veins, leaving you momentarily speechless. As the orchestra began to play, the two of you glided effortlessly across the polished marble floor, locked in a dance that seemed to transcend time and space.

Eros, an impeccable dancer, led with a firm yet gentle hand, guiding you with synchronized ease. His eyes never left your face, a mixture of admiration and desire sparking within them. The chemistry between you was undeniable as if the universe conspired to bring you together.

The ball continued, and the night grew late. As the guests bid their farewells and began to disperse, leaving the palace, you made your way towards your carriage, ready to head home. Little did you know that danger lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Suddenly, before your very eyes, a group of masked figures emerged from the darkness promptly incapacitating the coachman. With their faces hidden, they moved swiftly, surrounding you and blocking any escape route. Panic surged through your veins, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest.

Eros, who had been observing from a distance, watched with smug satisfaction as the kidnapping unfolded. His grip on his emotions tightened as he suppressed a grin.

As you were whisked away, a single glimmer of defiance flickered in your eyes, a promise that you wouldn't go down without a fight. Unfortunately for you, the odds were not in your favor, for Eros Vasilios excelled in carefully crafted strategies and meticulous plans.

—

The struggle was fierce, the fight for survival evident in every scream, every kick, and every bite that marked your desperate attempts to resist. But despite your valiant efforts, it was all in vain as they overpowered you, their strength overwhelming. The last semblance of hope dwindled as they bound your hands tightly behind your back and secured a gag over your mouth, silencing your cries for help.

The carriage ride seemed to stretch on endlessly, each bump and jolt increasing your anxiety and fear. Finally, the wheels came to an abrupt halt in front of a secluded cabin tucked away in the depths of the foreboding woods. This was to be your prison, the place where unspeakable horrors awaited.

The boss, a sadistic man consumed by evil, took pleasure in the torment he inflicted upon you. His hands were instruments of pain, each slap, kick, and bruise sending waves of agony coursing through your body. Spiteful and cruel words dripped from his lips, latching onto your mind, embedding themselves deep within your consciousness.

There was no escape from his depravity as he violated you, using your body for his own twisted pleasure. Each invasion of your most intimate being served to further degrade, humiliate, and break the spirit you fought so hard to protect. Time seemed to lose all meaning as the minutes turned into hours, your consciousness fading in and out, a fragment of your shattered identity clinging to the small threads of reality.

Just as darkness started to encase your battered body and shattered soul, a glimmer of hope pierced through like a ray of light. Eros, the wings of the empire, arrived with his imperial guards, ready to play the role of savior. His expression feigned concern and anger, a mask expertly crafted to deceive.

The guards descended upon your tormentors with swift and brutal force, apprehending them with ruthless efficiency. To any onlooker, it would seem that Eros had come to save the day, that he was the hero in this twisted tale. In truth, his role as your captor was a secret only he knew, and he fabricated this opportunity to exploit your vulnerability, further deepening the web of dependency he sought to create.

As you regained consciousness, bruised and broken, the sight of Eros surrounded by the guards offered a deceptive sense of security. It was the perfect illusion, a play of power and control. His eyes, once filled with desire and manipulation, now simmered with a calculated concern, an act performed flawlessly to captivate your trust.

With carefully chosen words, he ensured that your wounds will be tended to, even as the memory of the pain lingered in the recesses of your mind. Eros would be your caretaker, your protector, while covertly relishing in the thrill of his deceptive game. Behind his noble facade, drank in the hope and longing that emanated from you.

Eros Vasilios, the master of deceit, had woven a web so intricate that it will ensnare not just your body, but your very essence. And as you clung to his salvation, unbeknownst to you, you had fallen into his grasp, a mere pawn in his dangerous game of power and desire.

"Is it truly you, Your Highness? Have you come to rescue me?" I murmur, exhausted from the relentless torment I've endured.

Eros cradled your broken body in his arms, his touch gentle yet seething with hidden malevolence. As you murmured your disbelief and questioned his sudden appearance as your savior, he looked down at you, his silver eyes shimmering with fabricated sincerity.

"Yes, my dear, it is me," he replied softly, his tone laced with false concern. "I received word of your unfortunate plight, and the very idea of you enduring such suffering in the clutches of those monsters is intolerable. I am here to protect you."

A faint smile danced at the corners of his lips, concealed behind a mask of apparent empathy. On the inside, however, Eros relished in the perverse joy that coursed through his veins, knowing that his meticulously crafted plan was unfolding flawlessly. You, vulnerable and shattered, were the perfect blank canvas for him to manipulate. A sense of complete control washed over him, making his every nerve tingle with sadistic glee.

In his twisted mind, you were clay waiting to be molded, ready to be shaped according to his whims and desires. He cherished the opportunity to have you at your most vulnerable, to claim dominion over your bruised soul and shattered innocence. Soon, the intense bond he sought to establish would be unquestionable, ensuring he held your heart and mind captive under his influence.

"All will be well, my dear," Eros murmured, his voice a low, honeyed whisper. "I promise to keep you safe from harm, to heal your wounds, and bring you back to the person you once were."

With every pledge uttered, he caressed your battered cheek tenderly, his touch belying the inherent cruelty that resided within him. As he conveyed a facade of compassion, his mind churned with the endless possibilities that lay before him, delighted in the game of manipulation that awaited. His sadistic glee simmered just beneath the surface, obscured by the elegant facade he projected. 

"I can't express my gratitude enough, Your Highness.  My life is forever indebted to your grace."

Eros held you tenderly in his arms, his expression a mask of concern and compassion, his true intentions buried deep within his eyes. Upon hearing your plea to leave the nightmarish cabin behind, he nodded solemnly.

"I understand, my dear. The Imperial Castle will provide the best care for you," he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Rest assured, you are safe now. I will personally see to it that you receive the utmost care and attention."

"Please, I desperately want to escape from this place."

With that, he carried you towards a waiting carriage, the guards falling in line to accompany you on your journey. As they opened the carriage door, Eros carefully settled you onto the plush velvet seat, attempting to make you as comfortable as possible.

Inside the carriage, the soft glow of lanterns bathed the interior, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. Eros took a seat across from you, his eyes fixed upon your bruised form, a semblance of worry etched on his features. His voice softened as he spoke, his words designed to further solidify the dependency he wished to cultivate.

"Rest assured, my dear. You have my full protection," Eros reassured, his silver gaze locked with yours. "Once we arrive at the castle, you will receive the best care available. I will personally oversee your recovery."

The subtle flicker of anticipation danced in his eyes, a cruel delight at the thought of guiding you through the healing process. "I will make sure you never have to endure such pain again," he continued, his voice laced with feigned sincerity. "We will see this through together, my dear. You will become stronger, and I will be there every step of the way."

—

The passage of time brought with it physical healing, as your body gradually mended under the watchful eyes of the castle's medical staff. Eros, ever-present and attentive, ensured that you received the finest care available, his role as protector and confidant firmly established. As the days turned into weeks and then months, you felt yourself drawn closer to him. The impenetrable walls of the palace grounds became your sanctuary, a cocoon where you felt undeniably safe in Eros's presence.

But on this gloomy day, when the weight of your past torments bore down upon you, the illusion of safety began to shatter. In the sanctuary of your room, positioned conveniently next to Eros's own chamber, tears stained your cheeks, your vulnerability laid bare in the solitude that only darkness could provide. The guards stationed outside your quarters remained ever vigilant, yet unaware of the storm brewing within your heart and mind.

Every sob wracked your body as the realization of the atrocities you had endured washed over you. The pain, once carefully concealed behind a facade of strength, now erupted with unyielding force. The tightly guarded walls that protected your emotions had crumbled, exposing you entirely to the raw, unadulterated anguish that engulfed your shattered soul.

And in the room adjacent to yours, Eros's acute hearing caught the faint sounds of your despair. A brief flicker of concern flashed across his features before it was swiftly replaced with a cool calculation, his mind already formulating a plan to exploit your emotional vulnerability for his own gain. Guided by an insatiable curiosity and a sadistic inclination, he crossed the threshold into your room without hesitation.

As his eyes met your tear-streaked face, a semblance of empathy washed over his features, his gaze betraying a hint of genuine concern. Taking measured steps toward you, he knelt beside your trembling form, his voice a soothing murmur in the tempest of your anguish.

"My dear, what troubles you so?" Eros inquired, his tone carefully pitched to convey both support and curiosity. "Do not bear this burden alone. Share your pain with me. Let me help you carry it."

Inside, however, a wicked thrill rippled through Eros's core, knowing that the cracks in your emotional armor allowed for further manipulation. With every tear that fell, he recognized an opportunity to deepen your reliance upon him, an opportunity to claim not just your body but your shattered psyche as well.

Knees sinking into the plush carpet, he reached out to brush a gentle hand against your cheek, his touch seemingly tender yet tinged with an undercurrent of possessiveness. Behind those silver eyes, a fire burned with a sadistic desire, a craving to exploit your fragile state for his personal gratification.

The torrent of tears streamed relentlessly down your face, a testament to the indescribable pain that ravaged your soul. Eros listened carefully to your anguish, his silver eyes fixated on your trembling form. Though you bared the depths of your shattered psyche, the words that spilled from your lips only seemed to increase his appetite for control.

His gaze softened, an empathetic façade plastered across his features as you sought solace in his embrace. As your trembling arms encircled him, a hollow pit formed in his stomach, replaced with a surge of satisfaction at the depth of your desperation. He relished in the power he held over you, knowing that your vulnerability made you malleable to his every whim.

"I understand, my dear," Eros whispered, his voice a gentle caress of reassurance. "You have been through unimaginable horrors, but remember, you are safe now. I saved you because I couldn't bear to see you suffer."

His arms wrapped around you in a feigned display of warmth, offering you the illusion of sanctuary within his embrace. A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, hidden from your tear-filled gaze. He derived a perverse pleasure from your confession, reveling in the knowledge that your trust and dependence on him reached such profound depths.

"You are not alone," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Regardless of the circumstances. I'll always be there for you. I’ll be the one to care for you."

But deep within Eros, a sadistic satisfaction simmered, rekindled by your open vulnerability and the revelation of the unspeakable acts forced upon you. The knowledge of your torment gnawed at his conscience, even as he dissected it through the lens of manipulation. The darkness that stained your past would serve as the foundation upon which he would build his own empire of control.

In that moment, Eros relished the power he possessed, intoxicated by your unwavering belief in his ability to mend your shattered soul. The tendrils of his influence tightened around your heart, ensnaring you further within his grasp. As you clung to him for comfort, he basked in the echoes of your pain, preparing to exploit them to their fullest extent.

A twisted smirk danced across his lips. Your plea for help and guidance resonated within him, triggering a wicked desire to possess you in ways unimaginable. Yet, he skillfully masked his ulterior motives, portraying himself as a beacon of solace in your darkest hour.

As your grip tightened around him, he reciprocated, his arms enveloping you in a deceptive tenderness. His lips brushed against your ear, his voice a velvet murmur laced with desire, tailored to further seduce your already fragile state.

"Let me be the one to cleanse those stains, to rid your body of their touch," Eros whispered, his breath hitching with a feigned vulnerability. "In the intimacy we share, I will wash away the sins of the past, replacing them with a love that transcends pain and anguish."

His words cast a spell, drawing you further into his snare. His touch, once comforting, now ignited a flame of desire within you. The boundaries between prince and subject blurred, giving rise to a hunger that thrived within the depths of your souls.

Eros gazed upon your tear-streaked face, his silver eyes filled with a mixture of longing and possession. In that moment, he became both your salvation and your damnation, a deity that demanded worship and offered salvation.

"My dear, there is a way we can find solace together," Eros murmured, his voice thick with unspoken promises. "Through this sacred act of love, I can help you cleanse yourself of the haunting touch of your past. I can show you a world where the connection between two souls can transcend the darkest of memories."

With a calculated elegance, Eros led you toward the plush confines of your bed, his hands trailing sensually along your body, guiding you to a place where desire and intimacy intertwined. The scent of forbidden pleasure permeated the room, thick with anticipation as your bodies embraced, entangled in a dance choreographed by wicked desire.

Within the intimate confines of your room, Eros orchestrated a symphony of passion and power, claiming you in a frenzied entanglement of limbs and whispered promises. His touch, skilled and possessive, sought to erase the lingering stains of your past, to inscribe upon your body the indelible marks of his dominance.

In that sacred moment, pleasure mingled with pain, and the twisted dance of power and vulnerability played out with every breathless gasp and fervent moan. Eros indulged in the depths of your surrender, crafting an illusion of ecstasy that would forever bind your fates together.

As the room dissolved into shadows and the lines between right and wrong blurred, you found yourself caught in the irresistible spell of Eros - the enigmatic Crown Prince who promised salvation through sin, love through manipulation, and a shattered soul made whole through twisted desire.

—

The sunrays cascaded through the parted curtains, casting a golden glow upon the aftermath of the night's fervent passions. Eros, reclining amidst the disheveled sheets, watched with a smirk as you stirred from your slumber. Satisfaction flickered in his silver eyes, for his elaborate plot had, yet again, yielded fruitful results.

Your delicate features, softened in the morning light, elicited a mixture of amusement and possessiveness within him. It pleased him to see the last night’s traces etched upon your skin, a reminder of his claim and the power he held over you. His desires were fulfilled, he now turned his attention to the next stage of his Machiavellian plan.

As you fluttered your eyes open, your gaze instinctively sought out Eros, the man who had claimed your body and awakened desires you never knew existed. The electric chemistry between you both still lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of the night's passionate union. With a calculated charm, Eros extended a hand to you, inviting you into his world of unspoken promises and shared secrets.

"Good morning, my dear," Eros greeted, his voice as smooth and alluring as ever. "Last night was... extraordinary. I hope you found solace in our intimacy."

His words carried a deeper meaning, conveying his intent to bind you to him in a way that surpassed physical desires alone. Eros saw the opportunity to further solidify his dominion over your entire being. And in his grand plan, the final puzzle piece was to make you his crown princess, forever chaining you to his side.

With careful precision, he pressed on, his gaze unwavering as he unveiled his intentions like a prized possession. "My dear, our souls are beautifully entertained, and I cannot help but envision a future where you are forever by my side as the jewel of the Vasilios Empire. Will you do me the honor of becoming my crown princess?"

Eros's proposal, wrapped in the guise of love and sanctity, held implications far beyond the realm of genuine affection. His intentions were clear - to manipulate your desires and seal your fate within the halls of power. The notion of being bound to him for eternity, wearing the title of his bride, would serve as the ultimate shackle, ensuring your obedience and quelling any doubts of escape.

The weight of his proposition hung in the air, the gravity of his words fueling the sudden realization of the depths of your entanglement. Eros, the Crown Prince, the orchestrator of your life, sought to complete the cycle of possession through the sanctity of marriage. There would be no escape, no rebellion left unquelled. You were to be forever tethered to him, bearing the title of his bride and eternally subject to his will.

As your heart hammered within your chest, conflicted emotions rose to the surface. The remnants of pleasure from the previous night intertwined with apprehension and uncertainty, creating a tumultuous storm within you. Eros awaited your response, fully aware that the pull he had on your heart would guide you toward the answer he sought.

Images of a future merged with his flashed before your eyes, visions of opulence, power, and privilege intermingled with the darkness of manipulation and control. The choice before you, though veiled in the guise of love and commitment, was one founded upon a foundation of chains and servitude.

As you took his outstretched hand, an unspoken agreement settled between you. The path forward, fraught with struggle and sacrifice, was irrevocably set. In accepting his proposal, you sealed your fate as the Crown Princess of the Vasilios Empire, forever bound to Eros's will and the tendrils of his intricate web.

—

In the wake of Eros's proposal and your acceptance, the palace walls buzzed with fervor and delight. The news of the union between the Crown Prince and a rescued noblewoman ignited the imaginations of the Vasilios Empire's inhabitants. To the masses, it was the epitome of a fairy tale romance, a symbol of hope and unity.

Eros, ever the master manipulator, ensured that the public perception of your impending matrimony aligned with his carefully constructed narrative. He orchestrated a delicate dance of whispers and half-truths, painting your love story as one borne from pure intentions. And the empire delighted in your tale, eagerly embracing the illusion of a union destined by fate.

Preparations for the grand wedding unfolded swiftly under Eros's meticulous eye. The palace, adorned in regal opulence, buzzed with the frenetic energy of men and women working tirelessly to bring Eros's vision to life. Rich fabrics, expertly crafted jewelry, and intricate floral arrangements adorned every corner, a testament to the grandeur that awaited.

You, the future crown prince (or rather, empress?), were guided through the preparations with grace and poise befitting your newfound status. Every detail, from the selection of your wedding gown to the intricate choreography of the ceremony, was curated to reflect the magnificence and power of the Vasilios dynasty.

As the days turned into weeks, you became a treasured pawn in Eros's grand game of control and manipulation, skillfully maneuvered to satisfy his every whimsical desire. Within the confines of the palace, he orchestrated your life, molding you into the perfect counterpart to his inflated ego. You were suffused with etiquette lessons, political briefings, and the nuances of courtly life, all with the underlying intention of binding you tighter to his side.

Amidst the whirlwind of preparations, Eros savored in the power and control he exerted over your future. The allure of becoming an emperor, of you being the one who stood beside him on the throne, seemed like the ultimate prize in his grand strategy for dominion. And he would have it all - your body, your mind, your soul, and now, your unquestioning submission as his betrothed.

The days danced by, the eve of your wedding drawing closer with each passing moment. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and the moon illuminated the night sky, you stood on the precipice of a new chapter. The walls of the palace whispered with an air of anticipation, carrying the weight of a future forged in subjugation and absolute power.

The empire held its breath, eagerly awaiting the day when the Crown Prince would unite with his chosen bride. As the preparations reached their climax, you could feel the weight of the crown pressing upon your brow. In the echoing halls of the palace, the final masterstroke of Eros's web of manipulation was set to unfurl, and you were caught in its intricate threads, forever entwined with the enigmatic prince who sought to possess your very essence.

—

The waves crashed against the shore as the moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow upon the beach-side villa where Eros had chosen to spend your honeymoon. The opulence of the surroundings bespoke Eros's insatiable desire to indulge in every whim, drowning you in a sea of luxury and decadence.

Within the walls of the villa's plush chambers, Eros reveled in his newfound power over you, his crown princess – his wife. With a sadistic smile that danced upon his lips, he devoured the sight before him – your trembling body, bearing the marks of his possession and desire. He had reduced you to a quivering, needy slut, a manifestation of his dominance and your submission.

Eros chuckled lowly, savoring the taste of power as he watched your dumbfounded expressions, your once-composed self diluted in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. To him, this was a conquest, the ultimate manifestation of superior control. He wallowed in his ability to make you beg, to reduce you to the most primal and raw form of need and desire.

His satisfaction grew as your body writhed beneath his touch, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Eros was a master of manipulation, both emotional and physical, and he knew precisely how to push you to the brink of ecstasy. Each moan, whimper, or gasp that escaped your lips fed his insatiable hunger for power and left him thirsting for more.

Dominance and desire mingled in his eyes as he watched his little doll succumb to his every whim. Every stroke, every demanding thrust, was an act of possession, reinforcing the depth of his control over your body and soul. And in the midst of this rapturous dance, Eros basked in his physical superiority, a stark contrast to your smaller, subservient frame.

As waves of pleasure crashed over both of you, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of pain and pleasure, Eros relished the sight of your complete surrender. It was in these intimate moments that he felt alive, truly connected to the world around him. The power he derived from reducing you to a quivering mess resonated deep within his being, filling him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

As the night wore on, the sounds of your shared passion echoed within the secluded villa, a testament to the indomitable force that bound you both. Eros, the cunning architect of your destiny, reveled in the sight of his precious doll, broken and remade to suit his every desire.

—

Amidst the prevailing sense of stability and contentment, a devastating event cast a long shadow over the empire. The passing of Eros's father, the former emperor, came far too swiftly, leaving whispers of foul play lingering in the air. The funeral, a somber affair steeped in tradition and decorum, marked the end of an era and the ascension of a new ruler. Eros coronated as the emperor, stepped onto the throne, a symbol of unrivaled power and authority. And you, his empress, stood beside him, an ethereal presence radiating elegance and a quiet strength that commanded the respect of court and commoner alike.

Yes, the passage of time had brought forth both joyous triumphs and heartbreaking sorrows within the confines of the imperial palace. The birth of your children, Anteros and Hedone, gifted you and Eros with a taste of familial bliss amid the tumultuous undercurrents of power and control. The empire rejoiced in the knowledge that the dynasty would continue, the heirs of Eros Vasilios were instilled with greatness from birth. They were the embodiment of the empire's hope and future

As your children grew, their laughter filling the halls and their curious eyes exploring every corner, the empire thrived under Eros's rule. The Vasilios Empire prospered under his deft hand, as he navigated the complex maze of politics and power with an unyielding determination. His subjects, blind to the darkness that roiled beneath his composed exterior, adored their emperor with unwavering loyalty.

You, too, had become the epitome of grace, embodying the regality expected of the empress. You, the once lowly noblewoman, stood by Eros's side, an impeccable figure of regality and grace. The years had refined and honed your abilities, transforming you into the perfect counterpart for the cunning emperor. Together, you ruled with an iron fist concealed by velvet gloves, manipulating the chessboard of power with strategic precision. Every movement, every word, an expertly choreographed performance that garnered reverence and admiration from all who beheld you. Eros, ever the orchestrator, maneuvered you into a position of power, a figurehead that commanded respect and awe.

Amidst the political machinations and the dance of power, a passionate night gifted you with your second daughter, Calypso. With each child, the familial bond between you and Eros strengthened, forging an unbreakable connection that neither time nor circumstance could sever. They were the blossoms of your love, reminders that even in darkness, there existed traces of light.

As time passed,  the sheer strength of Eros’s strategic mind allowed the Vasilios Empire to flourish, its citizens reaping the benefits of his calculated governance. Under the watchful gaze of its emperor and empress, intricately woven threads of control and manipulation strengthened Eros's rule. The darkness that loomed beneath his facade remained hidden, his subjects blissfully unaware of the depths of his cunning and ruthlessness.

Little did they know, as they celebrated the empire's prosperity, that Eros's ambitions extended far beyond the borders of power and control they could comprehend. The intricacies of his grand design continued to unfold, ensnaring both friend and foe alike. Within his heart, a consuming hunger burned, his thirst for divinity as insatiable as the power he sought to wield.

As the empire basked in the glory of its emperor and empress, fate spun its wicked webs, quietly guiding the future of the Vasilios lineage and beckoning Eros toward the precipice of his dark desires.

[faeofmoons]

husband yamato headcanons bcs i love him and i'm very normal about him i swear

small warning for hinted posessiveness/controling behavior.

ʚ🫀ɞ the married life with yamato would be no exaggeration of having the perfect husband. even while having such a taxing occupation as running the twilight order (not to mention his other jobs), he fufills his duty of a doting, benevolent spouse with ease.

ʚ🫀ɞ gifting you sweet little offertories that tie to your intrests, showering you with endless affection and adoration as soon as he enters your shared home from working, even taking you out to various restaurants when he's feeling extra loving.

ʚ🫀ɞ but of course, he would much rather indulge in you within the walls of the humble home you both share. everything that he could ever need is there, and no prying eyes to discern his actions of affection.

ʚ🫀ɞ not that he would care if said acts of fondness for you were witnessed by strangers, he almost never leaves the house with you without his hand confining your waist or it being on the small of your back.

ʚ🫀ɞ his love languages? physical touch and acts of service without a doubt. it is almost impossible for yamato to keep his hands off of you.

ʚ🫀ɞ he touches each trace of your face, chin, hips, and thighs with care, a contently warm smile curls upon his lips as he admires every curve, scar, and mark on your body as if you were an irresitible fruit. to him, you were the epitomy of perfection.

ʚ🫀ɞ his acts of service is as equally as displayed as his physical affection. you want food? he'll cook your favorite meals. you want a specific something from a store? consider it already purchased. don't even mention the house chores, he does them before you even notice.

ʚ🫀ɞ now, with as lovely as yamato is, everyone has their pros and cons. yamato is no exception to that.

ʚ🫀ɞ for starters, it is no suprise that he is a posessive and controlling man. after he had been freed from his controlling adoptive father kokuzan after his death, yamato has never felt more than to be in need of power.

ʚ🫀ɞ everything that surrounds him shall be bound to his hand if he so desires. his organization, his younger sister; and you.

ʚ🫀ɞ according to his autonomy, he is only so controlling and posessive to keep you close, and to never allow you to slip through the cracks of having a illusory fling with anyone else. you are his spouse, after all. you two are dedicated to each other until death, just as your vows said.

ʚ🫀ɞ at times, the way you act unruly when it comes to this side of him tempts him to use that music box. despite his thin-threaded patience, he is reluctant to inflict its power on you. sure, he has done it once or twice to brusque your frustration, but the consequential uses of the box hits him beforehand.

ʚ🫀ɞ the last thing yamato ever wants to do is make you suffer, and to tear apart this marriage. he cannot afford to sacrifice the one thing he loves and cherishes because of his selfish, power hungry desire to keep you to himself and in his hands.

ʚ🫀ɞ yamato loves you dearly to the moon and back, and he would be willing to anything you ask of him to prove that fact. but you don't have to; you knew that from the moments you said 'yes' and 'I do'.

closing notes: eee first time posting my writing, hoping i did decently and hope that y'all liked it!

[beardedmrbean]

[Huey Zoomer Anon]

You the whole attacks on Jewish people…tbh there was several signs the left never gave a damn about indigenous or marginalized people.

Shall I use Woman King as example?

“Oh Hollywood finally using a proper African kingdom and not the Pan Africa bs that interesting- African Americans to the Dahomey is WHAT?!”

The thing that piss me off the most that a bunch of white people knew that shit vs me who descended from the victims of the Dahomey slave trade

Also how many African Americans education professors knew about the Dahomey for decades but purposefully left that out in our curriculum?

Also yes I know the Yoruba tribe (the primarily genome of African American diaspora) had an empire and slave system too. We are all descendants of murderers and thieves

Also I heard the Bantu tribes are second more common genome in my people disporia, though more common in like Louisiana. Didn’t the Bantu create the Mali Empire?

There a creole/Manu masa joke somewhere…

But thing is that the left idea for indigenous is the Hollywood Stone Age noble savage. Because indigenous people can’t modernize themselves to contemporary times?

Wait I think I hear fuckton of tribes in the americas, India, Asia, and Africa screaming in rage.

Well at least a good chunk of Jewish people prepared themselves for when the world turns against them for round #27421973135852197324752247744842!

Ugh they gave the world so many gifts despite the pain humanity inflicted upon them. Yet still the world still prefer weeping for the dead Jews and despise those who are still alive

You the whole attacks on Jewish people…tbh there was several signs the left never gave a damn about indigenous or marginalized people.

Dakota access pipeline protest, didn't want a oil pipeline because it would polloute.

Which even if they hadn't trashed area they're dumb anyhow, the oil is gonna get moved, without the pipeline it's getting moved by truck which not only pollutes more it also costs more in the end.

Also how many African Americans education professors knew about the Dahomey for decades but purposefully left that out in our curriculum?

Depending on the level they're teaching at it could go from very few of them to most of them, I'd hope some of the college ones would have included the whole thing but not sure how much that hope is worth at all.

Wonder what the 'middle eastern studies' Profs in colleges taught about all that too, there's obscenely wide gap in the high and low estimates of number of black African slaves that were brought into the area through the Arabic slave trade, nobody really kept records of the numbers there like they did with the trans Atlantic slave trade.

Arabic one ran longer and in all likelihood had a way higher number than the one bringing them here to the Americas, that and them raiding the european coast to pick slaves up or the stealing children from their parents in the Balkans as a form of a tax and then forcing them to fight in the sultan's army.

Also yes I know the Yoruba tribe (the primarily genome of African American diaspora) had an empire and slave system too. We are all descendants of murderers and thieves

Sooner folks accept that the sooner we can move forward more as a species.

Also I heard the Bantu tribes are second more common genome in my people disporia, though more common in like Louisiana. Didn’t the Bantu create the Mali Empire? There a creole/Manu masa joke somewhere…

I don't know about that one so I couldn't say,

But thing is that the left idea for indigenous is the Hollywood Stone Age noble savage. Because indigenous people can’t modernize themselves to contemporary times?

Whole thing is wild because I see places all over the world where they engage in some traditional celebration with all the trappings including food and dress and activities and all that good shit and then when that's all done they return to current year.

Culture and history celebrated while still remaining in current year

I hate all the noble savage crap.

Well at least a good chunk of Jewish people prepared themselves for when the world turns against them for round #27421973135852197324752247744842!

Ya, there's a whole 'we've got nowhere left to go' mentality added into the 'this is our homeland' one they've got that's got them constantly on their guard and in a state of readiness.

Ugh they gave the world so many gifts despite the pain humanity inflicted upon them. Yet still the world still prefer weeping for the dead Jews and despise those who are still alive

It really does feel that way at times for sure.

Wonder what the name for a prejudice like that is, nit just Jewish people it happens with after all.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @g0dspeeed <3 | Tagging @josephseedismyfather @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @euryalex @detectivelokis @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @trench-rot @josephslittledeputy @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @neonneurons @dumbassdep @shegetsburned @clicheantagonist @poisonedtruth @vampireninjabunnies-blog @cassietrn @wrathfulrook @voidika @harmonyowl @v0idbuggy @strangefable @schoute @jacobsneed @strafethesesinners and anyone with something to share ❤️

This midweek you're getting more of Jacob x Mercedes, the snippet is on the longer side (but like I don't want to leave you all on a cliffy like with the last "last line tag post") and things are definitely picking up, folks. Beware it gets NSFW towards the end. :D

"Bambi?", Mercedes shot a dark look at the now closed door of Jacob's office, "Bambi.", she shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. You truly have no idea, Jacob Seed. The last couple of minutes were a true testament of her ability to stay in character and not come out swinging the second he had started barking orders at her like she was one of his unfortunate subordinates or worse, an animal he was trying to tame. "Bambi.", she repeated again and bit her lip as she went around the desk and sat down in his chair. You're so lucky I didn't shove my fist so far up your clueless ass you would have seen stars. Intrusive thoughts about inflicting different level of violence upon his person had popped up in her mind anytime Jacob had opened his mouth to speak during their confrontation about her leaving the region. She had no idea why he seemed to enjoy pushing her around so much, but he was in for quite the rude awakening if he expected her to just run back to Joseph and abandon the task and chance at helping the opposing Militia. "The enemy of my enemy shall be my friend.", she whispered as she scanned over the plans laid out in front of her carefully, memorizing anything that could be of assistance at doing damage to the Project. One name repeated over and over in the notes, almost bordering obsession and she suspected the man was just the one she needed to find. "Eli. Eli. I feel like we can help each other." I will be the snake in your brother's garden. The wolf roaming among your sheep, Jacob. Not Bambi.

Mercedes hoped the Deputy that was brave enough to make a run for it would manage to escape despite Jacob's strong confiction he wouldn't. In ways she felt guilty for dragging the man and his colleagues into the mess. After going over anything available on top of the desk, she moved onto its drawers. Locked. Of course. She kept an eye on the door as she reached into her hair and pulled out one of the bobby pins from her braid, getting to work on lockpicking the top drawer. Her gaze narrowed in confusion the second she pulled it open and was greeted by emptiness aside from a small wooden box. She picked it up with curiousity and opened the lid, scanning over the letters engraved on the inside, "Only you? A music box out of everything, Jacob?" Mercedes returned the box back in its place and shut the drawer, double checking it's locked again before moving onto the rest. The discovery was more like what she had expected to come across: files of Hope County residents, most marked as "failure" with a red stamp. She quickly flipped through the folders without pulling any out, knowing there were way too many to go over when she had no idea when Jacob or any of his men would return to check on her. After locking all drawers again and making sure nothing was out of place, she leaned back in the chair with a sign, "Slow progress. Oh, how I hate you."

[one radio call with Joseph later; where he insists she must stay in the Whitetails and be his eyes.]

Hours passed without anyone appearing or even passing by the office door, the building remained quiet as the light outside began to dim. She was starting to wonder if Jacob hadn't decided to not return to the Vet Center at all, hoping she would take the hint and leave after his less than warm welcome. Mercedes lost count how many times she spun around in his chair as she contemplated her life choices and imagining where she would have been at that moment had she not gone after Joseph Seed at all. Probably at some unjustifiably expensive restaurant with a target, hanging onto my every word.Fuck, sure can use some food by now… Another spin paired with regrets and boredom had her staring at the peeling paint on the wall behind her and when she turned again instead of finding the office vacant, angry blue eyes met hers. Sneaking up on me, are we? "You're still here.", Jacob stated the obvious as he stopped in her earlier position at the desk, their roles reversed, no matter how temporary. A smile broke across her face, Mercy coming out to play, "No place I would rather be." Many places I'd rather be, in fact.Anywhere with a more enjoyable company preferably.A bath would be nice, too, doesn't even have to be fancy.

"You called my brother.", he muttered in annoyance as he wiped his brow, smudging blood across his skin and making Mercedes realize his hands were stained crimson. Are you badly injured, Deputy? Is it my fault? "You should have left hours ago. I have to warn you, I don't take lightly to anyone disregarding my authority. Let alone to you making yourself at home in my chair, spinning around in it like a child." So did many control obsessed men before you, honey. Then they realized I do as I please. Most found themselves beneath me or chasing after me, begging for mercy at the end. Ironic, I know. "I answer to Joseph, not you. The sooner you accept that, the less times your blood pressure would rise.", she said, not letting her smile waiver even for a breath as she got up and rounded the desk to stand in front of him. Mercedes licked her thumb and brought it to his forehead, cleaning off the blood when she added, "You have to watch your heart at your age." "What do you think you're doing exactly?", his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist before it could retreat, "And you did not just dare to call me old." She tried to pull her arm free, but Jacob's grip only tightened as a result, "A joke, Jacob, I assume you know what that is. As for what I was doing… you had something on your face, so you're welcome." A strange expression came over his features when he replied, "I didn't expect to have it in you to crack a joke, Mercedes." One of her shoulders quirked up, "Not like you have spent any time trying to talk to me since we've met. How would you know what I'm like?"

All she got from him was silence. The air grew heavy with tension as his eyes ran over her face, hand still gripping hers, his body rigid. Minutes that felt like forever rolled by, and she did her best to keep her breathing steady as goosebumps covered her exposed flesh. She wondered if she would end up slammed into a wall and what would follow. His look tells me that he'd either kiss me senseless or choke the life out of me. Neither outcome very high on my list, thank you. Her back didn't meet the wall behind her, instead he swiftly pulled at her hand and dragged her out of the room without a single word. Jacob took quick, long strides over the hallways, forcing her to jog in order to keep up with him, her flats slipping on the worn-out tiles. His men watched, heads bowed down, trying their hardest to appear disinterested in what their boss was doing. "Jacob?", she uttered out in confusion, refusing to let go of Mercy's sweet and naive persona. In reality she suspected that at some point in the quiet moments back in his office, he had realized she wouldn't be leaving on her own accord, and was set on personally throwing her out, having decided he's done dealing with her. In seconds, he was at the front entrance of the Center, pushing the doors open and heading with determination past all the rolls of cages towards a white pick-up truck marked with a familiar cross. Yes, sending me packing, alright. When they reached the vehicle, Jacob finally let go of her wrist as he went to grab her bag from the car she had driven there. Her eyes shifted between her forearm, where the outline of his fingers was now imprinted in crimson, and the sun setting against the darkening sky. The loud slamming of the car's trunk brought her attention back to him and she watched him toss her luggage in the back of the truck and round the front without a single look in her direction.

"Get in, Mercedes.", he ordered as he threw his door open and climbed in. Mercedes reluctantly walked over to the passenger's side and bent down to speak through the open window just as a wolf howl sounded somewhere in the distance, making her tense up, "I told you that I'm not leaving. Joseph-" His cold eyes finally veered at her, "I said, get in. Or do I have to come out and make you?" Are we sure John is the one with anger issues? All she could do was sigh in defeat as her fingers found the handle of the door and swung it open. She hauled her body inside as her mind struggled to accept the fact she had failed, that coercing him into letting her stay had proven to be an impossible task after all. The minute she was buckled in, he started the truck, keeping his gaze glued to the road as he drove away from St. Francis. "I don't need you driving me.", she said softly, already dreading the idea that she would be stuck in the same tiny space with him, having to tolerate his glowering all the way back to Joseph's Compound. Even she had her limits. His head swiveled sharply, blue eyes meeting hers, when he gritted out, "Do you want to sleep in one of the cages back at the center, sweetheart… or are you going to shut your mouth and stop complaining before I change my mind about letting you stay?" Mercedes blinked in shock, certain she had heard him wrong. "Stay?", she said slowly. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, the blood that covered them was all dried up by then, "Yes. You called my brother. You have him to thank for that." She bit her lip, looking out of the window as the truck went over a small bridge, the river below it dark and unwelcoming, yet still promising her freedom.

"Where are you taking me, though?", she asked, wrapping her hands around herself, wondering if she had missed an opportunity to jump to safety especially after his cage comment. His surly demeanor foretold of nothing but trouble. She was certain Jacob wasn't going to grace her with an answer, then he suddenly broke the silence, saying simply, "A cabin. Should be empty." Without giving her a chance to reply, he reached out and turned on the radio, muttering, "No more chit-chat, keep quiet. We're not suddenly friends because Joseph managed to convince me to tolerate your presence here." Mercedes nodded absently and leaned back in her seat, watching the dark road ahead. After a while he spoke up again, "Look at that. You're actually listening for once." From the corner of her eye she could see his lips twist into a small smile and she wondered if he expected her to respond, or he was testing her, hoping she'd give him another excuse to lash out at her. Eventually, he parked the truck in front of a small unlit cabin that would have been completely hard to spot if it wasn't for the headlights that casted light upon it.

She opened the passenger side door, shivering against the change of temperature the moment she exited the vehicle. She quickly grabbed her bag just as Jacob called out, "Where do you think you're going?" "Thank you for the ride, Jacob. Have yourself a good night.", she retorted, not bothering to turn around and entertain another argument that would keep him from driving off. She followed the path to the front door of the house as she heard his door slam shut, then footsteps stalking her way. Fucking hell. You're really asking to be kicked in the balls now. "Mercedes.", he grunted out. "What?", a hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. His tone told her that irritated Jacob was making a return, "I said the house should be empty, would be smart if you don't go storming it before I've had time to make sure it's actually safe to enter." "I don't need your help.", Mercedes shook off his hold and continued down the walkway. "Do you even know how to use a gun, sweetheart? Any basic combat? Hell, can you even throw a punch properly?", he chided, his usage of the term of endearment dripping with sarcasm. "No, and no. But we could always test the punching part out if you insist, then tell me how I've done afterwards. I know you love training people.", she was tired of his constant belittling and let the last part slip without worrying too much about how unlike Mercy it was. Yes to all three, actually. And don't expect me to worry about your pretty face. But she knew it was better if the Seeds believed she was helpless, naive, too oblivious to be up to anything, let alone be planning their demise right under their noses. It was a target's most common mistake: underestimating her, it's how she always remained hidden in plain sight, and by the time they would realize the critical lapse of judgment, she was always long gone.

"Babysitting.", Jacob muttered under his breath as he pulled out a gun from his leg holster and pushed the front door open, "Wait here. I mean it." The lights inside the house turned on one by one, illuminating the outside with a faint glow. "Cabin's clear.", he declared as he stepped out on the porch. "Goodnight then.", Mercedes went around him, dropping her bag on the floor as she slammed the door shut in his face and leaned against it. A knock sounded immediately from the other side, his voice muffled when he announced, "I'm not leaving." "What?", came out as a squeak, and she hated how for once the reaction was actually real: she fully had expected him to be gone before she had even crossed over the threshold. "The Militia has eyes everywhere, so by now, they would know of your arrival. If you don't want to wake up tied to a chair in some make-shift interrogation room, you'd let me in." "What are you, a vampire?", she said quietly, frowning at the idea he was still there and supposedly was planning to spend the night under the same roof as her. "What did you say? Kinda hard to hear you with, you know, a door between us, sweetheart.", he was back to sounding amused, and when he got nothing out of her, he knocked again but way louder, making her jump, "Joseph's orders, Mercedes. Open the damn door, if you don't want me gaining entry in a less pleasant way." She cracked open the door slowly, sending him a look of distrust, "He said nothing of that sort to me." "Well, he did, to me. Called me in the middle of hunting down my runner. Said I've been mistreating you. Scolded me like I'm a child, not his older brother.", he scoffed, his face bearing an arcane expression when he added, "Want to know what else he said?" She fought back a smile at the idea Jacob had been knocked down a peg, no matter by whom. "No." He pushed past her inside, "Might be for the best, actually." Talk about foreboding.

With a huff she headed down the hallway after him and found herself standing in a small living room. The freamed pictures of a young couple reminded her the cabin was someone's treasured home that the Project had forcibly taken away, and judging by the lack of dust, it hadn't happened very long ago either. Jacob didn't bat an eye at the sight, sitting down on the couch with an arm thrown over the back of it as he continued, "The fact of the matter is, Joseph decided it would be smart to have someone keeping an eye out for you during your stay. Said I should personally see you settled in." She knew that having someone around to keep tabs on her and make sure she wouldn't run into the Militia was certainly bound to make her task of finding a way to run into them more difficult. "I thought you didn't want to 'babysit'?", she narrowed her eyes, remaining standing in the doorway. "Trust me, I don't. Don't go believing this would turn into a regular thing, I'm staying here only for tonight. So don't get any ideas." I will be sobbing into my pillow every night, Jacob. What shall this damsel do without a petulant ginger to protect her… More silence filled the room until he said, "You know, for someone that always tries to make conversation with anyone, you sure are awfully quiet out of a sudden." "You made it very clear I'm unwelcome here and that you dislike me. From day one, if I may add. I've made my peace with it, so enjoy the silence. Isn't that what you wanted after all?", she replied and grabbed her bag from the hallway, dropping it in the bedroom. She could foresee him complaining about the possible sleep arrangements, but if he had a problem with the couch, he could always sleep outside as alternative.

The lack of blood and no noticeable signs of struggle around the house gave her hope that maybe the two people that used to live there had made it out unscathed, she wanted to wholeheartedly believe that was the case. Mercedes kept to herself and made it her mission to ignore her moody chaperone as she washed her hands in the kitchen. She scrubbed at the bloody fingerprints he had left on her skin, wanting to get rid of the reminder she had no idea what had happened with the Deputy. She knew she potentially had a way to get an answer, but she refused to risk arousing suspicion by asking his captor about it. "Know how to start a fire?", Jacob chirped from the living room, still lounging back on the couch. "No." Yes. "Want me to teach you?", his cordial tone wasn't something she was used to. "Why are you acting all nice to me out of a sudden?" "What would you rather I do then, Mercedes? Figured the night would pass by easier that way.", she could feel his stare on her as she kept her back to him, opening and closing cupboards until she found a glass to pour herself some water into. "You don't have to sleep here. If you're worried I will tell Joseph… don't and just be on your way already." "I'm staying. You still didn't answer my question. Do you want me to teach you?" She moved onto the fridge next, finding it almost empty as expected, "Nothing edible in the fridge, Jacob. If you don't want ketchup for dinner, that is." "Check the pantry, most folks around here are preppers one way or another.", he explained, coming from behind her and opening the door to the small pantry himself before she even had a chance to, "Here."

He pulled out a couple of cans, leaving them on the counter as she took a generous sip of water, wishing it was alcohol instead. Sure as hell would make my charming companion seem more tolerable. "And if they had nothing stashed away, what was the plan then?" He raised an eyebrow, "Catch us some dinner." "I'm a vegetarian." It was another lie, but she had no desire to watch him play caveman, not if she was to keep her appetite after the things she had witnessed at St. Francis. "Are you now?" "You have a problem with that, too?" Jacob shrugged, "It's nature. We all have a spot on the food chain." "Whatever you say." "You don't agree?" Mercedes waved a hand in his direction, "I just have no energy for all this." When he went to open one of the cans, she moved over to where he was standing and grabbed it before saying, "Are you not even going to wash up first?" He looked down as if realizing for the first time the actual state of his hands. "Sorry.", he muttered and moved to the sink. The quiet apology took her by surprise, but she didn't let that show when she asked, "You hadn't even realized your hands were bloody?" "When you do this every day, it becomes a habit, a part of you, you stop paying attention because it doesn't look unnatural.", he uttered out over the running water, "We all have a role to play." "What's that supposed to mean, Jacob?", she certainly didn't like his clipped tone.

After methodically drying off his hands in silence, Jacob turned with another dark stare, pointed her way, "I cull the herd. Get my hands dirty for the Project. You play dress-up as my sister's double to keep my brother company." "I'm doing no such thing." "No?", he smirked, "You have no idea about my brother's plan for you, do you?" She had her suspicions, but the fact he was close to voicing his and had such a reaction piqued her interest. "What are you talking about?", she blinked in confusion, letting worry seep into the question. He shook his head, deciding against saying anything else as he opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan she had pulled out, "Doesn't matter. We all have our roles, sweetheart, it just takes time to realize what they are. You, too, would, eventually." In a couple of minutes, Mercedes found herself sitting across from Jacob at the small kitchen table that accentuated his towering presence even more. She stared down at her bowl, feeling disappointment at the fact that in less than a few hours, she would have been in Hope County for 388 days, and she was nowhere close to seeing an end to her mission. Jacob was right about her having a role to play, but he was dead wrong about who she played. He finished his meal first, getting up quietly and heading off into the hallway after dropping his plate in the sink. A part of her hoped he would just up and leave, not matter if it disobeyed Joseph's orders.

Done with her own dinner, she took a seat in an armchair next to the couch, and to her dismay, he returned shortly, carrying a couple of pieces of firewood inside. He kneeled down in front of the fireplace, mumbling, "So, have you changed your mind about me teaching you how to start a fire, yet?" "No." "Why?" "Because." Because your friendliness is forced. Because you're only being nice after getting scolded by Joseph and being offered some cryptic revelation about me. Because I'd rather keep my distance for so many reasons. He shook his head at her nonanswer, patting the empty space on the carpet next to him, "Come on, Mercedes." "No, thank you." "You'd certainly regret declining that lesson in the winter months… if you even make it that long in the Whitetails, that is.", he said, not bothering to mask the jab. "You're the survival expert, right? So do it yourself." "You owe me for destroying my poster. Humor me, and I will overlook the transgression." She shook her head, "I did no such thing, I told you already. I'm staring to wonder if there ever was one in your office or you're making it up so you have something to hold over my head." His eyes narrowed, "You're lying. We both know there was one." "Am not." "Come over, already. We can argue the whole night or get the cabin warmed up."

Mercedes got up with a sigh, shuffling over to him before she knelt down, and grumbled, "I still don't understand why you insist on it. If you expect I'd be praising your efforts to play nice to Joseph… that won't be happening." He ignored her words, slipping into explaining the basics she knew by heart, "First, you check the damper if you don't want all the smoke coming into the house." She nodded along with enthusiasm, urging him to continue, "Two pieces of firewood.", he picked them up from the floor and placed them on the grate of the fireplace before crumpling some newspaper, "Tinder. Then kindling on top. Some more firewood. And then…" Jacob reached inside his shirt's pocket, taking out a matchbox and passing it over to her, "…you light it." His fingers brushed against hers, and she tried to ignore his intense stare as she removed a match and struck it, wasting no time in starting the fire. His 'lesson' being officially over meant he would finally leave her in peace. Or one can only hope. "There. Done.", she muttered, and turned to face him, "I'm off to bed. Goodnight." as the words left her, his hand grabbed her cheek, the pure shock stopping her from getting up. "What are you doing?", she asked in a shaky voice, telling herself it was acting, and his touch wasn't actually throwing her off-kilter. "Something I definitely shouldn't be doing.", he gritted out before clashing his mouth to hers.

Alarm bells sounded in her head. This is beyond disastrous. Push him away. You're signing your death warrant. His fingers slipped into her hair, tangling in the curls and holding her close as his tongue parted her lips, and he let out an animalistic groan the second it met with her own. The scent of the burning embers in the fire mixed with his own fragrance, completely overwhelming her senses and causing the desire that had taken over her system the second his mouth had covered hers to deepen. Mercedes finally gathered the willpower to push at his chest and break the kiss, whispering, "We can't-", she shook her head to stress her point, not sure who she was reminding of the whole thing being a bad idea. Her body certainly had missed the memo, if she was to judge by the arousal that was pooling between her legs. "There are rules, Jacob. Especially-" "I won't tell if you don't.", Jacob said as if it was that simple, surprisingly looking almost as shaken up as she was. "You're lying. Did he put you up to this? To what…test me? Or are you having a laugh at my expense, seeing if I'm easy to tempt, then unleash John on me as payback?" "No.", he uttered out sharply, "It's nothing like that. And trust me, Joseph has nothing to do with this. We both know he would never suggest-" "Swear it." She had gone so long pretending to be someone she's not, feeling under constant surveillance at the Compound, having to follow Joseph's rules and act like she was smitten by his holier-than-thou persona. She craved a small win, to take something for herself, to get even an hour back into her old life. None of that seems feasible… so an orgasm wouldn't be bad, either. What a better "fuck you" to the Father than… fucking his brother?

Amusement flashed across his features, but it didn't get rid of the lust swimming in his blue depths or the frown he wore at her accusations, "I swear it. Are you going to make me do a pinky promise, sweetheart?" "Very funny. What if I do?", she reached out her pinkie as a joke, expecting he wouldn't entertain the idea, instead he wrapped his around it without even batting an eye. "There. Do you believe me now?" Mercedes had met many liars, she herself had become one for living, so she knew how to read people and what to look for, her eyes were trained to notice even the smallest tell in her opponents. In that moment, she couldn't see any signs Jacob was lying, and deep down she just didn't care. She nodded, and it was all the motivation he needed to pull her in for a second kiss, arms grabbing her waist and hoisting her onto his lap. His mouth glided over her cheek and down her neck, beard scratching her skin as he pushed the dress strap out of the way to nip at her shoulder. "Jacob", she hummed his name, and he got up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his midriff as he strode in the direction of the bedroom, kicking the door open. Before she could blink, he deposited her on the bed, and she leaned back on her elbows, watching him as he hungrily stared down at the spot where her dress had ridden up and exposed her thigh.

"If we're gonna do this…", he paused, head swiveling in search for something, "I probably need to turn off the lights." Mercedes sent him a determined look, "No. I want to be able to see you. See us." We're not fucking in the dark, for fuck's sake. "I'm telling you, you don't." "I absolutely do." "Mercedes.", he held out his hand, palm running over the scars on his forearm, "You see this… they don't stop at my hands." "Clothes off, Jacob. Now." Her tone shifted as the Mercy act slipped completely, and if he noticed, he chose to ignore it. His blue eyes narrowed in uncertainty, making her nod, then repeat, "Clothes off. Want me to do it for you?" "Yes." Mercedes rose up on her knees, fingers taking hold of his camo shirt and stripping it off his body. She grabbed the hem of his short sleeved shirt next and lifted it up over his head, unveiling series of scars and burns across his skin. "Told you.", Jacob replied with a frown. "Come here. All I see is a survivor. Do you think these are going to stop me from wanting you?", she placed a kiss above his heart before her fingers locked at his neck, pulling him down on top of her. For a second, she was staring past the defenses of the man that barked orders at everyone and tried his hardest to keep the world at arm's length, and it made her heart ache. "You gonna get me out of this dress?", she asked, cradling him between her thighs as he finally snapped out of his stupor.

His hands reached around, looking for a way to undo the dress as his lips found hers for another feverish kiss and he let out a growl in frustration, moving back to whisper, "I can't find the damn zipper." "It's there. It's small-" "Do you love this dress?", he asked impatiently. "I can unzip it myself, just-", she stopped, blinking in confusion at the strange question, "Wait, what-" "Do you?" "Not really. No." Hate it actually, and the fact it seems to be your brother's favorite. "Good. Turn around." "Jacob?" "Do you trust me, sweetheart?" Not as far as I can throw you. Probably even less. "I guess?" "Turn around." She complied and swirled, staying on her knees with her back to him, and the next thing she felt was something cold touching her skin before he ordered sternly, "Keep still." Her brain registered what it was: the blunt end of a knife, inches apart from her spine. What the fuck. Then the tightness of the bodice gave way, as he cut the dress open all the way and sheathed the knife. "All done.", he stated in a calm tone, like he hadn't just brandished a weapon in bed after being too annoyed to look for a zipper. "I can't believe you pulled out a knife." "Got the job done, didn't it?"

His fingers moved the straps off her shoulders, the garment pooling on the bed and leaving her down to her underwear. She spun around to find him staring at her intently, blue eyes running over her body as if searching for something. An unreadable expression came over his face before he guessed, "You haven't been in John's chair, yet." I will be gone the second Joseph decides the time for me to confess has come. Shockingly enough, I draw the line at body mutilation. I'd prefer to avoid having to explain why I have sins engraved into my skin to whoever would be my next target. "No." His gaze darkened, "Just what I suspected." "What do you mean?" Instead of offering her an explanation, he gave her another cryptic response, "Doesn't matter." "Jacob." He shook his head and crashed his lips into hers in an attempt to stop her quest for answers, fingers unclasping her bra as hers got to work on undoing his jeans and pushed them down his legs. Mercedes lied back on the bed, gaze following his movements with anticipation as he took off his boots and pants, then joined her before any doubt or her common sense could creep in. His mouth traced a path from her abdomen up towards her breasts, lips closing around her nipple before he bit down on it gently. Her back arched when he moved onto the other one, showing it the same amount of attention as she tried to hold in her moans.

"I want to hear you. Every sound.", Jacob lifted his eyes to hers while his hand strayed over to one of the bedside drawers. He opened it and rummaged inside in a haste, huffing when he came up empty. "What are you looking for?" You pull someone's used toy out, I swear I'm hitting you in the face with it. "Condoms.", he stated matter-of-factly, opening the drawer above the one he had checked, "There you are." He dropped the wrapper on the bed, eyes roaming over her body, staring at her like she was his dinner. Calloused fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties and into her heat, exploring the same way her tongue began mapping out her mouth. "So wet for me, sweetheart." He pumped in and out of her slowly, his thumb brushing over her clit briefly, denying her actual release. It didn't take long for Mercedes to become fed up with his game, with his lips twisted into an arrogant smirk at how she was writhing beneath him. You're enjoying this too much. And I enjoy making people pay even more, Jacob. Keep acting this way and you'd find out. "I need more. I need you inside me.", she couldn't recognize her own voice as his hand retreated out of her underwear, leaving her body longing for his touch, to be filled again. "I'm more than happy to oblige.", Jacob retorted and moved away to discard his boxers, then dragged her panties down her legs, tossing them over shoulder. Her body trembled in anticipation and her gaze remained glued to his hands as they rolled the condom over his length, her stare inevitably making him choke out, "You keep looking at me like that, I can't promise I will be holding myself back."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her at the irony she was the one that had to hold back. In words and actions. He frowned at the sound and crawled over her, a cold sensation spreading over her skin when the dog tags he wore around his neck made contact with it, "Don't laugh, I'm absolutely serious here." His hands parted her thighs while he went in for another kiss, guiding his tip to her entrance and barely making it in as he whispered, "I might regret offering this, but… last chance to back down, Mercedes." A bit late for that now, ain't it? Or does "just the tip" not count in your cult? Their mouths met again just as she grabbed his hip and pushed him all the way inside, letting out a content sigh at the feeling. The part of Mercedes that always managed to be the voice of reason reminded her in last ditch effort how stupid the decision was, how reckless, then it went completely silent the second he began to move. He kissed her like he couldn't get enough, hands braced on each side of her face, every thrust appearing more intense and desperate than the previous. "Faster. Don't hold back on me. Fuck me like you meant it.", she hummed against his lips and he complied, hand holding onto her waist as his strokes picked up and his thumb found her clit, driving her over the edge with just a few flicks. She half-expected him to follow her, but he shook his head, "We're nowhere near done here, sweetheart." His eyes met hers as his hand took hold of her leg and rested it on his shoulder, finding a new deeper angle, the lingering aftershocks of her climax only intensifying his movements.

"What did you call me today, hm? Old?", he asked in a low tone, emphasising the word with a hard thrust and smirking at the moan that it elicited from her. Touchy, aren't we? Still not over one innocent joke. Though, fuck, I'm starting to think I should nag you more often, if this is how it ends for me… "That an yes, Mercedes?", Jacob challenged, slowing his rhythm down and kissing her calf, "Then there were all the times you undermined my authority… Maybe I should teach you that actions have consequences." His expression told her he was reveling in the idea he was completely in charge of her own body, still believing her to be this meek creature he could play around with as long as he pleased. Time to give you a taste of your own medicine. A smirk broke free on her face as she rolled them over until she came on top and straddled him. Her hands found her destroyed dress, and quickly unlaced the ribbon that adorned the front of its bodice, the subtle sound seeming louder in the silence that surrounded them. Amusement flashed across his features, hinting he still believed she was playing around. His eyes darkened the moment she grasped both of his hands and swiftly tied the ribbon around his wrists, securing the ends into an intricate knot at the wooden bedpost. The tension in the air grew as they gazed at each other, anticipation for what was to come licking at her spine and by the way he twitched inside her, he seemed to be feeling the same.

The whole time he stared at her with a strange expression, voice full of wonder when he asked, "Who are you and what did you do with 'Mercy'?", he spat out the nickname with disdain. Mercedes ran her fingers over his chest, tracing the rougher parts of his skin before leaning down to whisper in his ear, "What did you call me today?", she paused, still mimicking Mercy's gentle tone despite copying his words, "Bambi?", then the real her peeked through when she added, "I'm more of a wolf, Jacob. About time we met." He tested the retraints, and a growl escaped him when they didn't budge. Not my first rodeo. You're not going anywhere. She cupped his cheek, lowering her mouth to his as she started to move at her own pace, the new position threatening to send over the edge before she wanted. In the back of her mind she delighted in the idea how scandalized Joseph would be if he saw them at that moment, if his "God" graced him with the unfortunate vision of her breaking such a precious rule to him. "I knew there was something more to you. That "Mercy" was only skin deep. I could feel it anytime I looked at you.", Jacob said in between kisses, his breathing getting labored now that she had taken charge of their movements. Her teeth bit down on his bottom lip, the sharp tang of his blood hitting her tongue, "Did you? And here I thought you didn't like me." "I didn't like you.", he choked out, "I still don't.", and it was the least convincing lie she had ever heard in her life. Giving me second hand embarrassment here, Jacob. "Should I stop then? Because you see, I'm getting mixed signals here.", her lips moved onto his neck and she sucked on the skin, marking him, "You're telling me one thing, your body another… who's lying?"

She couldn't help but wonder what his Chosen would think of her signature on his throat, especially after the way he had dragged her out of St. Francis. "No.", he said, clutching onto whatever semblance of control he had remaining. "No, what? Did I break you? Form a sentence for me." "Don't stop." A very un-Mercy-like smirk broke free, "Ah, that's what I thought." Her hips rotated again and again, bringing both of them closer to release until he muttered, "I won't last much longer, Mercedes." "I come first, only then you do, too, understood?", he raised an eyebrow at her stern tone but nodded, "Good." Mercedes straightened her back, her hand gliding to where they were joined, fingers rubbing her clit while the other caressed her breast. His eyes drank her in and she could tell he was enjoying the show, yet his face remained scrunched up with concentration as he held back his own release, set on proving a point. On proving himself to her. A second climax hit her, ripping out a moan out of her, and it was all the encouragement he needed to let go, too, as her walls clenched around him. "Fucking excellent.", he said, still out of breath, the genuine shock in his words and his sated expression causing her to beam with pride. It was the first real smile to grace her face since joining the Project, one that reached the dimples in her cheeks, making them pop. The fact that he mirrored her grin didn't help matters at all. If I didn't know better, I'd worry I'm in trouble.

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 24

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After some time had passed in Wakanda. You had gradually recollected the horrors inflicted by John, leaving you feeling violated and broken. However, T'Challa and Shuri were unwavering in their determination not to let you succumb to those demons. They tirelessly worked with you, consistently reminding you of your strength and that none of it was your fault.

A year later, you were coming to terms with your past, but your once unshakable confidence had waned. You couldn't help but wonder what Steve and Bucky thought of you now, having witnessed the unspeakable.

One day, T'Challa entered your room while you were looking at a gown, that was placed on your bed..

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I know the words are gone, and you've helped me fight my demons this past year, but I'm still scared."

"What could you be scared of, little one?" T'Challa inquired, assuring you that John was gone for good.

"Not of John. I know he can't hurt me anymore. But I'm afraid of what Steve and James think of me. They had to witness the terrible things that were done. How could they love me now?" Tears welled up as you buried your face in your hands.

"Y/n, they brought you here, they've been by your side as much as possible, and they are here tonight," he tried to reassure you. "If they didn't love you, they surely would have left you here."

You managed a small smile for the king.

"And besides, I am to accompany you to the ball. The king cannot enter alone, and Shuri would be furious if you didn't wear the dress she designed," he added.

You chuckled, "Yes, that does scare me."

"Then I shall return for you in an hour," T'Challa said with a smile.

As you stood still, people attended to your dress, makeup, and hair. It reminded you of Asgard, and you took a moment to send a message through Heimdall: "Hi Heimdall! How are you? Could you tell Loki hi from me? I hope we can see each other soon; I miss him." When you returned to the room, the king's closest aides had finished dressing you. You tried to sound thankful and hoped you didn't sound frightened as you smiled and praised their work. However, when you looked in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel disgusted at the reflection before you.

Tears welled up in your eyes when a knock came at the door. "Well, little one, are you ready?" T'Challa called.

You opened the door and offered an uncertain smile. "Remember, this is your sister's design."

"Y/n, you truly are the sun among stars," he declared, extending his arm for you to take.

As everyone was introduced upon entering the ballroom, T'Challa was the last. When he entered, the entire room turned to face him.

"His Royal Majesty, King T'Challa, and his special guest, Lady Y/n."

Bucky and Steve were taken aback, their mouths agape as they saw you standing at the top of the staircase in a black gown that matched the King's black-patterned suit. You looked breathtakingly beautiful to them.

After some time, they gathered the courage to approach you.

"May we have a dance?" they asked.

"No, thank you," you replied, head lowered, unable to meet their gaze, overwhelmed by shame for what had transpired.

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