#Too beautiful of a beast to seem this abandoned

[deikshen]

The idea of Shang Qinghua as a fallen God was hitting me HARD-

I mean, he was some kind of civil God in the heavens, even then recognized for his prose, for the epic tales that would later become a reality, giving him the title of prophet, "The God who sees Beyond Time", "The God Who Inks the Pages of Destiny."

He rose from the lowest ranks as an adjunct god to an important position, becoming one of the most recognized and venerated civil gods of the heavens -he always responded to all the offerings, the one who appeared most in dreams, the one who solved the most situations with his own hands. The civil god with the most temples, the one to whom incense and prayers were given before the imperial exams, the one to whom even those learning to write gave small offerings in search of his erudition to learn faster.

So, something happened. Did he betray the heavens? It was discovered that he had risen to his position through corrupt means? Did he get into a debate with some vengeful martial god? The stories could be many, but the result is always the same: the civil god fell. Where he once had hundreds of temples, now they didn't even offer him incense. And Shang Qinghua, there, bored, was simply... tired. People remembered him for his stories, so he could never know the sweet embrace of death. Turned into a folk tale, his own stories, written in his own hand, being repeated and reproduced in theaters for centuries. When would this martyrdom end?

Never, apparently. And Shang Qinghua writes. He writes stories that are replicated across civilizations. He sees entire demonic races born and die. He writes about an emperor of the three realms, a heavenly demon, with a harem of beauties, a destiny, a prophecy surrounding a sword, and that only pure love could save martyred hearts blackened by fear and misunderstanding.

And after a few centuries, finally finds an artifact that will make him forgotten. He's tired. Fed up. It's been a long millennium of loneliness. Shang Qinghua collects every story he ever wrote, hides them in a deep cave, keeps them away from mortals. He burns his abandoned temples. He burns his stories, making everyone forget that there ever was a God who inks the pages of destiny.

And he dies. Finally.

Half a millennium later, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe are on a hike. Some silly honeymoon thing, traveling the world and finding rare beasts and beautiful non-lethal plants. It's an area that was never originally described in PIDW, but Shen Qingqiu is curious; the world is vast, exquisite, stretching out with magnificent magic. And he wants to know everything.

Then he accidentally gets trapped in a silly array and opens a cave. Luo Binghe follows him, desperate, but both of them... well, even if they wanted to leave without investigating, they never could!! It seems to have been closed for a long, long time.

That's how they find a scholar's hiding place. Or so they think. Stacks and stacks of scrolls. Paintings, theater robes, masks. In the middle of the investigation, Shen Qingqiu's breath catches in his throat when, in the characters from a scroll, he reads Xin Mo.

It is difficult to understand the characters ruined by time, but the story is clear. There are prophetic legends about Xin Mo, about Luo Binghe himself (without mentioning his name other than "a baby who emerged from the Luo River with a frozen heart"), and so many, so many things... Shen Qingqiu is perplexed. What the hell is up with all this? Why was it hidden? Who wrote it? Damn, Airplane owes him some VERY good answers.

In his study in the northern palace, Shang Qinghua begins to have a very strong headache. He should go to sleep, he probably strained his eyes too much with all the paperwork, but, uh, for some reason, he really, really want to write something. An idea is starting to form in his head, like when he wrote PIDW in his other life! Maybe it'll be his next bestseller!! He has to seize the opportunity and inspiration when it hits him!!

[r1elle]

atsumu who just gets so annoyed at that stupid plushie on your bed.

at first, he denies it. he denies it because the whole matter is just so above and beyond him.

to be genuinely pissed at some stuffed animal? please. he’s THE MSBY Black Jackals’ Setter. a PRO volleyball player. and most importantly, a GROWN man. being jealous over some sewn up cotton? goodness.

but the nights you had abandoned and turned your back towards him just to unconsciously reach for that plushie and cuddle with it instead began to frequent more than atsumu could tolerate.

hes definitely death threatening that stuffed beast (his own choice of words) the morning after.

is this what those scientists in shows felt like when their own experiments went against them? because seeing that white teddy bear he had prided himself in buying as a gift for your anniversary come and replace him during the hours of your slumber wasn’t really the nicest feelings ever.

so, if you find a rather jolly and humming atsumu sipping his coffee at 8:30 am in the morning, just know that he’s feeling really accomplished and expecting your figure to be the only thing he’s holding from the moment you close your eyes, and up for when you open them once again.

“mornin’, baby. whats up with the upset brows?

oh, but don’t look at how the attic just so happened to have its entrance slightly ajar. unfortunately, doing a clean job wasn’t really in atsumu’s blood that day.

____

“atsumu, have you seen the bear you got me for our anniversary? i’m worried… i cant seem to find it. it’s just.. gone?”

“eh? that big thing? how would it even get lost in the first place?”

“i know.. it’s so weird..”

“maybe yer’ just not looking hard enough, sweet.”

“but how—?……also, why’s the attic open?”

“ya look beautiful, by the way.”

“wh—?”

“just woke up too. so gorgeous. wouldn’t expect less from ya. c’mon, let’s go on a walk.”

“but atsumu, the att—

“i think the tulips you planted finally bloomed. let’s check, hm?”

“i just planted them three days ago—?? hey! atsumu! ats—!!”

well. taking an unexpected walk around the neighbourhood on an empty stomach definitely didn’t make things any better that morning.

——

though, if it alleviates anything within you, perhaps do take note at the horror on atsumu’s face upon the sight of your child dusting off that same white teddy bear she had “found while treasure hunting in the attic!” six years later.

as you make a snide comment (totally not directed at your awfully tense husband), and lead your daughter to washing the now roughed up plush, atsumu couldn’t help but feel as if that bear had been plotting against him, making sure to come back with even more malice for their inevitable reunion. (what a poetic mind, atsumu.)

and so, with no you to hold and to feel, and with no daughter to keep close by,

the bed surely felt colder that night.

stupid bear.

———————————————————————————

shameless plug but if u want more atsumu then.. heheh —> loser tsumu ;3

but yeah i don’t think the atsumu hyperfixation is ever gonna end

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die. 

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 

- Shall we, my Lady? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you,��it looks like art. 

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards. 

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 

[bamfkeeper]

Beautiful Devil

RQ: 'Hi, I have a request: a fic about NightcrawlerxFem!Reader, Beauty and the beast AU, starting it like the fairytale (Reader decide to sacrifice herself for her father because the scared man THINK the mysteriuos blue creature ask him to bring one of his daughters in his place). Maybe in the finale you can add the mob attacking the castle like in the episode of the '90 serie, with Graydon Creed guiding the mob (you can't look at that man and don't think he's a variant of Gaston). Just don't turn Kurt into a human, I love our fuzzy Elf. Thanks!' - @historygirl93

Warnings: F!reader, some violence, minor character death. Unedited.

A/N: I think this is a cute idea, I love the story. I don't see how Kurt could ever be viewed as 'beastly' he's too sweet. The fairytale is a longer story and involving all the details would take me a long time to write, so I did what I could to get the idea of the story across. I did my best, it was slightly challenging, and I changed just a few details just because I thought it would be better for the story.

WC: 2.2k

The village held such a prejudice against the blue demon who lived in the abandoned church. Rumors of yellow glowing eyes and a shadow with a devil's tail flicking in the dark, crawling on the walls like a hellish insect. A monster, the children of the village feared him just as much as the adults, whom had weapons ready to kill if he dared leave the cathedral.

Your father was highly religious. He wanted to banish the devil from the church once and for all, to purify the holy ground, but believed that only a sacrifice would satisfy the creature. You were horrified at first, being so helplessly given away as a sacrifice, you were the lamb that was about to be beheaded for no reason.

Upon being abandoned at the cathedral, surrounded by the harsh cold and snow, you thought you'd freeze to death. To your initial horror and surprise, the devil appeared. He flashed in front of you in black and purple smoke, like they rose from the ashes of Hell. You were far too tired and exhausted, so before you knew it, your body was wrapped and you were inside.

You felt the warmth of the fire inside the stone furnace, you sat up and watched the orange flames dance quietly while the blanket remained wrapped around your drenched form. The snow melted away and left you wet and still somewhat cold. But you were at least inside...

Once you regained enough bearings, you looked around for the devil, wondering where he was and what he was going to do to you. You felt fearful, your mind having heavy thoughts invading your mind of horrific treatment. While you searched the dark room, you saw his eyes peering to you from the darkest corner, tiny irises of gold staring through your soul.

"It's you..." your voice muttered out quietly, "You're the devil." Your hushed tone made him tilt his head slightly, he slowly walked around the wall, the far shadows hiding most of him.

"Nein...I am no Teufel..." he spoke back, his voice was even and not nearly as intimidating as you thought it would be. "I was born like this. But I am no demon." He stepped closer as he spoke to you, his appearance becoming more visible in the firelight. He had blue skin and sharp teeth like the villagers said, a long tail with a devil's spade, sharp nails and pointed ears...

"You look like one," you shakily retorted, still on edge of what his intentions were and you weren't about to fall victim without a fight. He only chuckled back, empty and somewhat...sad.

"I know."

He sat down near you, a few feet away, looking at you and slowly giving a smile, trying to be friendly. "I won't hurt you, I wouldn't ever." He paused, then continued, "Besides, a demon cannot step inside a church." He reasoned, holding out a three fingered hand to you. "Hab keine Angst."

You were cautious, but after seeing he wasn't nearly as horrifying as the town made him seem, you reached out and touched his hand. His skin was warm, he was fluffy. He felt like soft velvet, not like cold scaled skin you had been told was the skin of the devil.

Over the following weeks, you became closer to each other. You warmed up quickly after his efforts to try to appear not so scary, and once you spoke more often, he was actually very sweet and kind. You watched him feed birds and squirrels, holding the seeds in his palms and speaking to the birds as if they could understand him.

His favorites were the blue jays.

He showed you the cathedral, leading you through the massive church and showing you around. He showed you the library with lots of books along the walls, the studio where old paints and canvases were. He gave you plenty of things to do, and he provided you with good food, a large space to sleep, he treated you well. He was kind and sweet and...attractive.

You couldn't help but feel yourself get pulled towards him. Feel yourself get swept up by his chivalry and charm. He showed off in front of you, entertaining you with his skills as an acrobat and swordsman, he even let you try to swing one of his swords.

It was much heavier than you thought, making his skills all the more impressive.

You got word that your father had fallen very ill, and you wanted to see him. Kurt didn't want you to leave, scared you'd never return again. He held your hands and looked at you in the eye, his worry etched on his face. "You won't abandon me, will you?" he asks softly, "I don't wish for you to go..." he brings your hand up to his cheek, rubbing his face into your palm.

Your heart melts and you sigh, "I promise I'll come back. I just...want to make sure my father is okay..." you whisper back. You knew how he felt, being abandoned was one of his biggest fears. All he had been in his life was abandoned, by his mother, this town, sometimes he felt as though God himself has abandoned him.

With great reluctance, he let go and you rushed back into the village, desperate to see your sickly father. You were still angry he left you to die, but he was still your father. When you made it back, you came to his bedside and saw how terrible he looked. You had no idea what he had, but he looked on the verge of death.

Word got loose that you were in the town, somehow surviving the 'demon' who resided in the abandoned church. The town's greatest 'champion,' Graydon, nearly stormed up to your home and forced his way in. His voice loud and demanding, he as angry and furious with you.

The vile man had attempted to court you before. You always denied him. Why would you want to be with someone as crude and hateful as Graydon?

"How did you escape that wretched demon?" he demanded, yanking you from your father's bedside. He held your arm tight and stared at you with fury in his eyes. "That beastly creature will invade our town because of you! You were his sacrifice! Leaving signifies that the deal is broken! You've doomed all of us!"

Your eyes were wide as he basically screamed in your face, his cool was gone and he looked like he wanted to hurt you. You tugged against his strong hold, grunting as you tried to get free. "He's not a monster, or a demon! He's just a man!" You shouted back, "He's kind, gentle, he wouldn't hurt a soul!"

Graydon laughed at you, yanking you closer again. "You are lucky you are pretty, girl...you are such a naïve little thing. That devil is evil, and you have succumbed to his incubi ways. Don't worry, I'll make sure I fix that little head of yours up and rid you of the corruption he has brought upon you."

He threw you down, you hit your head and everything became a hazy mess. You heard his footsteps leave, his heavy boots hitting the old wooden floors with anger. You tried to lift yourself up, but you hit your head too hard. The world was spinning around you, but you didn't want any harm to come to Kurt. Graydon was as ruthless as he was egotistical, and he was dead set on murdering Kurt. He always had been, telling tall tales of cutting off his head and hanging it over the statue in town square.

You could hear his voice, rallying the town and heading up the treacherous path to the abandoned cathedral. You felt your heart ache, your body fading to unconsciousness from the injury.

When you regained consciousness, your body ached but the thought of Graydon already at the church gave you a newfound form of energy. You jerked up, your father had been too weak and sick to help, while you worried for him, the memory of him giving you up to die was there. You had to make a choice, and your heart had been decided.

You needed to get to the church.

You stumbled out to the stables, your body staggering as your brain felt fuzzy and heavy. You probably had a concussion, but right now that wasn't important. You didn't have a horse of your own, you prayed that the one you made it to wouldn't buck you off. The stallion let out a soft nicker, you rubbed its neck, your hand weakly holding onto the mane and you forced your body to mount.

The horse moved a few steps, adjusting to your weight. No saddle, it'll have to do.

You squeezed your legs and held on, the horse moved forward and with your encouragement it began a steady gallop through the trail that led up to the church. The horse was fast and bareback was hard for you to hold on, especially with a head injury. the horse sensed your wavering weight and tried to steady its run.

Over the hill was the church, and the stallion ran you right inside the broken down doors. You heard loud shouting, men fighting, and the sight that came to view was horrible.

Most of the men were down, unconscious, and Graydon was shooting arrows at Kurt, who had been disappearing in puffs of smoke, reappearing in other places. His yellow eyes blazed and he hissed at Graydon, landing kicks and punches to the larger man. You shouted at them to stop, but your voice fell on deaf ears.

The torches the other men had been carrying caught the tapestries and the flames eagerly began to eat the fabric and grow. The horse reared up, and you fell off its back as it ran out of the church. You sat up and cried out at Graydon, "Stop it! Don't hurt him! Can't you see what you're doing?!"

Kurt's teleporting soon became predictable, Graydon memorized the pattern and he shot an arrow into Kurt's leg right as he reappeared again. Kurt let out a strangled cry, stumbling from the beams and to the ground. By now the flames had consumed the entire room, smoke became thick and Graydon towered over Kurt's body. His eyes reflecting the fire, his face red and his hair a mess. He looked like the devil now, the fire only adding to his hellish desires to smite out Kurt's existence.

"Die, I cast you down to the pits of Hell where you belong!" Graydon tore a blade from his sheath, raising it above his head. But Kurt's eyes were focused on the burning wood above him, and he managed to teleport from that spot right as the wooden beams fell from the ceiling. Kurt reappeared by you, his fuzzy arms wrapped around yours as he teleported you outside. The last thing you saw in the church were the large beams falling onto Graydon's body, crushing him.

When you reappeared outside, you saw Kurt was hurt from the fight. He had two arrows in his body, one in his leg and one in his back, several lacerations from fighting the others and some parts of him had been burned. He let out a deep cough and he laid beside you, unresponsive.

"Kurt?? Kurt! Wake up!" You shook him, gently at first but it became more frantic when you noticed his lack of response. "Please get up!" You felt tears prick your eyes, your head swiveled around, looking for anyone to help. You weren't sure what to do, you felt hopeless. After you thought he was gone, his tail twitched at your side, gently curling up around your thigh weakly.

"Kurt??" You asked quickly, glancing down at him. You could see the exhaustion on his face, the weakness, but he nodded back. He gave you a weak smile, his yellow eyes soft and pure.

"Liebe..." he whispered back, his hand held yours and he pulled you closer. Your body naturally obeyed and you let your lips find his, both weakly pressing together as the two of you kissed for the first time. It felt so right, his hand cupped your face and his tail wrapped around you, being so weak but loving all at the same time.

You hadn't noticed the other townspeople had been watching from the trees, seeing how gentle and sweet you were to him. They could see that Kurt didn't resemble a creature of Hell like they thought, while he did seem odd looking, he didn't look to be horrific as they predicted. Their imaginations took over and the tall tales took over their logic.

When you broke the kiss, he smiled up at you. "You....came back..." he rasped, he was hurt still, but he was okay. He'd live. That's all you needed to know.

"Of course I came back...I told you I would..." you whispered sweetly, guilt gnawed at your core, "If I hadn't left then..."

Kurt cut you off, shushing you, "Nein, liebe...do not worry...the church can be rebuilt...I am going to be fine. What's another small scar? My fur will cover it anyway." He added, giving you a playful smile.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Oh, Kurt...don't make me laugh right now..." You muttered, some of the onlookers came to aid you in bringing him to the town to get treatment from the doctor there. You knew he'd be okay. The awful stories were debunked and the town appeared to accept him.

You had your love, safe and sound, and the real demon of the town had been snuffed to ash.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[kotonoba]

This one will be with Ace. Sorta beauty and the beast. Ace has a hard time admitting his love for reader but reader doesnt quite feel the same yet. When ace gets turned into a dog, reader takes care of him on the ship until she falls in love with and when she kissed his little head and say goodnight ily, the next morning hes turned back

Excuses (Ace/F!Reader)

Summary: You doubt the authenticity of Ace's words when he first confesses his feelings for you.

a/n: The dog I chose was based on their personality, so a mix of a Shiba Inu and Belgian Malinois, so a Shiba Malinois. Protective but playful. I also deviated from your idea a little, these past few days have been a little strange for me.

Warning(s): slightly ooc, comedic, comedy romance, fluff

Posted on AO3

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

“I like ya, go out with me,” you glanced at the second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates; he always had a weird spunk about him. This time, he held his hand out like he was waiting for a handshake while bowing at a 90-degree angle. 

“Again?” You chuckled, watching the other members of the crew laugh at his attempts once more. You sat on top of some crates to enjoy the sea breeze when he approached you for the 9th time this week with the same statement, but who’s counting? “I told you, Ace, you’re not my type, sorry.” 

“I’m not giving up, just you wait,” the determination in his eyes was amusing to you. He wasn’t unattractive to you; by all means, he was adorable in your eyes. You just found it easier to reject his offer because you were just a stowaway on the ship. You don’t know when they’ll decide to abandon you on an island one day during their excursion. You didn’t want to suffer the heartbreak. 

But you also didn’t tell anyone your grievances; truth be told, you think he probably lost a bet, which is why he’s been trying to pursue you all this time. “You’re better off finding someone other than me.” You laughed, closing your eyes to enjoy the sun. Half of you still think he’s most likely not completely honest with himself yet, either. 

As the ship docked on a neutral island to stock up, you were lugged around by Ace and Marco around town to pick out items to restock on; honestly, you were just another helping hand if anything. You wonder where your spark went when all you did was feel a pang of jealousy watching Ace get hit on by the town’s ladies. You repeated to yourself that you’d be abandoned eventually; there was no need to pursue a relationship, and you had no reason to feel this way, but you did. 

As the ladies flocked over, you found yourself straying away from the group, finding solace sitting by the docks and watching from afar politely, “I know that look,” you glanced in the direction of the voice to spot Marco with a worried look to his face, “if you like him, you should have agreed to his initial request.” 

“Request to…? Oh!” You shook your head in response, eyes trained on Ace who seemed to be enjoying himself, “I’m okay with watching on the side, I’m just a stowaway, one day, I’m sure you guys would leave me somewhere,” you didn’t let Marco respond when you smiled at him, “I don’t want the heartbreak.” 

“We wouldn’t–” 

“It’s okay, Marco, I think Ace would be better off if he were more honest with himself,” you whispered. You’re aware that it sounds like you’re just making excuses for your fears. “I’ll wait on the ship, I’m feeling a little under the weather today, sorry.” As you got up to leave, you paused, “I hope you know that you are the ship’s doctor and all means our conversation stays confidential.” 

You didn’t leave time for him to respond before you returned to the ship, finding it better to sit facing the ocean. A few hours pass by as the crew returns, without Ace, but with a dog that has some of his key accessories. Before you had a chance to ask about the dog, Marco gave you a devilish look that you were too aware of, “Here, you take care of the dog.” He pushes the Shiba-like dog towards you. No one expected to know dog, but the perks of being a stowaway were that you knew a little too much about everything. 

Your face lit up as you knelt to pet the dog, “It’s a Shiba Malinois, I didn’t know people crossbred like this here too,” you spoke, half to yourself, half to the crew. “They’re rare,” you reiterated, looking up at Marco with a smile, “they sell for a lot.” 

“We’re not selling him,” you laughed at the sudden anxiety written all over the crew’s face, “we’re just going to take care of him until his owner returns.” 

You watch them file into the ship to drop off their haul, as you’re kneeling to the dog’s eye level, he slobbers you with his saliva, practically pouncing on you. You laughed, settling to the ground, before asking Marco, who came back out to see what you were laughing about, “where’s Ace?” 

Marco eyed you, then at the dog, then back at you, “I’unno, probably same place as where you last saw him.” 

You smiled, petting the dog a little more as he calmed down to lie by your side, “I’m glad he’s having fun.” 

“I take it you’re not going to go get him?” 

“No,” you responded dryly, “I’m not that big on picking someone up, y’know, the whole, ‘we’re waiting on you at the ship,’ isn’t my vibe. If he wants to play around with the town’s ladies, I won’t stop him.” 

There was a huff of anger from the dog, a chattering of teeth as if to take offense to what you said; you watched the dog’s tail wag angrily, stomping at the ground angrily. You laughed at the response, “You see him as a playboy, yoi?” 

You nodded lightly, beckoning the dog to sit in your lap, and he obediently did. “I guess that probably also plays into why I’m reluctant to be with him, aside from what I told you earlier today.” You glanced up at the doctor, who also received a curious look from the dog. “You sure are nosy, I’ll give you that,” you laughed, petting the dog again, turning his attention back onto you. “But, I still do believe that one day, you guys will ditch me on an island, even if you say you won’t, who knows?” 

You buried your face against the nook of the dog’s neck, sighing softly, taking in the sunlight scent clinging to its pelt. The dog lets out a low whine. “Even the dog agrees that you’re wrong,” Marco laughed, walking back out of the ship. “Since you’re going to be on the ship today, keep watch, okay? Don’t burn it down while we’re away!” He laughs, but you do worry about that. 

You spend the day talking to the dog and combing him, but you laugh at the absurdity of everything: “Maybe I am lonely, talking to a dog like he can respond.” You stand up after grooming his fur, leading him to some crates to sit with you, “you know, I never watched the sun set or rise with anyone but Ace, but I don’t think he truly loves me,” you muttered aloud, the dog barks at you angrily, you laughed. Petting his head a little, “Let me finish, will you? You sure do remind me of him. You two are equally as fiery in personality, easy to please, and I suppose you’re quite loyal.” You smiled a little, “Call me a coward, I do love him, but I just–” you sighed, ruffling your hair in frustration, “I don’t want it to be a sick joke or just a one time thing, I don’t think my heart can take it, you know?” You laughed as you faced towards the dog, who was looking at you with sympathy. You wipe away the tear that threatened to come out. 

The Shiba Malinois barked at you to follow as the sun slowly sets, and follow you do. The dog leads you to the spot you last saw Ace, the place where the girls who fancied him were still gathered around. Awkwardly, you pulled the dog back, laughing uncomfortably as they turned their attention to you, “Oh, you’re the girl that pirate says he likes,” they started. Too stunned to talk, they notice your sudden shock, “Don’t tell me, you didn’t know? Yeah, we asked him to join us for a few rounds of shots, and he turned us down, saying: ‘I got a girl I like, she wouldn’t be too happy to find out I’ve been playing around with others.’ And left afterwards, no idea where he went.” They did a near-perfect imitation of him, causing you to laugh, your face burned with embarrassment. Perhaps your feelings would be returned if you said yes to him. “Stay safe out there, the nights aren’t as safe as you think.” 

You thanked them and hurried the dog back onto the ship with you. Your ears burned as you returned to the vessel with the dog. You glanced at the dog and smiled, inviting him into your room. As the two of you lay in your room, which is littered with books, you embraced the dog tightly, taking in his scent. “You don’t fool me, Ace.” A look of shock was painted on the dog’s face as he looked at you, “I’m not that stupid. You’ve been proving your point to me the entire day. Why else would Marco help a dog instead of leaving it on the streets?” You laughed a little, splaying yourself over the bed, “I must say, it is easier to confess my love for you when you can’t respond, so I wouldn’t know if you intend to reject me or not.” 

You glanced at the dog, whom you knew this whole time to be Ace, who whined and attempted to snuggle you as an apology. “I’m not offended that you tried to trick me,” you responded, petting him on the head and scratching behind his ears. “We can figure out how to get you back to your original form so I can hear your answer.” You smiled. It felt like weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Good night, Ace,” you whispered, as your eyes grew heavy, before you clocked out, you leaned in to kiss him on the head gently, “I love you. Always have, always will.” 

As you stir in the morning, warmth blasted you as you snuggled into a human, which shocked you awake, eyes blurred from the sudden change in pressure of you laying down and getting up, “Hey there, beautiful, I’m ready to give you my answer,” the sultry voice that came from Ace caused your ears to burn in embarrassment. Unaware of how he even turned himself back, you were hoping he’d stay a dog for you to be more at ease. He can’t hurt you if he can’t talk. Before you have the chance to respond, he leans in to kiss you on the lips quickly, his skin flushed at his boldness, before he pulls back, “I love you too, so please, will you be mine?” 

You were initially scared by the prospect of a new relationship, but you decided to take a chance on it with him this one time. You gave him a light nod. “I would love to.” 

“When did you know it was me?” 

You glanced at him as you began to sit up, “When I suggested we could sell you.” 

“Were you going to?” 

You laughed as his face paled the longer you forced him to wait for an answer, “I would never.”

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

[maritoke]

Stargazing

Have a fanfic for @cuppajj 's Beast Ancients AU. This fic is basically this meme, except somewhere in the middle Salted Caramel starts to trauma dump (he warned Silverbell twice), and Silverbell silently has a crisis (unrelated to trauma dump, lmao).

Just a warning: there is talking about major wounds being inflicted, but it isn't anything graphic (but just to be sure). Also this thing was written mostly at ungodly hours when I should be sleeping, so yeah, might have some mistakes--

---------

This could be definitely counted as treason, oh dear witches…

Letting the soldier of the Silence Legion just go was one thing. The archer decided to show him mercy. Congrats. One dead man less.

But Silverbell was actively talking to him. Enjoying his company even. Specifically now.

Being not so far away from borders. Maybe ten meters at most from the silver forest. 

He didn't abandon his post as a knight. That would be stupid and wouldn't sit right with Silverbell. He had finished his shift. He should be back at the Kingdom and sleeping. That would be the most logical thing to do.

But it was his free time now. And he could do whatever he wanted, he didn’t have to be back at Silver Kingdom. Not yet, at least. It wasn’t suspicious yet. He knew when to go back. He could just tell them he preferred to be in the forest as of late.

“If it's making you so stressed you can go back. I'm not holding you hostage.”

The soldier's words snapped him out of his thoughts. He twitched his wings out of reflex.

Salted Caramel didn't even look at him as he spoke. He kept his eyes on the night sky. A rare sight with the forest growing so thick. The leaves blocked out all of the sky. Keeping everyone hidden for safety.

It was strange in a way. That a soldier of an enemy's army would enjoy something so simple. But it could be because of how much he was taught to fear the Silent Army. For all the correct reasons. Salted Caramel had told him on several occasions how unfortunate it is that they happened to be on opposite sides (thank you, Salted…).

Silverbell just looked back at the stars. There were just so many of them. Shining bright, making the darkness around them lighter. There were plenty of colors too. Not just white dots on black sky. A mix of light blue with navy, a few droplets of pink here and there. Some stars were even golden. And then there was a moon. A full moon in all its glory. Not outshined by the stars but looking even more beautiful with them around. 

“... I'm good, I can stay a bit.”

Silverbell finally answered as he lied down on the soft grass. He was a bit mesmerized by the night sky. It was a pity. That such a beautiful piece of nature was constantly hidden from him.

At this Salted Caramel let out a small chuckle. It was a rare sound. Silverbell didn't hear him laugh yet, although fae wasn't sure if he would ever witness such a thing. They both knew that the soldier was around the forest by his own choice. To honor those who had died long, long ago in a battle.

The knight would be leaving soon. And it seemed that he stayed around longer just to keep Silverbell company. He didn't know how to feel about it exactly… on one hand it was quite nice, to have someone to talk to. To someone who too was serving a beast loyally while feeling a disconnect towards the values and concepts they once held dear. To someone who too feels a stranger in their own home.

On the other hand, he knew that he was going to be a possible cause of Salted Caramel's punishment. The knight himself was unsure whether he would face any consequences for… stalling and if he did, then of what caliber it would be. The Silent Army had apparently a history of being… quite unpredictable even towards their own soldiers. Everyone would either be passive and there would be no punishment, or they would make an example out of a ‘renegade’.

… Well. At least they both would be renegades in that case.

“Glad to hear you a bit more relaxed than back in the forest.” Salted Caramel said.

“In the forest I was afraid of the Queen. And other faeries could've found us.”

“And they can't now?” This time Salted turned his head to face Silverbell. His unnatural yellow eye almost glowing in the darkness. 

Silverbell didn't answer the question. Just glanced at the knight next to him and looked back at the night sky. The archer didn't know how to answer, for he himself wasn't sure.

Faeries wouldn't go search for him, that he was certain. But Queen Lily? She never elaborated how her powers worked exactly. Keeping it a secret. The less faeries knew the less they had to fear apparently. He had experienced it only once when she had used her powers to take control over faeries.

It had felt awful. He hadn't felt like he belonged in his own skin.

She had used it only once. To check the extent of her abilities. She had been apologizing for it for a few days. Feeling awful for doing something sudden, without knowing how it would end…

She probably would do it again, if there was a need. Silverbell was simply happy that just one knight from Silent Legion wasn't enough of a threat. That is if she could sense Salted Caramel. Would she know that a knight of her direct enemy is around? Or did she not sense him because he was already dead?

He'd rather not think about it. Too many questions. Little to no answers. Just his imagination running wild, creating countless scenarios, each more grim than the previous. 

He moved again as his body shivered because of too many unpleasant thoughts. Grass underneath him ruffled softly as he shifted around. From the corner of his eye he could see Salted Caramel glancing at him.

“You can go back if you–”

“No,” Silverbell cut him off. 

He knew the knight meant well. That he wanted to reassure him he could go back to Faerie Kingdom. That he was free to go. That if he feared for their safety, then he maybe shouldn't take more risks.

But he wanted to stay there just a bit longer. Just a few more minutes. It was hard to return to places that no longer felt like home. Yet you were attached to them nonetheless. Or at least to the memories of them.

“I… I still have time. Don't have to go back yet…” He said with a small smile. His voice had a false confidence. For he himself wasn't entirely sure anymore how much time he had left. But he didn’t know when or if he would see Salted Caramel again. 

He didn't want for another person in his life to become only a memory. Not so soon, not so early. He wanted for this moment to last just a tad longer. If Silverbell would return so late it would be suspicious, Midnight Lily would give him the benefit of a doubt. She liked him enough to let it slide as just a one time occurrence. 

A part of him felt guilty. That he was lying to her and abusing her trust. That everytime if she asked he would just tell her there was just a mere traveler passing by. Hiding a member of Silent Legion, the servant of a very beast who was an original holder of Queen's soul jam.

And Silverbell slowly came to an awful realization. This couldn't be just counted as a treason. As if someone was trying to look on the bad side of things. No.

This was a treason.

Not just a simple misunderstanding. Not a complicated situation. No. Silverbell had had one job. Shoot any outsiders who are an active threat. And the moment an actual enemy had shown up – he had let him go.

Alright, he had shot him once. But when it hadn't worked? He should have kept shooting. He should have gone back to the Kingdom and sounded the alarm. Not had stood there, paralyzed in horror, watching how an arrow to the neck hadn’t killed his target. And definitely not had kept talking to him afterwards, when the soldier had awkwardly offered to give the arrow back.

Silverbell should feel shame. That a memory of their first encounter was now funny to him in retrospect. That it was something that would make him smile. And he did feel shame, but for an entirely different reason. Because he knew that if he happened to see Salted Caramel again in future (hopefully outside of the battlefield), he would still not report him. He would continue this masquerade of guilt and shame. 

So much for being a loyal silver knight, huh?

Meanwhile Salted Caramel kept observing his friend in worry. His brows furrowed when he heard Silverbell's tone. The distant and sad look on the faerie's face wasn't helping his case either. 

He glanced back at the forest, then at the archer again. He considered arguing for a moment. That he clearly felt nervous, and they shouldn't risk it. There was no shame in it.

But instead he kept silent. Simply nodded again. Letting go of whatever words he just wanted to use. It was better to just not speak up sometimes. Keep it as it is – a bit bad, or start a useless fight – make it even worse. Choice was easy.

And so he laid back at the ground. Gazing again at the glowing sky. Although not as calm as before. His expression was more… bitter? No, too strong of a word. Lackadaisical? Detached? That sounded more correct. 

Silverbell looked up at the sky too. Still finding it as beautiful as before. He smiled at it.

“Why did you want to go stargazing?” The Fae finally asked. 

It took the swordsman a few longer moments to answer. He didn't look away from the stars at all.

“I don't think you want to hear a blurry war story.”

Normally he would argue that of course he wanted to hear. He always liked to hear the songs of battles of the past. To hear older knights speak of how they served the kingdom, and how they protected it.

But he knew better than to say such things around Salted Caramel. It wasn't as if the man didn't want to tell him anything, for he had told him various stories of many battles and wars. But he was around for too long, and many of his memories were getting either blurry or mixed up. And there were of course the memories Salted Caramel avoided for obvious reasons. Memories many knights avoided. Memories that were just too painful to recall. 

Silverbell opened and closed his mouth. Trying to formulate a sentence, but failing. He wanted to bite a bullet and just ask. But there was fear of wording it wrong, of offending his friend on accident.

Salted Caramel shot a quick glance at him.

“I wasn't looking at the stars when I died, if that's what you think.”

The archer couldn't help but relax a bit. His tense frame loosening at his words. It was stupid of him to assume such morbid things. 

“Though I was close to dying.”

… Nevermind. 

Silverbell took a deep breath in and out. To steady himself for a question. To actually speak up. Don't leave it quiet. 

“... can you say more? I like hearing your stories.”

He wasn’t fully sure why it was so hard to say. He had prompted Salted Caramel to speak many times before. 

Actually no, scratch that. He knew why it was harder to say it. Because he wasn't asking about a story from a battle. He was asking about one of the moments his friend was the most vulnerable. He simply didn't know why he considered not asking at all. Given how important star watching was for Salted Caramel. 

The knight didn't answer him for what felt like a few minutes. Silverbell almost came to the conclusion that he simply wouldn’t be given a reply. A bit disappointing, but understandable. Not everyone would want to speak of moments when they almost died. Such moments were often recurring nightmares for many. And yet Salted Caramel spoke up.

“I think it was… at the beginning of Grand Cross’ corruption? Or in the middle of it… I can't say… I just know they were different… but not that different.”

It often took Silverbell a few short seconds to figure out when Salted Caramel was speaking about the original beast cookies. As he often tended to use their former titles. Be it from respect or out of habit. Although, one could argue that Silent Salt could still be called ‘Grand Cross’. As it was not a title given because of their previous virtue, but because of how hierarchy in chivalry worked. And Silent Salt was of course at the very top of it.

“We were sent out to fight off the Giant Gravel Jelly Worms… They were a threat to one of the cities I think… and normally it would not be a problem, even if they were fully grown but uh… two or three are… let's say manageable.” He paused for a moment. “Six of them are a rather big issue.”

“How did those worms look?”

Silverbell could see a grimace on Salted Caramel's face. His body wincing for a moment.

“... maybe as big redwood trees? Maybe a tad smaller?”

Silverbell just stared at him blankly. Trying to convey without words how little it narrowed it down. These trees grew fast and tall. They could grow up to over one hundred meters with enough time. He doubted that Giant Gravel Jelly Worms could get that big. Although, maybe they could. Maybe they could and Silverbell was underestimating it. 

“Listen, they were just enormous, okay? Bigger than I had thought possible back then,” knight said in his own defense. A tiny note of frustration in his voice.

“Regardless…” he continued. “They had a body covered with strong scales, and a bunch of sharp spikes on each segment of their bodies. They could spin them. I think it normally helped them move around while digging in the ground? But at the surface it was as lethal as a newly sharpened sword. A sword made out of a very strong mix of metals.”

A pause again. A longer one. This one lasted maybe two minutes. Maybe a bit longer. Salted Caramel put a hand on his stomach. Soon however he tensed up again. Making a fist, trying to grasp something. As if he could dig into his own body and just rip his insides out.

Silverbell was about to tell him that he didn't have to continue. Because it clearly made him relive some absolutely nasty memories. The story wasn't worth it if it was putting him through such things. But before he could even say anything, Salted Caramel continued:

“With six of such monsters the battle lasted long until it was well into the night.” Silverbell could hear Salted Caramel rush a bit. Trying to get to the main point faster. “I got cut by one of the spikes. It dug deep. From my stomach almost up to my chest. A miracle it didn’t slice me in half.”

Silverbell couldn't help but hiss at description. He felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine how much pain it must have been. Such a big injury. If one had looked down they would have seen their own organs… a very gruesome image, even more that it had happened. 

And yet Salted Caramel seemed to relax a tad bit. Faerie assumed that the worst part of the story was behind them now. The moment of when the wound had been inflicted. 

“After that I fell to the ground because I couldn't stand anymore, of course. I was bleeding out so much, I was terrified I would die.” The knight let out a dry chuckle. Finding the past a bit ironic given his current situation. “After… a rather big blood loss I didn't have energy to panic anymore. And then I realized that I was looking at the stars.”

Salted Caramel finally relaxed the fingers in his hand. Lying it again flat against his abdomen.

“And then I thought to myself… that it wasn’t the worst way to die. Despite the chaos happening around, despite it hurting so much… it would be a good death. To die in a battle with honor, able to look at the stars last time…”

There was new calmness to his voice now. A strange sense of melancholy mixed with hopefulness. It fitted him. It fitted him a lot.

“That's the main reason why stargazing is important to me.” Salted Caramel admitted. “It gives me solace. Especially now…”

“... why so?”

“... because I'm stuck here. We are stuck here. In probably the worst Era possible. But we did the best we could. We're trying our best still… and we still might just end up bloodied anyway… just one more corpse of another tired soldier…”

A pause. A deep breath in and out. To calm down. To gather thoughts. 

“But… There are things that are beautiful nonetheless. Things that were here before everything and will continue to be after… and we can enjoy them… even as we are dying there are things we can enjoy. Things that cannot be destroyed because it's just… impossible. I mean…”

Salted Caramel sat up. The metal plates of his armor quietly creaked due to sudden movement. He was now sitting on the grass with his legs crossed. 

“There are some things that just… can't be gone, right? I mean… Witches, I… give me a moment, I've lost my own point…”

Silverbell sat up too. Out of the corner of his eye he watched how Salted Caramel looked at the ground. Trying to get his thoughts back together. 

The archer hugged his legs and rested his head on his knees. He no longer observed the stars but his friend. 

He couldn’t see his face at the moment. He was partially covering it with his left hand. He used his right hand to play with his own long hair. Trying to regain focus and put his thoughts back together. Frustration he felt at himself was almost radiating. 

Silverbell only let out a soft sigh, his wings flexing a bit. It seemed that Salted Caramel hit his limit for tonight or even for this week.

The faerie loved talking with the knight. But Silent Legion had its name for a reason. Of course, the main reason was the fact it was one of if not the deadliest army recorded. Often winning battles before even a scream of their victims could arise. Ever the quiet death armored and armed, never leaving a sound. 

Another reason could be also because the very members themselves were apparently a quiet bunch. Salted Caramel included. He could easily remember how first their talks had been very one sided. Where it was mostly Silverbell talking at Salted Caramel than to him. Only the more time they'd spend the knight decided to start talking too. Still, he mostly spoke short sentences.

Therefore whenever Salted Caramel would tell a story, Silverbell would consider it a treat. Because even if it would take a while, it was nice to hear him talk. To hear him recall various battles or even just mundane situations that he remembered. Oftentimes speaking fondly of memories that could be sometimes very painful ones.

Because even now, when Salted Caramel had tensed up and grimaced various times while recalling the fight against the Giant Gravel Jelly Worms, he still finished it on a somewhat happy note. Despite the memory being mostly about a brutal battle and almost dying, it ended with him finding solace in that moment – regardless of what an outcome could have been. Peace even when the world around was dying, disappearing. 

“I think I know what you mean,” Silverbell said as he leaned onto Salted Caramel. 

The knight tensed up for just a moment. A short second of uncertainty before relaxing again. He shifted just a bit, to allow Silverbell for a more comfortable position. Despite being cold, Salted Caramel’s presence was a calming one.

And so they both continued to watch the stars. The eternal painting never to be erased or destroyed. Shining endlessly throughout all the years that had passed, and would continue to shine when the world was falling apart at the seams.

And regardless of the outcome. Regardless if there would be peace or wars, regardless if there would be thousands of cookies or if they all turned into nothingness or simple flour… stars would remain. For they were here before it all started, and would still be after everything ended.

It was strangely comforting. That even if everything was destroyed, there would be something that remained.

---------

So just to answer some things:

Why didn't Salted Caramel die if he was shot in the neck?

Salted Caramel is undead. He isn't revived. Think a spirit possessing its own corpse. He can be killed, but that would require either decapetion, or purification if you want to get rid off his soul (doesn't need to be Saint purification, Wind Archer would also do the job). That's also a reason why he is described as cold! He's cold because his body doesn't really need to maintain a body heat anymore! Ain't that convinient.

Why didn't they start fighting when Silverbell had first shot Salted Caramel?

If I shot someone in the neck, and they just stared at me confused, I would personally die right where I stood out of pure horror. Silverbell is braver and was just paralyzed by fear. Salted Caramel? He'd rather avoid fighting when he can, after all he was just going through the forest to go honor the fallen soldiers. So when he got shot he thought he must have tresspassed accidentaly, and felt awkward.

Are they meant to be platonic or romantic in this? (My own friend asked me this)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Honestly interpret them however you want, both interpretations are cool

[silverseaming]

Summer drifts in on a warm wind, the heat climbing so subtly at first that it was hard to notice. By the middle of the harvest, though, the rays beat down with such intensity that man, beast and flower wilt beneath them. Only the wheat is uncowed, tall and golden as a sticky breeze runs ripples through the fields. It’s almost bearable in the morning — beautiful, even — when the sun only peeks over the mountaintops, glazing the crops orange as the sunrise. The stalks are still heavy with dew, Chestnut’s feathering shining with the moisture.

At midday, however, it is decidedly not beautiful. Despite setting out at dawn and having the help of the Mellors and Gillis boys, the need to harvest while the dry weather lasts means Kit can’t avoid the worst of the heat. By now his shirt sticks to his back, calluses throbbing on his palms. Even the faithful Chestnut has abandoned him to amble down to the creek, not that he can blame her. Each pile of straw tossed increases his longing for the sweet relief of cool water. It’s hard work, yes, but it must be done. This harvest, just like their first harvest, cannot be allowed to fail. Not when he’s risked so much for this, not when they need this, need— well, not even only the money. The success, the small joy of all the crops being gathered in, a bounty in one area of their lives, when others have been painfully barren. And enough to buy a Johnson self-raking reaper, he thinks, as he fiddles with the latest knot of twine. At least then Chestnut would have to pull her weight, rather than leaving everything to Kit and his scythe.

Just when he can’t take any longer, sustenance arrives in the form of Meg and Daisy, laden with freshly baked bread, jams, lemonade, and all sorts of other delights. This little ritual has quickly become Kit’s favourite part of the day — not just because of the welcome meal they bring, but for the view of watching them walk over the field, the moment before Daisy’s sticky hands grab at his where they come close enough for him to see their smiles. It makes something tighten in his chest. Gratitude. Guilt. The two never seem too far apart these days. Looking at Daisy it’s easy to forget, simply lose himself in her innocent happiness. But there are moments of sadness he catches in Meg’s eyes that bring up a whole new guilt, the old crashing harder in its wake. It’s all for them. That’s what he tells himself. It’s better Meg doesn’t worry. Not now. “Thank you, love.” Kit says, pulling Meg a little closer. “It’s no trouble,” Meg smiles, “And this way Daisy gets to be out in the fields with Pa, without driving me to distraction.” “Well, you two are my saviours all the same.”

[thewinter-eden]

All Ye Who Enter Here

images are mine (except middle LF pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 6 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: ghost!Felix is said to haunt the abandoned mansion at the end of Blacktree Road. Legend says all who go into the mansion are never seen again. When you decide you’re sick of your friends being afraid of a literal house, you rise to the challenge and go inside. Spoiler alert, Felix is real, and he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to walk into a haunted house.

warnings: Hauntings, killings, more horror than crack, can’t be too predictable, decided to shake it up, this one's different, definitive 2-parter, this is really more the intro than the actual crack!horror sorry it turned out this way I just had a sucky week and never ended up having time to write. This one sucks I'm sorry.

Word Count: 2.3k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

PART 2

The heavy antique doorknocker makes you think of Beauty and the Beast.

Honestly the entire Blacktree house kind of reminds you of that old gothic castle.

“Don’t come in.”

The whisper that reaches your ears feels like a breath on the breeze, a trick of your imagination. You push the creaking door open and step into the house, ignoring the adrenalized chattering of your friends behind you.

No one just walks into Blacktree House anymore, not without a healthy amount of fear. Or at least not without some apprehension. The house is haunted. That’s what everyone says. It’s allegedly been haunted since the 90s. Strange noises, lights flickering in the windows, a dark aura surrounding the property.

You don’t believe it.

Or maybe you don’t care about it.

They say people have gone inside and come out cursed. That foolhardy students went in on a dare, or lured others in as a prank, only to disappear like a scream on the wind over the days that followed. That unsuspecting lovers have taken advantage of an empty house only to face their doom soon after. That realtors and agents refuse to work with the house, too frightened or superstitious or terrorized by the ghosts within to ever step foot inside.

So many of them found dead in their homes in the days and weeks that followed.

So many of them supposed victims of the haunted house.

It’s absurd.

You believe in rumors, tall tales, and dumb teenagers.

You believe in what you’ve seen, what you’ve touched, what you know.

You don’t believe in ghosts.

So while your astonished friends watch you walk yourself inside, gait jaunty to prove a point, you tell yourself that the words you heard were just in your head. You have a mission. The bet was that you wouldn’t go into the house by yourself, tour the entire place, take pictures from each window, and then return with or without a curse. The incentive? A hundred dollars.

As far as bets go, to you, it’s an easy hundred dollars.

Your friends are far more terrified by the prospect of you roaming the giant scary house than you are, and you’re relieved to spend a few curious minutes by yourself and come out of it with a hundred dollars.

You cross the threshold and turn to catch their eyes from where the stand out on the street, clinging to each other and gawking. It does occur to you that, as ridiculous as the entire premise of the bet is, it’s not especially endearing that your friends (who seem to fully believe in the murderous ghost curse) have convinced you to take a stroll through the murder house.

The wind catches the door as you go to close it and sucks it shut with a solid thud.

The house is old, filled with dust and a scattering of footprints, completely run down. The previous owner’s belongings still clutter the floors and the shelves in various stages of disrepair. You pull your phone from your pocket and snap a few pictures of the entryway, headed down the first hallway you see.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

This time, the disembodied whisper reaches your ears with clarity. There’s a moment of shock as you spin on your heel, scanning the room sharply.

There’s no one there.

Of course there’s no one there.

No one comes into this house anymore. It’s just you.

You shake it off, classify it as another example of a suggestible imagination run rampant, and continue your tour. A picture here, a photo there, you’re somewhere near the center of the house when you hear footsteps behind you.

“This wasn’t part of the deal.” You call over your shoulder, spotting a window looking out towards the front yard. “Pretending to be a ghost to freak me out isn’t going to get you your hundred dollars back.”

“Leave now. Last warning.”

Heart leaping into your throat, you spin so fast you nearly trip over a stack of books in the floor, but there’s no one behind you.

Your friends are doing their best to get you to run screaming from the house, abandoning the terms of the bet and forfeiting the reward, so you plant yourself and catch your breath. There’s no way you’re quitting the haunted house tour. There’s no way you’re going to allow yourself to be scared by their efforts when you already know there are no ghosts in the house or anywhere else.

You’re fine.

Taking a bracing breath, you step up to the window and poise your phone to take a photo. Both of your friends are still on the sidewalk, still clutching each other, staring at the house with visible trepidation.

Your finger snaps the photo distractedly.

Because you’re staring at both of the friends who brought you here, and you’re hearing creaking footsteps behind you.

There’s no one in the room but you, so you move on to the next one, pretending that you don’t feel the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. The next room also has a window facing the front yard, so you snap another photo. A first floor perspective of the girls checking their phones to see your texted photos marking your progress.

“You should have listened.” The echoing whisper tickles your ear as you move on.

Right in front of your face, prompted by absolutely nothing, the wide-open door to the bedroom you’re standing in slams shut, locking you inside.

Now you’re worried.

It’s not like there couldn’t have been a string tied to the door knob—fishing line or dental floss or something that you couldn’t see—that someone could have yanked to give the illusion of a door slamming itself, but you’re the only person in the house.

The door won’t open. No matter how hard you try to turn the knob or yank at the ancient wood, it remains firmly closed. Your heart is pounding in your ears, uncertainty filling your thoughts.

There are no ghosts.

There are no ghosts.

This house is not haunted.

So why can’t you open the door that just inexplicably closed itself?

“It won’t open.” This time it’s not a whisper, it’s a strong, deep, full-bodied voice.

You jump, tripping over your own feet as you turn at the words, and your eyes fall on a man standing in the corner. He’s narrow, slender, pale as death, with long blonde hair and pitiful dark eyes.

He seems familiar, his face bouncing around your head with some confused recognition, but you’re far too confused to figure it out. “How did you get in here?” He wasn’t there a minute ago, not when you were standing right where he’s standing. “Who are you?”

His chin lowers ever so slightly, and the light in the room shifts, and you see him flutter in and out of view. The way his entire body flickers transparently for a moment before settling back into normal human opacity makes your brain trip over itself and fall flat on its face.

The door rattles behind you.

Noises rise on the other side, sounding like scraping books and clunking footsteps, nails scratched along the walls. You’re watching the rotted wood of the bedroom door tremble, the door knob rattling against the bolt, and you can’t breathe.

“What is happening right now?”

“They’re coming.” The man behind you says. “You should have left when I told you to.”

You meet his eyes and wish you knew why the sharp point of his jaw looks so familiar to you. “You were the one whispering to me? Back in the hall?” It feels like a dumb question until you watch him flicker again, only to reappear a second later, this time closer to you. Now that you can see him better, you know where you’ve seen him. “Wait, you’re that guy. I remember you now.”

That guy had been in the news a few years ago, a picture of exactly the same face you’re looking at now—24-year-old found dead just days after visiting Blacktree House.

The guy who’s name you can’t remember frowns at you, his eyebrows lowering in disappointment.

Outside the door, the noises grow louder.

You think you can hear voices, but you’re not sure.

“My name is Felix.” He says, and then grimaces. “Was Felix.” His eyes skate over your shoulder towards the door. “They’re coming to kill you.” He turns away and peers out the window, but doesn’t put himself in your friends’ line of sight. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s just a house.” You mutter. “All those people—it’s not like they were murdered by ghosts.” There’s clear derision and skepticism in your voice, as though you’re not staring at a young man who keeps fluttering through stages of transparency. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t keep them out forever. They’re coming to kill you.” He says again, like it’s the only thing he can say.

“But you’re not going to kill me?” You mutter, wondering if you can take a picture of him. Or maybe a video. You’re holding your phone, but you can’t decide if you should be calling someone right now, or even documenting what’s happening.

Felix seems to curl in on himself, his expression darkening as he rubs his hands over his arms. You notice the chill in the room, the goosebumps on his skin, but you don’t care. “I don’t want to kill anyone.” He murmurs hollowly. He turns to you, and there’s so much sorrow on his face that your heart clenches. “Why me?” He whispers. “Why did I have to die?”

Tears prick at your eyes, the mourning in his expression needling into your soul. “Why did you come to this house?” You ask. “Back then, when you knew the reputation, why would you come here?”

He shrugs limply, and for a second you both just listen to the pounding and clattering on the other side of the door. You wonder if your friends can hear it from outside. You wonder if you’re going to die tonight. “It was a bet.” He says weakly.

Like you.

Just a stupid bet.

“Who are they?” You ask, gesturing to the door. You can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The others.” Felix says softly. “All the others who have died because of this house. Why us?” He weeps. “Why did we have to die?”

“It’s just a house,” You whisper back, flinching at a particularly loud bang behind the door. “Nobody’s been killed by ghosts.”

His head tilts. “That’s not true. You know this house.”

You do know this house. It was your mother’s, a long, long time ago. So long ago that you don’t actually remember living in it.

“You know there’s been a death here.”

Your eyes narrow with confusion. “My mom wasn’t killed by ghosts.” You scan the walls again. “She had a heart attack.”

Felix rolls his eyes at you, the first hint of attitude that you’ve seen from him so far. “You’ll be the second. Like mother like daughter.” His hands hang limply at his sides. “As soon as they break through that door it’s over.”

You glance back towards the hallway, now hearing dozens of hands pounding at the wood, desperate to splinter the frame to get to you. “All the others who have died because of this house.” You repeat.

“All of them,” He says. “From the very beginning. Trapped here.”

“So they’re going to kill me.”

Felix smiles a little and it’s not totally happy, not totally sad. “Like mother like daughter.”

You face him fully. “So why block me in here? Why keep me from them?” He’s got you cornered in a small bedroom, out of reach of the malevolent spirits who want revenge for their own deaths, and he’s not trying to kill you. He died because of this house too, but he’s standing perfectly still.

“I wanted to ask.” He says. “I just wanted to know.” His dark eyes flood with tears all over again. “Why me?”

You don’t have an answer. Were you propagating the rumors of the house being haunted? Were you just following in your mother’s footsteps? Was there anything more to it than the itch to express yourself in a way that only you understand?

Sighing deeply, you find yourself shaking your head. “I don’t know, Felix. All I know is that you never should have come here.”

He grimaces, tears spilling over. “It was just a bet. Just a stupid bet.”

That’s what you thought too.

“I know,” You say. “Most of them were stupid bets.”

“Why would you do this?” He cries. “What did we ever do to you? What did they ever do to her? We didn’t deserve to die.”

All you can do is shrug. “It’s like you said. Like mother like daughter.” You couldn’t go into the psychology of it, the genetics versus environment of criminal deviance, the reasons for an irrational display of hubris—you have no answers for that. You don’t have any more answers for why than you have for how your victims—yours and your mother’s—had become trapped into the ancient house forever.

“We didn’t deserve to die.”

You know.

“Why would you come here? Why would you come back to this house? Just to taunt us?”

You smile. “I didn’t believe in you. To me—it’s just a house.” It’s the house where your mother got caught in the 90s for killing dozens of people. It’s the house that was in the background of her photo in the newspaper that labeled her as a psychotic serial killer. It’s the house that the social workers collected you from before they changed your name and wiped your legal connection to your criminal mother.

It’s the house where your mother’s body was found just days after the whistleblower leaked the photos of her trophies, where medical examiners decided she had succumbed to a heart attack.

It’s just a house.

The door creaks and groans, a long crack splitting down the middle as the victims of your wretchedly externalized rage make progress in their efforts to get to you—to get revenge.

“Well,” Felix wipes his eyes and steps toward the door, and you can see how heartbroken he is. But not for you. For you, he is a young man betrayed. A human being betrayed by the wickedness of your unmitigated cruelty. “Now it is your prison.”

And then he opens the door.

This one sucks I'm sorry. Thanks for reading!

PART 2

tag list : @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme @thecutiepieme @lemonn015 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @dreamingartist13

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 19

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth @0chemicalwaste0 @silvercobra @thesunschild777 @atlanticowe @whore-of-many-hot-men @whiteladyofithilien @vintagelizziesblog @synx-h

The corridors up on this level were so much brighter, almost as if the sun itself was shining in through a window somewhere above your head, but you could not see any way out no matter how far or fast you walked. No matter which direction you went in. There was not a window in sight so where was all this light coming from?

The corridor stretched ahead, winding with the shape of the fortress, multiple closed doors lining the hall. You hadn't been sure if you should waste time looking in the rooms but maybe there would be something useful in one of them.

A weapon or a window, a way out, something.

None had had any windows so far, which struck you as very odd, especially with how bright it seemed. You didn't need to squint through the dark at all like you had in the rest of the building. There was one final door right at the end of the hallway, though a feeling of anxiety grew in the pit of your stomach as you stood before it.

Something was wrong... wasn't it? It was so wrong.

Don't go in, some part of your mind tried to tell you, but it was overshadowed by the desire to find an escape. If you didn't look you could miss your only way out.

Ignoring your inner voice and pushing the door, you stepped inside, closing it behind you in case she had already started following - you didn't want to make it too obvious where exactly you were.

Windows!

You walked further into what turned out to be a very pretty room. Vines stretched across the walls and the ceiling. A large bed sat in the centre, pushed up against the wall by a huge window. Someone's bedroom. The Enchantress's? You didn't know, nor did you care. There were no bars on the window, either, and you couldn't quite believe your luck!

Rushing towards them, you had to sort of push some of the vines out of your way, moving your hands to the window, immediately trying to pull or push it open.

The damn thing wouldn't budge but you would not be deterred. It had to open! It was... quite high up but you would rather jump to your death, quite frankly, than be caught by the Enchantress again. Than be put into some eternal slumber.

Tugging with all your might at the bottom, you thought you felt something budge but it could easily have been your imagination with how desperate you were. Or your poor nails about to give way.

After a moment, you took a short pause to look out of the window, down at the land beyond. A horse was coming up the hill and, as you peered closer, you could see the long white hair of its rider.

Thranduil.

Thranduil had ridden his poor horse into the ground but to the beast's credit it did not falter, carrying him through the trees towards the old fortress at Amon Lanc.

Once, this had been the capital of the Woodland Realm. Before his father was forced to abandon these lands and flee further north, which was close to happening again of course. He himself was now planning to move his people across the river, further away from the growing darkness.

Though, right now this was the furthest thing from his mind.

The fortress was tall. Dark. And he knew Luithien was in there... but did she have you with her? Did you know what was happening? The danger you were in? How, if you were here, had she managed to get you away from his halls in the first place?

He eased his horse off to the side, wanting to make a plan and stay relatively hidden from the enemies within as he did so.

Soon enough he noticed the window and then, peering down trying to get his attention as discreetly as possible, you!

Thranduil's heart lifted a little and he brightened, urging his horse further on. "Lothíriel!" He called softly, and the sight of your smile made him feel light even from all the way down here. Brought up a flurry of memories - a baby in a cradle, dancing in the clearing. I am meant to love you.

"Stay there!" He called again, a little louder this time. "I will come to you!"

Thranduil!

He was here! He had found you! He was going to save you!

Not bothering to think about the how right now, you relaxed just a little and turned from the window as Thranduil disappeared from view, heading towards what you assumed was the entrance to the fortress. He'd get past the Enchantress, wouldn't he? He was strong, surely much stronger than you... he'd get in here, find you, and everything would be just fine.

The seconds felt like hours even as you stood there, your back to the window now, peering around this room. Something still felt a little off. There was something... what was it?

It was a feeling that overtook you, similar to the feeling that you'd felt back in Thranduil's palace... when you'd been drawn to that door, the one that had inexplicably led you to the clearing where the Enchantress had been waiting for you.

Some magic, right? It could not be a portal. It had been tampered with. But how?

And what was it... here? What was the feeling? That distant... sound? Some sort of humming?

Turning with a frown, you walked across the room, feeling almost pulled in the direction of another door in the corner. In the back of your mind, you were telling yourself to stop, telling yourself not to listen, to stay away... but it was as if it was destiny... as if you could not change course no matter what.

A tug at the handle revealed a grand staircase. Finally, one leading down instead of up... a great light shone up the stairs from below and, without much thought at all, you started to descend, following the light, following the feeling, that pull...

The door closed behind you with a click.

Thranduil had not gotten as far as he'd hoped before the Enchantress swept into his presence, one of her signature cocky smirks in place as she paced the marble floor in front of him.

"Well, well, well." She trilled. "What do we have here?"

Thranduil narrowed his gaze, eyeing her as his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword.

She continued, undeterred by the violence in his gaze. "Here I laid a trap for a princess and I catch a king! Two royals for the price of one." Luithien's eyes seemed to flash as she came to a stop in front of the Elvenking, lifting her chin, her mouth twisting in a slight sneer. "Your mother would be so proud."

She was baiting him.

Thranduil would not rise to it.

"Let her go, Luithien." He said, his voice firm, unwavering. "It is over, it is done. Just release her."

The Enchantress's smirk seemed only to widen as she regarded the Elvenking. "Oh, but Thranduil. Do you not feel it?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed to slits.

"It is too late." She continued, her gaze flickering across his face, trying to ignore the fury she felt at the memories his presence brought up every single time. She ought to kill him too, perhaps, for the fun of it.

"Your precious princess had already entered the dungeon..."

[ziminy]

Beast and the beauty

There was a bounty on your head, and Toji was there to claim it. However, he didn't expect the beast to be you. Now he got other plans on what he's going to do with you.

Tags: smut, ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, beast!reader, hunter!Toji, enemies to lovers, threatening, lots of lies, Toji is messing with the reader, manipulation, fingering, orgasm denial, crying, slightly chocking, humping, making out in the hallway, doing it in the library, public s(e)x, creampie, the reader haves boobs, oral (both m and f receiving),

Author's note: i wrote this with a hand in my pants (jk)

Pt2 Masterlist kinktobermasterlist

It was a cold night when he found himself in the middle of the woods. He been out haunting the whole day, but he won't give up just yet, the prize was too good to give up on it.

A ferocious beast is hiding somewhere in the forest, in a place that it was impossibly hard to find it. But the zeros on his paycheck won't make him turn around any time soon.

With a gun in his back pocket, some knifes and whatever weapons he might carry, he was determined to get this job done and live lavishly for a while. He's thinking about the most expensives hotels and the most renowned restaurants. Maybe even go on vacation, maybe.

He had nothing planned, he's just thinking of spending money as fast as possible.

All he could think about was the papers. So, he better find the beast's hideout soon.

And he did found it, a big abandoned castle. A place fit for a freak, he thought.

This place looked creepy, the vibes were off and if he wasn't so determined to get the money he would have passed the opportunity to someone else. He'll make this quick so he could go the fuck home.

He opened the front door, careful of his surroundings. With small steps, he got inside, looking left and right and being on high alert. His fateful gun in his right hand, finger on the trigger and waiting for something to appear.

The corridor he was on was full of candles, soft light illuminating the room. It was clear he wasn't alone, and the fact that he saw something moving with the corner of his eye confirmed his suspicions.

The shadow seemed to move quickly. It looked like it would get away if he doesn't do something quickly. So, he moved his body after it, for a moment getting too carried away and stepping on something that makes a loud sound.

"Is someone there?" a feminine voice could be heard from where he saw the shadow. Loud steps coming towards him, all in a hurry.

He won't be deceived. He won't let a sweet voice make him hesitate when all he was craving for was money.

He stood there in place, gun pointed towards the source of the sounds that is getting closer. He was ready to shoot, not a second waisted.

However.

He was taken by surprise when a creature smaller than him popped out the corner. Big round eyes, full lips and a perfect posture. White delicate clothes that didn't matched this scary castle in any way.

Who looked more surprised in that moment? Him or you?

"Oh!" you exclaimed, still not believing he was real.

"Are you alright?" you must be one of the beast's captures. He can't come with a better explanation.

"Are you alright?" you said, scanning him up and down. The gun he had in front of you a few seconds ago was now next to his body, still in his hand. "Come in, you must be tired." you said all exited to have your first guest in years.

"Miss, I'm here to save you." be didn't believe his own words.

"From what?" you said all confused.

"From the beast." you blinked a few times at his words. You sighed, somehow looking more relaxed now.

"Come in, I'll explain everything. But first, are you hungry?" some time later, he woke up in a big dining room, the table being longer and wider than his whole house combined.

Everything was moving on its own, the furniture, the silverware, the plates with food on them.

"You said you were looking for a beast, right?" you asked after some time, not wanting to disturb the meal.

"Do you know where is it." everyone froze. The furniture that was talking a few moments ago now dead silent. Everybody stopped breathing, too afraid to do a single wrong move.

"What do you plan to do with it?" your sweet voice now cold while asking questions.

"What I was hired to do." he too can match your attitude. Hide that creature as much as you want, he'll find it eventually.

"I can throw you in the prison at any time I want. No one will find your body here." your words didn't match your image. That white night dress made you look too innocent, and your eyes made you look inoffensive if he didn't look good enough at you.

"Is that a threat?" he asked, somehow excited to drag his gun out and put a bullet right into your head.

His smile disgusted you. Annoyed, you got up from the table, making every single of your servant look at you.

"Master, please." a clock said, but you didn't looked twice back.

"Show this gentleman his way out tomorrow." you said before closing the door after you.

"I'm sorry about this, our master haves a bit of a temper." the clock apologized.

He saw worse than this.

"Let me show you our humble abode." a candle said.

He will get those money no matter who appears before him.

It was so easy to fool these idiots. He walked behind them and slipped the moment he got the chance. Now wandering somewhere far away from where he was taken to.

This part of the castle looked worse than outside. Walls having big cracks in them, paintings thrown apart, and this bad feeling that is following him ever since he got into that hallway. He must be close to the beast, he knows it, he can feel it.

Nothing looked too out of the ordinary, however, at the end of the hallway there was a big door, claws mark on it, and it gave this off feeling more than any other rooms in that hallway.

He got closer to it, slowly open it, and stepping inside.

The state of the room was questionable. It looked like a fight happened in there, and it ended with somebody getting killed.

"I told you, I want to be left alone." he could recognize that voice. It came from the bed, from under the covers.

He got closer, his gun out his pocket and pressed against your head when he got mext to your bed.

You got your head out of the blanket, looking up at him who looked all relaxed, like this was a normal activity for him.

"What do you want." you looked tired. Was he the reason? But what a honor.

"I'm here because of a bounty. I'm not leaving empty handed." so he wasn't as idiotic as he looked like. "I wander how a bullet will look in that pretty head of yours. Try to move and we'll find out." that's why you didn't like people. Every single person that came to visit the castle had some kind of unsolved issues that couldn't be fixed by you.

"So. What do you want me to do?" you looked bored. His games didn't amused you at all.

"Just answer a simple question. Are you the beast or nah?" perhaps he was dumb indeed.

"Why are you asking when you know the answer?" a big grin on his face as you confirmed your identity. His gun pressed against your forehead even harder, his face getting closer to yours as he lowers his upper body to take a closer look at you. "Just do it already, everybody will be free if I'm not here." your cooperation didn't made him feel guilty at all.

"Goodnight, sweet thing." you closed your eyes, expecting to not feel a thing besides the after life. But instead, his gun got further away from you, and back into his pocket.

You opened your eyes, looking surprised at his actions. "Why didn't you do it?" were you disappointed? Oh, well. What can he do about that?

"What if you haunt me in my dreams?" he walked to the door. "Don't get too comfortable, I'll come back here tomorrow." he said and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you all alone in there.

You should kick him out, but at the same time you're afraid he might kill one of your servants. He can do whatever he wants with you, but you draw a line when it comes to your animated companions who were cursed because of you.

God, take all your suffering and give it to that trespasser.

That night, you fell asleep with your heart in your throat. Stressed and full of anxiety. You would wake up at the smallest sound or if you felt anything moving.

It wasn't enough that he was the one making your dreams become nightmares, but he even had the audacity to show his face when you went to eat the next day. All a smile and acting like he didn't terrorized you ever since he stepped a foot into your home.

"When are you leaving?" you asked when he kept looking a bit too insistently at the knife he had in his hand. Could he eat like a normal person? Why did he had to act up even now?

"B- but master!" you couldn't give a fuck about that damn curse anymore. Better die alone than a freak like him interfere with your life.

"You want me gone already?" he asked in a teased tone.

"Yes. Very much so." you said with full confidence, but you wished you could take your words back when he took his gun out and placed it on the table like it was normal.

"Here." he threw the gun at you, making you catch it in your hands. "Shoot me and you won't have to deal with me anymore." the terrified look on your face couldn't be more funnier.

You got up, your chair moving backwards as you throw the gun on the table, rushing out of the room.

"Master!" some furniture ran after you while calling your name.

"Our master is really trying her best." if that's what you call best then he doesn't know what to say. You need to do better.

"One of us haves to go if she wants to live a peaceful life." he said, looking over at the stuff on the table, wandering what he can use to stab you with.

"Don't say that. I bet my master took you in consideration when you arrived here." the candle said without thinking, making Toji to raise an eyebrow.

"Take me in consideration? For what?" did you wanted to eat him? Oho, but he won't give up without a good fight.

"To break the curse-" the candle finally realized what he was saying and rushed out the room.

Break the curse? So there's more that he doesn't know about. Well, won't it be fun to break a few of your fingers and make you spill everything out?

He waited until the nightfall and sneaked back into your room. You looked so peacefully asleep. Won't it be sad to wake you up?

He sat at the edge of the bed, a hand placed on the bed to hold himself up, as he looked down at your sleeping face.

How did you got cursed? And how did you become a beast? If this was your beast form, then how did you looked like a human? Was this a form you took to deceive people?

"Mm." you wanted to turn around in bed, but then you felt something. Now you were fully awake.

"Morning, sleepyhead." your heart skipped a few beats when you saw him. His low voice ringing right into your ears as he smiled.

You drag your blanket over your head, trying your best to ignore him. This was all a bad dream. It had to be.

"Don't ignore me." he dragged the blanket off your face, being welcomed with your mad face.

"Honestly, can you leave me alone." you looked at the way his hand went to his pocket and you instantly opened your mouth. "I- I apologize. I'm still half asleep and I didn't realized what I'm saying." did he really came here to play his dirty tricks on you? "With what can I help you."

"A little birdy told me about your curse." that was all? You could only sigh.

"It's nothing, really. Some old lady turned out to be a witch and cursed me. She transformed me into a beast and my servants into talking furniture." it wasn't a secret anyway. He didn't had to act so shady.

"And how do you break the curse?" you looked away, avoiding his gaze and his questions. "Or do you want to make you talk?" he was impossible.

You got up from the bed. "Follow me." you said and walked to another room. An empty space with nothing but a big window and a small table in the middle of it.

"What's that?" he said when he noticed what was on the table.

"The curse will end when the last petal of this rose will fall." you said and got closer to the table.

"I heard something different." his skepticism didn't affect you in any way.

"There is a way to break the curse. But I prefer to look for the end of it."

"What's the difference?" they're both bad ends for you.

"In one I'm suffering alone for eternity and in the other I suffer with someone next to me."

"Elaborate." you tried to explain in the best way you can, for this dumb ass to understand.

"When the last petal falls all my servants will become lifeless, and I'll be all alone to suffer until I die." and you wanted to go this route? Aren't you quite a masochist?

"And how do you break the curse?"

"Learn how to love somebody. And that somebody haves to love me too." you prefer to be all alone, people disgust you.

"What will happen if you break the curse?" isn't he asking too many questions?

"My servants will become human again, the castle will probably come to its original form and I'll be more miserable than I'm now."

"Aren't you a selfish one? You're putting all your sick fantasies above the people next to you?" he laughed.

"Whatever. You can leave whenever you want. I'm not holding you back." he's the one to decide that.

"What if I help you?" he got closer to you, trapping you in between the table and his big body. "What if I break this curse?" his face got closer to yours. "What are you going to give me, hm? I want a reward." you looked like you were dead inside, not a single emotion written on your face as all the life in your eyes left. "I want to see you more miserable, hit rock bottom. I want to see you at your worst." his eyes were scanning everything on your face, if your eyes betrays you and give you away, if you will get flustered. He wants to notice that right away. He wants to see you crumble under him and give up.

"I think you're tired." you really don't want to satisfy him. "You know your way back." you're so cold, kicking him out without even saying good night.

But he doesn't give up. Because the next morning he followed you everywhere, every single step you took he was right behind you.

"Why do you keep following me? Don't you have better stuff to do?" you asked him, annoyed.

"Hm? Not really. I came here for the head of the beast but now I have nothing to take back with me." all the servants around you look terrified at those words. He really had the audacity and he made sure to make it everyone's problem.

"Then do it. Right here, right now. What's stopping you?" you said, raising your head so your neck could be exposed to him. "Do it." your eyes never show fear and it made him so excited to play with you, tease you and go as further as he could just to see how you'll react.

"M- master!" the clock said, not believe what he just heard.

"But he could-" the candle stopped speaking, not wanting to spill something he's not supposed to.

"I could help you break the curse, can't I?" he said full of himself. "Come on, let me help." you turned around and started sprinting put of there.

Crazy fucker. Can you believe you welcomed him in without thinking twice.

You stopped to catch your breath a few hallways away, but you regret doing that when you felt someone behind you. "Stop running, I'm getting tired." you're not even going to question how he got there that fast. He looked like he didn't even break a sweat.

"Listen." you said out of breath. "I don't want to be helped. I'm alright with the punishment I got." he shook his head in disappointment at yout words. "I did something bad, and now I'm getting what I deserve. I don't see the problem with accepting my fate." he got closer to you, trapping you once again. Your back against the wall as he stand in front of you, a hand on the wall and lowering his face dangerously close to you.

"You said you need to love somebody to break the curse, no?" yeah, and? You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he was trying to say besides volunteering himself as tribute.

"And I said that I don't want to." you quickly replied back. Not wanting to hear any of his bullshit anymore.

"Do you need to love somebody emotionally or physically?" how are you supposed to know that? His question didn't made any sense.

"I don't know." you were thinking of the meaning of love now. "Emotionally, I think?"

"So you're not sure." you wanted to poke his eyes out. That grin on his face drove you insane every time you saw it. "I can show you how I love. No feelings involved." you shook your head.

"My servants will finally be free once the curse ends. They won't have to serve someone like me and I can be alone for the rest of my life." you already made your mind, what makes him think you'll change it.

"But does your servants think the same?" you didn't thought of that. "Wouldn't they want to be human again? To experience the life they once had?" you hate to admit it but he was right in a way or another. You didn't thought of the people next to you because it would hurt even more acknowledging that you did that to them.

"Then.." you bite your lip, not wanting to admit defeat, but you had no better idea. "What will you do?" you were thinking of holding hands or maybe a few hugs here and there. But instead, you were taken by surprise when his lips touched yours.

He was amused at your expression. It was like you didn't even see this coming.

"You suck at this." he said after he got away from you, for a moment. His lips were back on yours, now biting your lower lip to have access to more of you. His tongue in your mouth, trying to find yours, fighting it when they made contact.

His hands wrapped around you, a hand of his going to the back of your head and pushing you closer to him. Now you were really trapped in his arms.

You slowly tapped his chest, trying to get away when you were running out of oxygen in your lungs.

He let you breathe for just a moment before he kissed you again, this time more hungrily.

Your expressions were so cute, it was like nothing he saw from you before. You looked flustered, brows slightly arched and eyes closed. You didn't dared to move or say a thing. It was so funny.

But after a while, he let you go, leaving you feel dizzy and confused on what just happened.

"Did-" you said catching your breath. "Did you break the curse?" he doesn't know what to say, you look exactly the same to him.

"I don't think this will be enough to break the curse." he replied. You knew that much, but you hope that it would do something. "There are a lot more things that we can try. It's not over yet, don't worry." that's what you were afraid of. His words doesn't reassure you at all.

The problem might be the lack on physical touch. A few kisses won't be enough. They aren't enough for him, since he craves for way more than that. He doesn't care about your curse, all he cares about is you. Your body if he's being more honest.

He would have never thought that you'd be stupid enough to really believe him. Listening to his untrustworthy requests and acting just the way he liked.

Like now, for example. He managed to catch you in the library. The moment you saw him you ran behind some bookshelves, hiding from him. He couldn't help but laugh. You always manage to wake something inside him every single time he sees you.

"What are we hiding from?" he whispered in your ear when he sneaked behind you, making you jump and look at him terrified.

"I-" you bite your tongue trying to come with an excuse. "I was looking for a book." you're in a library after all, so it would make sense.

"You're sure? Because it doesn't look that way to me." his grin pissed you off so bad.

"I was looking for something to step on because the book I'm looking for is on a high shelf." that was the best excuse you could come up with.

He looked up at whatever books were next to his head. "This one?" he pointed to the first book he saw.

"A little more up to the left." you had no idea what you were even saying.

"This one?"

"A little more up."

"This one?"

"The one right next to it." you had no idea what that book was even about.

"Hmm." he looked at the book's title. "You're sure it wasn't the other one?"

"I'm pretty sure it's that one."

"Alright then." he handed you the book and you dropped it right on the floor after reading the title.

101 ways to make love to your partner.

"It was the other one." your heart was beating so fast that it might as well jump out your chest.

"Here." this book was even worse.

How to set up the mood.

Just kill me already, you yelled in your mind.

"It's the wrong bookshelf!" you were about to turn around and run from there but he grabbed your arm and dragged you to him.

"I'm sure it is." his expression showed absolutely no mercy, he was laughing at you.

"I don't even know why we have these books here anyway." it was all a misunderstanding. He had to understand this, but he looked like he was intentionally taking it the wrong way.

"Let's read those books together." he said with a smile on his face.

You don't even know how it happened, but you woke up sitting on the floor in between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you had one of those cursed books in your hands.

"Stop turning the page so fast. Are you even reading?" his chin was resting on your head, reading from the open book.

You weren't even paying attention to the words on the paper. All you could think of is how to run faster from there.

"Turn to the next page." he ordered and you did as he said.

A big drawing of two people in a very promiscuous position appeared when you turned the page. You dropped that book from your hands, too stunned to speak or process what's going on.

"Ahaha." his colorful laugh was like an echo, coming back to life in your head again and again even after his lips were shut. "Is that too much for you?" you didn't wanted to respond to his question.

"I'm leaving!" you really wanted to run from there, but his hands were wrapped around you the next moment you said that.

"How are you gonna learn something if you're not studying." he whispered in your ear. "Open that book again, I'll teach you how it's actually done." he was so annoying, but you did as he said. You opened that book again and looked for the page you were at last time. "They're wrong about this." he pointed at a sentence. "How old is this book?" if the slightly yellow pages weren't showing that it was old, he could have pointed some very incorrect words that gave it away.

"From what I know, they been collecting books since the first generation that lived in this castle." no wander this book was so dry.

"Open your legs." his hands started to travel around your body, one went under your chest while the other traveled to the waist band of your pants.

Confused, you raised your head to look at him. "For what?"

"Do as I say." his voice was so cold, it was nothing like a few moments ago when he was laughing.

You lower your gaze to his hand and the way he was getting under your pants. You finally understood what he was going to do and you couldn't help but shift in his lap. He slapped your clothed pussy slightly and then dragged his hand out. "Rise your hips." he commanded. "Relax, I'm only showing you the basics." you gulped and raised your hips, the next thing you know your pants are down your thighs, along with your panties. His hand traveled to his mouth, taking some spit in it and then going back to your pussy.

His fingers parted your folds apart, smearing his spit on your clit before he started to slowly move two of his fingers on it, doing small circles.

You sighed softly, your back slightly arching at the feeling.

Your eyes were closed, a hand wrapped around his arm and your head against his shoulder. If he's going to do something, you might as well enjoy it.

"Look how wet you are, and I didn't even do shit." he chuckled against your ear. His fingers doing long strokes between your folds, going down to your hot entrance. It was like it was calling his name, a sweet voice calling for him over and over again, longing for more of his touch.

A hand went under your shirt grabbing one of your boobs and started to play with it just the way he wanted. Intentionally moving his fingers against your hard nipple to see you squirm. A small moan leaving your mouth, making him to get his face closer to yours.

"Keep it quiet." one of your hands went to your mouth, now being to self conscious because of him.

He placed a kiss on your hair before his eyes traveled back to your pussy. One of his fingers got inside your warm core, moving it in and out slowly. Something dark in his eyes as he looked at the way you were sucking him in.

He bite his lip, trying to hold back whatever praise he was about to accidentally spill, or the sinful moan that was at the back of his throat. Your pussy looked so good, it was making him salivate.

Was this an effect of your curse? Was this a thing you did to mess with people's minds? Well, guess what, he won't give up just yet.

Now, another finger being added inside your delicious pussy, curling them up while his palm was against your clit, making you gasp and throw your head back.

He was going to kiss you, he was about to smash his lips against yours and leave you out of breath. He wanted his lips all over your body. He might as well devour you. But he didn't do anything out of spite. If you're going to run from him then he might as well punish you for your bad behavior.

"Come on, cover your mouth better. What if somebody hears you." he said when he noticed the little hiccups that leaves your mouth. He knows the wet sounds produced by his hand against your pussy are louder than you, but he couldn't help but tease you. You always took him so seriously. Look at the way you try to keep quiet. Eyes shut and a hand placed over your mouth like your life depended on it. "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me." he said, making you open your eyes slightly and look at him with big doe eyes.

He wanted to eat you up, pussy and all. Everything that was yours, he wants it.

You looked right into his eyes so lovingly, he couldn't help but gulp.

Fuck it, what does he haves to lose. He haves no dignity anyway.

So, he moved your hand away and pressed his mouth against yours, eating your lips the way he wished to eat your pussy.

His hand movement was so mean, calloused fingers moving in and out so fast, going deeper and deeper, curling them and rubbing his palm against your clit. His other hand back in your shirt and playing with your breasts.

One of your hands went to his arm, slapping it slightly to catch his attention, but that only made his hand move harder inside you. Curling his fingers again and again to see you break.

Tears seemed to form and ready to fall down your cheeks, but that only made him laugh. You're so easy to please, it was pathetic.

He let you do your thing, crying only made him want to push you over your limits.

He got his hand out your shirt, placing it under your jaw, keeping your chin up for a moment before his fingers were wrapped around your neck, chocking it slightly.

You were so close, he could feel your walls tightening, and your expression didn't helped with the fact that he wanted to shove his dick down your throat.

He wasn't feeling like letting you cum today. Especially not after playing with his feelings like that.

He got his fingers out your sweet pussy, letting you come back to your senses. But he never stopped kissing you, his lips never leaving yours, making a mess out of yourself, still so wet for him.

"See, it's nothing like in that dumb book." he said after he let you go, even if he didn't want to. You turned around, looking at him with big eyes, expecting him to show you more. "Don't look at me like that." he laughed. "I'm just showing you what you need to know." you bite your lip, your eyes traveling to his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as you keep thinking of his magical fingers and the wanders they're doing.

"I want more." he was taken aback by your words. You got closer to him, sitting on your knees as you tried to sit in his lap.

"Maybe another time." you couldn't understand him. Usually he wouldn't leave you alone and now he was trying to get away.

"Touch me, please." he tried to not look surprised, but man, his cock was jumping in his pants to get free and give you what you wanted.

"Aren't you a needy one?" his mocking usual self came back in an instant. His hands traveled to your hips, dragging you closer to him. "Let's take those pants off and then we're talking." he helped you take off your pants, now dragging you on his lap, your pussy right against his cock that was still in his pants. You looked down, your hands went to undo his belt, but he stopped you, placing your hands on his shoulders. "I love your enthusiasm, but not now." his hands traveled to your ass, grabbing it, dragging it forward for a moment to give you some friction.

Your mouth was slightly open as you sighed. This was feeling too good, why was he trying to stop you from feeling like this.

His hands remain on your ass, rocking you back and forth to give both of you some kind of relief. His head went back, resting it against the wall as he kept moving you.

"If you want it you gotta do it yourself." he doesn't have to say it twice. With a hand on his shoulder and one on his thigh, you started to move your hips on your own, grinding a little harder whenever you could feel his cock throbbing.

You keep moving, and moving , and man, did it felt good. It was a different type of feeling than before. It was better. But you wished you could feel more, to feel stuffed just the way it was when his fingers were inside you.

You bite your lip and looked at him. He had his eyes closed, and mouth slightly open, his back resting against the wall. He looked like he was enjoying this in his own way. "I want to feel more of you." your words made him open his eyes. "I want to feel you inside me." his dick was wide awake, it was so hard that it was going to jump out his pants.

He laughed. He liked your energy, your words were so tempting, however. "For now this is more than enough for you." if he was going to fuck you, at least let him do it properly the first time.

He wasn't usually a gentleman, the fact that he got himself in this situation prove his point. But it was something about you that made him want to tease you. Make you longer for him, crave for his body. He wanted to see you beg him.

You're already doing it, so eagerly to get a taste of his cock, but he didn't wanted to do it just yet.

"Keep moving your hips and I'll think about it." lies, he won't get his cock inside you any time soon. But you looked so excited to grind on him, doing your best to move your hips, your juices all over his pants.

Fuck, you were doing so good. Continue just like that and he might cum a lot sooner than he wants to.

His hands went back on your thighs, then up your body, traveling under your shirt and then back down to your hips, gripping then tightly and helping you move better on him.

"Fuck.." you said out of breath, your eyes closing for a moment.

You didn't want to admit it, but you wanted to kiss him so bad in that moment. You wanted to trail your hands all over him. To feel his skin against yours, the warmth of his body.

You could feel that thing deep inside you stomach again, it was forming, and forming. It was so close, you couldn't help but feel desperate for that release. You couldn't tell him, he'll stop the moment he knew what you were going through.

But he already noticed. Your expression, the way your trembling, how your hips moved in a broken motion, not sure what you wanted to do yourself.

He was also close, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't.

But all he did was to grab your hips and raise them off him, moving you in front of him before he got up, not even looking at you before he left you all alone in that library.

He did it again, can you believe him.

He'd rather overestimulate both of you, leaving you hanging than give you what you want.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

What an asshole. What even is his problem. Now you're not in the mood anymore.

You got yourself dressed and stormed out that library and straight to your room, not getting out of it for the rest of the day.

You didn't expect to see him again any time soon. And you didn't saw or heard him for the rest of the day. You even managed to go to sleep in peace.

It was around midnight when he got in your room.

You can't say that he woke you up when you weren't sleeping to begin with. The scenes from today replaying in your head as you cursed yourself for wanting someone like him.

"You're awake?" he said when he saw you turning around to face him, eyea wide open.

"What do you want." he got closer to your bed, sitting at the edge of it and looking at you.

"You live all alone in this part of the castle, don't you?" you nodded. He already knew that, so why was he even asking. "It's also the middle of the night." it was. "No one will disturb your beauty sleep." obviously.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Off with your clothes." he never fails to surprise you in the worst ways possible.

"I want to sleep." you wanted him far away from here.

"I can give your pussy the attention it needs and deserves." he said, dragging the blanket off you. "I'll give you all of me. For tonight at least." seriously, what do you even see in him.

You still ended up naked, sitting on your back at the edge of the bed as he slipped his cock inside your mouth, moving it back and forth.

You couldn't say a thing, your voice being muffled by his hard dick, moving deeper and deeper, trying to see where was your limit point.

"Do good and I'll give you a reward." he looked down at the way your breasts were moving when he moved. His eyes traveling down your body, to your pussy and the way your thighs were pressed together. You were needy, weren't you? You had to milk him dry before he gave you what you deserved. "Is my cock too big for you? Too bad you'll have to learn how to live with it." he was enjoying this.

He was going to lose his mind, the way your mouth was so wet and warm. He wanted to fuck your throat so bad, but this was for another time. He doubt you can take it.

He groan, his head falling backwards as he kept his movement at a steady pace. You'll be able to take more in the future if he trains you right.

With a few more thrusts he got his cock out your mouth, coming all over your chest and belly. You can't take his load yet. He can't push you over your limits yet when he doesn't know your limits to begin with.

"There are some tissue on that table." you said and point at a table somewhere on the other side of the room.

He handed them to you, helping you clean yourself before he pushed you in bed, jumping in between your legs and placing them on his shoulders. He waisted no time and started to eat you up. His tongue going all over the place, lick your clit, get inside your wet pussy, then lick your clit again. And when two of his fingers got inside of you it didn't helped at all. Sucking your clit while his fingers kept moving in and out of you, he never left you alone.

One of your hands went to his hair, griping it slightly and going with your nails through it, scratching it. That made his grip on you even tighter, it might even leave a bruise.

You could feel that feeling from today coming back again. And you're so afraid he'll leave you again. He didn't, this time at least. He kept his hands going, curling his fingers and never forgetting to give your clit the attention it needed. He kept going even after you creamed all over his fingers, cleaning your juices, but more seemed to come every time he got rid of them.

Out of nowhere, he flipped you around, ass in the air and all ready to take him.

A loud slap placed on your ass before you could feel the tip of his cock right at your entrance.

You saw him, you got to touch it and have his cock in your mouth. But you still couldn't help but feel scared.

No words of encouragement were said as he slowly got inside, stretching you out and making you tremble when you felt him touching some places that got you weak in the knees.

"Don't run now." he said, dragging your hips back to him. "I know you can take more." seriously, what did you even saw in him. He wasn't nice, he was mean, rude and pretty much a brute. But damn, his dick felt good.

He got out your wet pussy, just a little, getting back inside, touching that deep spot and make you almost lose balance and fall into the bed.

He kept moving his hips slowly building the pace, speeding up little by little, making you adjust to him before he shows you what he's actually capable of.

And when you seemed to get comfortable with him, that's when he started to move his hips faster, making the bed move at the same time with you. Another loud slap placed on your ass, moving his hips harder, hitting and touching most of the places that got you melting.

"Let me hear that voice. Tell me how much you like it." he said when he saw that you were covering your mouth with one hand, reminding him of today's events.

He grabbed the hand you were covering your mouth with and placed it on your back, holding it in place as he moved his pelvis harder into you.

Sounds of skin against skin, wet and hot coming from the two of you. Your soft sounds slowly escaping your mouth as he kept moving, not a single moment speared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." he said, his pace becoming quicker than before.

Your walls were so welcoming, hugging him so tightly. And when you got closer to your release, the way you were squeezing him got him desperate to release his load inside you.

He kept moving, your hands mobilized behind you. And fuck, he couldn't keep it like this for much longer, not when you kept sucking him inside.

With a few more thrusts, he came inside of you. Painting your walls white, still continuing moving to make sure nothing gets out.

After some time, he got out of you, his load slowly dripping down your thighs. "Have the curse broke yet?" you asked, curious if you managed to make a change.

"Not yet." he said, flipping you on your back. "Guess we have to try harder." he said, already getting positioned back between your legs, ready to stuff you with his cock until you get bored of this.

Author's note: this was supposed to be a much smaller fic. If it happened it happened 🤷🏻‍♀️

[t0by-is-l0st]

A WIP for my Beast of Obsession, Soul Pepper Cookie! You will see more ;) In the meantime, here is the BREIF and attempted story written down so far: Soul Pepper Cookie is the sixth beast and holds the soul jam of Obsession. Originally, he was the holder of Loyalty but fell shortly after years upon years of loneliness. His pre-corrupted self was keen on loyalty to his people. He was a "Divine being" in their eyes, and he worked to ensure that every cookie that lived in his garden was safe. His temple there had doors that remained open to all, and he hosted gatherings that celebrated the close bonds that they and others had created with one another. One day, a horrible sickness plagued his garden. Cookies crumbled from their dough literally cracking. The cause was unknown, but it was severely contagious. Soul Pepper Cookie did his absolute best to save as many cookies as he could but only came out with a small handful. He mourned their loss for what seemed like forever. Over time, they grew back into a loyal, divine figure once again. More cookies came to their garden, seeking companionship, in which Soul Pepper Cookie granted. All was well, until the sickness washed up again. More and more cookies were taken and left only three survivors this time. Having been through enough pain of losing the ones they loved, Soul Pepper Cookie approached his last three remaining friends, within the garden. He promised them eternal life, to abandon their life of sickness and crumbling demise. The three were taken aback at first but found that it could be the best solution that had. So, with all of Soul Pepper Cookie's power, he had turned his friends to stone. They were placed just outside of his temple, where they could enjoy the beauty of the garden while they were preserved forever. Soul Pepper grew darker and darker, the coming years. More cookies would arrive... He would become so attached, he'd turn them to stone in hopes to "save" them, before disaster took them from their clutches. He thought it was only for the best, but in time, he had truly lost himself. He had become acquainted to the loneliness he endured and strived to keep everyone safe for all the eternity he had. He had been reduced to Obsession, too focused on keeping everyone that entered into his life. He was afraid to lose them, and instead of raising care inside their heart, they had grown it into an obsession that could not be fixed. Throughout the years, their garden had died off, the closer you came to his temple. All stone and mirrors... the front of his garden was beautiful, flourishing with magnificent orange flowers. He was not locked away in the Silver Tree, for he had been away so long, his existence was questionable (this is a common theme). He was so hidden, not even the witches could find him (I guess?). His Ancient had visited over that course of time, which was an opportunity in Soul Pepper Cookie's eyes. He had lured Starborne Cookie inside, treated him like a loved guest, and locked him away in a small box, where he could mold that Ancient into whatever he wanted. (That's all I'll say for now, about him and the Ancient.) Soul Pepper Cookie erased his history from the world of Earthbread (I could expand, but I won't. That'd spoil it) and had done the same for his Ancient and his many assistants. The only life within the garden, besides the few flowers, were him, the Ancient, and the assistants he had gained. The way a cookie can find themselves coming inside the garden is if they are alone, lonely, and/or seeking a companion of some sort. This cannot be surface level want but has to run deep. These are desperate cookies. His assistants came to him, one by one, with different---yet similar---wants. All of which, Soul Pepper Cookie granted. Their lives are unrecognizable now, from who they were before, and Soul Pepper plans on keeping it that way.

[littlelambscandyland]

My Baby, All Mine

Yan!Cg!Dhawan!Master x Little!Fem!Reader

Summary- The Master never admitted he cared for you, never even treated you kindly. How could he be so stupid? He didn’t do any of it right and then you were gone, dead. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now… He has you back and this time he isn’t going to let his little girl suffer. So many years to make up for. Don’t worry your papa’s never going to let you be hurt ever again… Well, he would be able to if you weren’t suddenly so stubborn. (4,950 Words)

Notes- I'm so sorry to my non-binary and boy readers, I'm in my pink girly era apparently and can't seem to get out of writing female reader stuff. Also I'm sorry if you hate pink, as for mentioned, pink girly era. I still love you all, I promise! I'll venture out again one day soon, maybe, hopefully. Also I don't mean to show so much of a bias for Dhawan!Master but he's the easiest for me to write and he's so girl dad coded.

Warnings-Reader briefly dies, Unhealthy friendships, Past abuse(ish), The Master being unstable, The Master being a bit delusional, Temporary Amnesia, Telepathy, Slight Dissociation, Forced Age Regression, Forced Toddler Regression, Implied Onesies, Pacifiers, Implied Pull-ups (just being worn)

It was your body that really disturbed him. So many regenerations, so many years, and now you were just… Gone. Of course, at first he walked it off. He didn’t need you, he didn’t care that you were dead, but your cold eyes kept creeping into his thoughts. Your face covered in blood and completely empty. He’d pace the TARDIS just trying to get a single thought in that wasn’t your lifeless form. Then, like it was scripted he started to remember every little memory he’s ever had with you. All the good, the bad, and all the in-betweens. He kept hearing your voice, your laughter, your childlike praise. He remembered how you were always so amazed by things, by him. Hundreds of years had passed and you still looked at the universe with such wonder, at him with such wonder. He never deserved you… He abandoned you, he insulted you, berated you for things that weren’t your fault, he’d hurt you, and he’d do it over and over again without a single thought. You were so sweet, you were so loving, you never judged him, and despite his actions you never showed him anything other than that adorable smile. He couldn’t bear it.

Four months he’s gone without you, he can’t do it anymore. Everything is plagued by you. He can’t conquer a planet, he can’t read a damn book, he can’t eat or sleep, he can’t even torment the Doctor without thinking about you. His poor, clever, beautiful girl. He should’ve never held on so loosely. It’s alright now, he’s going to make it better. He’s going to fix this, even if he has to tear this entire universe apart to do it.

Honestly, you should be less surprised. It’s the Master, he’s a chaotic ball of hatred and knowledge. Emphasis on the chaotic part. He did weird things all the time, not that they weren’t always completely entertaining to watch. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s bouncing around the TARDIS while there’s the head of a monster hanging above the fireplace. You do wonder how he got such a large creature's head up there. He claims it’s there to remind him of something very important, and that he’ll take it down soon. Whatever he wants, you suppose.

You wish you didn’t have such a large gap in your memory… Four months isn’t that long with how long you’ve lived, but it feels like you’re missing something important. Not to mention, you just really want to see how the hell he was able to take that beast down. The Master said you hit your head far too hard on one of your adventures. He keeps telling you to be happy it was only four months and not your whole life that you forgot. He’s got a bit of a point, but you still want to know what happened in between the trip to that annoying orange planet and waking up in your bed yesterday.

The Master seems different than he was before. He’s always smiling around you now. The same manic unstable look in his eyes, but they held something so much deeper than you can pinpoint. The way he looks at things, at you, borders on the line of obsession. There is a voice whispering in the back of your head telling you that he is acting entirely out of character. A voice whispering that something is very wrong. Sometimes you think he’s staring at you in remorse, and other times you can’t tell if he’s elated or wants to tear you to shreds. He won’t let you call him Master anymore, so you call him sir now. You don’t think he’s any happier with that title, but he seems less stiff than the multiple times you’ve slipped up and called him Master. You think something might’ve happened between you both during those months you’ve forgotten, or maybe something happened to him…

It’s only been a day since you’ve woken up. Maybe you were just reading into things. Your head did still feel kind of fuzzy.

Even now you still feel like you're a bit unstable. You believe the Master when he says you hit your head because there is no other reason you can find for the extremely painful headache you’ve had since waking up. You’re dizzy, and tired, and you feel like you may be going insane with how nauseous you’ve been feeling. Watching the Master bouncing around the control panel flicking switches, typing coordinates, and pulling levers definitely doesn’t make you feel any better.

You suppose it’s a good thing he didn’t let you go on his most recent outing…

“Darling!” The Master calls out to you.

“Hm?!” You jolt from his loud voice and proximity.

There’s another thing to note. He calls you a bunch of pet names now.

“Where did you go in that little head of yours?” He asks, leading you to sit on the couch with him.

There’s another, he keeps calling you or random things a part of you little or tiny.

You’ve learned years ago lying to him only causes trouble, so you answer him truthfully. “I was wondering why you’re acting so weird… Or at least weirder than normal.”

The Master laughs, almost bitterly. “Of course you would notice.” He whispers while looking down and shaking his head. “You’ve always been too clever for your own good, of course you would notice my change in behavior.”

“Mast-” You cut yourself off when his head shoots up to glare at you. “Sir… Is, is everything okay? Did something happen? Did, uh, did I do something?”

Your anxiety was starting to bubble over now that he practically confessed to acting differently.Now that you knew it wasn’t all in your head, you begin to wonder what could’ve happened. You curse your brain for not letting you remember.

The Master sighs and lets out another one of his sad laughs. “You didn’t do anything wrong… You never do…” His eyes dart around for a second as he thinks. His eyes finally come back to your face. They have that intense obsessive look swimming in them again. “I have something to show you.”

Before you have a chance to question him, he’s jumping off the couch and bounding towards the halls with you being pulled along.

“Sir, please slow down… I don’t feel very well.” You plead, as your head starts pounding and your stomach churns.

He looks back at you before slowing his strides. In a matter of moments you went from being dragged to walking hand in hand next to him.You’re nervous for what he wanted to show you, knowing him it’ll probably be something horrific, but it was nice to walk hand in hand with him. You haven’t gotten a lot of physical contact since joining the Master all those years ago. Well, you had some but it was all violent.

The walk is silent. A bit tense, but along the way the Master regains his previous excitement. He’s got a slight bounce in his step like he did earlier. You can tell he’s trying increasingly hard not to start dragging you down the hall. It freaks you out a bit, you’ve never seen him so genuinely happy before. He’s had manic streaks of joy throughout his different faces, but it was all due to the instability in their head. This, this was so pure, or at least it seems so. You wish you understood what happens in his head.

When you finally come to a stop, the two of you stand in front of a door right next to the Master’s bedroom. You’ve never actually been inside his room, but you’ve dropped off plenty of things for him when he’s barricaded himself inside. The door you stand in front of is a very pastel pink and it has a pastel(ish) rainbow painted across it. There are colorful stars scattered over the wood. It’s rather cute in your opinion. Maybe a bit childish, but hey you’ve always had a more kidish style and personality. Who were you to judge?

You look over at the Master and almost jumpscared by the intensity of his stare. It was like he’s actively trying to look into your very soul. Was he trying to read your mind? More accurately, was he reading your mind?

His face went from his intense stare into a painfully wide grin. “Open the door.”

“Okay?” You draw the word out while taking hold of the golden handle.

You open the door a bit slower than you think he wanted, but you were nervous to see what was behind it. You have to walk inside a bit more to open it all the way. Once the door is open wide enough, you look around. Honestly, the room was adorable. It was also way bigger than the one you’re staying in. You’re not jealous. 

There’s a large bed… That has what looks like the bars of a hospital bed but taller; kind of like a crib but not quite. You aren’t all that sure why they had that, but whatever. The bedspread is baby pink and there are a multitude of stuffed animals organized delicately on top. The walls are almost identical to the door; a very light pastel pink with the same rainbow and colorful stars, but more stretched and fitted for the room.

There’s a false window showing off a garden that had flowers and birds. Right by the “window” sits a large very comfy looking arm chair. A 3-tier bookshelf sits under the window and holds so, so many thin books that you couldn’t read the titles of them from where you stood. There are some thicker ones, you think you noticed the Wizard of Oz on there. There’s a carpet sitting in front of the chair and bookshelf; it has little roads and buildings on it. It’d be perfect to play with cars on. 

There’s a dresser sitting in front of the bed. It’s long and has more white than the light colored wood that seems more like an accent color at this point. On top of the dresser sat a few knicknacks and toys. In the center there was a really big tv. You’re not jealous. There are two doors on both sides of the dresser. One door was slightly ajar and you think it might be a closet because you see what you think is a sequin dress. The other door is shut and you didn’t really understand the circles on it, but with the time you’ve spent with the Master you think it’s Gallifreyan.

There are several more items and pieces of furniture scattered around the bedroom. None as eye catching as what you’ve spent the last minute analyzing. The large chest is simple but nice. The long table-looking-bed that has lots of drawers and looks like it belongs in a nurses office or a hospital confuses you. The giant bean bag in the corner looks super squishy. The bedside table looks simple and has locks on the drawers. The taller bookshelf that is built into the wall has way too many things on it for you to note all of it this second.

You wonder what this room was for, and the panic rises in you again. Did the Master adopt a kid or something? Oh God, was he going to tell you that you have to leave now? Did he want you to help care for the kid? You aren’t responsible enough for that! Why is he showing you this?

“Do you like it?” His voice sounds excited and nervous; a rare combination for him.

You only just realize he’s standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders. He’s leaning forward a bit and his chin is almost resting on your shoulder; if it wasn’t for his hand it would be. You try to look him in the eyes but can’t, so you turn back to look at the room.

“Why… Um, why are you showing me this?” Your voice comes out quiet, frightful.

You can feel his frown. Not physically, but it’s like you can feel it in the air. You don’t understand what’s going on. What is going on right now?

“It’s for you.”

You blink. “But, what’s it for? I mean what, what’s it supposed to do? Or, um, mean?”

It was his turn to blink at you in confusion. “You really don’t know?”

“Master, I'm not a mind reader like you…” You giggle as your nerves grow.

You feel him stiffen almost completely. His hands grip your shoulders a little tighter, and he stands up straight behind you. You turn to look behind you at him. His eyes are boring into your soul again. A look full of anger and sadness. The look you’re used to seeing on his face.

“Mast-”

“Stop.” He cuts you off. His hands cup your face, effectively tilting your head a bit to meet his eyes. “I… I’ve broken you…”

You shake your head. “You haven’t broken me.” An anxious laugh leaves your mouth as you speak.

“But, I have, dear.” The Master tells you, a broken laugh of his own accompanying his words. “I’ve broken you, beaten you down, and now you can’t even tell what an act of love looks like.”

“What act of love?” You laugh more. Why was he being so damn confusing?

“THIS!” He shouts at you, holding out his arms to the room around you. “I spent hours, days perfecting it to your perfect liking yet you can’t even tell it was made for you! You don’t even know what it is!” Despite the smile on his face you know it’s all in rage. The deranged cackle that accompanies it makes him sound like he’s on the verge of breaking himself.

“Sir…”

Normally you wouldn’t initiate physical contact when he’s like this, but concern for him overrides the potential punishment, and with the way he’s been acting you think it might help. Maybe? Just a little?

You put a hand on his chest. The fabric of his tie feels slightly cool. It warms quickly under your palm. He freezes, and so do you. You didn’t want to step too far, but he was scaring you. Something is wrong. Even if you are afraid you might anger him more, you want him to know that you still care. The Master suddenly slumps. His hands are thrown down by his sides and he looks defeated.

“What do you think you are to me?” His voice is quiet.

“I’m your…” Your eyebrows furrow. You watch as he takes your hand gently into one of his, still holding it close to his chest.

You didn’t want to say you were his friend. You insinuated that once and spent a week locked in your room with nothing to eat, good thing your bathroom has a sink… The second time you implied it he left you on an abandoned planet for 2 months. You didn’t want to say you were his employee. He didn’t pay you, and it felt too impersonal… You weren’t even close to being romantically involved. Sometimes he seemed almost fatherly to you, but you would never admit it out loud. You definitely looked up to him, he’s incredible, like a superhero (well a supervillain but who’s keeping track). He’s told you throughout several regenerations that he doesn’t care about you, so you really doubt any overly personal relationship is an answer you could give…

“It isn’t that hard to make a guess.” He seethes.

“I’m your… Companion… Like the Doctor has hers, but y’know,” You clear your throat. “Less emotions are involved…”

You don’t look at him. You stare in turmoil at his and yours intertwined hands. His hand tightened around yours the second you mentioned the Doctor, and tightened even more when you said “less emotions”. At this point he was close to crushing your hand with his.

“That,” The Master’s voice sounds emotional in a way you haven’t heard before. “Wasn’t the answer I was looking for… I suppose more, not what I was hoping for.” He laughed tightly. “You got close with one of those thoughts bouncing around in that head… You were far too focused on the past to give the answer I wanted.” He glares at the roof, lost in thought. “Guess this proves my point well enough then!” He breaks up again. His stressed smile drops. “I really have ruined you.”

You frown again. Why does he keep saying that? Really, it kind of hurts your feelings a bit.

“I’m not ruined.”

“No,” He agrees too quickly. “Not in the traditional sense. No, you’ve just forgotten what being loved and cared for is like… We can remedy that…  An easy fix really. You’ll be acting like a spoiled brat in no time.”

He grins with a look that screams delusion. You aren’t quite sure you were following his words right. You really want to say you understand, but you just don’t.

“Why don’t we start off slow, hm?” He asks, but it sounds more like a gleeful demand.

The Master pulls you towards him and throws you up and into his arms. When you don’t wrap your legs around him, he does it for you, manually bending each leg. You laugh in shock, and he saunters into the room further, kicking the door shut.

“Sir?”

“Shhhhhhhh…” He draws out the sound dramatically.

He lowers the bars and sets you down on the large bed leaving you to stare up at him from your newly seated position. He looks at you like he was searching for something again, then he bounds towards the closet door. He goes inside and you try to lean over to check what he’s doing. You don’t really get a chance to look because he marches out in just a few seconds with a purple something clothing in his hand.

You frown when he smiles at you. “Did you take something?” You ask abruptly.

You notice the bewilderment on his face.

“I’m only asking because there is something seriously wrong going on with you and it’s, it’s starting to scare me a bit… I mean you’re just acting really different and I’ve been with you for a long time now. I just- Did you get hit with like a poison dart, or hypnotized, or challenged, or I don’t know, cursed by a witch or something?”

The Master looks at you with so much shock and sorrow. “I just want to take care of you.” He says dismissively, losing all emotion in his face, and walking over to the weird looking table-bed.

“But, why? You’ve never felt the need to before.” You just wish he’d explain some more.

“That’s enough.” He sounds like an angry parent. “Stop questioning everything I do. Things are going to change and you don’t get a say in it unless it’s something actually useful.”

That sounds more like the Master you knew. You almost thought he was gone for a second.

You sigh in defeat. “I just want to understand.” You whisper. “You could at least explain things to me. Like… What’s changing? Why is it changing? What, exactly, do you need me to do? Just any information because I’m so confused.” You weren’t going to cry, but you damn well could right now.

All of this and your head and tummy still hurt.

The Master makes his way back around the side of the bed. He tosses some things next to the clothing on the bed, but he sits in front of the pile before you have a chance to see what they are. He stares at you for a moment before scooting closer and pulling you, rather awkwardly, into his arms. Once you finally settle, you’re positioned in his lap and still facing the room. You can feel how hard his hearts are beating in his chest. You don’t remember ever being able to feel his heartbeats before. It almost makes you smile. The Master rests his head on top of yours. 

“My precious girl…” He whispers into your hair. “Where should I start?” He trails off as he starts swaying the two of you side to side. “Hmmm, how about the answer I wanted you to give?”

You try to nod your head but can’t get far with the weight of his on it.

“The answer I wanted was my child.”

“Your what?” Your voice cracks.

“My child,” The Master states it so simply. “Like I said before, you got close with your little run-on thoughts. I do appreciate being seen as fatherly, well, at least to you.” He giggles wickedly. “Hm, now second, what is changing and why? The answer is everything. Your daily routine, your living arrangements, your diet and sleep, our interactions, the trips you’re allowed to go on. Honestly, I could go on for a while with this one so let’s move on to the why. The answer to that one is because I’ve had a very sudden, very aggressive change of heart… Towards you at least.” He holds you closer to his chest. “I’ve realized just how special you are dear, and I’ve realized just how much I need you in my life. I’ve woken up to the terror of not having you in my life and I never plan on doing that again.”

“What?”

“Just quiet for now, angel. What happened is in the past now… Now let’s see, what was that last question?” Before you can tell him he lets out a dramatic “ah ha”. “Yes, what do I need you to do? Hm, truly I’m not all that sure. Obviously I need you to continue to listen to me, follow the rules and schedules I set in place, accept your new role in the TARDIS, call me papa or daddy… Hm… Maybe I’m leaning more towards papa. Oh! Or you could always call me momma.” He says happily. “You’re not all that human anymore so their gendering of titles shouldn’t bother you too much anymore. Of course I won’t make you call me anything you don’t like, but as your parent I deserve the title of one.”

“Ma- Sir… You’re not my parent though…” You didn’t want to shatter his reality, but he was striking a nerve you didn’t even know you had before now.

“Yes, well, not biologically, but-”

Before he can finish you cut him off. “Not at all…” You frown and pull away from him. He grips you harder, but you still manage to get into an odd position that allows you to look at him. “We’ve spent years together and not one single time have you shown any care for me, let alone acted the way a parent would, unless that parent was abusive…” You were angry and shocked at the Master's words. His actions were disorienting and his speech was delusional. “I’m not trying to be cruel, but you have to realize that I can’t take things you do at face value. I know you too well to do that, and though I don’t know what you’re supposed to get out of this damned act, I don’t for a second buy that you just woke up one day and chose to care!”

The Master’s face holds barely contained rage. “You have no idea what I’m protecting you from.” He warns.

In an act of bitterness you say something you don’t actually mean. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it was your fault anyways.”

You’ve never spoken to him like this, and you didn’t know what possessed you to do it now. Unluckily for you the Master never seemed hesitant to put you back in your place.

The Master throws you against the bed. You’re silently glad that you didn’t land on one of the plushies with their glass eyes.

“Fine! Since you want to be so ungrateful” He hisses. “ I’ll remind you that I gave you a warning. And I’ll inform you that this is going to hurt.” He emphasizes his words with venom. “But, don’t for a single second pretend I didn’t try to keep you safe from this.”

The second his fingers touch your face your eyes slam closed. The pain that rips through your body is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The feeling of flesh tearing and bones breaking. The pain mostly resonates in your stomach, in your head. It feels like you're being torn open and your head is being slammed into a wall. Images start flashing through your mind. The start of an adventure, the terror of a chase. A familiar looking monster, the same one the Master hung above the fire, snarls and snaps at you. Everything hurts and you’re so scared. You think you might be screaming but you can’t tell if it’s you now or you then. You can feel yourself dying all over again.

When your eyes open again you’re pressed tightly against the Master, laying on your side in his grip. Your whole body shakes, and you understand now what it’s like to experience pure agony. Your lungs feel like they’ve been filled with cement. You’re surprised you haven’t puked. All you can do is stare into the time lord's chest. No sobs leave your mouth. No words pass your lips. You can’t even move your arms if you wanted to.

“I know, love… Such a terrible thing.” He kisses your forehead and some of the pain starts to dull. “Do you see why I have to protect you now? I can’t have you dying on me like that all the time now. Clearly you aren’t strong enough for that kind of thing. Don’t worry, dear, papa’s going to take magnificent care of you.” The Master kisses your forehead again, lingering there for a moment. “That reminds me. Have to get you ready to go back to bed.” You didn't respond when he looked down at you, still too busy recalculating every moment. “Oh, yes so terrible I know, you’ve only been up for a few hours, but if you don’t rest up your body can’t heal.” He explains it like you’re a child, then again, to him you are. “Aren’t going to make this easy on me huh?”

He has a slightly sweet but mostly sadistic smile on his face. A grin that screams how proud he is of his victory over your minor argument.

The Master lifts you up, and if you had the ability you would scream out at the pain it causes. You fall straight into his chest, gaping like a fish as your lungs try to catch air. He rubs your back for what feels like, to you, several hours. Really it was only 4 minutes.

“I know, angel.” He pouts in an invalidating way. “As soon as we get you changed you can lay down and sleep away all this nasty stuff, okay?”

Every move he forces your body into feels like you’re being drowned in lava. Halfway through the process that you hadn’t been able to pay attention to, the pain started to become bearable. You feel something odd against your butt, it feels soft but cotton-y, padded. You have no energy to look down to see what the alien man is dressing you in. You have no energy to argue. And, aside from the weird padded thing, the fabric covering your legs to your arms and neck was incredibly comfy. 

When the time lord shuffles you around again you let out an involuntary whine. You didn’t think you’d be able to make a sound right now, so you startled yourself a bit. It isn’t that the movement is painful, though it is. The problem is the discomfort. It feels like you were being stretched and twisted into a pretzel. In just a few seconds the Master laid you back on your side. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but your lungs still don't feel like they have enough in them for that.

He settles back into the pink bed next to you. He tucks you in under the blankets and starts to draw you back into his chest, but stops. “Oh, I almost forgot!” The Master jumps out of the bed and disappears somewhere in the room. You stare at the mattress in his absence.

He rushes back and lays back down on his side facing you. You don’t get a chance to think of questioning his actions because you’re too busy being mortified by the paci he shoves into your mouth. You want to try and spit it back out but your mouth refuses to work with you.

The Master pulls you back against his chest, and despite how badly you wanted nothing to do with him at the moment, you relax under his hold. Though you don’t know if that was a conscious decision or your body doing what it needs to. His arms are warm. You find it grounding and soft the way he pets your hair down.

“Go to sleep, my darling girl. I’ll keep you safe.”

You don’t want to listen to him, but your eyes feel so heavy. He always has been a source of comfort even when he was the reason for your fear. You suppose it wouldn’t be too bad to give in to it just this once. You can go back to arguing with him about this insanity some other time. Right now, you can lay here, do your best to comprehend the trauma you’ve just remembered, enjoy the first bit of comfort you’ve been offered in years, and do your damndest to get some sleep.

[heavenlytouches]

You did so amazing on the last one! I absolutely loved it!

Could I request Benjamin or Alec saving his human mate from a fire? Perhaps it's the first time he meets her, something led him there and just in the nick of time too! Even though she's coated in soot and her hair is singed he still thinks she's beautiful. She thinks he's an angel-I mean who else would run into a fire without protection?

Hello love!! Thank you so so much for another great request! It's been a pleasure talking to you <3 so let's jump in the fire, shall we? El <3

Benjamin- fire and smoke

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- mentions of fire, reader inhales a lot of smoke

Benjamin saves you from burning building ^^

Happy end!!!

Benjamin

The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke, wrapping around you like a shroud as you navigated the chaos of the burning building.

Fire licked at the walls, a voracious beast that danced and roared, consuming everything in its path. You had seen people rush past you, panicked and crying, urging one another to escape. But you stayed, spurred by a growing sense of responsibility, cradled firmly by the need to help as many as you could.

One last push. You tried to guide an elderly woman out of a cramped hallway when a loud crack echoed above.

You turned, glancing back just in time to see a chunk of the ceiling crash down where you had just stood. Panic seized you, but you shook your head to clear it. You were strong, and you couldn’t abandon those in need.

As you turned back to the woman, shouting for her to follow, you took a deep breath, only to feel the smoky air choke your lungs. Coughing violently, you urged her to move faster.

With a shaky hand, you reached for the door—only to find it engulfed in flames, a barrier that was rapidly becoming too much to bear.

Meanwhile, far from the chaos of urban life, a vampire named Benjamin felt an inexplicable pull. It was as if a whisper in the wind called to him, pulling his attention toward the city, toward the flames that illuminated the darkening sky.

He stood still for a moment, listening, feeling the essence of the fire through the air as if it were a living entity. His heart raced—not from fear, but from a deep-seated instinct to protect.

As he raced through the streets, the scent of smoke filled his nostrils, intermingling with something sweeter, more urgent.

Someone was trapped. Without a second thought, he surged forward, directing his energy to manipulate the elements surrounding him. He could feel the heat urging him closer, and the flames seeming to part just for him.

His heart raced as he dashed through the door of the building. Inside, the horror was palpable: walls smoldered, shadows danced, and smoke billowed like dark waves.

He instinctively sought the source of the intoxicating scent that stirred a fierce determination within him. Following his instincts, he moved silently through the haze, his vampire speed allowing him to dodge falling debris with ease.

Amidst the chaos, he found you. There you were, a figure silhouetted against the furious flames, framed in an ethereal glow by the inferno, ash covering your skin like a delicate veil.

He hesitated just for a moment, caught in the sight of you—afraid, brave, standing against the encroaching darkness. That same protective urge surged. He had to get you out.

"Stay back!"

You hollered, your voice horse and trembling with urgency.

“Not a chance.”

He replied, his voice smooth and assuring, cutting through your haze of smoke and fear. With a mere flick of his wrist, he summoned a gust of wind that carried the flames away momentarily, creating a gap in the furious wall of fire.

You stared at him, dazed. Was he… an angel? You had inhaled too much smoke to be certain, your mind clouded by disbelief and pain. Everything around you seemed unreal—his presence both calming and fierce.

“Come with me.”

He urged, his eyes glimmering with determination. You stumbled back into the reality of the situation, shaking off the cobwebs in your mind.

“Others…”

You gasped, voice thick with regret.

“I’ll help them.”

He promised, moving swiftly to the nearest door, assessing it for any signs of danger.

“Now, we go. Trust me.”

With a nod, you followed, still wary, yet desperate to escape the burning hell encroaching upon you. He brushed against your arm—an electric connection sparking, igniting a warmth in your chest that battled the chill of fear.

As Benjamin guided you through the battered halls, flames withdrew before him like melted wax, the heat dancing but not burning you.

He was graceful, powerful, and every step seemed choreographed against the chaos. Fear trickled back, but you fought it down, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

“Hold on,”

He instructed, and for some reason, when you felt his hands encircle your waist, a sense of safety enveloped you.

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength astoundingly overwhelming, and together you pushed through the door, emerging into the cool night air only to find a crowd gathered in horror at the flames consuming the building.

Your heart swelled with concern for others yet unaccounted for as Benjamin set you down gently.

But as you caught your breath, scanning the chaos, your gaze fell back on him. His presence felt grounding, and your heart quickened, cherry blossoms blooming in an unfamiliar garden.

“You’re safe now.”

He murmured, brushing soot from your cheek with fingers that felt like a soft whisper against your skin.

“Thank you.."

You rasped, gratitude flooding your words despite the chill of fear still embedded within you.

He offered a rare smile, his lips curving slightly.

“Let me check on the others.”

You were hesitant to release his gaze as he moved back toward the inferno, calling to others trapped within.

Even as you watched him disappear into the flames, you felt a flicker of something—deep appreciation, woven together with the threads of admiration and something more intoxicating.

Finally, a firefighter ran to your side, wrapping a blanket around your shivering shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

He asked, checking you for burns. Your eyes drifted back to where Benjamin had last been seen, and you felt that strange connection pulsing still within you.

As Benjamin emerged moments later, a group of frightened souls behind him, you realized you had felt truly alive in those moments of bravery and connection, standing alongside someone who could chase away darkness.

“Stay safe.”

He warned, one last glance exchanged, and you felt as though you had looked upon a star in the night, briefly illuminating your heart.

As the fire trucks roared into the night, you remained where you were, surrounded by chaos but drawn to the warmth of a moment that felt destined.

You knew this was not the end. Rather, it was the beginning of a new flame—one that sparked with the promise of adventure, bravery, and unexpected love.

In the depths of the burning building, you had found something more than fortitude; you had found an unbreakable bond in the face of fire.

This one was a bit longer! Also, sorry once again for waiting so long TwT

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[yuurei20]

Short Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: To the Festival (pt1/2) (Connects directly to here)

"They descend the long staircase, turn onto Main Street, and suddenly everything is different from what they are used to seeing. Purple and green garlands sway gracefully overhead as if alive.

The statues of the Great Seven along the street seem to have been polished more carefully than usual, gleaming in reflected sunlight.

As Yuuya walks before the Great Seven statues admiring the beautiful decorations, the lion statue appears last, on his left. Yuuya comes to a stop, his eyes passing over the words carved into its pedestal:

The King of Beasts who ruled the vast plains Never abandoned those who were exiled from their own lands, and strived for an equal world An indomitable king who overcame his origins and claimed his throne through sheer effort

The King of Beasts stands tall and majestic. Despite his unfortunate origins he achieved success through his cleverness, becoming a king beloved even by hyenas who were both feared and shunned in his time.

Everyone here respects the Great Seven, who have each left such a mark upon history. Who knows the looks they would give Yuuya if he were to mention the disrespectful dream he had this morning.

Grim tugs at Yuuya's jacket. ‘Hey Yuu, what are you spacing out for? We gotta get to Side Street right now!’

‘Ah, sorry, sorry. I’m coming.’

Grim is in a hurry because of the market stalls that now line Side Street. They are not run by students, but are instead large-scale operations overseen by both the school and outside vendors.

Yuuya wonders if Grim will find any of them to his liking.

‘Do the stalls sell food, too?’

‘Of course! You can't watch spelldrive without food!’ Ace laughs cheerfully.

‘There are a lot of shops selling souvenirs from Sage’s Isle and memorabilia for the school, but I heard there are just as many food vendors, too. My brother sent me photos way back when, and that was my first time thinking, ‘Night Raven College is really something else!''

‘As president of the Gastronomy Society, I can't miss this! Let's go, Yuu.’

Yuuya follows after Grim, and their surroundings grow steadily livelier with the sounds of students' cheering and the voices of adults setting up shop. Side Street is now almost unrecognizable."

[i2rizz]

Fast and Furious! Pt.2

Fandom: Blue lock | masterlist

Characters: street racer!Kaiser x reader

I noticed yall liked the street racer au soo i made more content for it:>

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

The streets were alive with the electric hum of engines, headlights piercing through the thick night air. Neon lights glowed faintly in the distance, reflecting off rows of sleek, modified cars lined up like gladiators waiting for battle. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, punctuated by the occasional roar of a revving engine.

You leaned against a cobalt-blue Porsche, its glossy paint reflecting the crowd’s energy. The car’s owner, Michael Kaiser, was perched in the driver’s seat, adjusting his gloves with a level of nonchalance that only he could pull off.

“You ready for this?” you asked, stepping closer.

He glanced up, a smug grin playing on his lips. “When am I not?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. That confidence—borderline arrogance—was part of what made Kaiser so irresistible.

“Just don’t get too cocky,” you teased, leaning through the open window to ruffle his perfectly styled blonde hair.

“Please,” he scoffed, gently swatting your hand away. “This guy doesn’t stand a chance. But I’ll make it interesting for the crowd.”

The “guy” in question was a cocky up-and-comer with a custom black Dodge Charger who had challenged Kaiser earlier that week. The prize? Bragging rights and a hefty wad of cash.

“Five minutes!” someone called, the crowd beginning to gather at the starting line.

Kaiser opened the door and stepped out, his tall frame commanding attention. He sauntered over to you, casually draping an arm around your shoulders. “Stay close,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show~”

------------‐---------------------------------------

Engines roared as the racers lined up, their cars growling like beasts ready to pounce. You stood at the sidelines, your heart pounding in sync with the vibrations beneath your feet.

Kaiser’s Porsche was a thing of beauty, its custom mods practically glowing under the streetlights. He threw you a wink from the driver’s seat, his confidence palpable even from a distance.

The starter—a woman in a leather jacket with a checkered flag—raised her hand, the signal for silence. The world seemed to hold its breath as the racers revved their engines one last time.

“Three… two… one… GO!”

The flag dropped, and the cars shot forward, tires screeching against the pavement. The crowd erupted in cheers as the racers tore down the street, their taillights streaking like comets.

Kaiser was a maestro behind the wheel, his movements fluid and calculated. He drifted around corners with surgical precision, leaving his opponent scrambling to keep up.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he muttered to himself, glancing in the rearview mirror.

The Charger was gaining on him, its roaring engine a testament to raw power. But Kaiser wasn’t fazed. With a flick of his wrist, he shifted gears, the Porsche surging forward with a burst of speed.

The course wound through the city, weaving between towering skyscrapers and narrow alleyways. You watched anxiously from the sidelines, your hands clenched into fists as Kaiser executed each maneuver with maddening ease.

“He’s gonna win,” someone said behind you, their voice tinged with awe.

“Of course he is,” you muttered, a proud smile tugging at your lips.

Just as the finish line came into view, a distant wail cut through the night—a sound that made your stomach drop.

Police sirens.

The crowd scattered like leaves in the wind, the once-buzzing street now a flurry of panic and motion.

“Cops!” someone shouted, confirming your worst fear.

Kaiser was already in action, his Porsche swerving sharply as he abandoned the race and headed for an alternate route. You barely had time to react before he pulled up beside you, the passenger door swinging open.

“Get in!” he barked.

Without hesitation, you dove into the car, the door slamming shut behind you. The Porsche roared to life once more, tearing down the street as red and blue lights lit up the night.

Kaiser’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his usual smugness replaced by a laser-sharp focus. You held onto the seat, your heart pounding as the Porsche sped through the city at breakneck speed.

“Are you seriously smiling right now?” you shouted, glancing at him in disbelief.

“Admit it, this is thrilling!” he replied, his grin unmistakable despite the chaos.

“You’re insane!”

“Only a little,” he quipped, cutting through an alleyway so narrow you swore the mirrors would scrape the walls.

The police weren’t far behind, their sirens growing louder with each passing second. But Kaiser was relentless, weaving through traffic and taking turns so sharp they left your stomach in knots.

Finally, he pulled into an underground parking garage, the sudden silence almost deafening. He killed the engine and motioned for you to follow him out of the car.

“Quick,” he whispered, leading you through a side door that opened into yet another alley.

The two of you emerged into the cool night air, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you listened for any sign of pursuit. When none came, you turned to him, your anger finally bubbling to the surface.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you hissed, shoving him lightly.

He caught your wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Relax, liebe.(love) We’re fine.”

“Fine? We were almost arrested!”

“But we weren’t,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I’m just that good.”

You wanted to stay mad, but the sheer audacity of his words—and the way he was looking at you, like you were the only person in the world—made it impossible.

“Next time,” you said, trying to sound stern, “give me a heads-up before dragging me into a police chase.”

“Noted,” he replied, pulling you closer. “But admit it, you had fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small laugh escaped you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, his voice softer now.

You didn’t reply, instead letting him wrap his arms around you as the adrenaline began to fade. The night had been chaotic, dangerous, and utterly unforgettable—just like Kaiser himself.

------------‐---------------------------------------

I love him (i say this to every fictional man i see)

[muffinsin]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 3: Unravel Me

[TWs for this chapter: Kidnapping, light drugging]

Masterlists Smoke and Mirrors

Overview Smoke and Mirrors

Blog Masterlists

40 likes for the next chapter again

Daniela walks slowly, her legs carrying her forth towards the front of the strange manor. The sound of the wind passing through little creeks in the stony mountains near have her flinch, the sound of the waterfall nearby so loud she barely hears anything else. She steps towards the door, then, when her hand pushes flatly against it, the wooden thing opens easily. Unlocked.

Cautiously, she looks inside. She can’t help her curiosity, though. All her life, living only at the castle, having only been in the village a few times to taunt some of the villagers here and there or to collect a maid. This is new. Mother wouldn’t approve, she knows. Cassandra would drag her back, she knows. Bela would make her return, she knows. She’s no fool, after all. But, this is so curious, so tempting.

She sees the inside, the dark wooden floors, the rocking chair and table, on top a bowl with wool, the thread leading deeper into the house. Daniela eyes it curiously, tracking it so far as she can before it leads past a corner she cannot see. She squirms a little. The manor is so invitingly warm, seems so familiar. So right, even.

It’s long since she’s heard the worried cries of her sister pleading with her to show herself. She feels lost, yet has never felt this welcome.

Some force pushes her into the warm house, and suddenly the sounds from the outside are completely sealed away as the door shuts behind her. Suddenly, her back burns, and Daniela doubles over at the pain. She cries out, whimpering into the nothingness when she feels the faint touches again, cupping her wet cheeks this time. But she sees no one, nothing- nothing but dolls and furniture and decorative plates on the walls. All is so different from how it looks at the castle.

Beneath her dress, the branding symbol of the Beneviento house sears as it comes back to surface. At least, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the first time, she feels, yet the sensation is enough for thick tears to roll down her cheeks and for her lips to dry, parted as she screams.

Then, just when she thinks it won’t stop anymore, the pain comes to an abrupt halt.

She straightens again, getting back to her feet. The manor looks abandoned, but something feels off. The lure is still there, the urge to follow it even more so. The Dimitrescu doesn’t yet know she is right in the beast’s belly, about to be swallowed whole.

Golden eyes trace over the dolls, each dressed in dark and light dresses alike, their porcelain skin beautiful. Then, she finds the string of green wool again.

She can’t help but reach for it, holding it gently between her fingers as she follows it deeper into the house. She finds a kitchen, large and spacious, but far less regal looking than any room back at the castle. No, this manor has no bright, golden and red colours. All here is dark and faded, but homely, humble even, in some way. It feels inviting, somehow. She feels a little less lonely in this seemingly empty house than she does at the large castle, she realises. She wonders; perhaps she can show this to Bela and Cassandra when she’s back.

Abandoning the string for a moment, Daniela inspects the kitchen. Despite the manor’s abandoned style, all is in place and tidy, save for the string. She opens a few cabinets, finding ingredients and tools she has seen at the castle, too. Cooking tools, she guesses. She finds bread and berries, herbs and silverware. As she caresses the counters with her fingertips, she finds not even the faintest trace of crumbs on it. On the counter are vases, sporting yellow, red and even white flowers. She allows her fingertip to trace a petal gently, before her attention drifts to the part of the room besides the kitchen.

A table, small, and a sofa and chairs. A bookshelf. Immediately, she rushes towards it, a large smile on her dark painted lips. Then, she flinches back when she finds a doll sitting on one of the chairs. It’s dressed in a simple black dress, voluminous and rich looking. Her hair is cut short, to her shoulders, but looks adorable paired with the little black hat sat on it. Daniela can’t help but smile. She reminds her of the dolls Alcina had gotten her and her sisters as reborn fly spawns, back when her sisters had the time to play dress up and play with dolls with her, back when they had time to indulge her and participate in her parties. Now, she can only do so by forcing some maidens to join in, though knows they never quite want to. And even as she tries it occasionally, a tea party with only her and some mangled corpses as attendants just isn’t any fun.

“Aren’t you a cutie!”, she praises, and while the doll doesn’t move or answer, unsurprisingly to her, she finds she feels a strange sensation of pride and satisfaction spread within her body, emerging right from the mark on her back. She giggles at the light feeling, thinking nothing of it, and turns back to the shelf.

There, she pulls some books aside, though frowns when she finds no romances or fairytales among them. Still, at the back of her mind she notes that Bela would likely enjoy the many studies and biographies the bookshelf holds. Maybe she’ll show her those, if she ever stops working and has the time to see this place for herself, she can’t help but think bitterly.

Finding nothing of interest, she returns to the string and follows it deeper into the place.

Rounding a corner, she finds another hallway, less rich than any in the castle, even feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She pauses for a moment, watching the string as it leads down the hallway and right to a corner, again.

“Good”

She jumps at the voice, low and ghost-like, coming from the walls. Or her head? Daniela shivers a little at the mere thought of such a thing.

“Closer”, it beckons. She can’t help but obey.

She follows the string again, finding two doors at the hallway. She reaches for the handle of one, but shrieks when the string in her hand burns hotly, matching her sore back. Immediately she returns to the middle of the hallway, looking around somewhat like one might describe a lost puppy. The poor thing is panting, feeling the string and her back calm again. Clearly, there is no time to explore the place to her liking.

Her feet move beyond her control, carrying her deeper into the quiet house. She finds more dolls sat along the counters and the floor, all seemingly watching her. She shivers, walking on her own again, her curiosity growing.

Rubbing the string between her fingertips, she wonders whether this is it. Could it be? Could her lost lover be trying to contact her? Will this mark the end of her loneliness? She shivers, the air heavy, but still she feels anticipation.

As she walks down the hallways of the manor, deeper and deeper, memories return to her.

Memories of sitting by the flowers, crying, a kind woman comforting her. Dressed in black, intriguing. She knew her, she knows. But, who? She follows the string to an elevator and giggles. How modern! Oblivious to the danger she is in, Daniela steps inside and allows its metallic doors to close behind her. She shivers again at the ghostly touches caressing her back and shoulders. Already, she feels less lost, less alone. This must be it!

Without pushing a button, the elevator moves downwards.

Another memory hits her, of herself this time. She feels what she felt, the love and anticipation and submission as she kneels on the ground for the woman before her. She feels the woman’s fingers on her, caressing her cheeks, then trapping her chin. She looks up obediently despite the elevator being empty aside from her and a few dolls she hadn’t noticed before. She thinks nothing of it, she likes the small puppets.

Daniela gasps as another phantom touch has her feel a hand sliding past her back and her hip. The memory is gone, but she feels it, she feels how very close she is.

Just a little more, then she knows.

She must know.

Just a little more.

When the doors open, she gasps as something hits her, something familiar. She feels as if in a trance yet again, pheromones around her leading and luring her in, her vision slightly blurred, her body heavy, her flies entirely unresponsive. She doesn’t jump when the dolls by her side jump to life, doesn’t flinch away when their little hands grab at hers and lead her out the elevator.

She follows obediently, her head a fuzzy, blurry mess.

“Come”

“Closer”

“Very good”

The voice, so low, so beautiful. She knows it, she’s so sure she’s heard it before, but where? She closes her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as she is led along.

Daniela no longer cares for exploring, for her environment, for returning to Bela, for retreating to the castle again. She needs to follow the voice, needs to find its origin, her lover so close, she’s so sure. Her soulmate, her everything. It all feels almost within her grasp, now. They’d understand if she stayed away just a little more, she’s sure.

The memory of the previous night continues on, Daniela sees the dark, shadowy figure of a woman. She hears her low voice, the same she hears now. She feels lightheaded, smiles wide when she feels the memory of being undressed. She doesn’t notice the ghostly phantom hands return to her, copying the movements she’s remembering until the torn cape clasped off and her dress comes off. She’s so happy, so calm, so utterly lost to her love and the memory.

She feels the love she felt, feels the warm embrace. Her back burns and it feels so nice and warm, so comforting. She’s so lost in everything, Daniela doesn’t even notice it when the collar always hugging her throat is removed, the green gemstone breaking as it falls to the floor abruptly. She can’t bring herself to notice, can’t bring herself to care, to resist. She will be taken care of, she will be loved. The poor, delusional thing is dreamily thinking of introducing her lover to her family.

She feels the sensation of the memory, her hands grabbed and moved behind her back, setting her up in a perfectly submissive position. Her legs still move, carry her deeper. She’s so close, she knows it. She leans into her memories, pleading with the mysterious woman to grant her more, to let her remember the last night to its fullest.

Daniela’s body flushes as she remembers being pushed against her lover’s cunt, her nose grazing her clit. She remembers the fingers dipping into her in turn and instinctively pushes her thighs together even as she walks. She feels it, almost, the blissful feeling and taste of it all.

“Good girl”

“Come closer, my darling”, Donna coos, sensing how the petnames feed into poor Daniela’s delusion. She’s so close, nearly has her doll precisely where she needs her.

Daniela gasps as she walks blindly, led by the dolls and the phantom hands at her hips and shoulders. She tastes the woman’s lips, tastes them against her gentler ones. She feels it, almost sees her, almost there. She sees dark clothing, strong, skilled fingers. She hears her voice, commanding her to spread her legs, she feels the pleasure that follows from her obeying. Why would she ever not want to obey? She loves the sweet reward that follows.

Donna watches as Daniela steps into the dark workshop, her eyes open but glossy, her reality turned completely, trapping the little doll in her delusions and memories, a fantasy world created by none other than her skilled dollmaker.

She doesn’t move, leans confidently against the workbench as Daniela approaches her, led and pushed gently, completely bared to her save for her soaked underwear and stockings. She sees the woman’s hard nipples reacting to the environment, smells her arousal even.

Daniela gasps as she’d made to cum, her back burning, so bad, so good. She’s cradled, her eyes heavy. When she gazes up, she finds the dark eye of none other than Donna Beneviento.