#To Be Fed Upon By A Hot Lady Vampire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!fem!reader where he finds her (when she’s still human) severely injured, and he can sense she’s his mate, and decides to immediately turn her because he doesn’t want to lose her (I’m sure he wouldn’t take the chance of taking her to the hospital) and when she wakes up, she’s in the Volturi castle. I’m sure it’d be really shocking for her because she didn’t know about the vampires (she thought they were fiction), and now she’s a vampire and has a mate,Demetri. He would be so sweet when he’s helping her adjust!! Ooo what if she woke up as a vampire near Christmas time,and she’s really sad because she was going to spend Christmas with family, but now she’s a vampire, so she can’t, so Dem finds out everything he can about this “human custom” (I feel like he’d call Christmas this lol), and he sets up their room all Christmas like and gets her presents, mistletoe 😘, a tree, etc, and ahhh he would be so sweet, if she could cry, she’d be bawling omg... Also she would so somehow convince him to wear matching Christmas pajamas... And then Felix would walk in to see this LOL

This Thing You Call Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, violence and trauma.

Words: 5391

Summary: When a wrong turn down a dreary alleyway spells disaster for the reader, she finds that Chrismas miracles come in all forms. (I swear despite the warning tags there are some fluffy bits in this.)

It wasn’t really clear to you what had happened for several moments after the event. One moment you had simply been jogging to reach the end of an alleyway that had creepier vibes than an abandoned psychiatric ward, and the next you were…hot. Too hot. Just for a moment. So hot in fact you could feel how cool the breeze was on your skin. Everything in that one brief moment was so heightened and yet so confusing, your blood roaring in your ears and your mouth spouting protest after protest with some not so lady-like words at the man that had shoved you against the wall.

Then an explosion of pain in your side had ricocheted through each and everyone one of your ribs, bursting outward like a small, red hot explosion, the lava leaking out and soaking your shirt, your hip bone. It wasn’t until you looked down and saw the knife embedded in your gut that you understood what had happened. In that brief, infinitesimal moment, the world just stopped. Your jaw dropped, disbelief flooding your system as your eyes met your attackers. He was a scrawny little boy, dirt smudged on his face and clothes utterly ruined, homeless most likely and in desperate enough need of cash he’d stuck you with whatever he could find to get it.

“Please…take the bag just don’t pull out the-“

“Shit!” he swore, yanking the knife free of your abdomen to cut through the leather of your bag handle and steal it away. You cried out, knees giving way beneath you the moment he let you go. Just like that, he’d drastically reduced your chances of escaping this alleyway alive. The ground was cold and wet beneath your knees, typical British weather not on your side to make anything better in this shitty scenario.

“Fuck…f-fuck,” you whimpered, hand pressed to your side as you rapidly lost blood, “H-help! Someone help me! Help me please!” you called out. The wound in your side throbbed, a fiery kind of ache that radiated outward from the focal point and shot through every nerve ending your body possessed purely to torment you as you tried to stand up straight. Blood was seeping through the gaps in your fingers, your shirt soaked with it as you collapsed sideways into the wall. Gritting your teeth, you used your other arm to try and lever yourself up, hobbling forward a few steps. Every step was agony and you could feel the colour draining form your face, your heart beating hard in your chest as adrenaline pounded through your veins.

No matter how loud you cried out nobody seemed to hear your desperation. No matter how many steps you took the mouth of the alleyway seemed to get further away, or maybe it was your vision starting to tunnel, who knew? Your legs gave out and you hit the floor hard, face crunching into the cement and nose shattering upon impact. More blood burst over your face, hot and fresh, and your vision began to blacken at the edges. Gasping for air, tears stung your eyes. This was not how your life was supposed to end. You were young, only 22, you had so much to live for yet that you hadn’t been able to achieve or see or do. Bleeding out in an alleyway because of a mugging gone wrong? Not your idea of a good way to go out. Christmas was just around the corner, you were supposed to go back home and spend it with family, instead they would have to come to London and peer inside a body bag to identify their daughter.

After that, time became a blur. You had no way of honestly telling what happened next, the world going dark as you descended further and further into the pits of hell. It had to be hell, didn’t it? That was where the pits of flame swallowed you whole to torture you for eternity, right? You hadn’t stopped burning since you closed your eyes, a red hot poker too big for your veins being forced through them at an agonisingly slow speed, splitting nerve endings and peeling away your flesh inch by inch. The screams in your own head were deafening and you were sure the devil must have enjoyed watching you writhe on his table. The raging inferno just didn’t go away either. You weren’t sure what was worse, the intensity of the burn or the fact you actually started to get used to it.

That relief was never going to last, not when the devil liked to torture his victims. The fire began receding from extremities first, the tips of your fingers going blissfully cool, tingling with numbness as the flames dissipated and feeling began to return. It was like being submerged in cold water and you welcomed the blissful feeling, but even that was accompanied by a worse kind of pine, a searing, blistering agony in your chest that was eating away at your rabbiting heart. It was gone as quickly as it came, and for a second you forgot how to breathe, the air stolen from your lungs at the sudden, intense relief. No more fire, no more burning. With a sigh you finally unscrewed your eyes, or at least, it felt like you had kept them clenched shut for a thousand years at that point. There was no ache in your jaw though you were sure you had screamed, no pain in your body lingering from the torment it had gone through.

The only problem was how sensitive you felt. After burning for so long your body was reacting to everything, senses heightened to the point the world seemed surreal. The air was ripe with a thousand smells, your tongue tingling with the taste of each one and your eyes were so laser-focused on everything all at once it was difficult to focus on any one thing. Beneath your fingers you could feel every strand of cotton that made up the dark sheets you were lying on. Where even were you? This was…it wasn’t a hospital bed, too plush and the colours to deep for the neutral tones of a sickroom. There was expensive looking wooden furniture with rich, dark tones and photographs and a fireplace made of stone.

“It is a relief to see you awake.”

One moment you were relishing in the softness of sheets and sinking into a heavenly mattress, and the next you were flat against the wall across from you, your spine crunching through the stone even though it should have been the other way around. Your wide eyes looked down at the chunks of stone near your feet, the dust settling on your shoulders, and then you tried to estimate the distance between you and the bed. It was easily four meters. How had you crossed four meters in such a short time span? Don’t even start on your posture right now. Since when did you crouch and bare your teeth at people like that? It was like a deep, animalistic urge had taken over, your senses still screaming danger as you tried to take in all the new information, the new man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharpest jawline you had ever seen on a man. The crystalline quality of his skin was equally as distracting, it was almost pearlescent he was so pale, and it distracted you just long enough that you didn’t notice the redness of his irises till after you had already become fascinated with starring at him. Chestnut brown hair looked soft enough to run your fingers through, golden strands interwoven and reflecting the minimal light coming in from the window. He wore a suit, the very definition of elegance as he sat back in a leather armchair and watched you carefully, like he was a talent-show judge maybe trying to decide if you were worth his time.

“Who are – oh.” You blinked, pulled out of your defensive stance by the sound of your voice. It was you but it…wasn’t. How could you sound so soprano sweet? It was almost like you had swallowed sugar and it was now sprinkled throughout your words. His head tilted, a smile pulling at full, pink lips to reveal the briefest flash of pearl white teeth.

“A man who means you no harm, I assure you. There are a lot of changes you need to be made aware of, things I do not expect you to fully believe right away but need you to know are true. Will you give me the time to explain once we have gotten you fed?” he asked. Fed? You wanted to ask what he meant because you weren’t honestly all that hungry, but his words reignited the fire in your body. Your throat was absolutely parched, ripping itself apart for any sort of relief. With a gasp you doubled over, hand flying to your throat like you might just be able to rip the pain out.

“I – w-what d-did you – gah!” you rasped. A large, warm hand found your shoulder, and though the touch of a stranger should have felt foreign and wrong it was relieving, soothing.

“You will focus much better once you have fed. Wait right here, I promise you it will be over soon.” He reassured you with a gentle rubbing motion on your shoulder. You weren’t too sure you could have moved even if you wanted to, your mind going haywire as the intense fire burned brighter, blazing through your throat. Water, you needed water. Stumbling towards the bright white porcelain of a bathroom, you threw the door open wider and gasped when the wood shattered against the tiles. It was difficult to think beyond the burning in your throat though as you forced the tap to turn on, trying to gulp down water in the hopes it might soothe your throat some. Gallons must have washed down your throat by the time the handsome stranger returned, and what came next was…a blur.

Everything was euphoric, and hazy, a fog slowly lifting from your mind. The sound of dripping water leaked into your consciousness, your nose smelling something incredibly rich and sweet that made your throat ache – the burn was thankfully gone. Though your ears and nose seemed to be working your eyes were not. All you could see was red, dark crimson coating the walls and, if your reflection was to be believed, you. It dripped from your chin, coating your lips a ruby red and staining the pretty black dress you had been wearing in large swatches. The handsome stranger was stood in the doorway, watching you with a hint of amusement in his irises. It took you a fraction of a second to understand where the red drenching had come from. A woman who might once have been pretty lay in your arms limp as a ragdoll, drained of all colour with her throat ripped out and trailing along her collarbone.

Her blood was quite literally on your hands.

With a gasp, you dropped her shattered body and almost slipped on the water blanketing the floor, your body righting itself at unnatural speed. You twisted, the horror on your face obvious as a sob ripped its way free of your chest, hands flying up to your mouth as a flurry of terror and guilt and horror washed through you. The tap had been warped, your fingerprints indented into the metal and the top twisted off. Water had flooded the entire bathroom, and as your panic grew more intense your eyes stung as though you wanted to cry, but no tears would come. You could barely breathe, yet you couldn’t feel your heart rabbiting in your chest as you knew it should. The tile shattered beneath your knees as you fell, not a scratch on you as you spotted the second body over the tips of your fingers. Splinters of wood had been soaked by the overflowing tap, the door almost as broken as the bodies at your knees.

“No. N- no, what happened to me?” you cried out, chest heaving as you buried your head in your hands. Within seconds you were enveloped by strong arms, a warm body moving in behind you until you were cradled close, shielded from the damage around you.

“Shhhh sh sh sh, everything is fine cara mia, you did well,” the smooth whisper was like the voice of the devil tempting you to sin further, “This is normal for our kind, this is how we survive, you have done no wrong.” He promised, whispering quiet reassurances while you struggled to calm. Whoever this man was, you should have been afraid of him. He had somehow made you blackout and murder two people, you’d cannibalised them actually, and whatever else he had done to you you were now abnormally strong to. He had made you into some sort of monster, and yet…

“Wh-why?” you sniffled. Why had this happened to you? Why had these two unfortunate souls had to die? Why had you burned so badly for so long? There was lots of questions and so little time to ask them, so many answers you weren’t actually sure you wanted. He was stroking your hair now, his embrace feeling safe and warm; while you were in his arms, you could almost forget about the scene surrounding you.

“Forgive me, I know this is overwhelming, but I could think of no other way to save you. I had to change you my love.” He whispered. Your sobbing had died to sniffles now, and you lifted your head to look up at him, feeling lost and desperate for anything that might make sense. It was all so confusing and the only thing grounding you right now was him, because you could just sense that he was the same as you, only he was much more sure of what he was and his place in the world.

“Change?”

“Yes, change. I had to change you from human, to vampire. The burning you felt was my venom. Please understand I had no choice,” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, eyes scrutinising your face. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk some more, yes?” The word vampire was ricocheting around your brain, your body moving whichever way he wanted to lead it. It was like you had blacked out again, suddenly standing in a much cleaner bathroom as the handsome stranger turned knobs to adjust water that came tumbling out of a luxurious looking waterfall spout above your head. You blinked, shocked to realise that despite not paying attention you could distinctly recall the way he had carefully moved you from room to room with the promise of a hot shower and fresh clothes.

For his part, Demetri was incredibly worried about you. At first he had simply feared his venom wouldn’t take, that he was too late when he found you that awful night, surrounded by your blood and struggling to use the last of the air in your lungs. He’d been attracted by the smell of your blood, not having smelt something quite that strong and alluring in a while. He thought it was his lucky day, a bloodsinger perhaps, but he found you instead, broken and abused, twitching in a pool of crimson – the scent was strong because so much of it had spilled onto the concrete.

Demetri had known from the moment he saw you that you were meant to be his, everything about you screaming to every instinct he had. Your scent teased his nose as one of the best he’d ever come across, your tenor irresistibly bright and warm, the curves of your broken body looking like they were physically molded for his hands to hold. He had never turned anyone before, but it was really the only option he had once he realised he couldn’t rouse you to so much as ask your name. His next worry had been trying to stop. Once his teeth had sunk into your flesh and the sublime taste of you hit his tongue it had been a race against time to hold his position long enough so enough venom could infiltrate your system, all while not draining anymore of the precious little blood you had left. He had almost lost it when he tried to seal your stab wound with his tongue.

You had taken four, agonisingly long days to open those vivid red eyes. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, so distracted that Aro had been forced to give him time off so he could sit by your side – and do a bit of hunting on your behalf. Now you were nearly comatose in Felix’s shower, his best friend busy cleaning up his bathroom as best he could so you wouldn’t return to that horror scene. Demetri had known you would be shocked, that it would be a lot to adjust to, you had been ripped from a safe world where monsters like him didn’t exist after all, forced to become one yourself without consent. How was he supposed to explain it all to you? How did he even begin to make you understand the bond that was set between you? You had calmed so quickly in his embrace, a sure sign you felt it to.

“Vampires aren’t real. I know they’re not, but the things I did…you can’t even tell I was stabbed. It shouldn’t be possible, none of it should be.” Your voice was as soft and melodic as windchimes, an addicting song he could listen to on repeat for hours. Demetri had sat as a silent sentry on Felix’s bed, listening for any sign you might be distressed again so he could swoop in and save you. Every little sob had torn at his heart, his arms aching to hold you until it all went away. He gave you a slow nod, patting the space beside him in a silent invitation, one he was glad you accepted. Your scent was unique, comforting, intoxicating. From the moment you sat beside him, it was all he could focus on.

“We are very real love. You are faster and stronger in this body, your senses keener. My venom has immortalised you as you are, unchanging from this day for the rest of eternity.” He informed you, his voice soft so as not to startle you. Newborns were unpredictable, driven by animalistic instinct. Vibrantly red eyes stared back at his for a brief moment before your gaze dipped to your hands. You were wearing one of his shirts, the premium cotton almost swamping you and landing at mid-thigh. The sleeves had covered your hands, and he moved to kneel in front of you to roll them up.

“Your venom?” you asked, eyes watching his every move. Demetri nodded.

“Yes, you have venom to. It coats our teeth to immobilise our prey, and our joints to allow us to move faster than anything else on earth.” He answered honestly. A slow exhale was the only response he got from you as he carefully brushed his fingertips against your arm, desperate for even the smallest amount of contact with you. Every time he touched you he felt his nerve-endings sing with relief, like he had been suffering for a thousand years without ever knowing he was till he had found you.

“So…vampires are fast…and strong.” You mumbled, pulling your hands back subconsciously. Demetri nodded, moving back to sit beside you.

“Some of us are gifted also. I, for example, can track anyone anywhere in the world. There is much to learn still, try not to overwhelm yourself learning it all in one go,” he advised, head tilting slightly, “Since I am answering so many of your questions perhaps you can answer one of mine?” You looked somewhat bewildered, as if you hadn’t actually considered he might have things he wanted to know to.

“Like what?” you sounded cautious and Demetri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nothing too sinister I promise, but I was hoping I might learn your name.” he hinted. He was sure you would be blushing if you could, but you turned your body towards him and held out a hand anyway.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.” your hand was small in his own, delicate, and yet when you gripped you gripped too tight. He winced slightly as the skin cracked and you withdrew immediately, looking horrified by what you’d done. Demetri cradled his broken hand to him with a light laugh.

“My apologies, I should have known better than to ask a newborn to shake my hand,” he dismissed it with ease even as the skin stung and knitted itself back together, “I am Demetri, Demetri Volturi. Welcome to our coven, tesoro.” You swallowed, looking nervous again.

“When can I go home? I…you’ve been really kind but I have to get back, my parents, they’re expecting me to come for Christmas.” Your teeth worried your lower lip and his heart ached a little, knowing you wouldn’t like the news he had to give you.

“Given the damage you have unwittingly caused today, would you think it wise of me to let you return home?” he asked gently. He watched your breathing pick up slightly, your expression twisting into disappointment and upset.

“But it’s Christmas, I have to get back, I always go home for Christmas.” You insisted, voice wavering. Christmas? Demetri couldn’t honestly comprehend what was so important about it that you had to go back for it every year. It was a time of year for human greed to rear its ugly head and nothing else, wasn’t it? He couldn’t very well say that to you, however.

“It will not be possible anymore Y/N. Please understand, to the rest of the world vampires do not exist for good reason, we remain hidden, from this moment forth, you no longer exist either, not as you used to.” He wished he’d never said anything when you began to cry once more, and even though he was sure part of you was angry at him for doing this to you, you still curled into his side to accept the comfort he offered. The days that followed were some of the strangest of his life, his mate so near and yet so far. He understood that everything was overwhelming, not at all what you were used to, but you were much shyer and more withdrawn than he had expected. There was little he could do to coax you out of your shell except give you time, though his saving grace was you seemed willing to be in his presence more so than anyone else’s.

It was a pattern he found he rather liked. You came to him when you had questions you wanted answers for, and curious little thing that you were you had lots of them to; only he was ever allowed to get close enough to touch you, and only he got to be near when you fed, you still needing the guidance and his grounding influence to move past the initial guilt till it was almost negligible. Once, when Felix had tried to hand you some spare clothes’ he had collected rather thoughtfully from town for you, he had accidentally brushed your hand with his own and you had flinched straight into Demetri, like you subconsciously were seeking his protection. Another time (he wasn’t quite sure you had known you were doing it) but one night, as he trawled the internet for more information on Christmas traditions in Britain on his tablet, you had simply been watching the flames dance in the hearth beside him when you scooted a little closer and rested your head on his shoulder. His hand had reached for your own and you hadn’t hesitated to slip your fingers between his own, squeezing lightly.

His favourite memory by far had to be the day you found out you glowed. At first you’d been utterly startled, flitting past his window so fast to show him something you hadn’t fully seen anything, but the glimpse of glitter was enough to slow you down, leaving you looking bewildered as you struggled to see exactly what had happened. With a chuckle, he’d pulled you back towards the window, keeping your hand in his and gently rolling up the sleeve of your jumper before slowly moving your arm into the light. The awe on your face was an expression he wouldn’t soon forget, wide red eyes looking between him and the diamonds encrusted in your skin before a laugh so sweet it could have been a baby’s coo rent the air.

“We sparkle?”

“We do. You are as precious as any rare gem love, the proof is in your skin.”

You had tilted your head just enough that he could have kissed you, if you’d both so desired it in that moment, but you’d barely known him a week and it didn’t seem appropriate. He’d let you pull away from him, averting your gaze in that shy way you had that he found so endearing. He wouldn’t let you pull away next time.

“Demetri? Where can I put this?” Felix brought him out of his reverie, and he turned his head from the fireplace to see what exactly he was holding. He had ordered a lot of things after all. His tree was currently a little lopsided, lacking ornaments on the right-hand side, so he hoped it was another box of baubles. You were currently in the training room with Alec and Jane, the twins agreeing to distract you while he set up his room with everything he had brought. He couldn’t do much about your general need to acclimate to the new life you had discovered, but he could soothe your grief by bringing Christmas to you, right?

It had taken him a few minutes to figure out how the stupid tree was supposed to go up and he was admittedly irritated with how many specks of glitter he could see in his carpet, but he figured it would all be worth it when everything was ready.

“Those are for the fireplace.” He informed the giant. Felix glanced about the place, much different to Demetri’s usual decoration. The Masters’ had been generous at first, giving you our own space to allow you to acclimate to your new senses in some peace and quiet, but since you were mated to him it was expected you would eventually share a room, and the Masters’ patience was running very thin. Demetri hoped you would accept the proposition soon given you spent most of your time in his room with him anyway. Felix knew better than to stick around, knowing he would get irritated by his friends fussing eventually. Demetri didn’t mind, he had a tree to trim after all, though it was quickly becoming more arduous by the minute as he tried to ensure a balance between tinsel and ornaments. With his speed, he had transformed his room in a little under two hours, and from the look on your face when you walked into the room it had well been worth it.

Your mouth parted, eyes alight with wonder and confusion, you took in an array of lights adorning the bookshelves, fireplace and tree. There was tinsel on almost every flat surface, and fake snowmen and santa’s sitting along a mantlepiece dripping with fake icicles.

“Metri…” you breathed. He hoped your lack of words was a good sign. Hesitant steps carried you about the room, your fingertips dancing over the ornaments scattered about.

“Are they to your liking?” he asked. His eyes dipped to the package in your grip but you seemingly had forgotten it. Your eyes were sparkling as you turned to face him.

“I – these are – we…their perfect.” You whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Demetri watched you come closer towards him, meeting you halfway to prevent you from going any further with a smile. His eyes flickered upward to the white berries of mistletoe he’d carefully hung from the chandelier – his plan was in motion. Your eyes followed his gaze, breath hitching slightly. Demetri had never wanted to kiss anyone more than he did in that moment, you and your wide-eyed stare was too tempting, the soft glow of multicoloured lights illuminating the planes of your face making you as picture perfect as any hallmark Christmas movie character he had forced himself to watch.

“I tried to read up on some Christmas traditions for you. Most seem to be very subjective but I chose a few I knew I could bring to Volterra,” He murmured, “I admit, this was one of my favourites…I was rather hoping you would indulge me, love.” He placed his hand on your waist as gently as possible, hoping not to scare you away. Timid thing that you were, he wasn’t sure you would agree, but he wanted to give you plenty of chance to choose for yourself. You didn’t need to know that your decision here could make or break him, that he wasn’t just asking you for permission to kiss you. What he really wanted to know was whether or not you accepted him as your mate. You bit your lip, eyes flickering away briefly.

“Only if you indulge me to,” you bargained, pulling your package up between you pair. Demetri raised his eyebrows slightly, curious to know what was in the squishy looking plastic envelope. “I…I didn’t know you were going to do all this for me but I was going to ask that…well, you see my family always get matching pyjamas to spend Christmas Day in and I just…since we both are free on Christmas day…you don’t have to but-“

“I would be honoured, love,” Demetri cut you off, “There is little I would not do for you.” Your grip on your pyjama package tightened, your breathing a little shaky now and eyes filled with trepidation. Demetri searched your expression, looking for anything that might warrant some hope, but your deer in the headlights expression remained and he was truly uncertain as to where you stood.

“I don’t understand,” You admitted quietly, “I’m nothing special. I don’t understand why you did all of this for me.” Demetri sighed, absent-mindedly brushing your hair back from your face. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating. Why couldn’t you see how much you meant to him? He made himself readily available to your every whim and desire, never rejected you when you sought physical comfort from him despite quite obviously denying it to everyone else. Had you truly not noticed and understood you were everything to him? He quite literally couldn’t live without you.

“Truthfully? I care little for the tinsel and lights and all of the frivolity this holiday gives humans an excuse for, but I care for your enjoyment of it. This is important to you, and if I have not made it abundantly clear by now you are important to me.” Demetri said, moving the package from your grip so he could take your hands and squeeze them lightly.

“But-“

“But nothing, Y/N. I have known since the day I was forced to change you there was only one person meant for me. I would rather endure the change for the rest of eternity, drown over and over in the deepest and darkest parts of the ocean, have the devil himself rip whatever is left of my soul in two, than spend a day without my mate,” He swore, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, “It may not beat, but if you will accept it, this heart is yours and yours only.” A small squeak of surprise escaped you and you almost seemed to flounder for a moment, clearly shocked by the bold declaration. He had said nothing he didn’t know deep in his heart to be true, and surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights, nestled in his arms beneath the mistletoe, you answered him the only way you knew how.

So long as you kept up a tradition of kissing him like this, Demetri could get used to celebrating Christmas.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #felix volturi #you know he is helping his homeboy win you over #x reader #request #christmas

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wolfywordweaver · 4 years ago

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Trans Mages Week 2021 DAY 6 - solidarity, pastel/punk

NOTE: this started out with the idea that Baz's dad didn't accept him being gender fluid but has somehow morphed into something a bit more. There's MalMage, a brewing storm, genderfluid vampire Baz, potentially gender confused Simon, biker gangs, magic, fantasy world building, 50s inspired towns, and political intrigue. What a mess. I don't know where I'm going with this, but it's possible that I'll morph this into a full blown thing.

The roar of the motorcycles was a familiar buzz in Simon’s ears, something that usually lulled him into a state of zen. However, this time there was a change in the feel of the roar, and he could catch a different scent on the wind. There was a town up ahead.

It took conscious effort to keep his folded wings from stretching out behind him at the thought of being able to make a stop and maybe even spending a couple of days somewhere. The Mage’s Men had been on the road for a while, slowly making their way to a kingdom out further past the High Mountains.

There had been a few odd jobs here and there to keep them fed and content until they got this big one, and he was hoping that maybe the nearing Watford would have a little something to do. It had been a while since he’d tasted a nice hot scone or something sweeter than a pack of discount sandwich cookies.

Davy threw back a few hand signs and Simon grinned widely. A much needed stop was just what they needed. The rest of the ride into down was a blur, and soon the whole pack was taking a quick tour to gauge the place.

Watford was a lot like most of the little towns hovering outside of capital cities. Coven’s magic signature was over everything, a bond of protection should anything befall the small town. Davy was not a huge fan of Coven, and Simon glanced nervously at the man.

Davy Mage was the leader of their gang, a man with great vision, testicular fortitude, and a willingness to do whatever it took to reach his goals. He’d earned the title of Mage after years of battle with another family, and Simon was quite lucky to have gained the title of Heir.

Whether Davy was his actual biological father or not was up for debate, but Simon tried not to worry himself about things like that. Davy was the closest thing he had to a father, and knowing the truth of the matter wouldn’t change anything. Any curiosity or whisper of discontent was tucked deep down with all the other things he didn’t want to think about.

Right now, the only thing he wanted to think about was finding a nice inn that offered hot breakfast. Freshly cooked food and a soft place to sleep sounded blissful, and he definitely needed a shower. Offing another round of goblins after his head had left him in dire need of getting cleaned up. Even his leathers had gotten messy in that battle.

Thankfully, the Mage didn’t change his mind and direct them out of town. They rode through the town square, taking in the views of shops and concerned looking citizens. It was normal to have people frightened of them until their intentions were made known.

There were a lot of wandering gangs that were carrying out missions from the larger kingdoms, and most towns never knew if they were on a hit list or not. If these guys were under the protection of Coven, they might be less than friendly for the duration of their stay, but Simon didn’t care. It’s not like he planned on settling here or anything.

Just a bit of food and rest was all he needed to be ready to move on.

The whole gang pulled up to a modest looking inn, and then the engines were shut off. Groaning in relief, Simon swung his leg back over and off his bike before allowing his blood-red wings and tail to stretch out. Premal jumped back in annoyance so that he didn’t get knocked off his feet, but Simon couldn’t be bothered to care.

Everyone knew that they needed to keep their distance.

“Simon,” the Mage barked as he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, “get up there and scope things out.”

“Yes, sir!”

Flying was one of the only things better than riding down the open road, Simon thought as he felt the wind whipping around his body. The large wings at his back beat loudly, working to bring him up high enough to skim his hands along the underside of a few stray clouds.

Whooping loudly, Simon dipped and rolled through the wind as he examined the area around Watford. There didn’t seem to be any signs of danger and the Kingdom of Coven's capitol was far away enough that they would probably keep their nose out of the Mage’s business unless a fight broke out.

He was surprised to see a rather large school for such a small town, but shrugged it off and made his way back down to the Mage.

“Looks clear,” he panted upon landing.

The Mage nodded and thoughtfully stroked his neat thin mustache. “Good, good. No signs of the Coven moving?”

“Nope.” Those green eyes narrowed in annoyance and Simon quickly corrected himself. “Uh, no, sir.”

“Perfect.”

All of the Men waited outside while Davy and Simon went in to negotiate a stay. Things almost always tended to work better in Davy’s favor when he had Simon hanging around.

Blue eyes took in the modest décor of the place and noted that there was a lot of school memorabilia. These people were awfully proud of their school. The goat on the coat of arms was kind of silly, he thought. Once the negotiations were through, Simon was put in a room with two other Men and they all unpacked their few belongings.

Simon enjoyed a hot shower and washed off the reminders of the past few weeks. He still had a healing wound from a sword to his side a couple of weeks ago, but there was already a scaly patch over it helping it heal.

The scales would fall off after it was completely repaired, another strange bit of the magic that always seemed to be around him.

Once he was washed clean and in fresh clothes, Simon got the Mage to magically hide his wings away so that he could better explore the shops. There had been too many mishaps with his wings and broken goods and the Mage didn’t want to pay for anymore so he would begrudgingly oblige.

With all that finished, Simon strode out on the town in his cleanest pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with his leather jacket over it. Premal had cleaned his leather’s already, a kind gesture considering that Simon had been too scared to try again after catching his first pair of leathers on fire with his attempt to clean them.

Everything about Watford felt clean and quaint. There were perfect rows of homes, perfectly manicured and maintained gardens and yards, and rows of tidy shops he could explore. There weren’t really any children to be seen, and Simon realized that they were all probably still in school.

That thought made him a little sad. He’d never been to school. For the first half of his life he had actually been feral, a wild beast of a thing whose only thought was keeping itself alive. Then the Mage found him and took him in, teaching him the ways of people.

The magic that ran hotly through his blood belonged to the world of people, but the wings and tail were something else entirely. He’d heard the whispers of “dragon” often enough to wonder if that was his origin, but it had been too long since people had even seen dragons much less conversed with them. No one knew anything of dragon children.

Walking through the bookstore, Simon allowed his fingers to drag over the spines of the books, enjoying the different textures and designs. The shop keeper’s eyes were firmly planted on him, but the man said nothing. None of the adults did.

Maybe it was his tail, visibly swaying behind him. It hadn’t ever been as much of a nuisance as his wings, but it was still odd enough to put most people off. It made it hard to even get a date these days, but he still didn’t like hiding away these parts of him, especially for something as fleeting as a one-night stand.

“When does the school let out?” Simon asked with what he hoped was a casual tone.

The man blinked at him in surprise. “Three o’clock for the young’uns,” he replied with a gruff voice. “And 4:40pm for the graduates. Same as all the other schools.”

“Ah.” The man was looking at him even more curiously and Simon found himself leaving the store rather quickly afterwards.

A café called Pritchard’s caught his attention, and soon Simon was happily tucked in a corner scarfing down a pile of steaming hot scones. He’d never had sour cherry ones before, but was beginning to think that he had a new favorite now.

The bell over the door rang, and Simon peeked over the high-backed booth to see a small group of students come in chattering.

“Uncle Pritchard, is it true?” a beautiful person asked. She was taller than everyone else and had quite a striking figure.

Pitch black hair was neatly wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a lovely silk blouse with wildflowers on it tucked into a sensible black pencil skirt and very shiny shoes. Simon always liked shiny shoes.

He also quickly noticed her pointed ears and the fangs peeking out over her lovely lower lip. A vampire? In this little place? The fact that no one was staking her meant that she was probably a pet or something, so he settled himself down and observed as quietly as possible.

“Kids, you shouldn’t be out-” the man tried before he was interrupted.

“They let us out early,” another young lady stated with the authority of a warlord. “Are there really mercenaries in town?”

He rather liked this one’s wild hair. It was tied back with a thinning ribbon and Simon wondered if the poor thing would give out and set loose the mane of curls.

“Now, now-”

“A gang in town!” Someone else squealed excitedly. “I can’t believe it! Nothing this exciting has ever happened before!”

“Our town had a showdown of Mages barely fifteen years ago,” the first girl snapped in annoyance.

“Yeah, but we were like babies,” someone else added.

“Kids,” the café owner tried again, his eyes nervously shifting towards Simon.

“Do you think they’re here to challenge Mr. Grimm?” the second girl asked with a grave tone. “He won’t go down without a fight.”

The first girl looked almost ill at the thought and the man quickly reached out and took her elbow. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. No one’s challenging anyone. They’re just passing through.”

Simon stuffed the last scone into his mouth and continued to enjoy watching the others hovering around the cash register. There was something quite refreshing about seeing other people his age who were so clueless to things like how gangs operated. Sure, there were a few roving bands of bonety hunters who would ride into places and raze them without provocation, but those were usually taken out by gangs like the Mage’s Men.

It was bad for business all around to have groups destroying villages and cities, so kingdoms wouldn’t put up with behavior like that. Even as a roaming gang with no kingdom loyalty, the Mage’s Men knew better than to get the ire of an entire kingdom pointed in their direction.

“Uncle, are they-”

“Really now, kids,” the man interrupted exasperatedly. “Do you want to order something or not?”

They all looked taken aback by his response and Simon grinned. The man obviously didn’t want them saying anything to offend him while he was sitting right there. It meant that he was scared too. Simon wasn’t easily offended, and really couldn’t care less about what some small-town gruffs thought about him or his family.

Deciding to take pity on the man and give them all a chance to gossip in peace, Simon stood up, his boots hitting the tile loudly. Everyone at the front of the building jumped in shock and Simon kept his most confident smile in place as he stared at them all.

“The food was good, mate,” he addressed the older gentleman and tossed a few bills on the table.

His eyes moved towards the group of young adults and found that tall girl. Her legs were even more stunning now that he could get a good look. With a brazen wink in her direction he strode right up to the front door and decided to head back to the rest of his group.

He hadn’t got more than a few meters from the café before the bell was ringing and there were marching footsteps behind me.

“Pardon me, you brute,” a voice demanded, “but you owe me an apology!”

Turning back in amusement, Simon glanced up into those indignant silver eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she snapped back.

“What for? Don’t like a compliment?”

A blush burned on her grey cheeks, but she stood her ground.

“Th-that wasn’t a compliment!” she protested. “That was rude! I am not a piece of meat to be gawked at!”

Blue eyes roamed over her more carefully this time and noted the more distinguished larynx and the deeper pitch of voice. “It’s not gawking, doll. Just admiring.”

The sputtering person seemed completely thrown off, caught somewhere between being even more offended and slightly flattered.

“It’s rude to stare!” the vampire shot back, seemingly not understanding why Simon wasn’t apologizing or backing down.

“People stare at me all the time,” Simon replied honestly. “I don’t waste my energy on caring whether they’re being rude or not.”

Those grey eyes looked completely baffled for a moment before the motion of Simon’s tail caught their attention. Eyebrows shot up and that lovely mouth gaped for a moment, allowing a better view of those darling fangs. It was nice to get to admire such things when they weren’t gnashing at you.

“Oh, you’re a...”

Simon shrugged. “They don’t have a name for my type, doll. Are you someone’s pet?”

“P-pet?! Not at all! My father is the mayor of this town!”

“Ah.” Simon gestured towards his ears. “Don’t really see a lot of you out and integrated into the towns. Makes sense with your dad, though.” The vampire self-consciously touched at their ear and Simon stepped forward carefully. “I don’t mean it it in a bad way, doll.”

“I’m...” The vampire coughed to clear their voice and shook their head. “My name is Baz. Please call me that. And it’s they/them.”

Simon jutted out his hand in greeting. “Simon. Good to meet you.”

“He/him?” Baz asked carefully as they took his hand.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Davy had called him a boy from the moment he captured Simon, and the young man had never given it a second thought.

“A pleasure, Simon,” Baz greeted politely.

Warmth filled his body and Simon enjoyed the feel of that hand in his. Baz had oddly rough hands for someone as posh as they were, but they also had a smokey smell to them that made Simon feel comfortable and almost...safe.

Not one to ever let an opportunity pass by, Simon stepped even closer and put on his most charming grin. “Say, Baz, wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” The vampire seemed to choke on their breath, but Simon pushed forward. “I’d like to get to know you.”

He wasn’t certain if this place had certain courting rules, but he was sure that the Mage could get him out of any jam he walked into. The man knew how much he liked holding hands and getting close to other people. He’d tried something serious with a previous Mage’s Man but it hadn’t gone over well and the guy his head smashed in by a Numpty as Davy’s warning to the others to keep their hands off of Simon.

Simon was an Heir and weapon first and foremost, and having people fuck with his emotions was a no-go. So, Simon was limited to random dates and one-night stands any chance he could get.

“Uh, I...” Baz swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay.”

“Can you come out for lunch?”

Baz nodded and Simon felt a happy warmth fill his body. “Alright. Here at noon, yeah?”

“Okay,” Baz responded shyly. There was a definitely blush burning on their cheeks.

Simon squeezed Baz’s hands and then quickly made his way back to the rest of the gang.

*****

The café owner glanced nervously between the two young people as he set the strawberry milkshake between them, but Simon ignored him and focused completely on Baz. The Mage had struggled to hide the wings away that morning because Simon’s magic was buzzing excitedly, but they were thankfully still tucked away.

While Simon was dressed the same as the previous day, he took the time to admire Baz’s outfit. They looked so polished and put together with their tan slacks, shiny belt, green polo shirt, and a fuzzy sweater neatly hung over their shoulders and loosely tied around their collarbones.

“How long have you been a vampire?” Simon asked dreamily as he leaned forward and rested his chin in one hand. Baz really was quite pretty.

“Since I was five,” they replied softly, a hand automatically coming up to cover the fangs.

“Don’t cover them,” Simon stated softly. “I like seeing them.”

“Oh,” Baz replied with a slight squeak before they leaned forward and drank down a bit of the shake.

There were two straws in the glass and Simon felt his body throbbing with happy energy. Everything about this place was sweet and delightful!

“I think you’re pretty,” Simon added, falling back on his tried and true brashness. He enjoyed seeing the blush light up on those cheeks. “Beautiful really.”

“You’re quite outspoken,” Baz retorted, but the smile remained on his lips. “And a flatterer.”

“I like to speak the truth,” Simon replied honestly. “And if I like you, I don’t see the point in not saying so.”

“Don’t you like to get to know someone first?” Baz asked curiously.

“I’m getting to know you now,” came the laughing response. “What’s your favorite scone?”

And with that, the two of them carried on an easy conversation. The strawberry shake dwindled down between them, and when Simon slid his hand across the table to drag his finger against the back of Baz’s hand, the vampire didn’t pull back. Their fingers hooked together as they talked, and both left lunch with dreamy looks on their faces.

As Simon meandered back to the inn, Davy Mage stood in a hall quite familiar to him and stared at a large portrait. The woman painted in it stared down at him severely, and he couldn’t keep the curl of distaste off his lips.

“What are you doing here, David?” a tired voice asked.

Davy looked over to see Malcolm Grimm, his all-white hair a shock from the memories he had of the man.

“You look old,” he sneered angrily.

Malcolm didn’t rise to the bait. He just stood next to the younger man and stared at the portrait. “Grief ages you, David.” The men stood next to each other quietly, each reminiscing over times gone by. “What are you doing here?”

The truth was dangerous, so Davy danced around it. “Passing through to another job. A Mage’s work is never done.”

Most Mages through history had settled into a town and worked from there, but Malcolm didn’t want to point out the obvious.

“Are you happy?” he asked, a heaviness in his words that had been there for so many years.

“What do you care?” Davy snapped, the irritation bubbling up.

“I’ve always cared.”

“Fuck you!” Davy growled as he wheeled on the taller man and shoved him. “Fuck you!”

The hurt was heavy in the air and Malcolm stared at the white-knuckled fists clenching his lapels. He’d seen that same grip so many times already and it opened up the wounds of his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that nothing would make it better.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Davy replied after a few moments, a crack of emotion breaking through the words. “And I won’t ask again.”

“I know.”

Davy stepped back and released the creased material of the suit. He ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, a bronze brown that had once hung loose and carelessly over his forehead.

“I’ll be at the same place,” Davy added quietly, almost in defeat. “You’ll know where to find me.”

7 notes · View notes

outerbankslut · 5 years ago

Text

Childhood Friends... Pope Heyward

Summary • You have been in love with Pope Heyward since you first met him when you were younger. But there’s one or two problems. Or so you think. He doesn’t like you. Does he?

Warnings • Swearing. Underage drinking.

Word Count • 3.3k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

AT EIGHT YEARS old you first met Pope Heyward. The concept of Outer Banks at such a young age seemed like a dream for you. Never ending beaches. Hot weather practically all the time. Surfing and swimming at your beck and call. It was a stark change from living in Minnesota.

The house you moved into was a small two story house next to one almost identical. And the day you had moved in a boy came knocking at the door. He seemed around your age and held a pie dish in his hands seemingly quite nervous. Your parents were upstairs unpacking so you opened the door hoping maybe you could make a friend.

"My mum made me bring this pie for you since we’re neighbours, here you go." He kept his eyes trained on the ground then handing you the pie and scurrying back home before you could even take a breath. Your face dropped as he ran off but you felt determined to make him a friend, after all you were neighbours so how hard could it be since you'd see him almost all the time.

A few days later your mum wanted to buy some groceries rather than living off of takeaway food for any longer and opted for going to Heywards shop. Which ended up being your neighbours store.

You wandered through the store while your mum chatted with Heyward and eventually stumbled upon the boy who ran away sitting on the floor and reading a comic.

"Spider-Man's really cool." You had said sitting down next to him as his head snapping to the side suddenly looking from his marvel comic to you. It was a surprise he didn't get whiplash.

"Really? I think so too." The boy gushed about the hero while you sat listening. Then your mum called you from the front of the store and you pouted, sad you could hang out with your new friend any longer.

Then the next thing you knew the eight year old boy was dragging you both to your feet and taking you to the candy area. He handed you a chocolate bar with a cheeky grin. "Don't tell my dad."

You nodded and giggled before rushing off to your mum and looking back at your new friend happily. Your parents invited the Heywards around for weekly dinners and alternated between houses becoming good family friends which only strengthened you and Popes friendship.

After that began it was an almost daily thing for you to hang out. You and Pope were attached by the hip. You went on your bikes together. Even took kids surfing lessons together. Though Pope practically already knew how to surf since he was raised on the water.

As you grew older you would do your homework together with the Heyward boy often helping you with the subjects you struggled in while you helped him with the things he struggled with.

Eventually you offered to help with the shop to pass time and hang out with your friend and at this point the Heywards were like family to you.

When you were both ten years old Pope had the idea to make a tree house. And though not the best considering it ended up just a rickety platform balancing on branches with ladders either side of it, it still worked. The tree overhung both houses back gardens with its trunk positioned just on the edge of your garden.

You met two more goofs that year. JJ and John B. The two Js was what you called them at first. You became fast friends with their long hanging bond similar to yours with pope. You fit like a lock and a key together. However you never showed the Pogues the treehouse, it was just you and Popes little space.

You spent a lot of time up there just staring up at the stars of reading. Pope liked to talk about all his hopes and dreams while you were there and you listened.

"Y/N, do you think I’ll be able to get into a good college. Like for forensic pathology." He asked as you laid on the 'treehouse' could you even call it that.

"Pope you are the smartest person I know. So it's unlikely that you won't get into anywhere you want."

"I know it's just—I don't think my dad can afford it so I'll need to get a scholarship. There'll be be hundreds of people competing for it. I'm just a drop in the ocean to them." He ranted and you could hear the stress in his voice. This wasn't something someone as smart and determined as Pope should have to stress about was all you thought. He deserved so much while people who deserved so much less got fed with a silver spoon up in figure eight.

"They'd be dumb not to let you in. I don’t see how you wouldn’t. I have faith in you but I will also do whatever it takes to get you in. I'll pay for your tuition myself if I have to. Or I'll find some dirt on the dean and—"

"I'd rather not have my acceptance be a product of your blackmailing ways Y/N but thankyou and I'm not letting you pay for my tuition." He laughed. It was the melodic sound that rung in your ears that made you smile and turn your head away from the stars and towards him. The small lights you had hanging from the tree branches were bouncing off of his beautiful chestnut skin. His eyes were a shade of dark honey brown that simmered in the light. He was amazing in every single way.

Your fourteen year old self was starting to realise what you had been oblivious to the whole time. You would do anything for Pope. He was your ride or die. And you hoped you were his.

However when Kiara came in was when things went weird between you and Pope. She waltzed in in all her kook glory looking like a goddess. So of course you couldn't blame the boys when suddenly all their attention was on her and her beautiful brown wavy hair or golden cocoa skin that glimmered in the sunlight. You couldn't figure out whether she was just born lucky with amazing genetics or whether she was a vampire like from Twilight. Either way, Pope Heyward fell and he fell hard that year. At work he always spoke about her and it was slowly killing you inside. Every time he mentioned it you swore you heard your heart break and crack into more pieces.

You wished you could tell him. But you would be putting your friendship on the line. It would be selfish to tell him when he clearly wasn’t interested.

Instead of moping over an unattainable crush you attempted to move on. And to everyone’s surprise started flirting back with JJ. He was always shooting his shot like he did with Kie and tourons at keggers but normally you never flirted back. You thought somehow within your skewed logic it would work and you would be over Pope. Like the saying fake it till you make it. But it just bought your thoughts back to how it wasn’t Pope.

The Heyward boy started to pay more attention to it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach everytime he saw you laughing at JJs jokes and not his or just talking to each other. He stared every time you flipped your long glossy hair over your shoulder and looked flawless or would saunter off back into the chateau for a drink.

His interest turned from anyone to you within a second of a word coming from you pink lips. But you had convinced yourself he wasn't interested and you were oblivious to his newfound feelings. And so he stayed blind as he had been before to yours.

"HEY WHAT’RE YOU doing over here, lil red." JJs nickname had originated from the fact that red was your favourite colour. You had even dressed up as little red riding hood one year for Halloween which sparked the full nickname. It was sweet but in no way anything more than a friendly nickname. Although Pope begged to differ. You sat leaning against the wooden poll on the wooden floor of the dock. Your arms wrapped around your legs pulling them close to your chest giving you a sense of comfort as you stared at the sunset across the marsh.

You turned to the blond sending him a small smile before turning back to the sinking blends of fluorescent pink and oranges blurring into one beautiful mess in the sky. "Watching the sunset."

"Mind if I watch too?" He asked settling down beside you and resting his arms on his knees. You nodded. It turned away from the sky.

You heard the laugh of Pope from behind you and turned this time you turned away to look seeing Pope laughing with Kie that just sparked jealousy in your stomach. He looked so happy with her.

"So what's the deal with that?" JJ asked from beside you and you turned to him confusion splattering on your features which were orange from the light hitting of the setting sun.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the long glances, more like stares really and when you tell a joke you always look to Pope first. You look at him like he's the best thing in the world. Not to mention you randomly starting to flirt with me. I'm a professional ladies man. I notice these things. You’re not interested in me, it’s Pope." He blurted out and you sat rubbing a hand over your face with a sigh.

"I don’t do any of that." JJ have you a look which you shrugged at. “Look I—I did, but I don’t anymore.”

“You sure about that?” JJ kept his stare on you as you shuffled uncomfortably before sighing.

“I just wish he could just like me back, but he never will he’ll always like Kie and I don’t wanna be jealous of them cause then I’ll be a terrible friend but... I can’t help it.”

“Lil red, I know you might not believe me but I think Pope does like you. A lot. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just some friendly look.” He places his hand on your shoulder rubbing it softly and you send him a tight lipped smile.

“Maybe he does, I doubt it though. And people say girls are complicated. You boys are just as complicated.” You teased bumping his shoulder as he let go of yours. “But anyway we’re forgetting about the most important rule ever. No pogue on pogue macking.”

JJ snorted shaking his head. “Don’t bring up that bullshit rule. I know that if anyone of you showed interest in me it would be out of the window.”

“I’m not particularly a rule breaker unlike you.”

“Rules are made to broken but you’re just boring Lil Red.” You gasped and turned to your friend.

“No I am not. Take it back.” You glared at him jokingly.

“What’re you gonna do?”

You raised your eyebrows and then pushed the boy off the dock thinking you’d suceeded for a slip second until he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you in too.

Pope watched the two of you laughing and talking for a while without you realising and then he saw you both fall in the water together laughing and looking like you belonged together. He shook his head slightly as he looked back to Kie who stared with worried eyes.

“You okay Pope?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just thinking.” Kie nodded going back to talking to John B until a shout erupts and they both turned to see JJ and you in the water. Pope was already looking.

“Lil red what the fuck?” He laughed shaking off his hair while you rung your own out still looking amazing to Pope.

“You said I was boring.” You shrugged chuckling and then screeching as you were pushed back under the water.

“I’m honestly surprised they’re not together yet.” Kie laughed looking at the two other boys beside her.

“You think they like each other?” Pope asked worry pinched in his eyebrows. It was one thing for him to think it but for Kie to confirm his thoughts made his stomach churn.

“Well yeah, I mean look at them.”

Pope was looking at them. And he saw it clear as day. You and him were never going to happen.

You breathed heavily as you and JJ walked up the steps to the docks. “Hey I know what we can do to help get your mind off of Pope for a night.”

“What?”

“A kegger.”

THE PARTY HAD started two hours ago and was roaring with teens, kooks and Pogues alike hung together for one night filled with truce, beer and weed.

He had left you a few minutes before to pursue a girl of course while you sat around a bonfire staring at the embers that floated into the midnight sky. But you were still thinking about him. He was stuck in your thoughts like superglue. You'd hoped that maybe alcohol would help loosen you up and get you out of your head but being alone and drunk made it worse.

Pope stood by Kie as you sat at the fire by yourself. Now was his chance to tell you and maybe you would like him back but if you didn't then maybe it would be less embarrassing since you were drunk. However he was not drunk since he abstained from the beer despite the multitudes of parties they had. He was the designated driver type.

"I'm gonna go over to Y/N." Kiara nodded before she continued talking to a random boy that sat next to her.

He walked across the sand catching your attention as you snapped your head up to see him heading your way.

"Hey Pope."

You were surprised he left Kie.

"You looked a little lonely so I'm giving you company."

"Oh Thankyou. My saviour." You said jokingly. Taking a swig of beer you examined the boys face. It twitched with nerves as he sat next to you and fiddled with his fingers.

He looked up at you with a small smile. “Y/N, I—”

“God, girls around here really have a good left hook.” JJ groaned holding his face sitting down next to you on the log interrupting Pope who he hadn’t noticed.

Then JJ looked up to see Pope sitting there awkwardly and you almost laughing at the fact that he got punched by a girl which never happened before. “Oh shit sorry I didn’t realise...”

“Realise what?” You asked shaking your head cluelessly before you dragged yourself up. “I need another drink.”

JJ tried to stop you but before he knew it you were at the keg with him following after.

“Uh, Lil red, I think Pope might’ve been about to tell you he liked you.”

“Wait, what? Really?” You almost dropped your beer as your hands went slack in shock but you quickly gripped it tight swallowing some. Pope stared into as you had walked away from him with JJ following. Of course he was going after you because like Kie said, they liked each other. He wanted to see if he could forget, so he did something he would probably regret.

“I’m pretty sure I mean he looked like he was going to. I really need to talk to him...” The blond trailed off as he stared at something behind him.

“What is it?” You were about to turn around until JJ held your shoulders in place until your shoved them off and saw what you never wanted to see.

Pope was kissing a girl. Not Kie though. It was just a random girl who he was kissing. Your eyes burned with tears as you turned to JJ scoffing.

“Yeah he definitely likes me doesn’t he.” You choked back a sob shoving the beer into JJs hand and running off into the trees.

Pope has pulled away just in time to see it and instant regret filled his stomach.

“Pope, buddy, what did you do?” JJ asked softly as Pope looked at his walking away from the random girl who looked taken aback.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologised and she rolled her eyes walking off. “I don’t know what was going through my head, one second I was at the fire the next I was kissing a random girl.”

“Look, bro, just go find her and explain everything.”

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll do that.”

You had walked the farthest you could from the party, still bare foot since your shoes were in the van and John B had the keys. You were leaning against a tree trunk when you decided to go to the one place that would comfort you most despite reminding you of him.

You went straight home taking 20 minutes to walk down the cold desolate roads that were dark by this time. The first thing you did was get ice cream from the freezer before making your way to the tree house and wrapping yourself in the blankets befor leaning against one of the many pillows stored there. You listened to the gentle breeze above rustling the leaves of the blooming trees and the crickets in the distance and felt the gentle swaying of the platform beneath you.

This was your comfort place. It was the only place you felt like this since it was where you created all your favourite memories with Pope Heyward. The unattainable boy who had always been by your side.

By the time Pope made it home it was completely dark but he knew exactly where you would be. He made his way to his backyard and saw your small figure and made his way up. You sat up quickly and almost burst into more tears after seeing him.

"Y/N..."

"Pope what are you doing here?" You asked as he climbed up the ladder.

"I came to check up on you..." He sighs and sits down next to you. "And I came to say that that kiss was a big mistake."

"Why—what?" You looked at the boy in confusion.

"I like you. I know we've been best friends forever and I hope this doesn't make it weird but that's the truth. I kissed the girl to see if I could forget about you which in hindsight was really stupid. And you probably hate me."

You looked at him with glossy eyes and smiled.

"Yeah that was stupid if you thought you could get over me.” You laughed which died down when you turned to him looking more serious. “But I don’t hate you. It’s not like we were dating.”

“I was thinking...we could change that.” Pope tells you and you raise your eyebrows, a growing smile on your face.

“Hmm okay. Date. This friday. On the beach. You and me?" You asked and his eyes lit up feeling slightly surprised at the forwardness.

"Isn't it supposed to be me asking you out?" He asked teasingly.

"It's the twenty first century pope get with it."

"Of course. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Good.” He then jumped on top of you in all your blankets and you let out a shriek. “Oh my god, Pope are you trying to simultaneously give me a heart attack and break this thing?”

“Not really, but if it happens then oh well.” He feigned nonchalance for a second breaking into a grin as you slapped his arm.

“Watch it mister. Or I’ll reconsider that date.”

“Okay, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You sighed contently as he wrapped you up in his arms, both of you under the blankets and the stars. You could definitely get used to this.

Note • In honor of simping for Pope and jd day, year, decade and century i’ve written this cause he’s a cutie and I love him. This was kinda anticlimatic but 🤷‍♀️

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poems-for-oldest-daughters · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine being tortured by Damon and Stefan

So doing this is really hard on mobile and my computer is broken so I’m sorry 🙃

Characters: reader, Damon, Stefan, Caroline briefly

Warnings: Some gore I guess, and, well, torture 😁

You were minding your own business one night grabbing dinner in some town you hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. As far as you concerned yourself, the less you knew the better off you would be, Katherine taught you that. You set your gaze on a younger blonde girl briskly walking down a darker street all by herself and decided that was your girl.

You had grabbed, fed, and just as you were about to erase the air shifted around you. An arm shot around your neck from behind before you could blink and a needle sunk into the dip between your neck and your shoulder. Your limbs began to tingle and your veins felt like they were on fire inside of you. While this was happening, the young lady you’d just fed from was spun around to face a dark figure. He muttered just loud enough for her to hear “forget everything that happened here, run home, don’t stop until you get there.” She nodded furiously, whimpering and started off. The figure approached you but you already knew who it was the second he spoke. The Salvatore brothers. If the younger one was in front of you that only left the older one, of course, connected to the iron grip around your neck.

“Damon,” you hissed, yanking on his arm in a mindless attempt to save your windpipe.

His grip tightened in response, followed by a delighted hum against your ear. You grimaced at his breath brushing your cheek.

“And Stefan, how lovely to see you,” you managed to squeak through the ever shrinking grip pressing against your throat.

“Wish I could say the same Y/N,” he said, pressing his lips into a tight, sarcastic smile.

“Aw, c’mon now, where’s that real Stefan smile,” you taunted him, still struggling against his brother.

He huffed, shaking his head and breaking out into a real mocking smile. Then, his eyes darted up above your shoulder to meet Damon’s and with just a shift of his arm you heard cracking and your lights went out.

Your eyes fluttered for a second as you struggled to regain consciousness. Dying and coming back to life really takes a lot out of someone, that’s one thing they always forgot to mention to new vampires. You definitely learned that the hard way, one of the downsides to hanging around Katherine Pierce. You winced at the pounding in your head from the vervain and, well, dying. Once you were awake enough to remember what had happened you scoffed to yourself. Had you really gotten abducted by the Salvatore brothers? Katherine would be disappointed. You heard shuffling and your eyes shot open. You lifted your head enough to see the blurry silhouette of the dark-haired older Salvatore leaning against the brick of the fireplace twirling a glass around in his hand across the room. He had perked up at the sound of your heart beating once again and was already staring back at you. He sounded just as amused as you were when he finally spoke. The Salvatore’s were always quite smug when they tortured people.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he purred.

In his other hand he held a long thin object, you couldn’t see it quite yet but you knew what it was. He held it over the fire for a moment longer then yanked it out and made his way towards you, sipping his drink once more before placing it on the coffee table as he passed by. You could see, now, the grin painted across his face.

“It’s everyone’s dream to wake up to you in the morning, Damon,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and craning your neck to glance at his brother pacing behind the couch.

Stefans jaw clenched in response, knocking back his drink of choice and going to pour himself another. This amused you further, you giggled softly to yourself turning your attention back to Damon.

“Now what, exactly, can I do for you two that we couldn’t have done over dinner and a glass of wine, hm?”

“Well it seemed like you’d just finished dinner,” Stefan commented.

You furrowed your eyebrows, mock frowning at Damon who stood just a few inches from you now, twirling the iron bar in his hand. His eyes locked with yours with a mischievous grin. You could hear Stefan walking closer until he appeared in front of you, leaning down to eye level.

“Look, Y/N, we tried doing this the easy way, okay? You refused to cooperate. You’re forcing our hands, we don’t want to torture you-“ Stefan’s sarcastic monologue was cut off suddenly.

“I do,” Damon smirked, twirling the iron rod in his hand again, the end still blazing red. Stefan huffed in annoyance.

“We just need you to tell us everything you know about the travelers and their whereabouts,” he continued.

“And I think you know I can’t do that,” you spat, annoyance sharp in your tone.

“Oh we know,” Damon’s eyes twinkled. “That’s why I’m here.”

He paused briefly and you observed something dark swallow his crystal blue eyes.

“To convince you that you can,” he hissed. In an instant Stefan shifted to the side and Damon was in front of you.

On the last word he plunged the red hot end of the iron poker straight into the middle of your chest. You gasped and a strangled groan escaped through your clenched jaw as the poker pulled and ripped through your skin, muscles, and nerves. Your arms and legs reflexively pulled up towards your body in an attempt to shield you from danger. Unfortunately, your wrists and ankles were punished by a sharp burning sensation that came from friction against the vervain-soaked rope securing them to the arms and legs of the chair. You sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth and grimaced. Still, you kept direct eye contact with him.

“Kinky,” you breathed, smirking and jerking your head towards the ropes. You realized Stefan had disappeared now.

Damon flashed a sour smile and twisted the rod inside of your chest. A small whine escaped from your throat and your fists clenched at the searing pain it caused. You were panting now, glaring up at him. You could hear Stefan shuffling around in the back, huffing and clearing his throat.

“Am I making you uncomfy Stefan?” You huffed, half smirking up at Damon still.

Damon was the one who finally broke eye contact to glance up at his brother. Then, he yanked the rod out of your chest leaving you gasping and coughing. You let your head fall back against the chair as your wound healed up. Stefan appeared in your peripheral, striding around to stand in front of you again. Damon was now back at the fireplace, warming his torture rod. You heaved your head back up to stare up at Stefans brooding, irritated face.

“Y/n, I’m only going to ask you once,” he spoke in a low rumble, leaning down to eye level with you.

He shifted closer, his nose brushing your cheek barely. His lips ghosted the outer edge of your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Where are they?” He whispered against your ear.

“Stefan Salvatore, are you trying to seduce me into giving up information?” you mused, huffing at his fickle attempt at retrieving knowledge. “You know I’ve always had the hots for Damon,” you whisper back, brushing your lips against his neck. “I hear that’s something Elena and I have in common,” you sneered, watching Damon for his reaction.

Damons jaw clenched, he shot you a sour glance. Stefan huffed, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. In a split second his hand shot up and wrapped around your throat, a strangled squeak barely escaping. You could feel his hand crushing the bones and muscles in your neck one by one and the pain was excruciating but you couldn’t cry out. The next thing you knew, Damon had appeared by your other side and he was pouring a clear liquid down your throat. You rolled your eyes and shut them hard upon realizing what it was because then your entire throat felt like it caught fire. Stefan released your neck before you could spit up too much vervain water and backed away as you choked and spit the water everywhere. You were left whining and screaming in pain as you forced water out of your lungs and throat. You gasped for air, dropping your head and letting it swing for a moment. Then, your shoulders began to shake. Damon shot Stefan a confused look before you yanked your head back up and revealed the biggest grin painted on your face. You were hysterical.

“You two really don’t have any original ideas at all, do you?” you howled.

Your head fell back in laughter but was cut short by a sharp red hot pain plunging deep into your leg. An ear splitting scream filled the room as Damon plunged the poker straight through your leg and into the chair. You sucked in a deep breath that shook on the way out, your hands squeezing the edges of the armrest so hard the skin stretching over some of your knuckles began splitting slightly.

“Now that one did shock me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Y/N, it’s simple. All we want to know is where the travelers are planning on going next and where they’re keeping Elena. Just give us that information and we’ll let you go,” Stefan lectured you as you were squirming in pain.

“When will you two fools stop killing yourselves for that little wench” you breathed.

“What is she doing here?” A sharp, angelic voice said from somewhere behind you pulling the attention of the boys.

“We kidnapped her,” Stefan grinned.

She paused to ponder for a couple moments.

“Okay,” she beamed, gliding over and standing next to Damon.

“Glad to know you care so much about me, Caroline,” you mused, pushing a weak smirk.

She glared at you.

“Have you gotten anything out of her?” She mumbled to Damon, frowning at you with her arms crossed.

“I’m right here,” you reminded her. “And no, they haven’t. They won’t.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Damon responded.

“Please, you seem to forget that I ran with Katherine Pierce my first 200 years as a vampire, that is until you and your annoying brother came into the picture. I'm older than you, stronger than you, there’s nothing you could do to me that I haven’t seen before.”

“And you seem to forget that we are the ones who killed Katherine,” Caroline smiled.

She held her hand out to Damon who looked down at her hand, up at me, and then up at her and he handed her the iron. He smirked devilishly.

“This should be good.”

#damon #damon salvatore #Stefan #Stefan Salvatore #imagine #tvd #tvd imagine

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mollysfoundfamily · 4 years ago

Note

where's part 2 of Mff (molly found family) halloween?

Right here right now on spoopy day itself!!

Ramsey decided too put on a little haunted house for the neighborhood kids. And an actually scary one too!! He got Zora to age the house into a creepy shack and everything!! He painted himself like a zombie and used his gold healing ability to detach his limbs and have them scurry around and grab at the kids!!! But the Piece de resistance has to be the ugly screaming statue Head you have to brave in order to get candy at the end. But they’re full sized candy bars and you can take as many as your brave enough to grab so it’s so worth it!!

Except for these few extra stubborn kids who seem to refuse to get scared (some kids from Molly’s class specifically Stink) normally he would take that as a compliment but they keep taking all the candy before the others!! Looks like he’s gonna have to use more drastic measures...

Mera and indus decide to go trick or treating because neither of them really got to do when they were little but if anyone asks it’s for kids in the hospital mera was one of those kids so she knows it’ll work!!

But Indus Is still kinda new to Halloween and still can’t tell what exactly are people in costumes and what are real ghouls!!! The elders back home used to tell spooky stories about this time of year how evil spirits like werewolves and vampires would haunt the earth!! And he’s still a little spooked

And by a little every time an even remotely scary looking costume gets near her he screams grabs lady Mera and barriers who ever it is as hard as he can! Zora seems to be pretty superstitious too Ramsey offered to let her help with the haunted house but as tempting as traumatizing children is she has other plans.....

Meanwhile mera is getting pretty fed up with Indus’s freak outs and is seriously considering calling the whole thing off if he can’t get the idea that there are no real monsters threw his thick skull!! indus feels really really bad for ruining Halloween for her and decided to give her some space for a minute and goes off the eat sad candy in the woods. When he hears a weird rustling in the bushes....

Indus: hello is anyone AHH WEREWOLF!!!!- wait oh ho ho that is a very god costume my friend but I will not be fooled again my lady explained that werewolves are not- hey HEY THAT CANDY IS FOR MY LADY STOP!!!! mera begins begins to feel kinda bad for scolding Indus and goes to find him (and all their candy) when she hears a weird howling sound!!

Mera: Indus... come on quit messing around...I sorry I got mad... please come out.... AAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Something big and Harry razor sharp claws and fangs comes charging out of the bushes at her knocking her to the ground.... and covers her with puppy kisses as she giggles uncontrollably!!!

Mera: No!! No!! Hahaha!!! Stop!! Stop!! It tickles!!! Hahaha!!!!!!.... *notices the big goofy puppy smile and the markings on the beast that look just like Indus’s tattoos*... are you serious.

Indus is apparently a WereDog now. all things considered he’s honestly not that different he still does whatever she wants sit, lay down, roll over, the whole nine yards. His barking is just as loud as his battle cries and he can still somehow use his epithet. He immediately lays down bully rubs and good pets from his lady she’s kind hesitant because HOLY SHIT HER BOYFRIEND IS A WEREWOLF. But how can she resist that cute little puppy face!!!!! He’s so fluffy and warm too!!! His tail wags uncontrollably as she does!!! Mera can’t help but AWWWW!!!! She could get used to this Meanwhile Zora’s been busy tracking down the werewolf number one and is hot on his trail... “there you are big boy”

A bullet suddenly wizzes out of the bushes and grazes Indus’s fur!!! He yowls in pain as the sliver blisters his skin before grabbing mera by the collar and dashing out as fast as he can!!!!! zora immediately gives chase not realizing it’s actually Indus!!! They both stampede throw the neighborhood bullets flying kids screaming!!! And Mera just trying not To get dropped!!!! They run into a grave yard and Zora gets a little idea.....

While all this is going on ramsey has been spending the whole night just trying to scare these unscareable kids but nothings working!!!! It’s been driving him nuts and he’s about ready to give up when something starts coming towards them in the distance

Upon closer inspection he finds it to be a giant werewolf and a cat girl fighting off a pack of recently resurrected cowboy zombies.... NOPE. He pulls the kids in a closed the door!! They slam into it over and over from the battle threading to tear right through!! The fighting breaks down a section of the wall trapping them on some spot!! The kids are freaking out and cry screaming!!! He was scared to use them at first but some of percy must have been rubbing off on him because he actives his new shape changing powers (see some of my other Headcannons) and turns into a giant gold half man half rat monster and tackles the creatures on the other side!!!!! It’s a beautiful horrible display of terror and the kids have peed their pants watching it. suddenly gun shots ring out silencing everything and seconds later Indus starts to revert back to normal Ramsey suddenly realized who does fighting and shrinks down too the zombies all fall away and return to dust....

“Got im!!” Zora comes out of the woods with the body of an unconscious naked old wolf lookin dude over her shoulder and a smoking gun. apparently it wasn’t a real werewolf it was a guy with the EPITHET werewolf that could temporarily turn anyone else into one with a bite! He had quite the bounty on his head and she had been hunting him for weeks and he bit Indus to try and through her off!! Her and Ramsey both apologize profusely to Indus and even more to mera for sweeping her up in all that.

The kids tell Ramsey that was the scariest thing they ever say but now flinch away when he tries to give them the candy and then run away screaming... “okay okay.” Zora: gotta say that was pretty impressive rat man... looks like I won’t have to go so easy on yah from now on...

they then all agree that there are absolutely not real monsters of any kind in the world and decide the spent their denial by eating Halloween candy untill they’re sick!!

#Epithet Erased #Halloween #Halloween Headcannons #Halloween Headcannons part 2 #Ramsey Murdoch #Mera Salamin #Indus Tarbella #Zora Salazar #Indus x Mera #Werewolf Indus #spoopy #sorry this took so long and is so long

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

Text

JALICEWEEK20 DAY 6

The Way of Things

JaliceWeek20 Day 6: Reincarnation

Notes: I... don’t know. It just sort of happened? This wrote itself. There were a few more lifetimes I thought about including (there was a Jessamine and Alice ‘life’ that I really wanted to include but it’ll be a standalone fic once I’ve done a bunch of research) but I think I’m happy with it?

This was absolutely inspired by a gorgeous Thor fic I read a few years ago based in Norse mythology and the creation of Yggdrasil; if I can find it, I will absolutely link it because it was an incredible piece of writing.

Also go me! I’m kind of getting a hang of writing sex adjacent scenes! I remember not being able to look directly at my cursor when I implied a blow job in Shadow to Light, I’m oddly proud!

Now, just the second part to Against a Wall.

Word Count: 4,322

NSFW - not graphic but yeah.

Soulmates are funny things. They do not start out existence together; they must find each other - it might take one life time, it might take ten. It is important they undergo this struggle; some souls are not meant for regeneration - they shine and burn out within a lifetime or two. But others get stronger, more powerful, during those early searching years.

And one they find one another, they are forever more entangled. The oldest and strongest eventually fuse, unable to be separated in life or death.

Of course, eventually they burn out. But not in a tragic way; more like in a way that is last page of a very good book; the wilting of a final flower in autumn; the way snow melts in early spring, with sense of peace and satisfaction, and utter tranquility. And as they dissolve into starlight and dust, they begin the cycle anew. It is neither good nor bad or anything in between.

It is simply the way of things.

—

When they meet the first time they are vampires in Dacia - the land that will become Romania. It is an era of indulgence for vampires in that region, and if any records had been kept, it would have declared nearly dangerous levels of changes.

She is Alis, a peasant girl changed by a careless vampire who fed and left her in a ditch. She’s a gentle beauty, with long dark hair, sharp and cunning eyes, and even after the change, her skin maintains a slightly golden tint of someone who spent their life in the sun.

He is Jesper, who mentions nothing of where he came from or what he was before he arrived to hover at the fringes of the Romanian court. He has a reputation in the court, with the ladies and the men both, and Alis is entirely aware and slightly amused by that. She catches his eye more than once, but is illusive like a quicksilver, unbent and unbowed.

Until she isn’t.

It’s been a good hunt, blood soaked through their clothes to their skin that they lick off each other in their frenzy, and she learns exactly how he developed such a reputation. He learns exactly what he was looking for as he finds himself skin to skin with the spirited girl that has always seen him coming before he could catch her. But he has her now, and he’s not letting go.

She doesn’t seem to mind. They become a common sight, as a pair, their hands constantly entangled. They are not at court to curry favour or power or anything more than their next meal, but their relationship is magnetic, and more than one jealous or yearning gaze falls upon them as he presses hot kisses to her neck as he ties a choker of sapphires or diamonds around her pale throat.

The Volturi attack a century or so later, and they stand with the Romanians, their leaders and their friends. He remembers thinking they cannot possibly fail; they are the side of the kings, of the angels. He remembers admiring her as they lined up; the way she had pinned her hair with the silver clasp he’d given her, the way her dress fit her and the smirk on her lips that promised something to look forward to in their personal victory celebrations.

They don’t survive. In the chaos of the battle, it is hard to say how they each fell - the Volturi take no prisoners anyway, so a quick death in battle is preferable to an execution. But they fall and they are burnt, and their ashes mingle in the purple-grey smoke that fills the field.

When Lord Aro finds a silver hair clasp discarded on the battlefield, still clinging to a clump of dark hair, he pockets it and later presents it to Sulpicia, polished to shine and on a bed of velvet. It is a curious and beautiful piece, the shape of a raven’s wing, and it quickly joins the Volturi’s treasury without a single thought given to its origins.

—

In whatever counts as the afterlife for souls and spirits, they reunite. It will take more than one life to work out their powers, the boundaries, of this resting place - how to shape it to their preferences, how to give themselves form. For now, it is just a long horizon of contrasting light, and they are little more than sentient energy, mingling and expressing regret and pain at the demise of the other, of relief of being reunited, of contentedness being once again with the other.

Time is not something that exists on this plane, and soon they learn how to change what is around them; a swathe of sandy beach that meets perfectly clear water, expansive grassy plains that fit between quiet, looming forests that are quiet and cool. They are no more fixed than any other aspect of this space, but it remains unexpectedly consistent.

Sometimes, there is a house. It’s immediate form never changes, but the outside facade does, as the lifetimes pass them by. Somethings a log cabin, other times an English cottage, or a farmhouse, or a bamboo hut. It is their every-changing, ever-evolving desires, a nod to their shared past and their hopes for the future. It is their reward, their sanctuary.

They learn how to shape themselves as well. She fluctuates a little more than him, but she is always small, always naturally dark-haired, always cunning but sweet. He is always tall and always blonde and too charming for his own good, and sometimes not he is she, blonde and tall and could charm birds from the trees. It doesn’t matter either way; the small one greets them just the same, with enthusiasm and passion and sweet sadness at their demise but always joy at their return.

And that is where they are together until the next life.

—

The next life is simpler; a part of a nomadic tribe. She is married, in their customs, to him when she is little more than a child and he just barely a man. And despite how they were raised, he is kind and gentle to her and has no interest in her as a wife before she becomes a woman.

It is a hard year, a bad year, as they travel the mountains and ridges, the snow sharp against their faces. Few of the tribe have born children that year, and less still have lived through the winter; when food is so scarce, the dying are calmly let go so that the rest might survive. There is an undercurrent of resentment when he hoists his child-bride onto his back so that she might make the climb; that he, young and strong and likely to live long and hardy, gives his share of food and water to the bony waif he is bound to.

But she lives through that year, and the next. She lives enough years that they are both ready for her to become a wife, and everyone who scorned her frailness, her smallness, the waste of a strong husband on such a girl, is shocked when she conceives and carries his child so easily. First a son, then two daughters, all born close enough together that the old women of the tribe mutter.

The tribe becomes stronger, settles in one place for longer and longer periods of time - where food and water are plentiful and they are safe from predators and other threats.

She dies during her fourth pregnancy, slipping away in an ocean of blood no one could have prevented. Her eyes are wild and frightened, and he promises that he’ll watch over their children and see them safe, and weeps openly over her body and that of his second son.

He dies after his second daughter is married to a neighbouring tribe, to a boy who looks at her like she is a miracle, and he knows his job is done. The death is quiet, in the still of the night, in the shelter that he once shared with her. As he passes from the world, he remembers the nights when it was him and her amongst the furs, and then their children pressed between them, and then the firm bulge of the child who would ultimately kill her. He holds no resentment for the cause of her death, just a faint and worn sadness, and as he drifts away, he is certain he can hear her laughing.

—

He is a soldier, to protect his family, for a cause he finds entirely repulsive. But he mouths the words and holds the gun, and does not recognise her when he is ordered to shoot. Why would he? They’ve never met. She dies in the mud, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because they end up naming him a traitor and he dies in prison heavy with regrets.

In their sanctuary, they reunite in silence, with sad eyes and gentle embraces. Whatever powers above govern creation, they still send the souls and soulmates to earth, to be swallowed up and spat back out by human machinations, human fears and flaws and greed.

It is simply the way of things.

—

She is a barefoot thief in the streets of Paris, dangerously fast, and subtle of hand. She tells no one her story, or at least, no one her truth. Ragged and smirking, people mistake her for a child, and so there is little trouble to be had - if she’s caught at all.

She runs into him, lounging in an alleyway, tricking lords and ladies out of coins wiht sleight of hand, and is delighted with their potential. She’s old enough to be charmed by sharp green eyes and a lazy grin, and young enough to contemplate the sheer levels of chaos they can cause.

They live like kings those next few years, pinching pearls and purses, watches and rubies, and living in an icy dormer room wearing stolen rings to convince others of things they’ll get around to eventually. It’s really not much - a narrow bed with wafer thin blankets and a shared pillow; water that runs cold and brown into a bucket; pigeons that nest in the rafters and shit all over their clothing.

Doesn’t seem to matter, though, when she welcomes his kiss and sleepily encourages him when he rolls on top of her during the late night hours, frost forming on the weave and weft of their clothes. When their work is good, he brings her flowers from the seller on the corner, and she tucks her pockets full of cakes for them to share, and really, neither could imagine a finer life than together in their little tower.

But time marches on, and soon they recognise that the tricks that have gotten them this far in life aren’t going to be overlooked forever. There are less nobles on the street, less coin and jewellery to be fleeced, and so they decide to leave for the country - he’s not afraid of dirty work, and she’s not afraid of anything.

The journey will be long, and she steals a book for him on their way - he’s determined to teach her to read. It’s a neat little Bible with a smart green cover with the name ‘C-a-r-l-i-s-l-e C-u-l-l-e-n’ written in neat script on the front page.

They settle in a village, where she becomes a laundress, then a seamstress, and he finds work with horses. They marry in the village parish, where the kind priest is happy to absolve them of the sin of living as man and wife before their vows, and keep their secret. They exchange stolen rings for ones of brass, from a jar the priest keeps for that purpose.

There’s a tiny two-room cottage they occupy; those early years of hunger and neglect have left their mark on them both, and so there are no children in this life. But there is an endless parade of animals that he brings home tucked under his jacket; wounded or lost or discarded, and she finds that she doesn’t so much mind waking up to a blind duck on their bed or a sickly fox on the pillow next to her, when he is always so pleased with their progress, with their improving health. He saves more than he loses, and he takes pride in that. Some are set free and returned to the wild, but others linger until they are something of a spectacle in town - the house with all the animals.

They live a long life, a good one, and it ends peacefully. They are buried side by side in the village cemetery, with wooden crosses that bare their names, and prayers muttered in their honour.

But one Carlisle Cullen never gets his Bible back.

—

The good lives give them less time together in the in-between, if such a thing could be accurately measured. They wade, knee-deep into that perfect ocean that stretches out to their infinite horizon, hand-in-hand, and then they both feel it; that fizzing, tingling feeling as whatever oversees them pulls them back; back into bodies and minds, back into lives and places, and they once again have to go through the push and pull of finding the other and crossing their fingers it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

As he becomes nothing again, he holds her smile tight in his mind with a prayer that this will be the time, this will be the life, that he’ll recognise her for who she is to him as soon as he sees her.

She hopes its a long life, a good one, with his hand in hers always.

—

He’s reborn in Texas in 1863 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

She’s born in Mississippi in 1901 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

They meet in 1948, and if he knew any better, he’d tease her about keeping him waiting for thirty-seven years, six months, and three weeks. But it will be a while more before they both remember things like that, so he can’t. Instead, he falls completely and utterly in love with her, in a way that echoes right back through to that very first meeting in Dacia.

He wonders if its possible to miss someone he’d never met before, when he takes her hand. She wonders if he’s going to disappear, to startle and panic about the future that lies before them and leave her behind.

He kisses her like a starving man, and she almost immediately drags him - a willing supplicant - into her bed because it doesn’t matter what life they’re living, she’s never been particularly subtle. He knows exactly what to do to make her scream indecently, and she puts her mouth to every single one of his scars, and he wishes he could weep - with relief and guilt and a million other things that are knotted up inside his head.

And she will untangle each and every single one with enough time.

They unknowingly draw from each of the lives that have come before - they are nomadic for more than two years, criss-crossing across the country. He is no less fixated on animals - as a human, it was the training of them; as a vampire, they are his salvation. Their hands are always entangled, their gazes always on the other.

This time, they find a family, and some quiet, subconscious little corner of her mind decides she likes that they aren’t alone this time. There’s a small joy in the memory of a ‘family’, and a warm feeling - one that she doesn’t know originated from a long-ago life where they were the ones welcoming new children into their heart and home, one she doesn’t quite recognise. But families are shaped so many different ways, and the Cullens are just another way to fit together, and so they stay.

It’s a good life, an untroubled life - at least until Edward gets tangled up with a human girl and the cursed Volturi. Somewhere, the great puppet master jerks the strings and decides that if history is so desperate to repeat itself, well, it might as well put on a show.

They escape the Volturi once (a flight to Italy to save an idiot brother), and twice (Renesmee shall live, Joham shall die, and Aro leaves without any new amusements and deeply, infinitely disappointed in his beloved Carlisle).

Third time’s a charm.

—

Aro’s great error shall go down in history as underestimating the damage he has done assembling his collection, the rage and resentment that boils like an undercurrent in the vampire world. He is not a beloved leader, but a feared one.

In truth, which will be lost to both time and the fact that the powers above don’t keep written or oral histories as humans comprehend them, his undoing is two things: the fact that in all things there must be balance.

And an ancient silver hair clasp shaped like a raven’s wing, that his Sulpicia wears in her hair as they arrive at the battlefield, cloaked and over-confident.

The battle is ugly and fatal and messy and all those things wars usually are, and there is no certainty in their victory, not with the wolves involved, with the shifters and the cryptids that have crawled out of every shadow and space to be done with Aro and Caius forever.

(Stefan and Vladimir are naive if they think they will fill the vacuum left behind in Aro’s wake; Jasper takes them both out quietly on the battlefield, when neither of them can call out the betrayal or identify their killer. Sometimes ugly things need to be done, and he’s not above getting his hands dirty.)

The battleground is smokey and even her supernatural eyes struggle to see through the gloam; her dead heart heavy as she looks for him. Voices call for help; for missing limbs, for injuries, for protection and she ignores each and every one.

She doesn’t know why she stops at the sight of a silver hair clasp, ancient and lost in the mud. Or why she reaches for her own hair, cut short.

Or why she picks it up and unlocks something inside her own mind. It is not an explosion of information, a supernova of memory. It is simply an intense awareness of who she is and who she was and who she will be. It is a confidence in her stride as she moves through the battlefield with a sense of self she has not known since before her home was known as ‘Romania’.

Jasper is bent and twisted, Rosalie limp on the ground, and those vicious, hideous twins hold them captive, like fish twitching on the line. Their deaths are not imminent, because who could take down the little vipers and stop their little game?

Jane’s head is off her body, and Alec’s too, before Jasper has shaken off the pain, expecting Peter or Maria or Emmett to have gotten a lucky shot and dismembered Aro’s little favourites.

Instead, it is his mud-streaked wife with a strange look in her eyes and emotions skittering over her skin like static. A battlefield is no place for a lover’s reunion, but she still bestows a kiss on his kneeling form (so ready for his own execution) that is so positively lascivious that it takes him a minute to remember himself.

And then he remembers himself.

The scales have been rebalanced, and the fight is won by a toss of a coin that finds Aro, Caius, and Marcus on their knees in the mud, waiting for their own trial. The oldest of the gathered line up - Carlisle, Amun, Maria, the Chinese coven - to pass their judgement, but the memories that press on both of them demand their pound of flesh, and Edward eyes them both uneasily.

Instead of violence, of sliding down a slope that turns them back into the monsters of old, into the truest of nightmares, Alice crouches in front of Aro with her wide dark gold eyes, and pulls the hair clasp from her pocket.

Aro’s rage is cold, at the few strands of Sulpicia’s hair that are still trapped in the metal, and if he could, he’d shred her to pieces in that moment, gift be damn. But she smiles sweetly, and strokes the etched feathers.

“Did you know?” she asks quietly, only loud enough for the fallen Volturi kings to hear, and Edward who hovers in case this spirals into a cataclysm, “When he gave me this, I mean?”

Aro stares at her, straining to touch her and understand, but his guard holds him tight and all he can do is sneer at her.

“The night before you brought your army,” Alice plucks the strawberry-blonde hairs from the fixture and tosses them into the mud. “He pinned this in my hair and we danced; we thought we’d win. And I suppose we did.”

Aro gapes at her, Caius is spitting curses, and Marcus is just pleading for his peaceful death - and how many lifetimes has he lived without Didyme, has he wanted to return to that in-between space?

She sees the scar on Esme’s face and finds it hard to care.

Edward is backing away in horror from whatever he sees in her mind, and Jasper is helping her stand, returning to their place amongst the very confused witnesses - what could the diminutive vampire say to the Lords of Volterra that would inspire such a response. The three are summarily executed without ceremony, and they are scattered over the fire without reverence.

Alice tosses the hair clasp in, too. It is better to be burnt to nothing, to be forgotten and buried by dirt and ash. It is too close to becoming a cursed object, one that will follow them, if they place too much belief and trust and hope into it. It has witnessed two downfalls, and it will never witness another.

He holds her tight in the aftermath, as they count their dead and make their plans. Edward is already whispering warnings into Carlisle’s ear, of the shape their thoughts and memories take. But they are family, and that comes before everything else.

(It’s not exactly their fault that Edward is a shiny new soul, and it’s going to take him a few lifetimes to understand what he’s seeing and hearing. Harder especially for him, with his gift so strong so early in the cycle. But everything happens for a reason.)

Despite the curiosity wafting off everyone, they say nothing and they go… well, not home, but to the closest residence, the headquarters of this war. A sprawling property with enough beds for the wounded, the wolves, and the lovers.

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from eons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach.

It is times like this that their talents are burdens and gifts both because it is so much, so very much, and in all that passion and true love, there is also loss and regret.

But they have each other, and they will weather this new storm together.

—

They are hardly the only couple to spend the night tumbling together, but they must be the loudest, because when they reappear the next morning with darkened eyes and clean clothes, Jacob and Emmett are looking at Jasper with a new and very specific kind of respect, and if she flips both of them off behind Esme’s back, no one has any proof.

They don’t talk about what they’ve learnt, because it probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t matter, until the mantle of it settles upon you. And then it is everything.

Instead, they hunt. They have won the battle, won the war, and whilst rebuilding will take time, they can take this small moment to feast with their family and relish freedom from fear.

She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust.

And then they will die.

And then they will live again. Maybe they will live another ten lives, maybe another one hundred. Maybe one day they will cross paths with their family again, or they will choose to have children again. Maybe they will be long lives full of joy and laughter, maybe they will burn out fast and hard, but full of feeling.

But the thing they are now both and utterly certain of, above all else, is that they will walk each step hand-in-hand.

It is simply the way of things.

#jaliceweek20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #jalice #jalice fic #my fic: the way of things

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caveodecanis · 4 years ago

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♔ CAVEO DE CANIS ♔ “BEWARE OF THE DOG”

O P E N S T A R T E R

5630 A.B. (Summer, as hot as fire and as unforgiving as blood)

Location: Court Divino

Hungry hounds are never loyal. It was lucky then, that he’s been fed today.

At the gates of Court Divino, the executioner awaits, counting the lambs being led to the slaughter, noting their names in his little black book -- figuratively speaking, of course. Such a mundane task would be wasted on Caius’ red left hand. The newest lad on the squad, Decimus, is on notebook duty today, his vampire hands, trained to kill -- instead holding a quill, dipping hurriedly into the blood-ink as Nero instead plays the role that he has so excellently held since the moment of his rebirth, when he was lifted from the dust and made unholy. Caius had stitched him with blood still undiluted; The Creator’s rageful power still radiating from the hands which had toppled Them. First, victor. Then, guard. But always pleasing, always on that precipice between fame and infamy, renown and terror.

True darkness, after all, is irresistible.

The sun rises in the West -- merciless, bathing Vanitas City with everlasting light. It is always hot here, always on the cusp of being unbearable, but he bears it, because he has seen this empire rise from the dust, seen it be decimated and then reborn; this time with a dark streak running through its very center. To be formidable is to be both feared and loved, and though the light shuns him, the masses welcome him into the dark spaces in their chests, where demons play and wolves howl. He who is at the helm of the empire shall be worshipped as the emperor’s sword, sins wrapped about the mantle. He cuts a striking figure; harbinger of death in an empire of heat -- though he’d prefer to be at the Bay with Helen. It’s dinnertime. She must be serving them the birds that Lucretia drugged. May they choke on the bones, and remember that the West is as brutal as it is welcoming, every silver spoon laced with poison.

Dressed in black robes that sweep with the wind, with the insignia of a golden dragon upon his back, his mouth purrs, while his throat growls -- but even that is as smooth as velvet, barely a warning; more of an invitation.

“Lady Nimeria,” and Nero dips his head, his tone cool; though he can see how her gaze fixates upon him, following his every motion. He somewhat remembers their last trist; but from the ravenous look in her eyes, the way she licks her lips -- he knows that she remembers it well; has dreamt of it, replayed it over and over in her head, on those windswept nights when a vampire wants more than blood, when something else quivers for attention. His hands on her skin, his fangs in her neck; no doubt. It always went the same way, after all. He claimed to be no angel; and even monsters wanted a taste of heaven. Helen would be furious to know that he was letting her into their court, into the palace of scarlet sashes and golden facades that was theirs, alone. But not today. Not for the next week, as the Western Empire hosts their most beloved spectacle; as he relives an echo of his death, this time upon the dais, his hands trembling with the desire to join them, to spill guts and claim glory. An addiction, worse than the one he has with his dearest Aslezia, imperial drug of choice.

“Welcome back to Court Divino,” he says. She glances at him imperatively, irritated at his lack of attention. But he’s already giving her demon-steed a whip to the arse, spurring it forward. She gasps. “Behave yourself now,” he tacks languidly to the back-end of his welcome, in case he bores, in case he’d like another midnight rendez-vous with beautiful Lady Nimeria.

Nero’s gaze lits upon a familiar face, and Nimeria is forgotten.

He pulls his demon-steed, a stallion as foreboding as he; in front of the next in line, cutting them off. “No entry.” The two words that could mean death. The Imperial Guard snaps to attention at the purr of his voice, at the possibility of an enemy. Their hackles are rising, their fangs showing; each sharper than the last. Was there a hint of teasing there, in their Captain? Almost imperceptibly, Nero’s mouth curves up. It could be thirsting for blood, or it could be reminiscing on sweetness -- one never knows, when his wings are dipped in both vainglory and luxuria -- a dangerous mixture. Seduce, and destroy.

“Not for this one.”

#event: the 563rd blood games #( it's so long bc i was struggling to figure out his character LOL pls shorten it;;; the top part is just him being a fckboy )

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rebellect-writes · 4 years ago

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[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] An imaginary number! [b]What happened?:[/b] GH, she’s evil...and I like his hair.

[b]Name:[/b] Hunter Burnett. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST]Uncle Jordon. Jordan Burnett. Hunter Jordan. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] 286 [b]Date of Birth:[/b] June 4th, 1725. [b]Age at Death:[/b] 28. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Questionable. [b]Occupation:[/b] Jack of all trades.

[b]Bloodline:[/b] Beast Master. [b]Power Level:[/b] Adult [s]Kiss[/s]. [b]Mind-Set:[/b] Both. [b]Animal to Call:[/b] None. [b]Powers:[/b] [LIST] [*] Heightened senses, reflexes, healing and strength. [*] Bite...If he enters the persons mind when feeding, he can make it less painful and more enjoyable. He doesn’t most of the time. [*] Empathy, he can smell some strong emotions like fear, rage, anger, lust. Since he’s of Padma’s bloodline, he’s also got a slight empathy to all animals. [*]Enthralling/rolling, he can only get this right with weaker shifters and normal humans. Anything stronger can break free. [*] Glamour, he can switch small things about him. Make his hair darker, eyes brighter, on will. [/LIST][b]Rank:[/b] Rogue. He can be tempted by the Kiss though.

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Gerard Way. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i325.photobucket.com/albums/k361/Mychemicalromance55_photos/mychem313.jpg[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 5’10 [i]Weight:[/i] 151lbs [i]Eyes:[/i] Hazel brown. [i]Hair:[/i] He’s a dyer. Naturally, it’s [URL=http://img.buzznet.com/assets/imgx/7/5/3/9/1/6/1/orig-7539161.jpg]black, he’s [/URL] gone [URL=http://quizilla.teennick.com/user_images/A/AM/AMU/AMUANDIKUTO4EVA/1264970042_5386_full.jpeg]blonde[/URL] in the past, but he’s currently sporting [URL=http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/19400000/Gerard-way-my-chemical-romance-19400197-467-700.jpg]red.[/URL] [i]Build:[/i] Average and lean. [i]Visible marks:[/i] He has a Crucifix burn mark on his left shoulder. [i]Style:[/i] Hunter likes to be comfortable. Since he travels a lot, he’s ditched the formal wear that he used to love and taken to jeans, t-shirts, a nice pair of boots. You name it, he’ll wear it. That doesn’t mean he won’t go back to formal(ish) wear.

[b]Special Skills:[/b][LIST] [*] Can speak pretty decent Spanish and French, well enough to get him by. [*] Not so much a fighter, more of a scrapper when it comes to combat. [*] Good with a knife or any type of blade, if being armed is what's needed. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Hunter isn’t as complicated as most people would think. He’s a fairly easy going guy that likes to have a laugh and being a vampire nearly 300 years old hasn’t changed that, and why should it? Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he has to be a mopey Annie, he enjoys his unlife. He doesn’t judge people right off the bat and he’s willing to give them a choice to show their true colours before passing judgement and moving on with his life. He just understands that not everyone choses to be who they’ve become, or what they’ve become. Caring and nurturing – it comes with raising a boisterous were-puppy -, he’s got the patience of a saint at times and it’s hard to push him into snapping but not impossible.

Other vampires, more to the point the older kind, scare him and because of that he respects them a hell of a lot. He’s fine with anyone younger but the older ones make the hair on the back of his neck crawl. He knows he’s got to play it careful with the elders of his kind, they could easily shred him a new one if they wanted and to top that off he’s trespassing on an occupied territory. In some places that would have ended with his heart and head removed. Shape shifters are awesome; he’d rather run with someone that was furry inclined then spend time around his own kind. Maybe it’s because of his bloodline, he’s never worked it out, but if Hunter comes across a shape shifter in need, he’ll lend a hand. Humans are the same, as long as they’re not trying to stick a bullet or stake into him, he’s dandy.

He’s extremely protective of Grey, and has bled for his “nephew”, to the point that he has killed for him. Hunter would walk over broken glass if he had to, to make sure that Grey was comfortable, and he’d go without clothes on his back to make sure that Grey had what he needs. Does he love him? Yes. He’s been there since day one, and while it may seem a little odd to some but that’s just the way it is and the hand that Hunter’s been dealt. They’re not related by blood after all so it’s nothing incestuous despite the fact that he regularly refers to Grey as his “nephew” outside of the few people that Hunter can call friend. There blames himself for the death of his “family”, and he believes that he failed his friend from all those years ago, and it gnaws at him at times when he’s not really paying attention to what’s going on around him. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Being alive...Well, undead and alive. You get the picture. [*] His [URL=http://www.musclecarclub.com/musclecars/pontiac-firebird/images/pontiac-firebird-1968c.jpg]car[/URL]...Well, technically it's Grey's car now. [*] Living under the radar. [*] Keeping Grey safe, even if Grey doesn't always know it. [*] Wandering the coast at night. [*] When it's not to hot or to cold. [*] Playing games on his phone when he's bored. [*] Watching people. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Following other people’s rules. [*] Wearing suits. Though he does it occasionally. [*] Being hunted like a dog. [*] Seeing Grey struggle with something. [*] Driving in the rain. [*] Seeing animals abused. (This includes shifters, as well.) [*] Pushing to get what he wants. [*] Being dragged into the spotlight, so to speak. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Strong willed. [*] High pain tolerance. [*] Won't hesitate to get things done. [*] Grey. [*] Somehow manages to keep Grey calm when he's all worked up. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] Can't enter a person’s house without permission from the owner. Has killed because of this. [*] Normal vampire restrictions and weaknesses. Fire, sunlight, Holy items. [*] Grey! He failed his adopted family, he won't fail Grey. [*] Doesn't always feed right. A little taste here and there, just to hold him over. [*]Stubbornly persistent at times. It’s been known to get him into trouble. [/LIST][b]History:[/b]

When former British Naval officer turned pirate William Morgan found out that the tavern wench, Carmella, that he visited regularly was pregnant with his supposed spawn, he up rooted the poor woman and dragged her all the way from her home in Maracaibo to his home city of London, and in the early summer of 1725, Hunter was pushed screaming into the world and was welcomed with somewhat open arms. Carmella died from a fever and child birth complicates according to the back street midwife that William had paid to help deliver his son, and she wasn’t mourned. William wanted a son, not a wife or a real family, and he already had plenty of mistresses across many main trade routes waiting for him so one whore dead was no skin off his nose to see her buried in an unmarked grave just outside of the city.

For Hunter though, it meant something different. Since William didn’t haul the boy out to sea with him, he was left from the moment he could walk with William’s sister, Cassandra. She was nice enough, and made sure that her brother’s son was fed and looked after, but that was it. There wasn’t a maternal bone in the woman’s body, and Hunter grew to know this very well, especially when he got hurt and all she did was pour boiling hot salt water over his cuts and scrapes and scolded him for being irresponsible before always telling him the same story about how his father would be so disappointed and when he came back from his trip then she would tell him of all the bad things that Hunter had done. If anything that was what made him wish for his father’s return all the more, simply so he could meet the man even if he was to be scolded for being a typical boy. He was nine when William came back to London, and upon first meeting him, Hunter was scared. Worse yet, Cassandra lied through her back teeth to get Hunter out of her house and William had no choice but to agree after giving the boy a beating for causing his beloved sister so much trouble. Fear turned to twisted joy, and the following day he was dragged out of one life and into something...better. He’d always wanted to see new places, meet new people and have an adventure. He wasn’t disappointed either, so he waved good bye to England and followed his father like a loyal little puppy.

By the time Hunter twenty one years old, he returned to London under an assumed name of Jordan Hunter. William had died in a raid on a tavern in Panama nearly two years previous and it was that loss that had him seeking something else. It was his father that had taught him everything that he had known, and without him, well, Hunter saw no point in staying on as a pirate and that was a bit cowardly in itself and went against everything in him for the most part. Besides, piracy had been a dying art for years before his father had taken him away from Cassandra at the age of nine, but it was well and truly dead by the time he returned those thirteen years later with more knowledge of the world and with more than a few secrets and tricks up his sleeves. No doubt there was a noose waiting for him somewhere as well. A few weeks upon his return, he found out that Cassandra had moved to the country because of her health, and instead of tracking her down, Hunter decided to stay in the city and it took a year of roughing it out, but eventually he found his feet so to speak in a classy tavern come whore house in South London. He was to look after the working girls, make sure that they were treated somewhat correctly and if a John thought he could get away with something that the Lady of the house didn’t like, and then he was to deal with it and make sure that it wouldn’t happen again. Simple, really. Right? Right! It was something he could do with little to no trouble, because half the time the punters abided by the rules and Hunter became somewhat of a ghost, only appearing when trouble kicked off over the next few years.

Twenty six, almost twenty seven years old, and surprised that he’d lasted that long in anyone one job, Hunter made the mistake of stepping in to stop some high Lord from doing some serious damage to a girl named Mary, a new addition to the household. She was a sweet lass that was a little ditzy in Hunt’s opinion but she didn’t deserve the ever living Hell kicked out of her because someone had shot his ... pistol ... too early and in the wrong place. Mary was only eighteen at the time. Not liking it, the gentleman turned on Hunter in a rage but the Mistress of the house stepped in before it got too out of hand and warned the male away with the threat that he’d no longer be welcome in any brothel in the city if he didn’t leave. Luckily, the gentleman had some sense and left. That night, after a talk with the Mistress, Hunter became the unofficial career for some of the younger girls and that suited him fine. The ‘business’ was changing after all; he’d seen it rise up from a tavern where anyone could get what they wanted to something more refined. The year following, Hunter got close to Mary and as unwise as it was, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. They just clicked. However, the good times weren’t something that just wasn’t meant to be. Lord Jennings came back on evening with his friends and they flashed a lot of money around. The Mistress, Emily as she was known, had no choice but to serve the ingrates, but she warned Hunter to be on the lookout for trouble as well as the more senior girls and staff. Mary was one of the unlucky girls that were called on to serve the gentlemen and while Hunter didn’t particularly like it, he had no choice but to let it happen. It wasn’t until later that night that Jennings changed from a rich snob to something else, something from the pits of Hell itself when the Mistress refused him personal service. For poor Hunter, it was like some of the stories he’d heard on his ‘travel’ made real.

The Mistress and Jennings tore into each other with fangs, two of Jennings friends turned into monstrous wolf like beasts that lunged for the closest living body that was near them, another turned into a snake-man. If that wasn’t bad enough, some of the girls turned to. Great cats attacked the wolf men, and those that didn’t transform tore into them with fangs. It seemed that Hunter was the only human amidst the nightmare, and after a moment’s hesitation he was spurred into action by something that he considered even worse. Mary had been cornered by a rabid creature, some kind of man-dog thing and Hunter didn’t hesitate in trying to defend her. One almighty smack across the back of his head sent him flying into the path of another monstrosity. Jennings. The vampire male had split from the Mistress and left her bleeding and broken on the floor and took after the disorientated Hunter, and the last thing that Hunter saw before the world went black was Jennings fangs.

He woke up three nights later, chained at the wrists and ankles in the houses cellar with no idea what had happened to him or the others. He’d never been to the lower levels of the house before, hadn’t wanted to, but the coffins lining the wall made him tremble. If it hadn’t been for the Mistress Emily who was in a similar position to him and trying to calm him down, Hunter would have found a way to raise unholy hell. The hunger he felt would have driven him to doing it anyway, but from what he was being told there was just something distracting about it. Jennings had turned him to spite the Mistress, who was in fact Jennings own wife and his former fledgling. Talk about having your mind blown open. Hunter had worked for Mistress Emily for nearly a decade and he’d never once thought of her as someone’s wife. He certainly hadn’t thought of her as a vampire either! The nightly sightings had been written off as being selective with her cliental but that was it, especially since she had more than enough people working for her to get whatever was needed during the day done. It was so crazy that it actually made sense to him. Hunter just didn't accept it fully until Jennings finally gave both of his 'toys' an audience and by then it was too late for him and Mistress Emily as they both listened to the Master vampire rage about how he hadn't wanted to take over Emily's life again, but the insults that he got because of her reputation had been too much for him as it had started to affect his business dealings in the city. It was time to bring his wife to heel! Back to her place at his side, even if he had to destroy everything that she had built during their ‘separation’ as he called it.

After Emily was beaten into submission verbally by her husband, Jennings turned on Hunter, simply because he’d stood up for one of Emily’s girls. As a lesson to his new fledgling, Jennings tore the throat out of one of the girls that Hunter had promised to look after in front of both of his ‘children’. The scent of blood drove Hunter wild, pushed him past being human to a place where only the blood mattered. Jennings let him loose and the only thing that Hunter cared about was the blood that was draining from the girl’s throat and he fell on her, feeding on what was left. Emily tried to bring him back to her, back to being human, back to being Hunter, and she almost succeeded by sheer force of will but at the end of the day, Jennings had his claws in Hunter and he also had Emily right where he wanted her and it was like that for nearly twenty years before anything changed. He didn’t go around as Jennings ‘servant’, he became Hunter again, all because he found out that Mary – who had because Emily’s maid more than a prostitute – had become pregnant with a child to one of Jennings shape shifter friends, a weredog, just like she was. What made Hunter more surprised than suspicious was that Mary claimed she was in love with the male, and there hadn’t been any force involved. He had no option but to agree when he saw what she was like around him. If only he knew how Jennings would react ahead of time, maybe he’d have been able to stop his sire for doing something stupid.

The birth was complicated. Mistress Emily had taken over the proceedings as midwife while Lord Archibald paced in the hallway waiting to see if he had a son or a daughter. Hunter did as he was told, fetched water and towels and was the perfect little man servant. It was on his second trip up from the kitchens that he found Master Jennings had returned early from a business trip – much to everyone’s surprise – and had found out what was happening. He flew into a rage unlike Hunter had ever seen before, and turned on the vulnerable Mary screaming and cursing that she was ruining the bed. Archibald and Emily lunged to keep him away from the woman and Hunter was the one that had to finish delivering the baby and even though he had no idea what he was doing and there was a battle raging behind him, between him and Mary, the young shapeshifter was brought into the world kicking and screaming. It should’ve been a happy moment, and it was, in a way, but one moment Hunter was on his feet and the next he was collapsing and clutching at his chest. He didn’t know that Emily had taken Jennings head clean off his shoulders, leaving Archibald to deal with the rest. A life for a life, the baby was alive and Hunter was dying for a second time. It was a good exchange in Hunters eyes. However it wasn't in Emily's. She blood oathed him to herself in a last ditch attempt to save his life and she almost lost him. Almost. To them, Jennings had never returned home that day and the never mentioned him again.

Excitement over, the vampires became unspoken godparents to the child that had been named Thomas, and they watched as he grew up and his parents passed on seventy years later. Hunter was barely past his first century of un-life and could have done anything or gone anywhere, but a bond of friendship kept him there. Even after Emily finally grew bored with watching out for her friend’s children and their children’s children and moved on, Hunter stuck around keeping tabs on the closest thing that he had to a family. He became an unspoken Uncle. Sure, he was sad to see Emily go but he just couldn’t do it, and wouldn’t do it for all the tea in China. The only problem was that since his Mistress had left to find something else to occupy her, Hunter had to be careful. It wasn’t right for a “rogue” vampire to wander into Kiss’ territories unannounced, and feeding in a territory that was controlled by a Master vampire was even more dangerous for him. So he crept around the territory lines, nibbled rather than fed, and vanished when there was any sign of trouble headed his way. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his to do with as he wished.

He travelled a bit even though he kept in contact since some of the weredog’s that came and went didn’t seem to like him being close to them or their kin. He dropped out of contact for sixty years at one point because he’d been focused on getting a job and getting some money put away in case he ever needed it, and he did get a bit put away for a rainy day. When he finally came back into contact with the dogs and a lot had changed, Hunter was only glad that he could come back in time to see Grey born and could be in the kids life from the start rather than coming in later and getting growled at by someone. He wouldn’t admit it, but Hunter had been growing tired of everything, those sixty years before Grey’s birth had been tiresome and Hunter hadn’t been able to see the point in trying anymore, but things were oddly different now. So he became Uncle Hunter to Grey and for the first year and a half everything was grand, there wasn’t any trouble that they couldn’t get passed. He should’ve known that it would change though, one night hunters tracked down the family of weredogs and slaughtered them all. Hunter had been out feeding in the main town, rather than staying at the family home that night. He got there too late to save anyone, but he did find Grey stashed away in the cupboard under the stairs. After leaving an anonymous 999 call, Hunter left with Grey; the only thing on his mind was how it would look if the police turned up and found him standing amongst the bodies of his family. It would’ve looked liked he’d done it rather than a roving gang of murderers that pretended to be on a mission from God to destroy monsters

So, they travelled for a bit together. Scotland, Ireland, the States, you name it. It was a bit tricky for Hunter, having to explain why Grey wasn’t in school and what not, but he passed it off as him being in private education. People tended to leave them alone once they heard that, but Hunter – who was going as Jordon at the time – dealt with it and made sure Grey wasn’t affected much. Around about the time that Grey hit fifteen years of age, the kid went through his first shape shift. Hunter was glad of this, even though Grey pretty much freaked out over the fact it was a dog form rather than something fancy like a wolf or bear, but that pretty much sorted itself out when Hunter told him that he turned into a [i]big[/i] dog. Since Hunter had pretty much dragged Grey to the states to make sure no one found out that he was a weredog and could connect him to the family tragedy, it was time to come back home to the UK but not before Hunter paid a few of his old Mistress’s ‘friends’ to find out what had happened all those years before. What was turned up was just a little disturbing to say the least. A rogue sect of Human against Vampires had killed Hunters family all that time ago because of him, and it tore him up inside to learn this.

Four years later, the nightmare came back to finish what was started. Grey was nineteen and Hunter was, well, typical dorky Hunter over a movie night when their little rented house was raided. Hunter told Grey to run as he took one of the humans out before swiftly following. It was only later when they met up on the outside of town to watch their house go up in flames that Hunter realized just how important Grey was to him. It was little too late though, the hunters found them and Hunter threw himself at the lot of them so Grey could runaway and that he’d catch up with him later. What Hunter didn’t want Grey to see was him tearing into the crew of slayers with a rage he didn’t even know existed until he saw their leering grins. Throats game out between fangs, silver bullets hit home weakening him more and more until eventually he was left broken on the floor. Rather than kill him out right like anyone sane would do, they hauled his mangled body to a lock up, told him that he was going to be used as an example for monsters in the area.

Now a vampire can take a lot of damage, they beat him, starved him, and threatened to burn his face off with holy water, you name it, and Hunter dealt with it. He even got a pretty cross shaped scar for mouthing off to a chick that obviously wasn’t getting any at home. It wasn’t until two weeks into this Hell that things got interesting. They started bringing in animals for him to feed off, dogs, cats, rats, hell even some idiot brought him a goat. Rather than feed though, he manipulated the animals even though it cost him. A dog would bite here; a cat would take a swipe at someone’s face. It was worth it because one of the punks came close enough for Hunter to snag him by the throat and tore into it, draining the life from the slayer. All he wanted was the blood at first, but the keys to the pretty jeep and his chains were a bonus. Using the animals as a diversion, Hunter got out of the waterside warehouse and the hell out of dodge. Even though it took him a couple of more weeks to track Grey down, he wasn’t in any state to confront the young weredog. He did however stick close to Grey, more a silent uncle that was heard rather than seen. While he was healing up and Grey was getting on with life, Hunter found out that HAV had found Grey in London. Seeing red, he went straight to Grey’s flat and broke in, he wasn’t going to beat around the bush and told Grey everything that he knew before dragging him out of there and telling Grey’s neighbours that there were trouble makers on the way and that they should call the police because there would be guns! Well, as you can imagine it wasn’t the best reunion and Hunter would’ve done anything to make it better except he couldn’t. All he could do was point Grey in the direction of Jackford with a promise that he’d follow him after he gave the slayers some new tails to chase, and he did.[/SIZE]

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ajokeformur-ray · 6 years ago

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(my matchup info)) i'm bi, a londoner and i have loong dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and pale-ish kinda skin with light brown freckles on my cheeks and nose. i like playing sims 4, playing w my cats and binge watching Netflix. i love!! music and have a pretty good voice, my favourite artist is Lana Del Rey but i also like Lady Gaga, die antwoord, and 00s pop girl music e.g Britney Spears (don't shame me lolol). im quite smart but peaked a few years ago which is quite depressing lol. p1

pt. 2 speaking of I have depression and anxiety and take meds for both. im sarcastic, quiet, easily annoyed, funny and am a top tier shitposter. fr my feed is constantly full of memes. I’m almost always on some form of social media. im drawn to darker people and villainous characters despite being the opposite lmao. i put on a confident, independent front but inwardly im v insecure and easily manipulated if u can get past my front. i use humour/disinterest as a defence and hate looking weak. thank u!

Fandoms asked for (over two combined requests): Game of Thrones, Once Upon a Time, Yuri!!! On Ice, American Horror Story, Twilight, Death Note, The Vampire Diaries.

Death Note: Mello (Mihael Keehl)

Mello games and you play Sims 4 so sitting next to each other on your individual consoles would be how the two of you spend lazy days and quiet evenings together. You have a varied taste in music which is actually quite dark (Lana Del Ray) and inspiring/iconic (Lady Gaga) whereas Mello just likes heavy music which, when played at peak volume, thrums through your rib cage and echoes in your heartbeat. Between Mello’s explosive temper and your depression and anxiety, things can be tense. He snaps at you sometimes without thinking and you may retreat from him all together as a result. Show him your latest memes, though, and he’ll huff a reluctant laugh through his nose, breaking the ice. He’s not big on apologies even when he’s wrong but even so he’ll silently apologise in only one way: he’ll give (not just share) you one of his most expensive, preferred chocolate bars. Overall, he’d be one of your biggest comforts and vice versa. Just knowing that he’s watching the CCTV live of you walking down a dark or isolated street to make sure that you get home okay makes you feel a little warmer. Even when he’s pissed as hell at you or something else, he won’t let you go to bed feeling alone in a bad way. It’d be an explosive kinda love ;) [inappropriate death joke lmao not sorry]

American Horror Story (AHS): Violet Harmon

Violet would adore you. There would be some tensions because she’s quite abrasive (and rightly so, in some cases) but also because you both have depression, though you also have anxiety and you both put up fronts to hide yourselves. That’s likely how you bond - with Violet confessing to you one hot summer’s day that she “hates everything” and the whole situation with her parents. She can rant for hours when you leave her to it, just listening. Sometimes you share a part of yourself. You’re quite a talkative couple, but only in private. If there are people around, it’s obvious you’re together but there’s no set reason that they can see. Vivien and Ben have, generally, never seen their daughter so animated; you only bring good to Violet’s life. You’re both sarcastic and easily annoyed so any arguments are basically just really accurate roasting sessions until one of you hits a nerve (and then it stops because Violet just leaves to go somewhere - you never know where) or you’re both laughing. In this way, there are moments in your relationship that are hard to stomach. Watching mindless TV shows on Netflix and cuddling is a good way to break any ice that lays between you; Violet would make acerbic comments about something the lead has done and you’d listen, always able to tell if something more is under the surface. The similarities between the two of you creates your relationship; you see yourselves in each other and only want to help as best as you can.

The Vampire Diaries (TVD): Damon Salvatore

Damon would be very protective of you. You don’t like appearing weak but even when you’re down and sobbing on your knees, your body unable to hold you up anymore, Damon’s never thought you looked stronger. It takes strength to show weakness, even when you’re alone. If you ever forgot to take your meds, Damon would stand over you in with a glass of water in one hand and your meds in the other, that passive-aggressive look on his face. He’d watch you take them, arms folded, and then he’d give you a steamy kiss that leaves your toes curling for the rest of the day. Damon pretends to have no feelings because it’s easier and you put up a front. However, because Damon can’t shut off his humanity without forgetting his love for you, so he has to face his humanity which means he begins to feel guilt and everything that’s already there if he wants to feel it, which he doesn’t but… He does eventually. Because of you. You are the good in his life.You have similar defence mechanisms so it’s not unusual for one of you to walk into a room, see the other and immediately say “stop doing that” or “don’t do that” - no one else can tell that Damon is pretending, except you and Stefan. Similarly, it’ll be the brothers who can tell that you’re pretending. The contrast of your long dark hair and your bright blue eyes would be what drew Damon to you and I feel like he’d call you his “little siren” because of that. As such, he comes to understand that it wasn’t Katherine he’s been looking for all this time…

… It was you.

Twilight: Edward Cullen

You caught Edward’s attention by singing one day. He was just passing by, skipping Biology (blood work) and he heard you singing. He hadn’t meant to tune in to your radio station but sometimes he couldn’t help it. And you did have a lovely voice. He would likely buy some of the same albums that you own so that he could get to know you through music. Over time, he would learn to just intuitively tune in to your radio station and he’d hear your thoughts - this is a promise he would make to himself to not do once you’re friends and then dating and he’d definitely stick to it. He’s conveniently free on sunny days so you’d spend those days watching Netflix with a blanket around your body to protect you from his ice cold one (it’d be really hard to explain away catching a cold during a heatwave) and he’d press kisses into your hair, your kitty purring away just above your shoulders. Though Edward would do his best to not listen to your thoughts, on your worst days some of them drift through his mind and he’d take your hand tightly and say “Don’t” or “That’s not true.” He’d try so hard to help you; I think, pre-Bella, he also has depression so he’d do his best to help you because he knows what it’s like, and not just because he can hear you.

Yuri!!! On Ice: Victor Nikiforov

Victor would have such a loving relationship with you. Ohh, he’d try so hard to make you smile each and every day. When he’s not on the ice competing or eating way more food than he should be able to consume in one sitting (seriously, where does it go? Does his stomach start in his toes?), he’s curled up with you on the sofa watching something you want to watch on Netflix, Hulu or whatever else you use. He doesn’t mind what you watch, so long as you do it together. You love to shitpost and you love memes, and Victor loves taking pictures of the most obscure things so between the two of you, your followers are well fed! You’re always texting each other memes, jokes and sending pictures to each other with cryptic captions or song lyrics attached, making the other person burst out laughing in strange places like the ice rink or a classroom. You have more of a jokey relationship than a serious one, though that’s in abundance when either of you have depression or anxiety flare up. In any case, bed time is always met with gentle touches, soft smiles and careful reassurances. Even, and most especially, when you’re angry at each other. Love is never so important as it is during the bad times.

Once Upon A Time (OUAT): Regina Mills

It would be really touch and go to date Regina for a while. It would be very challenging and many people, including her and in your darkest times, yourself, would tell you that she’s not worth it. That you’re not worth it. But you’re all wrong. She is so, so worth it. Once she splits from the Evil Queen, once she grows into herself and grows into the Charming family, once she overcomes her abusive childhood and comes to love herself, she is a ray of sunshine and she glows. I’ve always loved and been so proud of Regina, and you would be too. You both put on fronts to protect yourself and you’re both very convincing so a lot of the time, the two of you have to mentally step back and see what the other is really thinking. Luckily, you know each other very well so it’s not hard to see when either of you are feeling especially insecure or unwell. Regina would literally rip her heart in half if it meant saving you, and at times she’s risked her life for you. She lives for your cuddles, especially when her many duties as a mum, a mayor etc. get on top of her and she just needs a break. You bring her back to herself time and again, and she will always do her utmost to return the favour to you. You have a strong, loving relationship underneath it all. It just takes patience and a special bond to be able to see it from the outside.

Game Of Thrones (GOT): Joffrey Baratheon

Joffrey is the most villainous person on this matchup. I was very hesitant to match you with him, I really was, but some of the others on this list are almost as bad. So. I think your personality would have a more positive effect on him. Cersei got her claws as far into him as she could, but even once she tried to reason with him and keep him reined in, he was too far gone for her to be able to help. But you... Mm. I think you’d have a similar impact on him to Margaery. You put on a front to protect yourself and this would be what Joffrey would listen to... to begin with. Once you’re properly courting and Joffrey is able to see what you don’t say; he would soften. He would still kill and be an utterly evil piece of work, but he would exercise more mercy. He would still wrongfully torment Tyrion, but he would draw a line when you start anxiously tugging on his sleeve. He doesn’t cuddle, mocking the action all together, but then one day he walks in on you curled up in bed reading a book and he just can’t resist curling around you, an arm slung over your shoulders to possessively keep you beside him. It would be a tumultuous, dangerous relationship but then... it’s Westeros, what do you expect?

There!!!! I hope you enjoyed!

#psychedelic-dolly #matchup #game of thrones #got #once upon a time #ouat #yoi #yuri!!! on ice #american horror story #ahs #twilight #death note imagines #the vampire diaries #tvd #combined all requests bc easier

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asktheskinner · 6 years ago

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Ambush of the Dead

Showcasing of Melchiah and Melchahim Post-Nosgothic Civil War. Horror and Violence warning.

The newest caravan strode along the Razielim Road, Dumahim jealously guarding the wagons of ‘liberated’ slaves and bountiful vassals of blood. The pact snarled with cautious eyes and bristling arousal to the ever-clinging sting of earthy rot in the air. Ever since the First Clan’s humbling and even now, a century into the war against the rebellious humans that waned and waxed like a defiant tide against a fortress’ foundation, the Melchahim claimed the Razielim Stronghold for the time being.

The creak of wheels rolling on the paved road before a groan of wood and suddenly the weight of bodies finally collapsed one side of a wagon into a spill of screaming men and women. Immediately one of the overseers were on the mortals with violent rebuke as if their already starving bodies were purposeful to the new difficulty of this most inconvenient time.

At the front, the Alpha of this raiding pack glared as one of his lieutenants came with bowed head of submission. Goliath, one of Dumah’s personally-risen warriors. Unlike the other clans, the Thirdborn was more liberal of his risen creche. From the Grand Magi Vornah to the insufferable Fredrick de Rose...those were nothing to a proud general of the Dark Titan himself. Now, without that braggart to stand in his way, he will collect the septs one by one until the clan was under his rule.

Like all of his direct inheritance, Goliath was massive. Even for a Dumahim, clad in the baroque armour of wraith-crafted steel and dark motif to the warrior caste that they are born for. A tusked sneer crossed his tattooed face before snatching his lieutenant by his throat and dragged him up from his boots. The hot stink of recent feast huffed in the choking vampire’s face as he commanded,

“I want my meat back on progress. I want it all at the camp before dawn or I will personally feed your guts to the wargs!”

In that demand, Goliath flung his subordinate back and pointed a talon at the others, “Move now!” The lesser vampires bowed in the midst of their skittering movements for assistance. The fear of another vampire was delicious. Humans, certainly but there was a distinctive pleasure out of beating the fear from a fellow god and it brought an arrogant smile onto his face.

In the reveries, the pockets of upturned earth shifted. The whispers of the long-dead catching ears and suspenseful eyes until a woman screamed as she is roughly plucked by her handlers. “No! No! They’re coming, they come in hungry hate!” “Quiet, you insufferable wench.” The Dumahim hissed, snatching her by the throat. His claws biting into her flesh, already tempted to tear her screaming throat out and feed. It was Goliath’s commandment to keep every last of these blood-bags alive and something grabbed at his ankle. Through the creep of mist that appeared in the middle of their idle without immediate notice. “Wha-!?” Another hand - taloned and iron-grasped - took him into the softened earth. Nearly taking the woman with him, the vampire hissed and roared out. Convulsing and trying to drag himself to no result. “Help me fools!” He gurgled out as his torso yanked this way and that. Two of his brothers hurried off, grabbing his arms and helped. There was a sickly sound and the Dumahim was free!

Without his lower half.

The hateful scream of pain and attempt to remain conscious in the void-wrapped agony as he twisted and tried to reclaim his pulled innards. Skeletal hands erupted from the ground around them, clawing his hollering mouth, arms and organs. Tearing and dragging him back into the earth whence his corpse came.

More erupted. The dead rose, the firefoxes of glowing sockets from the long-dead soldiers and slaves from past wars as their slowly reconstructed bodies shambled and groaned as puppets. Some holding rusty weapons of soldiery and instruments of farming, others used their gnawed nails and taloned finger-bones for the closest living and nonliving thing they sought. The Dumahim guards hissed, handling their own weapons and taloned fists, charged with savage rebuke. “Back to the grave with you!” One cried out, smashing a risen dead with a backhand that destroyed its upper half into a burst of bonedust and rot. The dust fell a moment, whirled and pulled itself into nostrils and mouth. The sudden wickedness caught the vampire by surprise enough to inhale sharply in shock.

Cough and spitting out globes of polluted saliva, the Dumahim sharply gagged to a sensation in his chest. A crawling spread that pierced into his veins, blackening as it went. “Gah!” The gurgling of pain rousing to eyes watching as his body jerked and spasming, fighting itself from strings unseen. Bones starting to snap in stubborn refusal, changing shape and when the screams became their highest with onlookers frozen in terror that a proud son of Dumah’s clan was nothing but a toy to this eldritch force. This reaver was torn into the material of a creature not of this realm. His soul howling in its cadaver, fuel to the convulsing abomination of hardened flesh and shivering bones as it lunged in ghastly flight against former kin.

This army of the dead and converted fought at the protectors while their prize stared on, huddling tightly to one another in hopes that they will be safe from this.

In the chaos, seemingly more draugr rose. Their flesh, rotting and bloated under layers of stitches and fused evolution. Powerful and unnatural in their own way. A couple with many arms. Others with armour between layers and masks of blighted gold. Weapons in taloned hands. The rotten yellow of their truth hanging from waists and grim decor. The Children of the Sixth Clan emerge in the most opportunistic time, cleaving the weak and tearing with putrid hatred and spiteful energy.

Among them, more powerful beings walked. Their clan’s curse staled by powers beyond their lesser attribute, gifted by the Lands Beyond. Robes of grim regality and crested armour wrapping their shuddering frames, talons burning of abyssal power hurling violent bolts and screaming magicks at their enemy in their scrambling reformations.

There were too many. The fell power of Melchiah’s magi were honed and cunningly used in the right ways, even as the few lieutenants under Goliath’s routine claimed unlives with centuries’ honed powers and skills. Their maces and hammers crushing bones and bodies with air-ploughing force and their armoured form throwing by inhuman strength. Wargs barking, charging for vampires and closing their powerful salivating jaws for bloody kills but even bodies were weapons to the Sixth Clan.

Their ichor poisoning their killers with organ-melting potency and those not killed outright tore into bellies with bones pulled for weapons and fetishes. Warm blood steaming in the air and fed upon to heal.

All of this chaos. This inpudence. Utter craven disrespect of their betters!

Goliath sneered in nothing but distaste as he swatted four draugr in one decisive swing of his mace-wrapped fist and smashed one of these necromancer-called ghouls under his cloven boot. The pulverization of bones and warped meat crunching under heel before he lumbered for the closest summoner.

The woman, or this vague spectre of one, looked at her behind the porcelain mask under gilded armour and dark robes. He recognized her, even after all these centuries - he recognized Lady Samona. The High Witch of Melchiah’s dregs. Unnaturally tall for the lesser clan with limbs stretched and similar neck, she had a head-sized orb in the fold of one arm and armoured bird-like talons swaying with the calling of black magic. “Goliath, it has been too long.” Her crowing voice purrs behind her mask’s perked red lips. “Old Samona, I am surprised you are not a pile of rot-slog by now. You are already a hag by the time your Master found you.” He taunted, his stride unstopping in full intent to crush her once and for all.

“And miss this?” She asks and in a sudden incantation that still sounds like mere gibberish to the Dumahim, her bolt flew straight for him. Moving with a crater-depression behind him, Goliath whirled in mid-air and came crashing for his enemy with a roar that shook the night. Samona did not move. She showed no fear of this brute and gave her reason why -

With a flick of her free hand, the bolt came right back with a wily intelligence and struck Goliath off course. The mist was twisting and collecting itself slowly at first before stretching into a great hand, solidifying into an abhorrent horror of groaning bodies consisting at this meaty palm’s fingers to swat him straight out of the air like a toy.

Limbs grabbing muscle and plating with strength beguiling the rotten beings’ appearance as the solidifying arm was becoming more and more present. The mass of muscle and groaning faces to a crested shoulder of wailing bodies, clawing at the air and their own blood-weeping eyes. It moved, slamming Goliath again and again into the ground before throwing him into a great Termogent tree with a thunderous crash.

The dead around them pulled by the ghastly visage, breaking apart to meld and form the Mists’ true appearance. Another arm of similar horrors dragging and armoured legs curling on their digitigrade feet with wicked talons curling into the dirt. The horn-spined body leading to one ugly ‘head’ crested by bony ridges and barely a skull jutting from its fleshy prison. Black eyes glaring their glowing irises of murderous red and something of a smile on its slugging maw of teeth on its skeletal jaws. Meat hanging off its lips like a toad’s bloated thyroid.

Melchiah. Centuries since the loss of his precious stolen retreat, he had resurfaced.

And his gurgling laugh rolled in the air as his grotesque body heaved itself on legs that will not last for long. “Goliath, I have come for you…”

#v: damned #melchiah #melchahim #dumahim

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odderancyart · 6 years ago

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Underfell (mostly)

Vampire AU based on a dream I had a while ago

Warnings: Background child death, parents giving away children out of desperation, blood drinking

Blood was always best fresh.

And the very best blood was fresh human blood.

Vampires had different ways of getting it. There were the keeping of thralls – a common practice. One could prey on weak people out alone, and attack. Quite crude, in most of their opinions. Manners were of outmost importance, after all. You could also pay humans to sell you their blood, a sort of prostitution if one so wished, if you had a few coins to spare. The richer you were, the better blood you got; if you were a vampire of small means, you may have to do with the drug-chewing whores in the alleys and their poisoned blood.

Edge waved for one of the mortals in the corner, their eyes hazed over with bliss. Vampiric poison was an other kind of drug, and an addicting one. The mortal was dressed in a silk suit, complete with cravat and top hat, and they stumbled forward before heaving themself upon his oaken writing desk, eagerly pulling the cravat down to expose their neck. It was already riddled with holes, some of them still leaking. He had always found the practice of keeping thralls somewhat distasteful, but it was the best method of feeding they had. The quickly developed addiction of being fed from, the complete worship in their eyes as they gazed upon their vampiric lords and ladies. At the very least, he made sure to repay their services with healthy food and a warm bed.

Not that he cared much for the mortals, with their short, quick lives. It was a mere moment in his ancient existence. But it didn’t feel honourable to take their already short lives away from them without making the process as pleasurable as possible.

Putting his quill aside, he leaned forward, and the thrall met him halfway. Sinking his fangs into their throat was simple, and soon the warm, healthy blood flooded his mouth. Edge drank greedily, swallowing mouthfuls of the hot liquid until he could feel the mortal sag against him, limp. Unconscious. Reluctantly, he pulled away. He reached out for a black handkerchief lying on the desk before tying it around their neck and gently lowering them to the floor. Even now, their expression was blissed out, their eyelids fluttered shut and their mouth turned into a half-open smile.

The sight wasn’t very appealing. Grimacing, he turned away, lifting the small black bell also on his desk. Moments later, a minor vampire stepped into the room, bowing before they threw the mortal over their shoulder and left to put them to bed.

Suddenly it knocked on his door of the huge study with its dark red walls and countless bookcases full of leather-bound books. Before he could even reply, the door slid open, revealing Red there, in a completely black suit. His red eyes glowed in the dim room. “We’ve got a visitor.”

Before Edge could get out a word, his brother stepped aside, and a skeleton woman shuffled into view. Her dress was brown and torn and obviously repaired many times over. A shawl covered her head. She held a bundle against her chest, and her cheeks were tear-stained. As he stood up, surprised, she whimpered but curtsied deeply.

“My lord,” she said. Her voice shook, but she looked up and met his gaze, holding it without wavering. Quite impressive, in Edge’s opinion. He could respect that. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, as were the tears gathered in their corners. She didn’t flinch as he took a step forward. “I’m so sorry to disturb but I didn’t know where else to go, I can’t-”

A silent sob broke her off before she swallowed. Her cheeks were flushed brilliantly blue and Edge could sense the marrow pulsing through her bones. As she inhaled shakily, her hold on the bundle eased, and she turned it around to reveal a tiny skeleton sucking on its thumb. Its eyes were closed. A baby. Edge blinked in surprise, his eyes flickering between her and her child.

“I can’t feed him. I don’t have anywhere for him to live. He’s going to die as soon as winter comes, freeze to death. And I can’t give him to an orphanage, those horrid places.” She stepped forward, swaying with each step, and held it up toward him. “I don’t know want to know what you will do to him, my lord, but please, promise me he won’t suffer.”

Yet some vampires found their sources of food by taking children from desperate parents who realized a painless death was the most merciful alternative. Young blood was said to be unrivalled.

Suddenly, the baby opened his eyes. They were just as brilliantly blue as his mother’s, and he cooed as he reached his hands up in the air, grasping for Edge. Staring up at him with the complete absence of fear only a young child could every carry in his soul. Even Edge felt fear sometimes, mostly for his brother’s sake. The mother was shivering, but she didn’t lower her arms. She would give him her child. He did have a reputation around the county for being an unusually merciful vampire lord, after all, and so he shouldn’t be too surprised.

His eyes flickered up to Red’s, but his brother only shrugged. It was Edge’s decision. He met the woman’s eyes again. “What is his name?”

“Sans, my lord,” she said. The smallest sparkle of hope lit up in her eyes at his question. “His name is Sans.”

When he reached out for the child, she held him higher, and immediately released her son once he was safe in Edge’s arms. She stared at him, a question in her eyes, and he nodded. A grateful smile lit up her face as she curtsied quickly before bowing down and pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered. “Never forget.”

The baby cooed again, and his laughter was pearly and clear. The woman thanked him again as she curtsied one last time, and Red showed her out. Edge just stared down at the mortal baby in his arms. The bones were still soft and malleable, and somehow, he had managed to grab Edge’s little finger, squeezing as tight as he could. His soul skipped a beat. What was he supposed to do with this little one? He was an ancient vampire lord, one of the Children of the Night. He’d killed, emptied humans on blood, even slayed his own kind at a few occasions.

But-

“We’re keeping it, aren’t we?”

He jumped as his brother appeared just next to him. Red chuckled as he glared, but there was something softer on his face as he stared down at the baby in Edge’s arms. Their eyes met. “Yes,” Edge sighed. Ruthless as he was, he had never hurt a child before, and to start now didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, the baby’s face scrunched up, and it let out an ear-deafening scream. They both winced. Their hearing was so much more sensitive than a human’s. A slightly panicked look appeared on Red’s face, and Edge could only agree as he stared down at the crying baby just in time for fat teardrops to start rolling down his face. Fuck. Pressing the baby to his chest, he hushed it, shaking it gently. He’d never even touched a baby before what the hell was he supposed to do? His soul sped up as he stared down at it. A headache was starting to form.

“Uhhhhhh-” Red said, his eyes flickering wildly. “Maybe he’s hungry? Gotta be some mother down in the village who can feed ‘im? I’ll take a look okay bye!”

Before Edge could even react, he swept toward the half-open window, jumping straight out. Edge’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare leave me alo-” And a black bat squeaked as it left the castle behind, going toward the village nearby. Edge swore after it. Bastard.

Growling, he turned back to the child, continuing to hush it. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed the fire flickering in the fireplace, more for the thralls’ sake than his, and his gaze went to the bundles the child was in. Perhaps- Hesitantly, he began to unwrap it until only the last one remained. Soon, the screaming stopped until only a sniffing remained, and then that stopped as well. Edge wasn’t sure how to react as the baby started cooing again. That was a quick mood-change. But as he mashed his entire hand into his mouth, laughing around it and kicking out with its legs, Edge couldn’t help but smile.

Shaking his head in amazement over how their lives had just suddenly got thrown around, he hoisted the baby higher until it rested just over his soul. One of Edge’s fingers trailed his head, and he giggled. So soft and harmless. Protectiveness surged through him as he watched the baby, followed by vampiric possession. His, now. He nodded, pleased, and the blue eyes followed the movements of his skull. His smile softened.

“Welcome to the noble and ancient Gaster family then, Sans.”

More pearling laughter was his only answer.

#underfell #undertale #uf papyrus #uf sans #ut sans #babybones #child death #blood drinking #vampire au #actually this is the same vampire edge as in that spicyhoney vampire au #but before that au #adoption

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formerlyrunephoenix6769 · 6 years ago

Text

Dusting off writing from 2014. Vampverse.

CHARACTER : SAMSON

HAMRVERSE. SPIN OFF OF VAMPVERSE

1701. Hadsberg. Saxony.

Samson concealed himself in the shadows as the voices of the Justice Keeper's prattled on. He had been told to keep his distance and only observe

The smaller blond, who seemed to be in charge, he had been warned of. It was widely known upon the wolf song that she could sense his kind.

He drew his hand through his shaggy blond hair, intently watching as they dragged out the body of the creature in a heavy, thick sheet.

As he continued to observe the trio, he could not fathom why people feared them so.

They reeked of lesser wolf, in particular the taller blond. She seemed dippy and easily distracted. Like a new born faun, she danced and flittered, unaware of the dangers that lurked in her surroundings.

The waif like brunette however prowled through the night like the lynx's he had seen in his home territory of the Dmitir . Silent, deceiving and not to be underestimated, a lesson he had learned in his whelping years, the scars of which he bore in his nuque and shoulders.

The shock had been enough to trigger his change, too young and under developed. But he had persevered. No one had expected him to survive and when he had, they had bestowed upon him a name meaning strong, that any man would understand.

He had tracked them for days. A thin strip of leather at his wrist interwoven through a crystal he had begrudgingly traded with a Cretian Mystic, offered him a layer of protection.. He had also masked his scent just to be on the safe side.

He could not afford being discovered.

The future of his tribe was riding on his shoulders and this was his way to prove that that they were worthy of inclusion.

The story of one they called Fenrisùlfur had floated upon the Wolfsong.

This Wolf hailed from the vast lands far across the frozen waters. He had traversed it single handed, facing Ice Giants and feeding from White Bears. He bore the scars of his journey upon his rippling muscles. His tawny mane was thick and by tale of those that joined the chorus, he dwarfed them in size. They themselves admitted to being but ordinary wolves to his stature.

Many howled that he was Dshal incarnate.

Fenrisùlfur had gone out into the wilderness and returned when Mother Moon bestowed upon him her woes.

She was displeased with her children. They had forgotten their roots and their heritage.

What had happened to her proud and mighty warriors?

Why had they allowed humans to encroach upon their territories, scaring the land with their stone monstrosities and taking the fruits of the forest from the very mouths of the pups.

They had become complacent and no longer held Mother Moon in her reverence.

Instead they scavenged for scraps at the tables of lesser creatures

Were they not ashamed?

The Wolf song had yammered and howled with the discontent.

The humans had driven them from their homes. The blood suckers barged through their lands with no thought, policing them when they attempted to reclaim what had always been theirs.

The packs had been called.

"Send me your sons, send me your daughters." Fenrisùlfur had demanded. "Let me raise leaders like the tribes of the days of yore so they can take their rightful place."

And so the packs had sent their strongest and brightest true born offspring. They went as wet behind the ears whelps and would return as battle hardened Alphas.

One pack however did not answer the call.

A tribe that every other knew by name because they thought themselves better when in fact they were cowards.

The pack itself was Samson's sworn enemy before the arrival of Fenrisùlfur.

Once over they had been one huge pack who had willingly and gladly helped Vlad on his rise, lured by the offer of more territory and freedom to do as they pleased within their boundaries.

They had enjoyed their gifts and things had been restored to the old days, when they could run free through the lands, unbidden.

When he fell, the humans had fought back, killing anything that resembled a wolf. Half of the pack had remained proud and dignified, retreating back into the dense forest and rugged terrain from whenst they came, content to wait until the time was right to exact revenge.

The other half however did not, they wanted to ask the Vampire's for their assistance.

The pack had split down the middle.

Two champions were chosen to settle their differences, a fight to the death. Samson's ancestor had lost and his supporters driven out of their homeland, where they had roamed until they came upon The Dmitir forest and settled a new.

No sooner had they turned their backs, the traitors ran like runts with their tails between their legs to the same creatures that had betrayed them, hiding behind their skirts and curling up like pets in front of their fires. Their young fed from the hand of the yellow eyed bitch. She gave them books instead of tools. Taught them languages of men instead of wolf dialect and meaning.

Their young began to revere the syphilitic whore rather than their true Mother.

They flaunted their new allegiance, without shame, for all to see, fashioning themselves garments, spending obscene amounts of time in biped form and conversing in moots with the villagers. They trampled through territories, ignoring the traditions and customs of their kin. All the while the surrounding packs watched on in disgust and yet not a move could be made for fear of the repercussions.

Now their beloved Sophia was gone, The Bohmerwald territories were rife for the taking.

Samson had risen through the ranks, focused and resolute on claiming the territories that rightfully belonged to his own tribe. He would return his homelands and his kin, glorious and with pride.

But in order to do so, he had, had to make concessions.

At first he had been loath to deal with the Vampire with the hair that smelt of strange oils and did not move even in the strongest of winds. But it was he that had stripped the Bohmerwalds of their protection.

The simpering creature asked only for one thing. When the time came he would be given his rewards and allowed to do as he saw fit with the spoils.

Samson had conceded. It was small in comparison to what Samson himself would gain.

The odd Vampire who spoke in a soft voice continued to deliver information, and so far it had all rung true.

Hence the shabby blond haired Versipellis standing in the middle of a blizzard, watching these supposedly fearsome vampires, he called Justice Keepers. Apparently this House of Dubois, whatever it was, would be their biggest obstacle.

The dippy blond and the feral eyed brunette continued dragging the ghastly creature's carcass towards an awaiting travel wagon. The one they called Lucinda calmly walked behind as if she was upon a relaxing afternoon jaunt,

The dippy blond, stopped in her tracks, whining,

"Why do we have to bring it. It's scary!"

Lucinda continued across the square, unclipping the back door to the wagon,

"Bridget, I keep telling you. We can't leave it lying around. The thing is unnatural natural"

The brunette kicked it with her boot,

"It's fucking ugly, is what it is!"

The taller blond he now knew as Bridget continued to whine like a pup shoved from a kill,

"It's going to give me daymares!"

The brunette rushed to soothe her. Their interactions suggested that they were mates, which confused Samson. Females did not mate with females.

"For the love of Methusela Bridget!" Lucinda cried in exasperation, " We don't even dream."

"I do to!" Bridget churlishly replied.

"Can it Fabray!" The brunette snarled over her shoulder as she continued to draw her fingers through Bridget's hair.

"No! I don't see how the hell she can claim she's gonna have day mares. Being trapped in a confined space next to you two for the next few weeks. That's a fucking nightmare!"

"Awww Luce, you getting all hot and bothered cause you can hear our lady loving?"

"You can join us if you like!" Bridget piped up.

"Bridge!" The brunette and Lucinda exclaimed in shock.

The behaviour of these bloodfiends was strange to Samson. They suggested they lay with each other as imprinted pairs might.

Bridget giggled at the thunderous expression on the Lynx's face, kissing her chastely on her glowering tanned cheek.

Ignoring the display, Lucinda inquired,

"Bridge, did you ginger the horses?"

Bridget began drawing patterns in the snow with her foot, grinning like a fool.

"I did! Apple nearly spat it back out though. I don't think he liked it very much."

Lucinda strolled over to the corpse, instructing,

"Tana, you take the back. Bridge go steady the horses, just in case. The last thing we need is them bolting and us stuck here with this"

Bridget skipped through the snow, coming to a halt next to the two heavy steeds who jangling their bits impatiently. One let out a soft nicker as she began to stroke their noses, cooing in their ears.

Lucinda bent down, taking the corners of the sheet.

"On three, Tana."

The brunette threw up her hands in resignation before gripping the corners at the front.

"One."

"Two."

"THREE"

In unison the two vampires lifted the creature as if it was a sack of grain. Santana walked backwards up the steep incline, disappearing into the back of the wagon. Lucinda quickly followed.

The metal braces on the wagon sank a good foot under the sheer weight, creaking and squeaking in protest. The horses at the front startled slightly, snorting, hindquarters dancing and ears flicking back and forth, their harness jangling, whilst Bridget soothed them.

Suddenly the two vampires alighted from the wagon, pushing up the ramp and locking it in places with large and heavy looking padlocks.

Santana wiped her hands on her breeches as Lucinda began to sprinkle something on the ground, covering their tracks. Even in the murk, Samson could make out the faint orange wisps of smoke.

Santana quickly hauled herself up into the driving seat, reaching for the reins and patting the seat beside her. Bridget gave both horses a loving pat and settled the half blankets over their haunches, before gracefully leaping up behind them and snuggling in as close as she could to her 'mate.'

Lucinda continued to diligently sprinkle the concoction upon the fresh snow.

She paused for a moment, straightening herself and setting her shoulders. She shielded her eyes with her hand, scanning her surroundings. Cocking her head, she peered intensely into the gloom right at the spot were Samson stood hidden.

He held himself still, cursing the Cretian Mystic. Surely he had been spotted.

"Jesus Fucking Christ Fabray! Come on!" Santana impatiently shouted, "I'm freezing my lady balls off here!"

"You don't even have balls!" The small blond yelled back.

"Fine! We're leaving you!"

The crack of reins rang out and the cart creaked and the wheels crunched as it began to lumber across the uneven ground. Lucinda hesitated, whipping her head to look at the wagon and back to the place where Samson was concealed.

Turning on her heel, she ran, leaping into the air and landing softly on the roof of the wagon. The sound of Lucinda and Santana bickering could still be heard as they left through the gate and down along the lane.

Samson counted to ten, before he too set off in hot pursuit. Leaping the wall, he changed into wolf form. At least this way he would be able to keep his distance and rely on his nose.

It had been a close call.

And for him, failure was not an option.

@call-signtracer @those-lesbian-ships @smttnpegasus @arrancaria

#formerlyrunephoenix6769 wip #vampverse #vampverse drabbles #hamrverse #wriblr #rune writes #oc #formerlyrunephoenix6769 oc

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jinterlude · 6 years ago

Text

Our Second Chance (Ch.5)

➳ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC x Kim Namjoon

➳ Genre(s): Modern!AU, Royalty!AU, Modern Royal Family!AU , Enemies turned Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Romance, & Angst

➳ Words: 6.1K

➳ Summary: Have you ever gotten that familiar feeling when you first see someone? That strange connection between yourselves even though you have no clue where that came from. Yeah…that was the sensation that Sumin felt on a daily basis ever since she has come face-to-face with the one and only Kim Seokjin. Despite being named after their ancestors, two people who were madly in love with each other, these two cannot stand to be in each other’s presence. However, that must change or else history will repeat itself. Sounds like an adventure, right?

※ Previously: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4

※ Next time: ch.6 | ch.7 | coming soon!

Chapter 5 – I Thought Balls Were Supposed to be Drama Free?

Previously

“Well, actually, he didn’t stand me up…” Sumin chimed in. Though, her voice sounded hesitant.

Sowon raised her brow and asked her to clarify while Jungkook secretly felt relieved that his close friend didn’t fuck things up with Sumin; thus, eliminating his chances with Sowon.

“What I mean is that he didn’t stand me up. Instead, he just suddenly stood up, paid for our meal, and ran out of the restaurant. Now, I have to find a plan B since my father texted me earlier reminding me of that damn deadline… So, you up for marrying me?” Sumin explained, suggesting that she and Sowon marry because right now she was running out of options.

“Yes, I will gladly marry you baby! Who needs men?!” Sowon exclaimed as she hugged Sumin, rubbing her cheek against the side of Sumin’s head.

Jungkook eyed the happy “couple” as he mentally cursed at Seokjin.

“Thanks a lot dude…thanks a fucking lot…”

He then fished out his phone and quickly texted someone.

[To RM 09:03 PM: Okay, I’m on your team…Seokjin majorly fucked things up with Sumin…]

A cooling breeze swept past the ivory laced curtains as it made its way towards a certain someone’s room. A room where an upset princess remained hidden, practically locked away from the world. Ever since her recent date with Sir Seokjin, Sumin spent her days, pondering what went wrong, as she had yet to comprehend Seokjin’s mind. More importantly, she had yet to find a reasonable explanation as to what may had spooked him. Was it her mannerisms that night? Perhaps, was it her new bold appearance that she allowed her dearest friends to bestow upon her?

Honestly, if she could, she would march right up to his office and demand answers. Sadly, something prevented her from doing so. It was if this supernatural force blocked her every move and confined her to the for walls of her room.

Then, as if that wasn’t a huge sign, she had lost the journal that her ancestor had kept from the day she had received the beautifully leathered empty book up until her final moments before her timely death. Sumin frantically searched high and low for the book, but always came up emptied handed.

Maybe she didn’t deserve to know how her ancestor won the heart of Seokjin’s ancestor. Maybe she as punishment for her offspring Queen Sumin I cursed her family, preventing anyone from finding their true love since she was denied hers.

Too many unanswered questions…and so little time…

Sumin now only had a few months left before her deadline was up and would be forced to marry her best friend. Her heart screamed at her to do something—anything. While, her mind, simply told her to just call off her little act of rebellion and marry Namjoon.

At this point, she might as well marry her best friend since Seokjin practically ran for the hills and she hadn’t heard a peep from him since that night.

Maybe…just maybe…marrying Namjoon wouldn’t be so terrible…

Yet…what about Seokjin?

What…about…Seokjin…?

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Sumin sighed for the millionth time; only the sound of her beating heart entered her ears. She became one with her thoughts, allowing everything and anything to consume her mind.

Well, those thoughts were allowed until the sound of repeated, loud knocking echoed throughout her room, surpassing the soft classical music that poured out of her Bluetooth speakers.

A faint groan escaped her lips as she forced herself up and shouted a quick, “enter”, hoping that whoever intruder was would leave her in peace.

Unfortunately—it wasn’t just any intruder—it was Queen Sowon.

“Okay…why are you this vampiric princess? Huh, Sumin?” asked Sowon as she flipped on the switches, shedding light in Sumin’s dark “dungeon”.

Sumin rolled her eyes as she scooted off her bed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my room?” She asked with an overly sweet tone.

Sowon’s brow perked up, feeling kind of caught off guard that Sumin’s acting a tad snippy.

“Ooh…! The princess is showing a bit of an attitude…,” She pushed herself off the wall she leaned her shoulder against and walked over to the grumpy princess, “I am secretly digging it.” She stated, clicking her tongue and winking at Sumin. Her favorite go-to flirting action.

Sumin grimaced as she shied away from the confident queen, however, Sowon was quicker. She wrapped a warm arm around Sumin’s shoulders and pulled her closer, forcing the poor princess into a snuggle session.

“Now, talk to your fairy Godmother and tell me what’s wrong. Maybe Jae Hwa and I can help you out?” Sowon suggested, smiling softly.

Sumin sighed as she eyed her lap sadly. She firmly believed that no one could help her…

“I don’t think you can…” Sumin muttered, shrugging off Sowon’s caring touch. She then stood up and walked over to the window, eyeing the courtyard as the castle workers continued to prepare for tonight’s ball.

A look of worry glazed over her eyes as Sowon did not like the fact that this feeling of defeat radiated off Sumin… A feeling that she personally had not seen since the day she had heard the news of being crowned queen…

Sowon bit the inside of her cheek as a few members of her kingdom’s government continued to spew random bullshit, hoping it would compel to take up the throne. However, that was something she didn’t want…or at least…not yet.

She mustered the fakest polite smile she could before interrupting the fine gentlemen, bidding them a “fond” farewell with her half-filled wine glass.

The wonderful music from the lively orchestra filled the ballroom as important guests chattered and mingled with one another. A known tactic when it came to establishing important relationships amongst kingdoms.

A heavy, long sigh exited the soon-to-be queen’s plump lips as she raised her wine glass, hoping to take a sip of the sweet wine; sadly, there wasn’t a drop left. Sowon pursed her lips as she politely pushed through the crowds of people.

“Damn…who would’ve thought that an engagement party would be this…,” Her thought trailed as she observed the bright, luminescent ballroom, “Stimulating…” She finished as she resumed her adventure towards the bar…or was until she felt a petite body collide into hers.

Sowon felt a few droplets on her bare arm and immediately wiped it off. She then lifted her head to meet the person who bumped into her and as soon as her eyes gazed forward, she noticed that there wasn’t anyone in front of her…or so she thought…

“Oh my goodness! I am incredibly sorry!” shouted a soft voice.

Sowon glanced down and saw the person bowing deeply in front of her. She stifled her laughter as she found the person quite adorable. Normally, she would be pissed but seeing how she had alcohol in her bloodstream, and the fact that she recognized the poor girl as Princess Sumin II, she brushed it off.

What? It wasn’t her fault that the princess was being quite the cutie right now.

“Ah…don’t sweat it,” Sowon paused, gesturing that most of the princess’ drink spilled onto the floor, “Besides, at least your stunning ballgown remains unstained.” She commented, smiling warmly at her.

The young lady blushed slightly, keeping her eyes focused on the ground.

Sowon’s brow raised as she mentally took note of how shy the princess was. A trait that she would have to fix.

“Anyway, I’m Sowon.” She introduced herself, holding out her hand for the princess to take.

The princess’ eyes grew wide; her doe-like stare ever so visible. She quickly introduced herself as Sumin and nervously shook Sowon’s hand.

“I know who you are.” Sowon said with a mischievous smirk.

Sumin mentally groaned, wanting to crawl in a hole and die.

“Look, whatever you had read about me in those stupid tabloids, they are not true.” She firmly stated, tired of people judging her for things she “supposedly” did.

Sowon was caught off guard with Sumin’s sudden bite in her words.

“Interesting…maybe if I work my magic correctly, I can give this introverted princess a little bit of a backbone.” Sowon thought as an interesting plan began to formulate in her mind.

“You know… I think you and I are going to get along swimmingly.” She declared as she wrapped a friendly warm around Sumin’s naked shoulders.

Sumin froze from the sudden sign of affection. The only person she was used to was Namjoon, who recently became her fiancé, and even then, she rarely liked his random acts of affection.

Don’t get her wrong though. It’s not like she doesn’t like being shown that someone cares for her, it’s just that she doesn’t like too much attention drawn to her.

“…okay…but can you please let go of me? People are beginning to stare.” Sumin requested, feeling her face grow hot as she noticed many partygoers glance their way.

Sowon, on the other hand, could care less about the unwanted attention. If anything, she fed off it. It fueled her confident tank. It helped her take on the world, and with this newly formed friendship with Sumin, she felt that for once…it’d be okay.

“You know…since you asked that…,” Sowon paused, “I’m going to hug you even more!” She happily declared, earning more unwanted gossip and stares from random people as she tightened her hold on the adorable princess.

Sumin groaned, trying her hardest to pry off the stubborn woman.

“Great…”

A soft chuckle exited her lips as Sowon recalled that memory fondly. She could honestly remember how the sweet wine smelled so vividly. Who would’ve thought that two opposites became such close friends?

“Sumin…I know that look, and I could’ve sworn that I didn’t raise you to be this timid princess.” Sowon stated, giving the defeated princess a look. A look that said, “Where’s my bad ass princess that waved off unwanted negativity and said, ‘next’?”

Sumin sighed, hugging her body as she knew that Sowon had a point. She always had a point.

“First of all, you didn’t raise me at all. Second of all, you know I hate it when you make a point.” Sumin said before letting out a long sigh. She then peeked from out of her ivory laced curtain; her gaze masked the hurt that hid beneath her neutral exterior.

She watched every single florist make sure that every display was perfect. She heard her father bark orders, advising each worker that tonight was going to be incredibly special, so they better bring their game faces.

Feeling disgusted, she roughly closed the curtain and turned away from the window. Sumin walked over to her vanity mirror and sat down. Sowon frowned after observing the look of complete and utter dread on Sumin’s face.

Okay, she had to do something and fast. She pulled out her phone from her back pocket and opened the messaging app. She scrolled through her contact list until she found the person she’d been looking for.

[To My Favorite Flower 07:38 PM: S.O.S! Our princess is waving the white flag! We need to do something!]

Not even a few minutes later, Sowon received a message from Jae Hwa:

[From My Favorite Flower 07:39 PM: Really? It’s that serious…? Remind me to ask Taehyung for that prick’s number so I can find him and stab him with one of my paint brushes…]

Sowon chuckled at Jae Hwa’s message as she thought up the perfect reply:

[To My Favorite Flower 07:41 PM: I’ll help you ;) but in all seriousness…get your cute ass over here ASAP! We need to pull out everything and anything to lift her spirits up!]

[From My Favorite Flower 07:44 PM: Yes, your majesty! LOL]

[To My Favorite Flower 07:45 PM: …you are lucky that you’re my dear friend…]

After sending that last response, Sowon shoved her phone back in her back pocket of her jeans and walked over to Sumin, who remained still in front of her mirror.

“Don’t worry, my soft princess…help is coming…” Sowon thought as she rested her chin on top of Sumin’s head.

Meanwhile, with a certain Lord, the sounds of the fire cackling entered his ears. The guilty lord gazed at his fireplace, swirling his brandy as he pondered every move he could take to talk to Sumin. It had been months since he had run out on her; a mistake that he had come to regret every single moment of his life since then. He could barely focus on his kingdom duties because of how much the princess preoccupied it. The sucky thing about that was that even his office workers noticed how distraught their boss had become. It pained them to see this look of complete guilt glued onto Seokjin’s face, but they knew that there was nothing that could be done. When it came to Princess Sumin, they knew it was best to not bring her up around him…

Now, to this day, Seokjin could not understand why he had dashed out without an explanation. What possessed him to ruin everything that he had worked hard for? He knew of Sumin’s insecurities—her walls that she spent years building up because of the idiotic things that were written and said about her. Just when he was about to knock down the last wall, he fucked up majorly and was now back to square one with her. They were back to being polite acquaintances…

When he asked Taehyung and Jimin for any probable explanation, Taehyung proposed that he had left because he didn’t want history to repeat itself.

The moment Taehyung said that, it just clicked. Seokjin’s ancestor failed to marry the love of his life—Sumin’s ancestor. Knowing that instilled fear within Seokjin’s heart. What if he too would fail at obtaining the love of his life?

Too many variables came into play, but at the end of the day, his happiness should and would always be his utmost priority.

It truly hurt his heart that he would have to stab Namjoon in the back but deep down…Seokjin knew that the brainy prince would do the same. Shit…he’s already doing it.

The morning after the tragic date, Seokjin manned up and called Sumin, hoping to apologize and beg for a second chance.

Sadly, it wasn’t Sumin’s melodious voice that answered her phone but Namjoon’s instead. Deciding to ignore that tiny fact, Seokjin demanded that Namjoon hand over the phone to Sumin that way he could explain himself…

“Please…let me talk to her…” pleaded Seokjin.

Namjoon scoffed, no longer caring that Seokjin made Sumin happy. He trusted the pretty boy with Sumin’s happiness—her heart—and he threw it away the moment he stood up from his seat and ran out. Nope. He’s not going to make that mistake again. It was at that moment that Namjoon realized that he would no longer remain on the sidelines, ensuring Sumin’s happiness. Now, he would be the one to make her happy. He would be the one to guard her heart and protect her wellbeing. Him. Not Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, but Sumin said she doesn’t ever want to speak to you again. Please respect her wishes…” Namjoon said before hanging up.

Seokjin stared at his phone, completely baffled. His mouth parted a bit as he tried to wrap his mind around what Namjoon said. Did Sumin hate him that much?

No…

She couldn’t hate him…especially not after confessing that he made her feel something…

Seokjin downed the remaining sips of his brandy before standing up. No. He wasn’t going to have things end like this. While he used to fear having history repeat itself, Seokjin now used that feeling to fuel his desire. His undying need to have Sumin by his side—to have her unconditional love.

He placed his glass down and looked at his watch. Sumin’s kingdom always hosted an all Hallows Eve ball, and that’s where he needed to be.

“I’m coming Princess Sumin, and this time, I’m ready to fight for you.” He thought as he exited his office and made his way towards his room.

Back with Sumin, the blank princess sat still, uncaring about the fact that Sowon and Jae Hwa were in a lively discussion about what type of look she should go for.

Jae Hwa opted for a pastel color schemed while Sowon suggested that Sumin should go for dark colors.

“Okay, why don’t we let Sumin decide which color scheme she wants?” Jae Hwa suggested, smiling smugly knowing that Sumin hated bold colors since it attracted unwanted attention.

Sowon rolled her eyes, grabbed both ball gowns, and walked over to the princess, who currently sat prim and proper on the edge of her bed.

“Alright, please end our debate and pick which dress you would want to wear for the masquerade ball?” asked Sowon, glancing at both dresses with pursed lips. Huh…the more she stared at the light dust pink colored dress, the more she saw Sumin in it. Shoot, she could see her as this fairy princess. Then, a lightbulb went off in her brilliant mind.

Out of nowhere, Jae Hwa saw Sowon carelessly toss the black with blood red lace dress to the side. She raised her brow and asked why she had done that.

Sowon grinned widely as if she was the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland and explained that she had come up with the perfect theme for their dear princess.

Jae Hwa smirked, happy knowing that she’d have the chance to test out her transformation skills.

“I’m all ears…”

Haunted and eerie sounds echoed throughout the courtyard. On every other pillar sat a Jack O Lantern, while the castle guards wore their usual uniform but had fake blood painted on their jackets, and they each wore a black mask that covered only their eyes.

Sumin’s parents adored Halloween because it was the only time they were allowed to pretend to be something other than King and Queen.

It was honestly refreshing…

Now, waiting at the top of the grand staircase, Sumin stood there, frozen, like a statue, as she awaited her turn to descend down the stairs. She closed her eyes briefly as she tried her hardest to calm her sporadic breathing. Her ancestor’s ring would move a smidge because how hard her heart beats against her chest.

“Hey…you’re going to be alright.” Sumin heard Sowon say softly as she placed warm touch on her bare shoulder.

Sumin glanced up and flashed a short smile, hoping that her smile alone would make Sowon stop worrying about her.

“I know… I just hate knowing that there are a sea of people looking at me, expecting me so much, and I am failing them. I mean, right now, there are talks of me stalling my wedding with Namjoon because I have fallen in love with another man…,” Sumin paused, peering out to the crowd of eager guests, hating how easy it was for them to hide their judgmental eyes with those stupid masks, “And they are right about me…I have fallen in love with Sir Seokjin, and it hurts knowing that it is one-sided.” She finished with a somber tone.

“Okay, you stop this right now! No more of this defeated outlook!” Sowon finally snapped at Sumin, fed up with her defeatist attitude, “You are Princess Sumin II. You always fought back to defend your name. You knew what was right and what was wrong. Never once, in my entire time of knowing, have I ever seen you become this negative person. A person who believed that she was too blame for some stupid man running out on her at dinner. A person who felt guilty only because she wore the ring that triggered that sad little man. No! No more!” Sowon finished her rant, earning words of encouragement from Jae Hwa.

Sumin stared at her friend in awe with her mouth slightly agape. Sowon was right. Jae Hwa was right. How could she had been so blind? It was not her fault that she always wore her ancestor’s ring around her neck nor was it her fault that Seokjin felt overwhelmed and left her behind.

Nope. Nada.

No more would she throw herself this pity party. She would wear a prideful smile and hold her head up high. After all, she bowed her head even more, then her crown would fall.

A princess couldn’t have that.

“You’re right, Sowon,” She then turned towards Jae Hwa, “The both of you,” She pulled them into the biggest hug ever, “You both are right. Thank you so much.” She said with a genuine smile.

Sowon chuckled softly as she and Jae Hwa both muttered a quick “thank you” before the trio pulled away.

“Now ladies, shall we?” Jae Hwa said as she covered her eyes with her white and black laced mask.

Both Sumin and Sowon copied her action and now, the three of them wait for their names to be announced…

Minutes go by as each name on the special guest list was announced. Little by little each person descended down the red-carpet staircase. Before she knew it, it was time for her and her friends to graciously walk down the steps with their chosen partner in tow.

“Presenting, her royal majesty, Queen Sowon!” shouted the royal crier as every potential suitor, fanboys Sowon called them, abruptly turned their gaze towards the desirable queen.

Sowon sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Again?” She then turned towards Sumin and mouthed an apology as she didn’t realize that among her fan club were men from a royal background. Though…she had an inkling…

Unknown to the queen, Jungkook, who was currently jumping to get gain a better view of his future wife, tried to come with the perfect plan to push through the sea of hormonal men and earn Sowon’s favor.

Question was…how?

Wait…

That was it!

Without a second thought, he pushed through the crowd, uncaring if he had been rude towards his fellow royal members, but this was Sowon. His queen.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sowon noticed a familiar face as he continued to force himself through the sea of people. Her heart skipped a beat. Her cheeks became stained with this pinkish hue. It truly surprised her to see Jungkook make this tremendous effort just to get to her before any other suitor does.

Maybe…just maybe…she should give him a shot.

Like Sumin once told her,

“Everyone deserves a chance at finding love…”

The sound of someone clearing his throat pulled the queen out of her thoughts. Sowon looked down and saw Jungkook bowing deeply in front of her as he held out his hand for her to take. A tradition for any potential suitor that wanted to let the other competition know that they could stop trying.

“Your majesty, it would be an honor if you allow me to be your companion for the rest of the evening.” Jungkook announced; his voice dripped with such confidence.

A bright smile formed on Sowon’s face as she gently placed her palm on top of his.

The moment their hands touched, this unexplainable electricity shot through both their arms. Their hearts sped up as they gazed into each other’s eyes, becoming lost in their own little world.

“I would be delighted to have you as my companion for the rest of the evening.” Sowon said with such poise that it caused her fan boys to swoon and fall deeper in love with her.

Both Sumin and Jae Hwa watched their friend leave with her arm wrapped around Jungkook’s arm. The two of them stood there in awe as they had never seen Sowon act so…proper…

Soon, it was Jae Hwa’s turn to walk down to the party with her chosen suitor, and just as Taehyung walked up to her, offering his hand, Sumin latched onto Jae Hwa’s wrist and pleaded,

“Please…don’t let me go down there alone.”

Jae Hwa smiled apologetically, fully aware for the soft princess’ hatred for unwanted attention, and if she was allowed to, Jae Hwa would offer the princess to walk down with her and Taehyung. Alas, stupid royal traditions got in the way…

“You can do it…!” The lady mouthed as she stepped down the stairs with Taehyung happily by her side.

Sumin’s breathing became uneven once again. Eager suitors awaited their turn; their nerves went into frenzy. Every single one of them hoped that the princess would accept their offer—especially Prince Namjoon and Lord Seokjin.

A sense of rivalry filled the air as they glanced at each other here and there. Their fingers trembled against the fabric of the pocket their hands currently hid inside.

“Presenting, her royal highness, Princess Sumin II!” The royal crier announced, causing every guest to instantly snap their eyes onto the poor princess.

Sumin’s face instantly became hot as her eyes widened. Her fingers shook while her heart pounded roughly against her chest. Little by little, the oxygen left her lungs as everyone continued to gaze at the anxious princess.

Honestly, Sumin wanted to pick up her dress and run back to her room, locking herself away from the world.

“Excuse me princess…” the nervous princess heard a couple voices say simultaneously.

Sumin peeked up and became shocked. There, in front of her, stood Namjoon and Seokjin. Both holding out their hand towards her.

A sheepish smile graced her lips as Sumin chuckled nervously. If the unwanted attention was bad enough, but fate had to throw two men—both who vied for her attention—into the mix. Great…just freaking great…

“Sweetheart, please accept one of their hands and descend down the steps. The ball is waiting for their princess to lighten up the room.” She heard her father shout from the bottom of the stairs, smiling brightly.

Sumin muttered a few profanities underneath her breath. Both Seokjin and Namjoon found her quite adorable as they continued to wait patiently for her answer, ignoring their little rivalry. At least they had that in common…

They want Sumin to be comfortable and remain carefree.

“Well, father, I rather walk by myself if that is quite alright.” Sumin declared, however, as she took her first step, she nearly tripped if it weren’t for both Namjoon and Seokjin being quick on their toes and catching the clumsy princess.

“You were saying, Minnie?” Namjoon teased, grinning.

Sumin glared at her “doting” fiancé as he helped her stand up.

“Just shut up and escort me downstairs. I want to get this night over with.” She said as she interlaced her arm around both Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s.

She walked through the sea of guests, ignoring the judgmental glances and hushed whispers made by the partygoers, especially her parents. Her father became displeased that his daughter was not walking by Namjoon’s side only. Instead, she looked like this harlot stringing these two men along.

That was one image he did not want painted on her daughter…

Now, with her two men by her said, the trio entered the Halloween decorated crystal ballroom. Instead of the chandeliers illuminating the humongous, spacious room, ten candelabras fulfilled their duties. The lowly dimmed room added the eerie atmosphere as smog covered the dancefloor. Victorian music invaded people’s ears as everyone continued to converse and stay in character. A few people drank “blood” from their chalices while others indulged in the sinful desserts that the royal baker had to offer. Then, the rest of the guests danced. The way they moved seemed as if they were in trance. It was truly hypnotic…

“May I fetch you a drink, princess?” both Namjoon and Seokjin offered, pulling Sumin out of her trance.

Sumin’s eyes focused on Namjoon then switched over to Seokjin. A short groan slowly left her lips and ultimately decided…

“How about this? I go and fetch my own drink and the two of you just hang around. I’ll come find you when I am done.” She suggested before turning away and leaving the two jealous boys alone. “Seriously…what else could wrong?” She bitterly thought.

Just as she’s about to take another step, she heard the sounds of someone tapping against their glass followed by her father clearing his throat.

Wow. Fate must’ve hated—loathed—her tonight.

“As you some of you well know, it is an old tradition in my kingdom that we celebrate All Hallows Eve!” The king began, making eye contact with each and every guest from the various of royal families that attended the ball, “But tonight! We celebrate yet another wondrous occasion! Tonight, we celebrate my daughter’s, Princess Sumin, and Prince Namjoon’s upcoming nuptials!” He finished as the guests applauded and cheered.

Sumin, however, did not share the same sentiments. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The air in her lungs suddenly vanished. Poof. Gone. What on Earth possessed her father to make such an announcement. If she remembered their deal correctly, she still had a few months left before she gave up her right—her entitlement—to finding true love on her own.

Okay. She needed to talk to someone immediately. Sumin scanned the ballroom, praying that she’d find either Jae Hwa or Sowon. With luck, she had found Jae Hwa but chose not to bother her. Since she was a mere lady and not a princess, she had to work extra hard to charm not only Prince Taehyung, but his family as well. Alrighty then. Jae Hwa was a flat out “don’t bother her”. Okay. Where’s Sowon?

Then, as if they planned it, Sowon suddenly appeared by her side and began dragging her away from the crowd.

“You. Me. We need to talk.” Sowon whispered roughly, searching for the perfect hiding spot. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off her head as she stared at the vacant, rather spacious underneath, table.

Sumin noticed this interesting, almost borderline mischievous, gleam in Sowon’s eye and swiftly knew that she was not going to like what would come next.

The carefree queen gently pushed Sumin, helping her crawl underneath the table, before joining her as well.

“Now. I thought you said your father granted your request and gave you seven months to find a new suitor?” asked Sowon, completely confused with the situation.

Sumin faked a smile, “I thought so too! Now, he did a complete 180 and is telling these people that I am marrying Namjoon on the day when the winter solstice takes place.” She whispered roughly, glaring at her dad as he continues to talk but this time with Namjoon by his side. “He promised to give me time and now, it sounds like I’m ready to head towards the alter! Honestly, it looks like I am not only lying to my people but Seokjin as well.” Sumin added, taking a deep breath.

Sowon frowned and simply nodded, while she put her brilliant mind to work. She’s going to help her soft princess out. Now, the question was how? How would she be able to convince Sumin’s father to give his precious jewel more time?

“Wait…jewel…” She mumbled to herself as she glanced down at her rather voluptuous body. That was it! Time to use what God gave her!

“You know what! I’m just going to give up and then stay underneath this table forever!” Sowon tuned back in to Sumin’s ranted, finding it quite amusing that Sumin reverted back to her surrendering ways.

However, Sowon wasn’t going to have any of it.

“Oh…well…you can do that, and I’ll bring you cheeseburgers once in a while,” She stated, patting Sumin on the head like a pet, “Anyways, let me casually talk to your father okay? Trust me, I will make him shut up for a bit!” She added, winking flirtatiously at the princess.

A look of disgust swiftly appeared on the princess’ face as Sumin eyed Sowon strangely.

“That sounds like you want to make out with my dad, who I might add is MARRIED to my mom!” Sumin pointed out.

Sowon shrugged, “Hmm maybe…I mean he’s kind of cute for an old man.”

“SOWON!” Sumin shouted, well sort of, as she felt the urge to vomit.

“I’m joking. I’m joking,” Sowon tried to calm the grossed-out princess, “Alright. Let me just hypnotize him with my words, then I will install confusion within his mind. That way, he won’t know who to chose for you. Namjoon or Seokjin.” She finished, relaying her idea that only took her only a few minutes to conjure up.

Then, just as Sumin’s about to respond, the girls notice someone taking a seat, right in front of Sowon and if that wasn’t enough, they hear Sumin’s father chatting it up with Namjoon by his side.

Sumin growled out of frustration.

“What now? Hasn’t my father done enough already? I don’t want Namjoon to get his hopes up…” She stated softly yet harshly.

Sowon hummed in response as she tapped her chin lightly.

“Ah! I got it! Don’t worry baby, I’ll get rid of dear old daddy dearest.” She claimed as she proceeded to crawl out from underneath table.

Before Sumin could stop her, Sowon placed her hands on the unknown person’s thighs, using them as leverage to help her out from under the table.

“Oh, hey Jungkook.” She said casually with an alluring smile. She slowly stood up. Her breasts completely in Jungkook’s face, causing the poor boy to fumble his drink and spilling it all over Namjoon’s lap.

The older gentleman gawked, thinking that his friend switched sides even though, in reality, that was not the case.

“I am so sorry man!” Jungkook quickly apologized while Sowon fixed her disheveled hair and wiped away the smudged lipstick stain from the corner of her lips.

Many bystanders eyed them with either pure disgust or strangely because they had the audacity to perform such a lewd act in public.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Sumin quietly crawled out from underneath the table, only to come face-to-face with a familiar pair of shoes.

“Having fun there, princess?” asked the person with a teasing tone of voice.

Sumin forced a smile as she grabbed hold of the person’s hand and hoisted herself up, dusting off any dirt.

“Oh, I am having the time of my life Seokjin.” She answered sarcastically.

Seokjin caught wind of her tone, causing his smirk to become even wider.

“Ooh… Is the princess being a bit snarky this evening?” He teased some more.

Sumin rolled her eyes, no longer entertaining Seokjin with her words. After all, he did run out on her and left her confused and alone for a month.

Seokjin, on the other hand, wasn’t giving up that easily. This was his first time talking to her without Namjoon preventing him from doing so.

“Look, can we please talk? I want to explain my actions from last month. I swear to you that me being a complete ass had nothing to do with you.” He pleaded; his tone soft.

Just as Sumin opened her mouth, she saw her father enter the ballroom, smiling and laughing as if he had the time of his life with Sowon.

Oh…

My…

God…

Sowon had better not slept with her dad…

“Everyone, may I have your attention once more!” The king shouted, gaining everyone’s attention, “It is time for the traditional dance and while yes, it is customary for the princess to dance with her fiancé, it has come to my attention that my ancestors had originally planned for the princess to dance with whomever she deemed worthy of heart, so I would like to continue that custom tonight! So, Sumin, my precious daughter, who would you like to dance with?” Her father asked, finishing his speech.

Every single person, especially the eligible bachelors, looked to the princess, eagerly waiting for the person she would choose.

A faint and long groan left her lips as Sumin began to feel the nerves that always accompanied the unwanted attention.

Now, to add insult to injury, she had to choose between Namjoon and Seokjin. Great.

“Sweetheart, who would you like to dance with?” asked her father once more, deep down knowing that she’d choose Namjoon.

She looked to the right, meeting Namjoon’s pleading eyes. They practically screamed at her to pick him. Pick the better guy. Pick the one who had always been there for her. Pick the person who’s always ready and willing to catch her.

Then, there was Seokjin, who too had this look that begged for her to pick him. Even though, he had screwed up royally with her, he wanted a second chance. He’s not ready to say goodbye to her. Not now. Not ever. He’s ready to be whatever Sumin wanted him to be. She just needed to say yes…

“I…um…choose…”

A/N: And here comes the unwanted cliffhanger! So, who do you think Sumin is going to pick? Let me know with your comments! Also, this might be the last chapter I will release for a bit since school is about to enter the third week, and my workload is increasing! Fun, huh? I got to continue working on my group project, type up some summaries, brainstorm a future story that I'm currently working on, and so much more! Sounds like fun, huh?

And, if you are wondering Sowon is based off @softjeon & Jae Hwa is based off @sin-taehyung! These ladies have been nothing but nice to me, with Jey creating these amazing story headers (except for this chapter’s since why ask her to make a specific one when she already has one made with Namjoon and Seokjin looking like that) and with Jasmin creating these breathtaking headers for me and just being this overall sweetie!

Okay, enough with my sappy appreciation words :) Maybe I will do that for readers who leave amazing comments on my story ^^ I think I will starting next update!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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