#a bloody murderous bond

[thanatos-zagreus-shagreus]

So I just made a mutual-in-law my mutual because our shared mutual took her to our DnD session, and she got to play some enemies and she fully killed my character dead and it was glorious, so now I feel like we've surely got some sort of bond 😁

[quietwingsinthesky]

the funniest thing about even is that they concluded that being loved was not worth the price and picked out someone specifically who they believed would not form an attachment to them, giving them the security of knowing how this relationship would work, only for the master to. get attached to them.

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ

Warning: sexual content (mentioned), forced transformation, murder (mentioned), isolation, child abduction, blood, violence.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★ @rosey1981 ★ @thejadevvitch ★ @jellystar-star ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Son name: Alexandre

Husband name: Louis

Masterlist

Yandere Vampire who doesn't understand why you're so cold toward him; yes, maybe he killed all your friends and locked you in his castle, but he only did it because it was necessary.

Yandere Vampire who thinks you're being overly dramatic; he's already made up for his mistakes, turning you into a vampire, HIS mate, HIS wife, HIS duchess. Don't you see that he did the best for you by freeing you from your pathetic mortality? He gave you the greatest gift of all: eternal life.

Yandere Vampire who, despite his best attempts to make you happy, you're always melancholic. He gives you precious jewels that are over a century old. He makes sure his servants take care of everything and follow your every command so you don't have to lift a finger. He makes passionate love to you every night, giving you so many orgasms and love that in the end, you can't even form a coherent word. So why aren't you happy?

Yandere Vampire who after a long time decides to stop trying to figure out what you need to be happy and asks you directly (which is what he should have done from the start). One night, when you're both in your shared chambers, he decides to ask you the blessed question.

“I see that during these long months, my hard work to bring you happiness and joy has been a complete failure, so tell me, my dear, what do you need to be happy?”

“I want to be free. I no longer want to be confined within the walls of this castle. I don't want to be with you.”

“...”

Yandere Vampire who falls silent upon hearing your cold response; it almost seems as if your words didn't affect him, but his red eyes, which seem to glow, betray his anger. That, coupled with the lover/creator bond that unites your souls and betrays his anger, which seems to burn your body from the inside with a blazing fire, makes you shudder.

Yandere Vampire who decides to be merciful and forget this conversation, but not before threatening you. He approaches you, grabbing your jaw firmly. His elegant, ringed fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, which shine with a burning and terrifying fury.

“Never, EVER say something like that again, my dear, or I'll show you what it means to truly feel miserable and unhappy.”

Yandere Vampire who becomes more distinct and rougher in the months following your small talk. He makes love to you more roughly, leaving your body aching and your neck and chest covered in bites and love marks. In retaliation, you leave his pale back covered in deep, bloody scratches (which only feed his ego).

Yandere Vampire who one day while looking for his next dinner date in a nearby town sees a smiling happy woman in a house who reminds him of you when he first met you. She's sitting in front of the fire in the fireplace, which illuminates her with a yellow and golden glow; she's cooing to a baby who's laughing and gurgling happily; a light bulb goes on in his head when he sees this scene. Maybe that's what you need to be happy, a baby. Little brats always bring joy and happiness, right? Maybe you two can't have a baby biologically, but he can take someone else's baby... right?

Yandere Vampire who decides to take matters into his own hands. He sneaks inside the house, ignoring the pain in his throat and yearning to suck the woman's blood dry. After all, he can't alert the town of his presence (there are already many suspicions of vampires in the area). So, he decides to be subtle and snaps the woman's neck, which he does. He sneaks up behind her when she notices his presence; it's too late. He hears the woman's heart race as he grabs her jaw from behind and twists her head with an ugly "crack." The woman's heartbeat stops, and her body goes limp.

Yandere vampire who drops the woman's body to the ground and focuses all his attention on the baby lying on the floor on a worn, old floral blanket. The baby's lower lip trembles as if he can understand the cruel fate of his only parent. His eyes water, and high-pitched sobs soon follow.

“Waah-Waah!!!”

“Hey brat, don't cry. You have no idea what a favor I'm doing you! Now you'll have a beautiful and loving new mother. No more old or worn-out blankets, just the finest clothes and silks for you.”

Yandere Vampire who takes the child in his arms, rocking him a little, but he doesn't stop crying; on the contrary, he cries even more. Frustrated, he covers the baby's mouth, slightly muffling his sobs, and slips out of the house, quickly heading for his castle.

Yandere Vampire who enters the castle through the extensive gardens filled with red roses. He ignores the curious servants who stare at him curiously as he enters with the sobbing baby in his arms and, without wasting any time, heads to his chambers, where he knows for sure you'll be. He pushes open the wooden door and enters. Your eyes immediately look at him, or rather, at the child in his arms.

“My dear! Look at the gift I brought you.”

“From where? Where are his parents?”

“The mother is dead, and there was no sign of the father anywhere, so now he's all yours!”

Yandere Vampire who smiles proudly when you approach and take the baby from his arms. His eyes soften when he sees you cooing at the baby, gently rocking him in your arms, and the child soon calms down. You head to the bed, placing the baby on the soft silk sheets, protecting him from the cold. He can't help but notice the child's resemblance to you, but he snaps out of his thoughts when he hears your annoyed voice.

“You carried him all over the frozen forest in just pajamas? A baby is very delicate and could get seriously ill, you stupid man.”

“I didn't think of that at the time, my dear. I just thought of bringing him to you, and now he's here with you. That's better than nothing, right?”

Yandere Vampire who happily notices how you become someone much more energetic and happy since the arrival of the baby; although he won't deny that he's a little jealous of the fact that you spend more time with the baby (whom you named Alexandre) than with him; you take Alexandre for walks in the garden, you bathe him, you dress him and you even read to him to put him to sleep; the baby quickly became very attached to you.

“Mother! Mother, look at this!”

“I'm seeing you, my love.”

Your voice comes out lovingly as you look at the now five-year-old boy running through the rosebushes adored with vibrant red roses. You walk slowly, following your little boy. Louis, your husband, walks beside you. Your arm is intertwined with his, though you ignore him most of the time. But that doesn't make him talk any less.

“He grew up so fast, don't you think? I remember when I brought him here, and he was just a baby.”

“I remember.”

“I honestly didn't expect him to make it past the week, you know, given the fact that he was cold and malnourished, but your love seems to be able to cure anything, my dear.”

“...”

Your red eyes glare at him in annoyance, and he just smiles, revealing his white teeth and sharp fangs. You want to wipe that smile off your face and slap him for saying something so out of place, but you hold back as Alexandre runs up to you both.

“Mother! Father! I want to see the roses up close! Lift me up, father!”

“Yes, sir! As Your Highness commands!”

You can't help but let out a laugh as your son reaches out for his father, bouncing slightly before Louis finally picks him up and places him on his hip. Alexandre stares at the roses (which he's seen a million times before) with fascination before pouting.

“Roses have the same color as her eyes! I want my eyes to be red too, father!”

“I think your eyes are beautiful—”

“Don't worry, my son, soon your eyes will be red too.”

“Louis—!”

“Really, Father?! I'm so happy my eyes will be like yours and my mother!”

~~~

“Have you lost your mind?! Why are you telling my son he'll also have red eyes?! He's not going to turn into a vampire!”

You yell in annoyance as you pace around your chambers, your furious eyes glaring at him accusingly as he lies in bed, propped up against the pillows. He smiles at you with a shrug before getting up from the bed and walking over to you.

“Why not? I mean, our son could live forever as a five-year-old. Is that really so bad, my dear?”

“That's selfish! You killed his parents, forced him to live confined here in this castle, and now you also want to force him to be five forever?! You are truly a horrible man!”

“His mother.”

“What...?”

“I killed his mother. I already told you there was no father anywhere, and I confined him here because it's safer for him... besides, I know the idea of ​​him being five forever doesn't bother you, my dear.”

“That's not true—!”

“Oh, you can deny it all you want, but I can feel in our bond that you don't mind the idea at all. It almost seems like you'd like him to be your baby forever... so tell me, my dear, who is the really horrible person here, huh?”

You don't know how to respond, because it's true, everything he says is true. You don't want your son to grow up and leave here, leaving you with the pain and agony of your lost life tormenting your soul again. Just thinking about it sends a feeling of pain to your dead heart. Even though you hate yourself for being so selfish, you can't deny what he's saying, so you duck your head and remain silent.

He lets out a playful laugh, moving closer to you. He runs his ringed hands down the front of your dress's corset, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers. His hands slide back, playing with the laces of the corset, untying the knot and loosening the bodice. He rubs his nose against your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. You shudder when his cold breath hits your skin. He murmurs playfully against your ear.

“Don't be ashamed, my dear. After all, being selfish is in our blood. Just let yourself go~”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, murder of nameless side characters

♡ fem reader

Thinking about that moment of violent change you’re forced to go through when your loving boyfriend becomes the terrifying man you don’t recognize—and how it completely eradicates the reality you’d grown so comfortable in, realizing it was all some perfectly orchestrated lie.

Rope burns on your wrists and ankles, tears streaking your chunky cheeks, and a poor soul’s blood on your pretty face belonging to some guy who’d gotten a little too close for comfort.

He’d cut him down like it was nothing.

The knife is held still by his side, a shining red murder weapon, dripping on the floor in the growing pond by his feet. He sighs heavily, casts his head back then looks behind him, beholding you through slim eyes, clicking his tongue, “Look what you made me do…”

He wouldn’t be the only one… several victims followed in his bloody path—witnesses who’d seen him struggle with you, kicking and screaming for all your worth, trying anything to get away. You were all too easily manhandled into the car, and could only watch behind the locked door, banging with bound fists on the glass while he gutted other passersby who’d threatened to call the police.

Driving off, he growls at you, first to shut up and then, “That was your fault—if only you’d been a good girl, none of those innocent people would have had to die.” His knuckles whiten on the wheel, wringing it in his stained grip—scarlet on ivory. “If you don’t want any more blood on your hands, you better sit pretty and not cause me any more trouble.”

You sob uncontrollably and inconsolably despite the threat—you can’t stop yourself—you can’t even comprehend his words. None of it makes any sense. You’d seen it all, and yet you can’t understand it—any of it. You’d watched the sweet guy you knew shed his skin and become a monster right before your eyes. It must be some bad dream, some terrible, awful, horrible nightmare.

But even if it is, you don’t want him touching you ever again. It makes you physically sick to your stomach to think you’d ever shared a bed with him—exchanged sweet nothings in the damp heat of each other. No, no, no, it’s not the same person—it can’t be. It can’t be true. What about the smiles you’d shared over breakfast, those times you’d surprised each other at lunch, all the dates, all the gifts, all the kisses, the future you’d talked about?

You’d fallen in love. But you’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t even exist.

He makes sure the door to the bedroom’s under lock and a key he stores somewhere you won’t find it. You squirm in your bonds on the bed when he approaches, shivering with whimpers under his hands, flinching at his touch while he unties you, then cringing as he angles your face to look at him—wanting to pry free, anything not to look into those changed eyes.

You hadn’t thought his build was imposing before, it hadn’t struck you as lethal. Naively, you’d thought him cozy—a big chest and a warm embrace he would scoop you up in, a safe place you could live. He’s cold now, menacing and filthy from his crimes—the body of a killer, a cold-blooded murderer. He’s so big it makes the room feel too small for the both of you. Claustrophobic.

He forces your gaze to him, and it’s all you see, those eyes, those unrecognizable eyes, with that look within you can’t understand, beholding you with burden.

“I still love you,” he states, though it angers him. “Even though you broke my heart. I still love you.”

You shake your head, or you try to, but it results in only tiny tremors caught in his hand where he keeps your chin, bloody fingers buried in your plump cheeks, squeezing so hard you wince.

“But it doesn’t come for free,” he seethes with an awful sneer. A type of grimace you’d never thought him capable of, overfilled with disdain. “My love is earned. And after all you did today, you’re in deep debt.”

He lets go of your face with a nasty shove, taking a mean grip on your shirt instead, using both fists to tear it down the middle. You yelp and cover yourself, but that only angers him further—causing him to grab your wrists and pin them to your side. You think you feel your joints popping.

“Test me, and I’ll hurt you,” he growls, his teeth bared at your ear where your face curls to hide itself in the pillow. “I don’t want to, but if that’s what it takes to make you sorry, then so be it. Be good, and I won’t have to take it that far.”

You lie as still as you can muster while he removes the rest—roughly as he goes—your bra, your skirt, your underwear. You only snivel and toil with the sheets in weak little fists, making your joints cramp up—feeling raw under him, at the mercy of those blood-dried hands.

You understand what he’s about to do, and yet it doesn’t really dawn on you before you hear the sharp ringing of his belt buckle being undone. You don’t look, but you don’t close your eyes either—the room is already dark enough that closing your eyes would make you feel too close to death. So, you keep your gaze fixed to the side, to the stale wall.

The bed bounces you as he shuffles. The urge to run bubbles within, but you know it wouldn’t be to your advantage. So your mind spins, thinking of other possibilities, growing ever more panicked when coming up empty.

He spits on your slit, then rears it with his spitefully erect shaft—pushing in without further prep. And you lose all sense of control.

Twisting at the attack, you scream again, “No! Stop—”

Your hands barely touch him before he’s answered the protest with a tightening grip on your neck. Unrelenting, your throat instantly snares, and you choke on any further outburst.

“I told you,” he chastises. “Why do you have to force my hand, huh?”

You gasp for any sliver worth of air, sipping through the cracks of his chokehold, but it’s very nearly sealed completely shut. You try lifting his grip with your own, both hands holding onto his wrist, wanting to pull loose but achieving nothing.

It’s so pitiful that he ignores the effort. Using his remaining hand to continue what he’d set out to do. Planting his tip at your unprepped entrance, he wasted no time before surging forward.

Your vision starts to spot, and your hands grow weak, barely hanging on.

“That’s good. Lie still and take it,” he groans—his lips on your cheek as he bullies through your dry walls, only aided by his spit. “And I might consider once’ enough.”  

You don’t have a choice, feeling your body go numb. He picks your thigh up over his hip and drives deeper—starting a steady pace without letting go of your throat, squeezing the life out of you. Your hands finally drop, lying limp, and still, you feel it deep within—the thrusting as he beats your sorry cunt into an aching mess, then fills you up with awful warmth.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Naoya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[queenpiranhadon]

parts 1 , 2, 3

You and Katsuki have been close. You always have been. You've always have a close bond with him ever since you, Kirishima and himself were trapped together during the USJ incident, and consequently, you saved his life from a villain.

The sheer determination in your eyes... he knew that you would be an amazing hero.

But unlike Deku, he didn't feel threatened by your presence, no.

You were just...different.

You were special to him, as he was to you. Everyone knew that.

Katsuki just didn't know why.

Why did he feel like he couldn't breathe when he wakes up from a nightmare without you by his side?

Why does he feel like the sun shines just a little bit brighter to make you glow like the angel you were.

And why did you always seem to make him want to smile, a big smile that stretched across his face, big and goofy as if he was 9 years old again.

Why?

Because he loved you.

But he realized it too late.

He never stopped loving you, no, and neither you him.

It was just the wrong time and the wrong place.

Because, this time, the League knew what his breaking point was, what it would take to force Bakugou Katsuki to join their ranks.

This time, they had you.

Bakugou Katsuki, only in his first year of UA, kidnapped by the League of Villains during the disastrous battle at the attempted summer camp UA hosted, was chained to his seat, unable to move, both because of his physical restraints, but his emotional ones too.

"You join us, and we won't hurt her."

There, on the low quality TV was camera footage of a room with while walls and tiling. That room was your hospital room.

You were asleep, your precious body littered in bandages. Katsuki wanted to scream bloody murder, sob his eyes out or even tear the eyes out of the League who was grinning victoriously at the sight of the murderous defeat in his eyes.

He couldn't fight back.

Not when you weren't safe.

How could he have been so stupid?!

Why wasn't he strong enough to protect you?!

This time, Bakugou Katsuki didn't run away with his fellow students.

Instead, he stood there numbly, feeling his heart break apart piece by piece until it was completely shattered unable to do anything as he watched you scream at him with tears in your eyes until your throat went raw, red lines appearing on Todoroki's forearms as he holds you back, preventing you from running to your best friend.

Your Katsuki.

But it was too late.

He thinks he left his heart behind when he left you that day. stepping back into the inky darkness that got him into this situation in the first place.

The last thing he saw of you was the gut wrenching love in your eyes as you watching him slip away.

The pain, the agony, the desperation, the relief of knowing he was alive - it all came from the love you felt for him.

But love was dangerous.

And he knew that better than anyone.

A/N: Lowk sobbing at this rn should I make a part two?? This girlie is a sucker for happy endings

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 4

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s time for Threshing! You and Aaric are separated and try to find a way back to each other. If you can stay alive.

Warnings: very graphic violence, blood, swearing, dragons being dragons, yearning, idiots in love

Author’s Note: part 5 might be turning up the heat for this slowly burning slow-burn👀

Word Count: 5.3K

Part Three | Part Five

————

-Threshing-

(Aaric POV)

The sharp blade of a dagger hovers inches from Aaric’s throat. Any closer, and the edge would cut open his artery, making him bleed out all over the forest floor.

With heaving breaths, he meets the eye of the enraged cadet. Snarling, the first-year tries to press in, throwing his weight, but once his eyes snap to his knife, Aaric takes his shot. He throws his elbow into his opponent’s gut, before leaning forward and biting his fingers. He coughs a yell, dropping the dagger on instinct. Aaric doesn’t waste time. He throws every ounce of strength into tackling the cadet to the dirt. The stolen dagger slides into his grip as he quickly slices the man’s throat.

Blood sprays, and Aaric dives out of its path. The man’s hands come up to stop the bleeding, but it’s too late. He heaves and chokes, flailing, before his body suddenly stills.

He’s dead within seconds.

Aaric stares at the body for a moment before glancing down at the blood-covered blade. He recalls Y/N’s words from this morning. “Threshing will be a breeze.”

He scoffs, wiping the dagger off the dead cadet’s trousers to clean it. He recalls the rattled smile she gave him before reluctantly walking away. He knew she was trying to be positive, even though she was obviously worried and afraid. Aaric felt the same, but not for himself.

That’s why he has to find her. Immediately. He has to make sure she’s okay, that she’s alive.

Looking up at the golden leaves of the trees, he takes a deep, steadying breath.

She’s alive. She can take care of herself. She’ll bond a dragon.

Aaric chants this over and over in his mind as he scales down the forest mountainside towards the valley. Distant roars echo through the trees as he treads carefully.

A sudden feminine scream that’s immediately cut off causes him to freeze. It was close by.

It’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her.

The chant carries him through scaling across boulders, one eye on the sky as he tries to take cover under a tree. The grumble of a dragon shakes the ground he’s standing on before he sees a flash of red.

Shit.

For years, Aaric has been gifted the best education by highly acclaimed tutors. Part of that education was studying everything their kingdom knew about dragons. What he knew about Red dragons: if you find yourself cornered by one? You’re already dead.

Red scales gleam in the sunlight. Smoke fills the air as Aaric catches sight of a charred body in cinders lying in the dirt. He takes quick notice that the body is far too short to be Y/N. It emboldens him, but he keeps an eye on the Red as it breathes deeply, snarling.

By the luck of the gods, the dragon hasn’t noticed him yet. He stands near the dragon’s tail, which he notices slithers through the leaves, nearing him. With all the calm he can muster, he slowly backs away, inch by inch, to not draw the dragon’s attention.

Another distant roar suddenly echoes through the valley. But this time, it comes from behind Aaric. He curses every god he can name when the Red’s head swivels to look right at him.

The gleam in its gold eyes, where scars abound its hide, looks entirely too murderous for Aaric’s liking. He stills to appear less threatening, but it’s too late. The Red’s eyes narrow on the bloody dagger in the prince’s hands.

Fuck.

Aaric has seconds to dive out of the way before a stream of fire consumes the tree he was standing in front of. The fire follows him as he runs as fast as he can down the mountain, sliding through mud and leaves. He keeps his footing and just as the dragon’s fire stops, he ducks behind a boulder. He hears its growl as it prowls forward, toying with him.

If this is supposed to be a breeze, like Y/N said, it’s quickly turning into a cyclone.

Panic tries to choke him, but he uses her method of counting backwards from 100 to keep calm and stay centered. If he can’t focus and stay present, he’s dead.

A flash of black in his peripheral is what saves him from being this Red’s next meal. Three cadets stumble upon the scene, enraging the Red further and drawing his attention. Fire singes the air once more, but far from where Aaric hides. He doesn’t waste a second before bolting through the trees.

Where are you?!

Panting, he pumps himself faster. He sees the rise of a cliff up ahead and knows that he can get a good vantage point of the whole valley from there. He could try and see if Y/N is anywhere near him. If not, he’ll assume she’s on the other side. Being on that cliff would leave him entirely exposed to any dragons flying overhead that think he’s better as a snack than someone to bond with.

It’s a risk he’s worth taking for her.

Once Aaric stands on the edge of the stone cliff, he scans the horizon. He sees smoke and wings darting through the trees to the west. A river cuts through the mountains to the east. Basgiath’s towers can be seen to the north.

With a quick surveying of his surrounding area, he knows Y/N isn’t nearby. That seed of hope that was guiding him slowly dies.

What if I find her and it’s too late?

Flashes of the nightmares that plague him nightly flash to the forefront of his mind. Her lifeless eyes trained on him, haunting him for the rest of his life.

A chill slides down his spine.

Aaric and Y/N have known each other for most of their lives. He’s spent every birthday, for as long as he can remember, with her. If this is how she dies because of him, he’ll never forgive himself. They’ve both come too far for this to be their end.

Withering dread slowly fills him to the brim. He can’t imagine life without her. A day without her laughter, her charm, her threats, her smiles, is a day not worth living.

If she dies, she’ll never know that I—

Something large and sapphire-hued streaks through his vision, cutting off everything he can see before he finds himself staring up at very large golden eyes trained entirely on him.

The dragon assesses the prince before landing in front of him, sending Aaric scrambling backwards. He stares up at the looming dragon, fear and apprehension coursing through him. But the previous emotions of panic and worry from earlier echo through him in sudden shades of rage.

Y/N is out there, and he has to find her. He’s going to find her. She’s alive. And if the only way through this damn valley is to fight every dragon he can find to get to her? So be it.

He grips the dagger in his hand, standing his ground. A pregnant pause weighs heavily between them before the dragon throws back its head. With a deafening roar, the Blue levels their head to look Aaric directly in the eye.

“I have been looking for you.”

Aaric’s stomach drops as a deep, gruff voice rings through his mind. The golden eyes of the Blue Clubtail narrow on the dagger.

“Do you wish to kill me, Camlaen Aaric Tauri?” A wave of sulfuric breath washes over the prince. The dragon’s slitted eye contracts as a grumble fills his chest, resembling thunder. “I must warn you, if you try, your mate will surely die.”

—————

(Reader POV)

I’m going to die.

The thought echoes in my bones as fire singes at the heels of my boots. My feet pound through dirt and leaves as I race through the forest.

The Orange Scorpiontail is gaining on me, and the burning trees aren’t helpful as ash and embers rain down from their limbs. I duck and roll beneath a falling branch as the Orange roars loud enough to startle me. I lose my footing and stumble, sending myself sprawling to the ground. Mud cakes itself all over my leathers as I roll to a stop.

Taking quick stock of my limbs to ensure nothing is burned or broken, I stare up at the sky.

Holy shit, I’m alive.

I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Once I establish only a few bruises and aching ankles, I glance over to see the other cadet who crossed my path just before the dragon showed up. She’s sprinting towards a boulder when a scaled jaw, full of sharp teeth as long as my arm, clamps down on her leg and drags her, screaming. I take my chances, hoping this will distract the Orange, and haul myself out of the dirt.

Smoke covers me as I bolt through the trees. I run as far and as fast as I can, putting as much distance between me and the Orange.

Crashing through bushes and twigs, I hurl myself out of the woods at the sound of rushing water. A river cuts through the forest, sparkling in the sunlight.

I catch my breath, relief washing through me when I notice no one is around. The Orange didn’t follow me.

Looking to the sky, I take stock of what I can see. Mountains line the valley where wings tumble through trees and various dragons fly in circles. I didn’t realize bonding a dragon would be so difficult.

Late last night, Aaric had snuck out of the men’s dorms to meet me. We stole away to an alcove with a window overlooking this very valley I’m standing in now. Aaric’s face was tense with concern and worry. We both knew we wouldn’t be together during Threshing. It made everything harder, but we had to trust we would stay alive.

I close my eyes, letting the wind caress my face in the brief stillness.

He’s alive. He’s too stubborn and arrogant to die.

Aaric remained the top of the class for the last month, whether that be in academics or training. It’s not hard to guess he’s breathing and probably already bonded.

I swear to Malek if he’s bonded before me, I’ll—

A dagger whistles by, inches from my face, before embedding itself into the trunk of the tree I’m standing next to. Heart in my throat, I whirl to see two broad cadets standing in the trees. It’s plain to see the murderous intent on their faces as they asses me.

I don’t turn my back on them as I begin to walk backwards towards the river’s edge.

“Looks like we caught ourselves a mouse,” the one with a large, imposing nose drawls.

The other smiles, cold and menacing. Old burn scars cover the left side of his face, making him look even more threatening. “Let’s catch it,” he snarls.

Big Nose darts forward, daggers in hand. I reach behind, finding my throwing knives strapped tightly to my waist. With the flick of a wrist, two blades sail through the air. Big Nose dives out of the way, but the Burned Guy shouts in pain.

“You bitch!” The knife sticks out of his upper thigh. His eyes burning with hate as he limps forward, blood seeping through his pant leg.

“Careful,” I smirk. “The next one will castrate you.”

This mouse has sharp teeth.

Big Nose bounds towards me, trying to tackle me to the ground, but I maneuver out of his reach, backing onto the rocks lining the river. My hands brace my knives in my grip as I try to keep both cadets in sight.

As if he’s reading my mind, Big Nose whistles low to Burned Guy. They take either side of me, forcing me to choose. Burned Guy is injured, his limping growing more severe as he gets closer. He’s not much of a threat. Big Nose, however, with his daggers extended, is more intimidating.

Choice made, I face Big Nose fully just as I throw a blade towards Burned Guy. I hear him swear just as Big Nose aims to punch me in the face. I swerve before slashing at his chest, hard enough for the leather to give beneath the blade to draw blood.

Big Nose hisses before barreling towards me. I dive between his legs, tripping him with my foot as I go. Just as I turn to watch him fall into the rocks head-first, pain rackets up my skull as someone yanks my hair. I gasp in pain as I’m dragged backwards.

“Two against one,” Burned Guy huffs. “Stop fucking around and die already.”

Using my hair, he turns my face to look up at his, blood trickling from his injured leg and arm. I smile at the sight of my knives sticking into him like a pin cushion. Too bad he’ll have to deal with one more.

With every ounce of strength I possess, the throwing knife already gripped in my palm slams to the hilt into his crotch.

The scream Burned Guy unleashes is hair-raising. He lets me go as he falls to the rocks, crying and panting. His screams are blood-curdling as my knife’s grip sticks out of his pants right where his dick is.

“Told ya I’d castrate you,” I wink.

One down, one to go.

As soon as I look away, I’m caught around my middle by two large arms and thrown to the ground. The air is knocked out of me, causing me to wheeze as sharp rocks dig into my back. Big Nose holds his arm to my throat, crushing my windpipe. His body pins me to the ground.

Spots fill my vision as I scramble to punch him in the ribs, kick him in the groin, the leg, anything. He doesn’t budge. He only holds me more with his full weight, not holding back like Aaric does on the mat.

Panic begins to grip me as I try to reach for a knife, only to find the holster empty.

“Out of toys, bitch?” Big Nose spits in my face. His other hand grips my arm, pressing it into the sharp rocks before skin begins to break.

“You didn’t have to fight like that, ya know,” he huffs. “We would’ve taken care of ya. Made it quick. Besides,” he leans closer, my head swimming from lack of oxygen. “I’ve always loved a woman on her back.”

A shriek dies in my throat as he shifts his weight, pinning me to grab something I can’t see. The dagger gleams in the sun as he holds it flat against my cheek.

“You’re pretty,” he smirks. “Not pretty enough to live.”

A sudden roar echoes through the air, startling the cadet on top of me. His attention is briefly torn from me, and I take my shot. I bite his arm as hard as I can before the skin splits and blood rushes into my mouth. Big Nose hollers, bucking off of me, but I’ve already reached for his loosened grip on his knife. I tear it from his hand and throw my weight into tackling him to the rocks, pinning him as I thrust the dagger downward, straight into his eye socket.

Blood sprays from the wound, pooling into the soaked rocks beneath. He screams and thrashes as I rip it back out before plunging it into his throat, opening his artery and cracking the bone of his spine.

He’s dead instantly.

Sharp air slices my lungs like knives as my fingers let go of the pommel. I slide from his body, heaving.

The spots in my vision have begun to fade, and the flow of oxygen in my lungs slowly steadies me. The smell of autumn leaves and wet stone grounds me before I remember the roar from earlier.

A Red Daggertail, with scars covering the entirety of its scales, prowls towards me. Its tongue licks the air like a serpent, tasting the scent of blood.

I’m so fucked.

My heart stops as I freeze on the riverbank. I stare at the golden eyes, wondering if I’m supposed to be feeling something apart from fear. Is this dragon debating between bonding with me or eating me?

A snarl fills the silence as its lips curl, revealing sharp teeth that could crack me in half. It definitely wants to eat me.

Just as I try to move backwards, it lunges.

Another roar cracks the air, but this time, from behind me. I don’t take my eyes off the imminent threat as the dragon stops just before me, eyes snapped up to what is surely another dragon behind me.

I find myself caught between two dragons and I pray to every god there is that this isn’t the Orange Scorpiontail from earlier.

Sulfuric breaths heave behind me, shifting my hair. I freeze on the rocks, hoping the two dragons don’t notice me.

When the Red’s burning eyes snap to mine, I know I’m dead.

I’m so very, very fucked.

The Red darts forward, widening its jaws as it dives for me. In a blink, the dragon behind me rushes in, massive jaw clamping around the Red’s exposed throat and tearing it open. The dragon’s blood sprays the air, masking the world in a brief kaleidoscope of crimson.

The dragon behind me gleams like emeralds as it rips the hide of the Red and cracks the bones of its neck. The fight is over in a minute, and I sit there, dumbfounded and terrified, as the Red’s body slumps into the stream. Blood trickles from its torn neck, turning the crystal water red.

My breaths come out shallow and rough, jackhammering through me as I stare in shock at the dead dragon.

Holy shit, I just watched a dragon kill another dragon.

The ground rumbles like an earthquake as the Green dragon that’s hovering above me roars into the sky. When it’s done, the dragon huffs steam into the dead face of the Red before snapping its attention to me.

“Krik wanted to make you his next meal. I could not allow that to happen.”

The voice that carries into my mind is feminine. It’s soft as the wind and thunderous as a storm. Her eyes are a deep gold, like all dragons, but there’s a ring of green tinted silver around the slitted iris.

I stare in both wonder and bone-rattling fear as she moves her body closer to me.

“Do not be afraid, Y/N Y/L/N. It does not become you.”

I huff an incredulous laugh, but it’s cut off by the sounds of branches snapping. I twist to see the Orange Daggertail from earlier, snarling and kicking at the dirt as it emerges from the tree line.

And it looks pissed.

The Green (I glance to the tail of the dragon that just fucking talked to me as if that was completely normal) Swordtail stands tall, raising her head as she settles herself above me. Almost like she’s… claiming me.

They’re definitely communicating to one another as snarls and growls fill the space between them. The Orange begins to look more and more hostile, maybe even a bit rabid with blood soaking its teeth. I quickly get to my feet, backing into the Green since she saved my life already. She might do it again.

The leaves of the trees rustle and the branches bend as the wind picks up. My hair whips in my face just as a large shadow soars above before landing between the Orange and the Green. Shimmering sapphire scales that end with a tail in the shape of a club sit before me and the Green. A Blue Clubtail. And it’s the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen. It’s stunning.

The Green Swordtail isn’t happy to see whoever this is, that much is obvious. She snarls and bends forward to flash her teeth at the Blue. The Blue whips around as if chastising the Green.

I look up at my dragon. “Is he a threat too?”

The Green huffs. “One of the most stubborn, territorial, protective, and dangerous males in the Empyrean.”

I nod. “So, you’re not on good terms, I take it?”

“He interferes to protect us.”

I furrow my brows. Why would he do that?

As if in answer to my question, a cadet slides down the leg of the Blue dragon with ease. As if he’s done this a hundred times. Sandy-brown hair whips in the wind as he races towards me.

My heart pounds in my chest erratically at the sight. Aaric.

Unbidden, tears spring to my eyes as he rushes to me. I take quick stock of his body, noticing only a few cuts and fresh-blooming bruises before he tackles me into a hug. I laugh into the embrace, a tear falling down my cheek as he holds me.

The embrace is so familiar that it brings me back to every moment I’ve ever held him. Every breath, laugh, and smile I’ve shared with him.

He’s here. He’s alive. I’m alive.

I grip him like my life depends on it, gasping a sob into his shoulder. I don’t even care if dragons surround us, not even if this Orange attacks us while we hold one another. Nothing matters but Aaric.

I can feel his arms touching me in various places to ensure I’m all here. That I’m whole and uninjured. I smile before a blush rushes to my cheeks when his hands find purchase low on my hips.

“Are you alright?” He says into my ear. “Molvic warned me you’d be dead if-“

I pull back, smiling at him. “Molvic? You bonded?”

He nods, looking over his shoulder at the Blue Clubtail. Molvic. “He found me.”

Like she found me.

Molvic growls again, this time, raising his body to stand over the Orange in an obvious play for dominance. I notice the Green above me shake her head as if she’s rolling her eyes at him.

The Orange cowers before snarling again, lunging forward and snapping its teeth. The Green snaps back, but Molvic intervenes and cuts the Orange off.

Aaric shifts me further behind him as he turns to face the scene. I gasp as Molvic snaps his teeth inches from the Orange’s throat. He roars in its face, loud enough to make both Aaric and I cover our ears. The Orange finally relents before readying its wings and taking off into the sky.

Aaric’s tight grip slackens as the Orange fades from view and we’re left with Molvic and the Green.

“Did he just save us?” I question aloud.

“His involvement makes me look weak,” the Green snarls in my head. “I can protect my own.”

“We flew over as fast as we could,” Aaric turns back to me, only now noticing the blood staining my chin. His fingers automatically touch the skin, sending a jolt of awareness through me. “What the hell? Are you okay?”

I shrug. “It’s not mine.”

Aaric raises a brow before surveying the area around us, catching sight of the two dead cadets and the blood soaking the ground. “What happened?”

“They cornered me, followed me, maybe they were even hunting me,” I shrug before bending down to retrieve one of my fallen knives. “Either way, they’re dead and I’m alive.”

Aaric stares at me. “Obviously.”

His gaze finds the knife embedded into the crotch of Burned Guy’s dead body, and his eyes go comically large. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

“The prick deserved it for pulling my hair. I even warned him that would happen.” I nod to the other dead cadet. “Big Nose was harder to take down.”

Aaric whips around to me. “Big Nose?”

“Didn’t really have time to ask for his name while he tried to slit my throat, you know?”

Aaric tenses, his eyes honing in on my exposed neck. “Did he hurt you?”

I step closer to reach for his tightly closed fist. I smooth my fingers over his skin until he finally opens his and wraps them around mine.

I won’t ever lie to him. “Yes, he did. They both did.”

Aaric’s posture is rigid from the confession. If the cadets weren’t already dead, they’d be slaughtered by now. By his hand. The overprotective bastard.

“Did they suffer?”

I smile, squeezing his hand. “You bet.”

He relaxes slightly. “Good.”

The snarling of the dragons behind us has us turning to look at them. Whatever conversation they’re having is not going well.

“You think your dragon is going to kill mine?” Aaric whispers under his breath.

I shake my head, warmth spreading through me as he claims the Green as mine. “She’ll kick his ass, just like I can kick yours.”

That makes Aaric smirk. “Try taking me on tomorrow, and we’ll see about that.”

The snapping and gnashing of teeth have us tensing as the Green whips her tail around to face away from the Blue. Molvic closes his eyes as if he’s frustrated.

“Guess our dragons aren’t friends,” I whisper.

“Molvic and I can hear you,” the dragon hisses in my mind. I startle at her clipped tone. “Also, I have a name. I am Kesilarryium, Sword of the Realm. Not “the Green” as you keep calling me.”

A chill runs down my spine from her full name, just as warmth rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing like being called out by your own bonded dragon.

I try to attempt her name in my mind, but she stops me.

“Call me Kesi.”

A strange, overwhelming sense of rightness fills me, as if her name and our bond are something I’ve been missing for years. I feel found, whole.

“As do I,” her tone is softer now as her large eyes snap to mine. “And to be clear, Molvic and I are not friends,” she sneers at the Blue who bows his head in submission as she flashes her teeth.

“We are mates.”

————

By the skin of my teeth, we make it to the flight field. I’m shocked I’m still breathing when Kesi lands. My teeth rattle in my skull from the force. I breathe deeply, staring out at the other dragons on the field. My fingers are raw and bleeding from holding onto her scales for dear life. The mud on my leathers is now fully dry and begins to crack as I maneuver myself off Kesi’s back. I practically fall from her leg before landing on my feet in the grass.

“We will have to work on your dismounting to ensure you do not break your neck.”

I wince. I guess it looked worse than I thought.

I catch sight of Molvic soaring overhead before landing next to Kesi with his wings fully extended. It looks like Kesi rolls her eyes as she shifts away from him. Molvic huffs, steam billowing from his nostrils as he stares at her in annoyance.

If I didn’t know they were mates, I’d assume they hate each other.

Mates. The word echoes in my head like a church bell. They’re rare and unheard of nowadays. The only mates I’ve heard of are Violet’s and Xaden Riorson’s dragons. At least Aaric and I are in the same year, so it won’t be difficult to deal with a mating bond.

Kesi growls low at Molvic, who huffs smoke in her face.

Oh gods, if they keep this up, they’re going to prove me wrong.

Aaric comes into view on Molvic’s shoulder before he slides down his dragon’s front leg and lands gracefully, to my utter annoyance.

“Of course you’re a natural at this,” I shake my head.

Aaric gives me a cocky grin as he comes to stand with me. “Jealous?”

I give him a sly smirk. “Why should I be jealous of a royal know-it-all?”

“Just admit it,” he winks. “I’m good at everything.”

I roll my eyes. “Not everything.”

His eyes slide to my mouth, causing my breath to get caught in my throat. ”Care to find out?”

Holy shit.

My pulse is racing as Aaric takes a step closer. I’m very, very, aware of every single part of him as his fingers come up to move a strand of loose hair out of my face.

“I was terrified I wouldn’t make it in time,” he whispers. “Molvic was super cryptic and made it seem like you were close to dying and—“ he visibly swallows, my eyes tracking the movement. “I couldn’t stand the idea of it.”

My eyes slowly meet his. “Of what?”

His green eyes are dark and enticing as he breathes out, “Losing you.”

His hand reaches up, sliding across my cheek. From months of hard training, his skin is calloused. It’s rough and warm against my skin, but comforting all the same.

I lean into him, gazing up through my lashes. “I thought I’d lose you too.”

The confession hangs heavy between us as we stare. As if gravity pulls us together, my face lies inches from his. Any closer and my lips would be—

“Uh, are your dragons alright?”

The voice startles us, springing us apart. I look over to see Sloane staring up at Kesi and Molvic, oblivious to what she just interrupted.

I can’t even meet Aaric’s eyes as warmth floods me. Gods, did we almost just—?

“We think they’re fighting,” Aaric coughs out, his voice strange and thick. “They’re mates.”

Sloane’s eyes are huge as she looks at the both of us. “Mates?! Holy shit.”

I nod, my cheeks still flaming, but I press on, still not looking at Aaric. “Yeah, it was a surprise to us, too.”

She looks between us for a moment before a smile curves her lips. “Honestly? Makes sense this would happen to you two.”

I tense. “What?”

Just before she answers, Rhiannon Matthias calls all the first-year cadets to attention, motioning over to the Scribe table where they’ll record our bonded dragons’ names. I catch sight of Violet standing next to her, who’s beaming at me. I smile back.

Aaric is at my side again, this time looking flustered. He won’t meet my eyes as he nods to the end of the field. “Guess we should—“

“Yeah,” I rush, interrupting him awkwardly.

Silence blankets us for a moment before Aaric begins walking ahead of me, his fists tight and shoulders bunched. I wonder why he’s so uptight.

“Your mate is frustrated he did not get the chance to kiss you.”

I startle, whirling to stare up at Kesi in bewilderment. My what?!

If dragons had eyebrows, she’d surely be raising hers at me. “Your mate. Your partner. Your lover. Whatever you humans like to call your significant others.”

I trip over my boots, catching myself before I fall into the dirt. Aaric?! He’s not my mate! He-he’s my best friend.

Kesi just stares at me. “The prince tried to kiss you.”

I shake my head. No, he didn’t. Nothing happened.

“You are in denial. Lying to yourself does you no favors, Y/N.”

I balk.

“Molvic agrees.”

I glare up at her. Don’t you dare give me relationship advice when you clearly are having issues with your own mate.

“So you agree, the prince is your mate?”

No!

I stomp away from her, frustration wracking up my spine as I find Aaric in the crowd of cadets lined before the waiting Scribes. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched as if he, too, seems to be arguing with Molvic like I was with Kesi.

When his eyes meet mine, my stomach drops. I truly think I’m imagining the longing shining in his eyes. The obvious regret of something I wish I understood.

I tear my gaze away, panting. If my feelings for Aaric were complicated before, now it’s worse with two nosey dragons in our business.

We’re friends.

Friends.

I keep chanting it to myself to keep the doubt at bay. I’ve had years to keep my feelings hidden, ensuring Aaric never knows how I feel about him. It’s better if I get a grip on myself before it leads to eventual heartbreak.

We’re just friends. Right?

————

• moodboard of Kesi & Molvic below •

the fanart of Aaric is by etherealbookart, all other images are from Pinterest

Taglist: @bookishnerd1132 @abysshaven

@annthepenguin

‼️anyone can be added to the taglist so please let me know if you want to be tagged in the future

[galaxy-stardust]

Task Force 141

Shrek 2 movie night

The movie night kicked off about as predictably as expected: complete and utter bedlam.

Soap had taken charge of “decorating” the common room, which now looked like a child’s birthday party gone rogue. Green streamers hung from the walls, a hastily sketched “FAR FAR AWAY” banner drooped over the TV, and he’d somehow sourced plastic Shrek ears for everyone. Gaz had grabbed the popcorn and drinks, dumping an unreasonable amount of butter and salt on the snack pile. And, of course, the infamous themed pajamas were distributed with glee.

Price, as predicted, was absolutely done from the moment he walked in. “I’m not wearin’ these.” He held up his pair—a deep green onesie with Fiona’s face emblazoned on the chest.

“Orders are orders, cap’n,” Soap grinned, already wearing his Donkey pajamas with pride.

Gaz snickered from the couch, stretched out in a matching set with Donkey ears sewn onto the hood. “Price as Fiona—this is gold.”

“I’ll have your bloody head,” Price growled, but he begrudgingly disappeared to change.

Then, there was Ghost.

He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, completely unmoving. His Puss in Boots pajamas—a bright orange monstrosity complete with paw-printed feet—hung limp in his hand.

“I’m not wearin’ this,” he said flatly.

“C’mon, big guy,” Soap cajoled, throwing a popcorn kernel at him. “Don’t be the only one not in the spirit.”

“I’m not wearin’ it.”

“Ghost,” Gaz piped up. “We’ll never let you live it down if you don’t.”

There was a long, dangerous pause. Then, Ghost sighed, muttered something about how he “should’ve stayed in the field,” and trudged off to change.

Ten minutes later, the movie finally began.

Five minutes into the film, Soap started quoting every line.

“Shrek and Fiona... Oh, you guys are too much!”

Gaz was practically howling with laughter every time Soap nailed a scene. Price looked like he was ready to shove a sock in his mouth.

“Soap, shut it before I turn this off,” Price grumbled.

“But Cap’n! It’s Shrek!”

“I will burn this house down.”

Ghost, the silent observer, sat hunched on the far side of the couch, his orange ears bobbing slightly. He looked vaguely murderous but had accepted his fate.

Then the chaos hit full throttle during the “I Need a Hero” scene.

Soap leapt onto the coffee table, fist pumping. “THIS IS THE MOMENT!”

Gaz joined in, jumping up and down on the couch like a sugar-high toddler. “Get the Fairy Godmother!”

Price just buried his face in his hands. “This is a disaster.”

It got even worse when Soap grabbed Ghost’s hands to “slow dance” for the last part of the scene.

Ghost didn’t flinch, but his tone was pure death. “Soap, I swear to every god above—”

“DANCE, BIG GUY!”

Even Price couldn’t hold back a laugh.

When the credits rolled, the team collapsed onto the couches in an exhausted, chaotic heap. Popcorn was scattered everywhere, Price was still wearing his Fiona pajamas (under extreme protest), and Soap looked far too pleased with himself.

“That,” Gaz said between gasps of breath, “was the best team bonding ever.”

Price shook his head. “You’re all insufferable.”

Ghost? He just stood, pulled off the Puss in Boots hood, and stalked out the door with a single muttered comment:

“Never again.”

Soap grinned after him. “See you for Shrek 3, mate!”

[cybsoo2]

the flowers of evil

╰┈➤ synopsis — The garden is growing, a red romance is in full bloom. The seven boys each pick a bloody blossom to show you their love. Lovesick lilacs, weeping roses, and black dahlias. Which one will you choose?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.7k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, stalker behavior, manipulative behavior, murder, graphic depictions of violence, breaking & entering, implied/referenced abuse, religious undertones (namjoons section)

—Kim Seokjin

flower type — Wilted Roses

Your room is full of wilted roses

The petals falling to the floor 

What was once a pale pink is now a weeping red 

The flowers die and decay, turning darker as each hour passes

He hates the smell, so bittersweet

Floral from another man mixed with your salty tears

Jin hates him for what he did

How could he hurt his darling divine? 

If you were his then you wouldn’t have any time for tears

He’d kiss you so sweet that your cries would be quiet

He’d leave lipstick stains all over your shirt

The people on the subway would stare, but then they’d know that you’re all his

Of course he’d let you do the same

To claim his skin with crimson kisses

 Leaving purple bruises that bite at him

The marks would leave a sting, a reminder of your love

And he’d press down on them with his fingers, feeling how deep your love can go

He’d never hide your love, not like your (soon to be ex) boyfriend did

Cheating on you from behind closed doors

Then sending rancid roses as an apology

They aren’t even the ones you like

No, Seokjin would take pride in your passion and show it off to the world

He's so certain he’d be the better boyfriend

He has all these thoughts of dates at dusk, your shy smile as he makes you laugh, shadows of your touch on his skin…

Jin has the perfect plan

He’ll step into your boyfriend’s shoes, throwing the man aside and slowly taking over his life

Seokjin will speak sweet lies, watching as they spread like wildfire

Lies that’ll turn you two lovers against each other

Driving a wedge between the both of you

All the while Jin watches from afar

Playing patient and slowly planting his seeds of deception

Days go on of you drifting apart

Arms once wrapped around one another slowly unwinding

Heartstrings finally snapping and the bond you two once had now broken

After the hard parts done, all Seokjin has to do is sweep in and steal you away

Letting you cry on his shoulder as he charms his way into your heart

The blueprint is drawn out in his mind and he’s ready to take action

But first, he’ll start by setting fire to these flowers

—Min Yoongi

flower type — Black Dahlia

The days are getting darker

Black dahlias in bloom

Their floral scent fills his room

The sweet smell reminds him of you

Yoongi paces back and forth, flattening down a trail in his cream coloured carpet

His mind is such a mess

Tossing around ideas of what to do, it feels like a tennis match going on in his head

All the words blur together until its hazy lines and he feels as if he’s hyperventilating

His head and his heart are splitting himself apart

Torn between two choices: Ask you out for Valentine’s day? Or stay away and suffer in silence

He knows the logical option– and he wouldn’t even be considering this if it wasn’t for how sad you looked…

Sitting on the curb, a chill brushing over your bare skin

September has set in and along with it is the autumn air 

It paints your cheeks pink, dusting them a rosy red colour

Your confession almost got lost in the wind, just a hushed whisper only he could hear

“I wish just this once… I could be someone’s first choice to love.”

Your words are all that ring through his ears and he’s right brought back to his dilemma

His nerves set him alight, his whole body on fire

He clenches and unclenches his fists, squeezing the stem of the flowers in his hands

The thorns tear through his skin, leaving scarlet to trickle down his arms

The pain doesn’t even register in his mind, all too focused on the heavy weight in his heart

Breathing is hard, each inhale stings his throat as short pants echo out into the room

It doesn’t help that he’s also mumbling his thoughts to himself, trying to clear up the mess in his head but leaving no room to breathe instead

Realistically, Yoongi knows how this should end

He knows what’s right and he knows that if he indulges himself just this once… There no telling how far he’ll go

Caught up in a selfish choice and spiralling further into obsession

All Yoongi has is his mind

His bodies betrayed him, he gets so sick when you’re not near

He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do anything without feeling like he’s in a constant state of free-fall without you

His heart is a traitor too

It longs for you, begs to bring you in close and keep you as his own

But he bites back the agony and locks it away in his ribcage

 Yoongi’s mind is the only sliver of sanity he has left

So he’ll keep you at arms length

Far enough away that he can’t hurt you, but close enough for comfort

Yoongi’s just about made up his mind when fate is taking the chance out of his hands 

You walk into the room, tears on your cheeks and words ready to leave your lips

But whatever you were about to say is suddenly silenced as your eyes land upon the flowers in his hands

A bit mangled and blood dripping down the sides, but the black dahlias are beautiful nonetheless

Your eyes stay glued to them, a thousand thoughts running through your head

One idea must’ve clicked because now your iris shines with something akin to adoration

You look at Yoongi and ask, “Are those for me?”

And when you look at him like that, all he can do is say yes

Taking the flowers from his hold, you’ve officially accepted your place in his life

Yet you couldn’t be more unaware of just exactly what you got yourself into

—Jung Hoseok

flower type — White Lily

White lilies, the fragile flower

So delicate, so desirable, they look just like you

Petals drifting downwards

They follow the wind, flowing freely just like your white wedding dress

It should be a day to enjoy

The sun rising over east

Birds twitter their spring song

The leaves turning over as they change colours along with the season

April is warm and everyone wears it with a smile

That winter chill has begun to defrost

Melting away and bringing forth short dresses and sun-kissed skin

To be honest, everyone is in their element (everyone except Hoseok of course)

Glowing skin and bright smiles

Hundreds of eyes look at you and when Hoseok turns to follow their gaze…

He would be lying if he didn’t say you were the happiest of them all

You look so gorgeous in your gown

You as Mother Nature and your dress the earth’s decoration

Your train flows like the river, ivory patterns of lily pads woven into the lace

Silver jewelry adorns your wrists, sparkling in the sunlight

It wraps around your arms like Hoseok wishes he could do

White sleeves are also sewn into your dress, intricate designs traced into the fabric

Thread twists into your arms like cravings on tree branches

Barely visible outlines of flowers stems tie into the silk

Nobody else would ever notice, but Hoseok does

It reminds him all too well of the words he wrote on his own tree when the lilies were in bloom

The floret filled the field, their petals brushing against his skin as he etched your names into the ebony wood

He was so unbelievably naive back then, but at least he was at his happiest

Blissfully unaware of the other man who stole your attention and captured your heart (as if it was ever his to begin with)

Hoseok lived in a glass castle in the sky

Watching the seasons change thinking you were still his 

All the while you shared drunken kisses in the dark with someone whose name he doesn’t even know

And as the years went by you found your happiness in someone else’s heart

The dam has broken and Hoseok’s delusion is beginning to disappear 

There’s cracks in the glass and it threatens to shatter, but he’ll hold it together just a little while longer

You gaze happily over at another man

Affection in your eyes and a smile that Hoseok hasn’t seen on you in years

Suddenly everything has become all too real, and Hoseok understands that you were never met to be

He could never treat like you deserved, never measure up to a real man, never make you truly happy (but he could’ve loved you like no other)

As you say your vows and the sun begins to set, your ceremony has reached its end

All while Hoseok keeps a porcelain like smile on his face

The wedding takes on it’s final dance and Hobi marches into his funeral

He walks away without a goodbye (His last ‘I love you’ is in the letter in your pocket, he couldn’t find the strength to spit the words out)

Hoseok passes by the lilies in the field, tramped under his feet

He heads back home where silver blades and shiny painkillers are waiting for him

And he knows that the happiest you’ll ever be, is the day he dies

—Kim Namjoon

flower type — Carmine Carnation

Snowdrops and scarlet petals fall upon the open casket

There lies your lover, surrounded with carnations and encased in an empty box

Really, his tragic fate was his own fault

He got too tied up in you

Acting as if he owned you, as if your skin was his to touch and his to harm

He forgot his place on the podium is all, and Namjoon knocked him back down to where he belongs

Buried down in the dirt and six-feet below you

He’s nothing compared to a goddess 

So far beneath you that he’ll soon become the bones you walk on

His skeleton nothing but the stairs that uplift you

Each rib a rung in the ladder you’ll climb 

Digging the back of your heels into each vertebrate, the spines of the fallen could stretch for miles

It’s not like he was the first anyways

Namjoon’s gotten his game down to a tee

Killing is ever so easy

It takes no more effort then to offer a simple– push

The coroner said it was an accident, tripped over his own two feet

Tumbled down the stairs, cracking his head open on each concrete step

Spilling his scarlet like sin down the whole spiral staircase

Namjoon’s been the silent executioner for years

Taking hold of the sinners like cattle only to send them to the slaughter

The light in their eyes wouldn’t hold a candle in comparison to the sun of your soul

And while hundreds of corpses lay behind your back (you none the wiser), something about this time is different

Namjoon hasn’t seen you this sad in years

The tears don’t stop, not even when he offers his hand to wipe them away

Your sadness has been steady ever since you found out

An ocean in your eyes, running down like a river to your lips (Namjoon has hallucinations of how it’d feel to kiss them. Soft while you stutter through a breath. Tasting like salt as your tears run down his tongue. But, he’s quick to shake these impurities away.)

You always cry so easily to tells himself

Your tears are not his fault, but rather apart of your very nature

Breaking down from the simplest of things, you truly care for every creature in this world

It always surprises Namjoon how you could have empathy for even the foulest of criminals

But isn’t that why he’s so drawn to you?

So caring and kind, you’re the light in his darkest of times

An angel who can do no wrong

It’d be impossible for you to ever harm a human soul, even if it has to be done

But that’s why you have Namjoon to do the dirty work for you

He’ll avenge his archangel from the rot that uproots the earth

Protecting your innocent eyes as he slaughters those sinners like pigs

Eternal warrior, he worships the ground you walk on

Commander of his mind and captor of his heart, he gives his all to you

—Park Jimin

flower type — A Blooming Bruise

February is the season of blooming bruises and careless cuts

They fall like flower petals down your arm

Each blossoming bruise is shaded with all the pretty pinks and purples you like, but Jimin thinks they’re the ugliest things he’s ever seen

Each purple petal is shaped like fingerprints

Indents on your skin, a constant reminder of what he did

 Jimin can’t believe he didn’t notice it sooner

Too blinded by hate to see that his soulmate was suffering

The guilt is a hungry monster caged in his chest

It gnashes its teeth and claws at his heart

He’s so unbelievably sorry that he couldn’t see the truth sooner

But before he can fall into a spiral of self-hatred, Jimin’s rage is redirected to the asshole who broke your beauty

The man– no– boy who you call your lover

The one who smells like cigarettes, their scent drowning out your floral perfume

The boy who kisses you rough, leaving marks all up your neck

The bastard who tells you he loves you, only to turn a fist when you do something he doesn’t like

Jimin hates him so much it almost outweighs his love for you

Almost

He can’t stand to see you cry

It makes him sick to his stomach and he can’t stop his own tears from trailing down his face

Your happiness is his first priority

So, he’ll stay by your side until you’ve got no tears left to cry

Even after all your sadness has run dry, he refuses to let you go

Your head tucked into his shoulder, breathe tickling his throat and sending chills down his spine

Chapped lips that crack down the center, how he wishes he could kiss you without consequences

Jimin takes you into his arms, a hand placed under your thighs and one wrapped around your waist

Your curious as to where he’s taking you, moved from sitting on the firm floorboards and now wandering away to somewhere unknown

You pry your eyes away from the crook of his neck and try to peek over his shoulder

But his palm pushes your head back down and he tells you to get some rest

Jimin wraps you both in a blanket and brings you down to lay on his bed

Sinking down into a sea of blue sheets, sleep comes quick

You settle in with Jimin behind your back

A shield against any monsters that might sneak up on you at night

He buries his face in your hair, breathing in the floral scent that was once so smothered by smoke

Jimin places kisses upon your neck, sending you off to sleep the safest you’ve ever felt

And as you’re drifting off in a dream, Jimin thinks up all the ways to get rid of your lousy lover

—Kim Taehyung

flower type — Red Roses

Romantics can be so predictable 

Flipping through the acts of love like it’s a playbook

Placing red roses on your doorstep every day of the week

Putting chocolates in your mailbox that’ll end up melting from the May heat

Romantics are the writers, the poets, the purely in love

They write lyrics with every word they speak

Singing sonnets as if it’s as easy as the breathe they take

Little drawings of cupid scrawled into table-tops and love letters written on napkins

These are the trademarks of any hopeless romantic

And at first glance, all these acts would make your heart stop and cheeks flush

But when does it begin to border on the obsessive?

Taehyung isn’t driven by desire, he doesn’t have his head in the clouds or act like lovers do

But rather, it’s the armoured emotion that has him under its control

Stuck on the idea of love and a slave to obsession, he won’t stop at anything until he has it just right

Everything has to be perfect when it involves you

Always needing more and it’s never enough

At first it started off small

Flowers petals found their way to your front door– then past the entrance and scattered throughout your home

Chocolate covered strawberries sit wound up in a bow– placed inside your fridge so they won’t start to melt

He’ll put a teddy bear upon your bed– tucked in tight and smelling sweetly like his cologne

Taehyung hopes that it’ll chase away the bad dreams you’ve been having lately

He sees your pale skin and the purpling eyebags that drag you down

He can only dream that the bear, dressed handsomely in a suit so like his own, will ward off the monsters that scare you in your sleep (unaware that he’s the very monster hiding in the dark)

Taehyung also writes words to you, twisted in obsession

They fall from his tongue faster than his hand can catch them

Messy handwriting and clumsy sentences

But he tries to make it pretty just for you, dotting the ‘I’s with hearts and looping the ‘O’s to look like flowers

Poems of pure passion fall down from your mailbox, overflowing because every though he has of you is a confession of his heart

‘Days flow by like the flowers. A bud blooms in the early sky and I awake to your smile.’

Pieces of a passage are stuffed into the trash

You can’t stand to look at the words without tearing up in terror

 ‘Dawn breaks and the petals begin to fall. I gather them in my arms, taking in their memory and etching their beauty into my mind. I take them away like the kisses I steal without you knowing.’

Taehyung notices all his notes have found their way to the bottom of the bin

Maybe he wasn’t obvious enough? He’ll try again

Taehyung texts you the next line of his poem

‘Flowers so fragile I fear they’ll fall apart. Twilight takes over the sun and the flowers will wilt. Delicate and like a dance, I collect the crimson leaves. Holding them in my hands like I do you at night.’

You’ve changed your number

His blue words are sent into the abyss

So he turns to the phone placed upon your wall

Drilled into the drywall and built into the brick, you’ll have to tear the thing out if you want to get rid of his voice

Taehyung calls out into the empty apartment, his honey-tone ringing out into oblivion 

‘Darkness grows like roots in the earth. A disease taints your touch and the weak rose is dying. Burn like iron but broken like a ribcage. Hollow glass that lets my heart see through. Such brittle beauty needs nothing more than my protection. I’ll take you into my arms before you drift afar.’

His words don’t reach your ears

You haven’t let him into your heart just yet

But next time he’s for certain, because when he delivers the next lyric in his love song, he’ll make sure to do it in person

—Jeon Jungkook

flower type — Hemlock

Jungkook’s wrath will be the death of you

His anger raging on in his heart

It builds day by day, burning ash catches fire and soon his whole life is a flaming inferno

He tried so hard to hide it too

Only after you’ve fallen fast asleep would he sneak out into the shadows

Dressed in darkness and eyes of evil, the reaper has come to wreak havoc on the world

He sees his target and stalks them like prey

His footsteps match the unknown mans

Jungkook’s so close he can hear all the dirty thoughts slipping out of his head

Hurtful words and harmful thoughts you came crying to him about only a few days prior

And now his hands twitch to kill, the only weapon he brought with him

He’ll wrap his slender fingers around the man’s throat

Choking back his cries and staring at him with empty eyes

The man would lose his blue breath

Hands scratching at Jungkook’s arms, leaving long lacerations that’ll stick to his skin

Then, Jungkook would start to squeeze harder

Thumbs digging into his throat as he tries to scream

His trachea begins to crack, bone breaking under pressure

But before he loses consciousness, a slide of his hands has Jungkook snapping his neck

And that’s just what he does

The same as he’s done to the thousands of others who’ve hurt his angel

Tonight will be like any other, slipping out of your arms in the dead of darkness

Tucking you in tight as he kisses your forehead

He lingers for a second, staring at you in your peaceful sleep

But then the angers rises once again and next thing you know he’s grabbing his weapon of choice and walking out the door

This nights pick of poison is ironic

A fatal flower that Jungkook knows the florist will enjoy

Killed by the very thing she loved most

Poison hemlock that he sprinkled into her drink

So unassuming as the tainted water slides down her throat

Jungkooks watches in anticipation, waiting for the seeds to sprout

For the roots to dig through her skin and spread their poison to her stomach

He watches and waits, checking the clock over and over

Time ticks on and on as nothing seems to happen

And while Jungkook waits for the woman to meet her end, in another room, you take of sip from the same glass

Both sitting on the bedside table, but mixed up in Jungkook’s mess of emotions

You drink down the drug, its venom running through your veins

Flower petals fall past your lips

They flood your mind and fill up your heart

And all of a sudden, you finding yourself falling fast asleep

Your eyes shut slowly, tiredness taking over your bones

It’s only a minute before your soul starts to slip

A fast and fatal death before Jungkook even has the time to realize

© cybsoo2 2025, all rights reserved ‎

[seleneprince]

Thanks you for answering!

NOW i'm more curious about Dick and N!D . You say that he's one shz hates the most,why? Is this because of the whole incident with Damian or is it because something else?

And i 'm really expecting the moment when everybody will finally know that N!D hate them so much (or is distant wirh a lot of them). Who will be the most hurt/angry about that? I think that will be a hard blow for Dick because it seems to me that Lucia try to be civilised with him and as he didn't pay too much attention to her ,did he think they on good terms ? How will he react with her if he know?

Sorry if there are too much question but i really love this concept/wip(?) And i'm eager to see your other ideas or blurb for this😊!

Oh boy, i'm so glad you asked that..👀😈

She feels this way with Dick for many small reasons, but the main one absolutely revolves from the murder attempt from Damian. Because Dick, although not maliciously, he handled it terribly. And I mean, terribly.

Before that, N! Daughter admired Dick, even. He was the main reason she took gymnastic classes and tried so hard on them. To impress him. To bond with him. Everyone went on and on about how he was the golden boy, such a good big brother, and she saw it too. She just wished he paid her the same amount of attention and care he had for the others..

But the thing is, Dick doesn't know how to bond with normal people. He can handle Jason, Tim, Damian and everyone else because, despite all their differences, they're the same: Soldiers. Vigilantes. All of them at some point trained and fought under Batman's shadow (some still do). They share similar stories of wounds, certain missions and the whole "risking their lives everyday at night to fight crime". That's the kind of trauma-bonding that this whole mess of a family has been built upon...and for someone who hasn't been through the same stuff as them, who doesn't understand their mission or has wore the mantles, well, Dick is clueless on how to approach them. And they might be unconsciously pushed aside because none of them know how to handle normal people. How could they, when they themselves haven't been normal in their whole lives? When they people they usually hang out with and interact are just like them?

In Dick's eyes, N! Daughter has the privilege of a safe, comfortable life, away from the danger and violence of theirs. She doesn't know the worst of it. And it's fine. But Damian, little terror, he hasn't had the same luxury. Sure, he grew up in a palace with servants, but he was also forced to train from the moment he could walk and bleed for his grandfather's approval. He was never allowed to be a child. Constantly bleeding, suffering and enduring pain to be molded into the perfect little assassin his family wanted him to be. Dick feels sorry for him, and we know he becomes very fond of Damian and sort of his guardian.

Which makes him prioritise the boy's needs and emphatise with him a lot, expecting people to do the same given his traumatic past...even if it comes out at the worst moment.

After the Damian tried to kill her and left that scar, when she was recovering from the still fresh wound, holding a bloodied bandage over her neck, Dick visited her at her room. She wasecstasic, so happy to have her big brother that she admired back then check on her. He sat beside her and told her the this:

"(Name), look, what Damian did was a terrible mistake. He didn't meant to, but he’s had a very difficult life with some awful people. It's not really his fault. I promise you that he won't do it again. Just please, forgive him."

As he spoke, a ringing began to grow and grow in her ears, until she could no longer hear him. Her mind going over and over what he said. She just nodded silently, the pain of the wound keeping her from talking (but also because she didn't trust herself to talk without insulting and cursing him) She didn't even feel when he retracted his hand from her shoulder as soon as she nodded. "Thank you (Name), knew you would understand. He's not really a bad kid, you'll see. He just needs some love and proper guidance to change his ways. We'll talk again when you're better, okay?" He said, moving away from her, obviously distracted. She didn't bother nodding again. She already knew he wouldn't come back.

That's what cemented her disgust for him. Not only the fact he spent the following days spending time with Damian (who by the way, never apologised or shower remorse for what he did), but how he just stood there and told a girl to her damn eyes who had just suffered a murder attempt in her sleep that she had to "be understanding" and basically be the "bigger person" with her attacker. With the blood still in her bandage.

That conversation didn’t just hurt, it broke something inside her. She realized then that no one in the family would choose her, that she only had her mom and the twins. And, in her mind, Dick wasn’t just complicit; he's a symbol of everything wrong with their dynamic.

The first time she tells this story is to Duke, when he gathers courage to ask her why she can't stand Dick, why she always tenses when he talks to her and avoids looking at him, despite being apparently the reliable, loving big brother of all. Needless to say, he's shocked…and angry on her behalf.

"I was holding my neck together with a damn bandage, and instead of asking me how I was feeling, instead of holding Damian accountable, he asked me to understand him."

In her mind, it sounded like:

"You’re the sacrifice. You’re the one who has to be stronger. You’re the one who has to forgive and move on. Because he’s more important"

And best part? Dick has no idea how deeply he hurt her. He thinks of that moment as a difficult conversation where he tried to make peace between his siblings, to what was best for everyone because Damian was still fresh out of the League's influence and he didn't know better. He doesn’t realize that it was the moment she gave up on him, and maybe the whole family.

He's used to be everyone's reliable big brother, the sunshine boy, so you can guess his surprise when he realises his sister avoids being in the same room as him and never smiles around him. When the little girl he remembers always lighted up when he spoke to her and went out of her way to get his attention...what happened? Where did that adorable little girl go? Can he get her back?

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, whose silence is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

 “What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

[yuesya]

Gojo Satoru shifts, and slowly opens his eyes.

“Oh hey, seems like everything went fine here,” a voice above him says breezily. A very familiar voice, too –Satoru would know, because it’s his own voice. “We’re good, folks! Your Gojo Satoru is back where he belongs now, isn’t that great?”

“Gojo-sensei!”

“Sensei, you’re back!”

“Sensei!”

“Alright now, don’t crowd him,” Shoko claps her hands together. There’s no disguising the amusement in her words, though. Satoru supposes that he can see why she would find his current situation amusing, though –his students are swarming him in a way that feels a bit like he’s getting overwhelmed by excited puppies at the moment.

Satoru laughs. “This happy to see me, huh?”

“We thought you were gone, sensei,” Yuta says, relief saturating his tone. “When we realized that it wasn’t damage from the Prison Realm that you were suffering from, but instead a cursed spirit that had taken over your body–”

Ah, yeah. That. Satoru imagines that would’ve been a nasty surprise for his young students and fellow allies.

On his part, it had also been shocking to find himself stuck in the head of another version of ‘Gojo Satoru’ in some alternate universe. Last he’d checked, Prison Realm was only supposed to trap a person inside it, not send them into an alternate universe as a disembodied voice in their alternate self’s mind.

And the curious thing was, his alternate self’s first reaction hadn’t been surprise at the sound of another voice inside his own head, but instead anger.

Who are you and where is Shiki?

Apparently, in another world, Gojo Satoru had a twin sister: Gojo Shiki. A twin who’d been murdered at birth, and Satoru is definitely going to have to look into things on his end, because if that had been true in his world as well, then–!

“Y’know, you could stand to look a little happier now that you’re back in your own body,” his lookalike from another world leans over and says to him. “You look like you’re thinking about committing murder.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Even Shiki is more discreet than you are,” the other Gojo Satoru sniffs.

Satoru highly doubts that statement. Mei-san had recorded Gojo Shiki’s fight against Ryomen Sukuna in high definition; he has it on good authority that Shiki is a vicious, violent little thing who definitely isn’t the type to shy away from killing. Or bloodying her hands.

Or quite literally tearing apart Satoru’s body and reconstructing it.

It might be a cursed spirit thing. Satoru has never seen another sorcerer whose reverse cursed technique is as powerful as what Satoru-and-Shiki are capable of together. Scary, scary. Satoru might even be in a spot of trouble if Shiki decided that she didn’t want to return his body to him, and he knows that his alternate self would only indulge his little cursed spirit sister.

But Shiki hadn’t cared for holding onto his body. In fact, she’d only been all too happy to return to her twin brother’s body, and alternate-Satoru had eagerly welcomed her back –and this unthinking, unshakable trust that they have in each other, the bond that they share…

It’s something that makes Satoru wonder, just a little bit.

“Sensei, is everything good?” Itadori’s worried voice breaks into his thoughts. “Does… does anything feel weird about your body?”

Satoru stretches.

“It’s like putting on a new coat,” he decides.

“… Eh?”

“It fits well, but everything’s a little stiff. But it’s okay! I’ll get used to it.”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiya! Do you know any Sterek fics where Derek rejects the mate bond with Stiles and just ignores it all, leading to Stiles feeling the strain or pain of an ignored/incomplete bond? I've read one before where Derek just moved away cuz he didn't think it was a big deal and Stiles really took the brunt of it. But any fics that are similar would be perfect. P.S. Thank you for everything that you do and I hope that you're having a great day!

Oh yes. I love this kind of angst.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,423 I Teen)

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(1/1 I 2,624 I General)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(19/? I 535,709 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

All the Time in the World-Sub!Aemond x Vampire

Warning:Vampires in this story-which means a heavy description of blood and death before turning into one. If you are uncomfortable with depictions of a bloody murder scene or someone choking on blood this story is not for you. This is also a Sub!Aemond in case that wasn’t clear, how could he have grown up with such a strong, sweet vampire women and not fallen in love with her?

There will also be mentions of SA and Aemond’s first experience in the brothel and how his mate deals with that once she finds out.

DD:DNE

Fic Moodboard

Y/n had been protecting the Red Keep and the Royal Family inside of it since Viserys was a baby and before Daemon was even born. Both boys were very close to the vampire since their own mother died when they were 3 and 7, Daemon clinging to her skirts until his father deemed it “inappropriate” which she found funny. To this day the man still had a sad little crush on her despite his 2 past wives and obvious lust for his niece.

Viserys kept her around when he became King, being fond of the women and knowing that she would never do anything but protect his family. She never could have foreseen one of the Kings children being her mate, though she hid it very well knowing that she could never leave now even if she actually wanted to. No need to let them know that, can’t let humans have the upper hand. Historically that hasn’t gone well for supernatural species.

Aemond, as a human, couldn’t feel the bond (though he would-should he become a vampire) but he was desperately in love with her anyway. Y/n suspected it had something to do with Alicent being a terrible mother to her children and Aemond’s “Mommy Issues” but also the fact that she was the one who comforted him every time his elder brother and nephews ridiculed him once again for his lack of dragon. Y/n didn’t want to make the young boy attached to her but she hated seeing her small mate in pain and every time she was forced to hear his cries her undead heart cracked once again.

The older he got the more distance she attempted to maintain, especially after the Queen made it clear that she did not appreciate her son growing attached to a “monster”. However the night that Aemond lost his eye, she may as well have broadcast how protective of the Targaryen Prince she really was…she practically did.

Y/n was awoken in her bed to the sound of knights running up the corridor and even worse than that, the heavy, delicious scent of her mates blood, quite a lot of it. When she sped down the halls and into the room she was stunned to find a Maester stitching up Aemond’s face. Luke had what appeared to be a broken nose and all of the children besides Aegon and Helaena were disheveled, though the only one bleeding copious amounts of blood was for some reason her mate.

“What happened?!” She demanded, storming in towards the scene, noting that the Maester was stitching up a missing eye (while said eye sat in a bloody dish).

“Y/n!” Aemond exclaimed, reaching his hand out for her comfort, comfort that he had not received in months since his mother insisted she avoid her son at all costs several months before. This time however, Y/n couldn’t have done it if she had wanted to and Aemond felt at least some form of relief from his favorite persons touch again.

“Oh sweet boy! What’s happened to you?!” She cooed, knowing the needy boy just craved affection and that now more than any other day, he needed it. His mother was in no place to comfort her son as she was snapping at anyone in the vicinity, angry at everyone it seemed.

“I claimed a dragon…” he mumbled into her ear as she hugged him, careful not to touch the injured side of his face. “I rode Vhagar…they said I stole her and attacked me. I admit I didn’t say the nicest things but they all attacked me and Luke…there was sand in my eyes and then he…” He was trying not to cry desperately, not wanting to seem weak in front of this women that was the epitome of strength, and that he was desperately in love with but she held him tighter and he allowed himself to cry for several moments until the doors opened and everyone else began arriving-Corlys and Rhaenys, the King himself who was looking rougher and smelling more and more of death every day in Y/n’s eyes (the scent of his blood was completely revolting), and finally Rhaenyra and…Daemon? Together? Y/n found that interesting…but not shocking.

“It’s alright sweet boy, breathe. It is alright to cry if that is what you need, if our bodies weren’t meant to cry then they wouldn’t be able to, now would they?” This made the boy smile slightly, though he winced in pain as soon as he did as his face moved.

Aemond held tightly to her hand as Alicent shouted at everyone and Rhaenyra tried to justify her sons actions. The King demanded Aemond tell him where he had heard Jace and Luke being called ‘bastards’ and he quickly blamed Aegon who made it clear that everyone in the room knew. “Could any word, any insult of any kind justify having your eye carved from your head? He was called a foul word and so he sliced his Uncles face with a blade he brought to an ambush, 4 on 1 which was clearly the intention. How is being called a bastard-which shouldn’t matter if it is not true- worth this?” Y/n questioned, everyone instantly shocked as most had never heard her say more than 5 words at once.

“It is treason!” Rhaenyra snapped.

“Oh, come off it! A word is not fucking treason, trying to murder a Prince however, now that is treason, a crime which Lucerys has clearly committed. If anyone should be sharply questioned it should be him.” Once again, everyone was stunned including Aemond who was looking up at Y/n as if she hung the stars in the sky herself just for him.

“Enough! The matter is finished! I will have No More of this infighting!” The King snapped, Aemond once again holding tight to Y/n who stroked his hair softly, everyone shuffling off to bed once Alicent had ‘calmed down’.

“Can you heal him?” The mother asked Y/n as they stood at Aemond’s bedside, the boy looking up at her hopefully.

“I can heal the injury, yes but I cannot grow body parts back, the scar will remain no matter what I do…I’m sorry sweet boy.” Aemond held her hand firmly as his mother huffed angrily, storming off to find the Maester once her son had gulped down the milk of the poppy.

“It is not your fault…it is Luke’s. And he will pay for making me a monster, I swear to the Gods he will!” Y/n’s eyes widened and she forced Aemond to look at her.

“You are not a monster! You are scarred, that is all. Plenty of men have scars and many women find them attractive. One day you will meet a wonderful noble lady and she will love you for everything that you are, sweet boy.”

“Do you?” Aemond asked and she looked at him curiously. “Do you like men with scars?”

“Oh…yes. It shows women how strong he is, that he will be good at protecting them and their family…sadly I will never have that. However, just like you will meet a wonderful lady, I will find myself a vampire to be with one day…I’m sure...” She said it even though she didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“I want to be a vampire some day. You could turn me and I could stay with you forever!” He smiled, pulling her to lay down beside him in the large bed, his mind clearly becoming foggy thanks to the milk of the poppy. She hesitated but it felt nice to be close to her mate, to know after he had been injured so grievously that he was completely safe in her arms as he rested his head on her shoulder. “We can go anywhere we want now that I have Vhagar, nothing would be able to stop us.”

“Never sweet boy…you sleep now. Have sweet dreams.” She encouraged but he was already asleep, his face nestled into her neck in a vulnerable position she would only ever trust her mate to be in.

About a year after that Y/n was sent to Dragonstone by the King. There had been an attempt on Rhaenyra’s life and he wanted the Vampire to protect his daughter and her family.

Aemond protested loudly but it did nothing and she was still “made” to go. Y/n didn’t do anything she didn’t want to but she wanted to make sure that Aemond had time and space to grow into the perfect man she knew he would, one who was attracted to more women than just her and would be happy in his marriage. She couldn’t force him into this mating bond-she wouldn’t! Y/n also did not appreciate the idea of a man telling her what to do, male vampire mates are dominant and aggressive in a way humans cannot even fathom, which is why she avoids males and mated pairs like the plague.

They had fallen out of contact after Aemond had turned 13 and she knew he had found…other interests. A 13 year old boy does not want to write letters to a grown women while he can be pursuing girls his own age. It still hurt however and she knew, as they traveled back to Kings Landing because Corlys could not keep himself from nearly getting killed, that she needed to stay away from Aemond.

It was much easier said than done.

Jace and Luke had dragged Y/n with them to the training yard, a place they never spent much time at on Dragonstone as they believed they had not only their dragons but a vampire to protect them.

She stood back as they reminisced over their good times in the yard, though she would not call being really bad at everything “good times”. Her attention was only drawn when she smelled him, his scent having evolved over the years. It was stronger now, more manly and…heavy. Y/n was instantly obsessed with it and quickly needed to control herself, clamping down on her instincts as strongly as she could-her instinct right now being to shove a bloody wrist into his mouth and change him, leaving him with no choice but her-she refused to do that no matter how tempting it was. She had always felt drawn to Aemond as her mate, however she severely underestimated how intense being physically attracted to him would be for the first time now that he was grown.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He asked the boys who stiffened, moving back towards her to ensure their safety. ‘Hello darling…you haven’t changed a bit!’ He grinned, stepping closer before she stepped back.

‘You have my Prince…you are grown. You should get back to your training session, I would not want to cause a distraction.’

Okay, so maybe she was a bit upset that he stopped writing her, but honestly it had hurt her feelings. Just because she’s a vampire does not mean that she has no feelings, she had feelings and they’re so much stronger than any normal human could possibly imagine. She walked back into the castle being followed by Rhaenyra’s idiot sons that she dubbed such as they did not like to work for things that they knew would be theirs. Does anyone think that Luke will be fighting for his own inheritance? Of course not, his mother will do it for him like every other day.

Y/n was given her own room and she quickly found it, grabbing herself some peasant clothes and making her way back out of the Keep and into the streets.

She found herself a meal in the form of 2 would be rapists and sent the woman (unharmed but for some torn clothes) on her way while she ate her meal. Their blood was laced with horrible ale, making Y/n resent getting accustomed to fine wine and delicious human food.

‘Are you enjoying yourself, my love?’ She spun around to see her mate under a cloak, hiding his hair and eye patch.

‘Have you lost your mind?!’ She snapped. ‘What are you doing here?!’

‘I wanted to see you. You would not speak to me and I-‘

‘If you remember correctly my Prince, you would not speak to me! You stopped writing, I have just continued the level of communication that you wanted and now it is time to get the Prince of the Realm back home! Start walking!’ She growled, pushing him forward before storming back towards the Red Keep, having her elbow grabbed and being shoved against a wall while thinking about how lucky he should consider himself, he would be the only person she ever allowed to do such a thing.

‘Please stop this, I am sorry Y/n! Truly sorry, you cannot possibly-‘

‘Understand?’ She cut him off. ‘I have been alive for a very long time Aemond-longer than you ever will-do-‘

‘I Was Ashamed!’ He raged, eyes hard as he looked down at her from where he stood, nearly a foot taller than her now. ‘My brother took me to a brothel and I…I was ashamed of what happened to me!’

In that moment Y/n felt her heart crack in 2, her mate had been hurt, had been assaulted and it had been his own brothers fault. ‘Aemond…why would you not just tell me? I would never judge you for that sweet boy, that is not your fault! Just because most men think with their cocks, it doesn’t mean you need to enjoy everything and someone forcing you is not okay!’ She pulled him down to her and hugged him firmly, allowing him to cling to her as she knew he had missed. ‘Take me to this brothel Aemond. Now.’ She demanded, taking his hand in hers and pulling him towards the silk street.

‘No! I don’t want you anywhere near there, those men-‘

‘Will have their heads popped like zits if they touch either one of us. Now point it out! Or do you want me to get upset with you-‘

‘No! No, no. It’s over there.’ He mumbled, pointing at a building that definitely looked like a brothel.

‘Now, you point these ladies out to me. How many of them touched you?’ His face turned a deep shade of red that disappeared under his cloak and she was curious to see how far it went.

‘Y/n, I don’t…2 of them.’ He realized that she was going to get her answers one way or another and it would just be easier to give them to her. ‘Her.’ He spoke silently as a women opened the door, her eyes lighting up as she saw him.

‘It’s been a long time…my my, how you’ve grown.’ She flirted and Y/n felt her fangs growing from her gums.

‘Hello. This is a tad embarrassing to admit but my man and I are having some…troubles…in the bed chamber and I had hoped the women that were so good to him before would be willing to…teach me how to please him? I can pay you both handsomely.’ She promised and the woman’s eyes lit up, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

‘What are you doing?’ Aemond whispered, leaning down to her and keeping his hands on her waist protectively which the beastial part of her vampire brain loved.

‘No one hurts my sweet boy and lives. I would have killed them a long time ago if you had just told me the truth, no more secrets.’ They were escorted into a separate area with a large bed in the middle, curtains being drawn shut behind and Aemond’s hands clamped down on Y/n’s waist tighter than she believes he meant to. ‘You’re safe with me Aemond, I will never let anyone hurt you again.’ She promised, taking his face into her hands and making sure he saw how serious she was before he suddenly connected their lips together roughly.

He was awkward and didn’t quite know what he was doing so instead of pushing him away and make him feel rejected, she grabbed the back of his neck and took control of the kiss which had him whimpering, clinging to her waist before a throat cleared. ‘Oh wow, you were right Sylvie…not such a little thing anymore, are you?’ The new women in the room giggled and it took everything to keep her vampire visage from showing.

‘Why don’t you go ahead and get undressed and we’ll get started.’ Sylvie told the vampire and she nodded, pushing Aemond to sit.

‘You just relax sweet boy, I’m going to take care of the ones that hurt you. I promise.’ She ignored the clear tent in his pants before unlacing her dress, pulling it down her body and dropping her small clothes as well to leave her completely bare. There is something to be said about the feeling of feeding (especially messily) when you can get it all over your skin. It makes a vampire feel…free.

‘Leona can get him ready for you, you come here for me.’ Sylvie instructed but Y/n grabbed Leona’s hand tightly before she touched Aemond.

‘No. This is about teaching me, only I touch him, he is mine.’ She tried to keep the growl from her voice but she knew that she had failed as they looked quite startled.

‘Of course! It is your coin, whatever you desire.’ With that Sylvie turned to undress and Y/n grabbed Leona by the throat.

The ship ride had been long and annoying, full of nothing to eat considering the royal family would never offer up their own blood for their protector-why would they?

‘You will not scream, not make a sound. You will not flee…I’m going to save you for last. You seem like you’ll taste better…cleaner.’ She compelled and Leona looked terrified but had no choice but to stay in the bed as Y/n turned back to Sylvie. When she looked back the vampire grabbed ahold of her throat and cut off her scream at seeing her true face. ‘It’s terrifying to look at, isn’t it? Even the whole of the royal family hasn’t seen what I truly look like. It’s meant to make preys final moments terrifying you see…fear makes the blood…exquisite.’ She laughed, watching the women gasp for air as she tried to claw at her face resulting in fangs sinking into her hand and taking off 2 fingers which dropped onto the bed, her screams unable to come out as she held Sylvie’s airway so firmly. ‘You hurt my boy.’ Y/n growled, pinning her down to the bed, blood now covering her bare torso as she continued trying to push her away with her 3 fingered hand. ‘His elder brother told you to and so you didn’t care how he felt…did you ask if he wanted you to fuck him?’ She was gapping like a fish out of water, clawing at porcelain skin. ‘Answer Me!’ She roared and Sylvie flinched, shaking her head as best she could. ‘No, of course not. Why would you? You had gotten your money and every boy wants to fuck any women any time, don’t they? Yeah? Horseshit! Men can be assaulted just like girls and you assaulted him…admittedly no one would have cared if it wasn’t for me. But I do, I care very much. And I’m going to kill you both for it.’

Tears leaked from her eyes as claws dug into her shoulder, ripping down her chest and gashing her open, more dark blood spraying all over the bed. ‘Y/n? You don’t have to-‘

‘Maybe you should wait outside sweet boy, this could be too much for you.’ She told him before releasing the woman’s throat and burying sharp fangs into her neck, downing the rest of her blood-though she was much too weak to make a sound now.

As Y/n was distracted she did not notice the other girl having pulled a dagger from behind the pillows, but Aemond did. He grabbed her before she could touch the vampire woman and fought with her for a second before the blade was thrust up and buried into his throat. It was only when she smelled his distinct scent that she turned to find him bleeding from a gaping hole in his neck prompting her to punch the girl in the side of the head, her collapsing unconscious instantly before she caught Aemond who tried to stumble back, holding his throat tightly.

He opened his mouth, blood spewing from his neck as he tried to make a sound. ‘Scared…’ he choked, coughing blood all over his mouth and chin.

‘Shh, don’t talk sweet boy, it’s okay. Just drink, I need you to swallow for me quickly before you die! Just drink, it’s alright, I’m right here’’ She insisted, ripping open the veins in her wrist roughly and shoving it into his mouth. He painfully swallowed as she instructed, his bloody hand reaching up to touch her face as he was seeing her vampire visage for the first time. He didn’t look afraid as he touched her, fingers trailing the dark veins under her eyes before his hand fell and she realized his eye had gone glassy and his heart had stopped.

Fuck!

She removed his cloak and weapons from him but left his clothes on, mate or not she did not want to make him uncomfortable in anyway, before settling him on the clean pillows off to the side of the large bed. The younger girl woke up before Aemond and Y/n compelled her quickly, wiping off the bits of blood that had landed on her before having her leave the bed and fetch them the things they would need.

It was about an hour before he opened his eye, just as she started getting worried that he hadn’t actually injested any of her blood. He groaned as he sat up, stretching before his body froze, nostrils flaring and eyes shooting open to lock onto her with a truly wild look in them. ‘Calm down Aemond, you’re going to behave! You need to feed before anything else or you will die again and this one will be permanent.’ He gave no indication that he understood her as he watched her take hold of the girl and drag her over to him, slicing into her neck with a claw. ‘Drink sweet boy, now!’ His eyes widened a bit, stunned by her demands and she could understand why as he did what she said, draining the whore quickly.

Male vampires are dominant creatures-Aemond is not. Not really anyway. Now his natural instincts and feelings are battling with his new ones, though Y/n knew that she could fix that just fine. ‘Y/n, you-‘

‘I know. I tried to keep you from this, I shouldn’t have brought you here and I’m sorry-‘ he lunged forward, shoving her back onto the bed and growling, nuzzling his face into her throat.

‘I was meant to be with you, I always knew it…but you tried to keep me away? You didn’t want me to-‘

‘I wanted you to live a normal life, Aemond! A happy life where you could have a wife and children of your own, I can never give that to you!’ She snarled, flipping them both over and pinning him this time. ‘I didn’t get to choose this life! This was done to me, no one gets a choice! I just…I didn’t want to force this Hell on you just because I was greedy. I love you sweet boy, I always have. Admittedly you made it a bit more challenging to stay away from you by growing up.’ She teased making him smile. ‘I can still teach you how to act, you can be a Prince as you’re supposed to be. Children won’t be possible any longer but a marriage-‘

‘A marriage to anyone but you is out of the question and I would be happy to be the one to tell my Grandsire…mine!’ He snarled, pressing his lips to hers again much harder this time.

‘Stop! Stop-Not here! Not in this place so full of horrid memories for you sweet boy-‘ he snarled instantly making her growl and cut him off. ‘You are and always will be my sweet boy, being a vampire does not change that. It’s what you want and it’s what I want. Might as well just get used to it now…then again, you don’t have much time. We need to get back to the Keep.’ She knew that they needed to hurry to make the succession hearing on time, she’ll just have to keep Aemond extra close to ensure he doesn’t get too…excited.

Though training a baby vampire hadn’t been on her to do list anytime soon…historically, they’re not very well behaved children.

Y/n stood beside Aemond in the hall to ensure he did not lose himself if someone started bleeding. Rhaenyra and Daemon gave her odd looks but she tried to ignore it, instead listening to Vaemond argue for why he should take over Driftmark instead of Luke.

Rhaenyra had only just started arguing for her son when the doors opened and a guard introduced the King prompting her to pull Aemond behind her now, nearly shoving Aegon off his feet in her rush. ‘Hold your breath!’ She demanded and he looked at her confused. ‘You will not handle the smell of your father well at all, hold your-‘ at that moment Y/n was overwhelmed with the stench of foul death and Aemond gagged.

‘What is that?!’ He whisper shouted down at her, Aegon now locked onto their conversation and trying to catch up through his near constant drunken haze.

‘That is the scent of death, his blood is practically toxic and it is so much worse than last time, he’s literally decaying-oh God!’ She shoved down the bile that rose in her throat and held her breath as Aemond did.

‘Wait-are you…?’ Aegon questioned prompting Aemond to glare and pull her closer possessively. ‘Holy Shit! I knew it would happen, I knew it! Hey, I want to be a vampire as well-‘

‘You by my side for eternity? I can think of nothing worse.’ Aemond responded before they all quieted down, the King panting heavily as he questioned why people were discussing a settled succession. ‘Oh dear, he’s going to get himself killed.’ Her mate chuckled while Vaemond was calling Rhaenyra’s boys bastards.

‘Yes, maybe we should-Dammit Daemon!’ Y/n hissed, the top half of a Vaemond’s head splattering against the floor in a bloody mess, his tongue hanging out of what used to be his face, blood spraying out of the now flat surface that was previously his skull. She grabbed ahold of Aemond before he lunged and Aegon moved to grab his other arm as well (which while it was appreciated and a nice sentiment of wanting to protect his little brother, would only end up with his bones being snapped if Aemond grabbed or pulled him too hard).

‘Y/n…my old friend…what…is the problem?’ Viserys questioned, his voice laced with pain.

‘No problem at all my King, the Prince is just feeling a bit under the weather. I shall escort him back to his chambers-‘

‘It seems to be a tad more than that.’ Daemon teased though his tone held anger as well prompting Aemond to growl, not liking any man anywhere to speak to his mate like that.

‘You seem to know the answer already Daemon, yet you tease like an idiot. Maybe you could handle him yourself, yes?’ She wondered, releasing her iron grip and watching her mate rocket into the warrior Prince who instantly fought as hard as he could but could not even move a muscle as his nephew pinned him to the floor.

Just as he was about to dig his fangs in she grabbed ahold of the back of his neck and pulled him back. ‘Mate! You heard him, he-‘

‘I know, and yet you’re going to release him anyway…Now!’ She demanded and he detached himself from his Uncle.

‘You’ve turned my son into a-‘ as if Aemond was prepared for exactly what his mother was going to say he cut her off quickly.

‘She saved me mother! I had a dagger shoved into my throat and my mate saved my life! You will not speak to her like that, no one will, or I will ensure you never speak again!’ He threatened.

‘Apologies my Queen, he is as of yet unable to control his rage, controlling any emotion takes time. We will work on it.’ She swore, pulling him back to the other side of the room. ‘Though I do recommend controlling your sons, Princess. If they antagonize him like they normally do I cannot ensure their safety, therefore you must ensure that they behave themselves.’ Rhaenyra looked at Y/n completely stunned before she turned back to the King, Aemond now turning his attention to the blood pooling all over the floor. ‘I will take him to the Black Cells and allow him to gorge himself before dinner tonight, he will be in complete control by then…probably…’

The King looked curious but clearly unable to do much anymore, the pain being too much. ‘Go.’ He waved them off and Y/n grabbed ahold of her mate and pulled him from the hall.

‘I do not like the way he looks at you.’ Aemond speaks as they descend into the dungeons.

‘Your father? He is nothing more than a dear friend, though watching his life has been a disappointment, I had always expected him to be a much better father-‘

‘No! Daemon! He leers at you and I do not appreciate-‘

‘Enough Aemond. You need to take control of your emotions instead of letting them control you! You will not make it as a vampire if you cannot control your anger. I will help you, and I do not expect you to thrive the first night, but you need to try. Now, 3 should be plenty. Eat.’

Aemond paused a moment, looking over the now confused men in the cell, only moving to grab one of them when he lunged for Y/n. He was determined to be strong enough to protect her, no matter how hard he had to work. Hard work had never been a problem for Aemond, he was no stranger to it.

‘Slow down.’ Y/n instructed and he fought hard with himself to unlock his jaw and pull away from his meal, eyes looking back up at her and seeing perfectly in the dark Black Cells for the first time in his life. He can also see why you would want it so dark, it is absolutely disgusting down here, and the rats are huge. ‘Take a breath and savor it, notice how it makes your body feel. When you get used to how it makes you feel you’ll know when you’re full, there will always be a part of you that is thirsty for more so you need to know when enough is enough.’ She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke and he began drinking slower, noticing how he could feel the strength returning to his body as if turning had physically drained all muscle from his body. As he continued swallowing the burning in his throat lessened more and more until it was just an ache.

Aemond drained all 3 men slowly, adoring the affection that his mate was bestowing upon him.

‘You did so good baby, listening so well…I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?’ The one eyed Prince nodded immediately, not willing to turn down a reward from his mate. ‘Good Boy…’ she coo’ed, kneeling beside him and pulling him to lay back against her body. He watched as she buried her teeth into her wrist before bringing it to his mouth. ‘Drink sweet boy, let your mate make you feel so good…’

He paused for a second, confused about what the difference could possibly be between the blood he’d had and his mates blood but he trusted her none the less and bit down into her wrist. The rush of pleasure up his spine was unlike anything Aemond had ever felt in his life. She tasted like bliss and his head filled with a pleasurable buzzing that had him moaning into her flesh.

‘That’s it baby. It’s all yours.’

‘Mmnngh!’ His…she was his…finally after all this time, Y/n belonged to Aemond and no one would ever steal her away. He pulled back, turning around to see her kneeling behind him with a smile on her face.

‘I didn’t expect you to finish that quickly, was-Oh!’ She grunted as he jumped onto her, laying her back over the dead bodies before burying his face into her neck and biting into her again. ‘Such a needy little thing!’ She growled, biting into his neck next, tearing off his shirt as she did. Aemond wasted no time in returning the favor, ripping at her dress and tearing it from her body, finally feeling her skin against his which was warmer than he ever dreamed now that he is just as cold as she is. ‘Are you sure you want to do this now? I want you to be ready, you never have to-‘ he cut her off, pressing his lips to hers hard and tearing his pants open to press himself against her warmth. He could not suppress the moan that built in his throat and while any other time he would feel embarrassed about how needy it sounded, he could not find it in himself to give a fuck at that moment.

‘I’ve always felt safe with you. You could never hurt me.’ He said it with such surety that Y/n didn’t question him anymore, just wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed his way inside of her, growling into her neck at the warm, tight feeling around his cock. ‘So fucking perfect…fuck!’ Aemond cursed, moving quickly, his hips thrusting up into her at a speed that no normal human could even hope to achieve.

‘Fuck! That’s it sweet boy, take what you need.’ Her soft moans encouraged him to keep going and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her to his chest and holding her against him as he thrust up into her body. He couldn’t hide the purr that came from his chest as he felt her clinging to him tightly, her claws digging into his back deliciously.

‘Feel so good…so tight! Oh fuck!’ He grunted, knowing he was going to cum way too quickly but unable to stop himself.

‘It’s okay sweet boy, cum for me, fill me up.’ As if her permission was everything he needed he felt as if his body exploded in euphoria as he came. He dug his fangs into her neck and her sweet blood made his head fuzzy as he filled his mate as much as he was able.

When he was finally able to think clearly again he could feel her brushing her fingers through his hair gently which produced a soft purr from his chest that he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘No baby, there’s no need to be sorry. You did everything just right, everyone finishes early their first time and you’re a new vampire, everything feels a million times better. That’s not your fault-‘

‘But you didn’t…I want to make you feel good too.’ He admitted and immediately loved the smile it produced on her face.

‘There’s plenty of time for that. You’re a vampire now sweet boy, your stamina is 10x stronger. I will show you what to do, no man just knows how to make a girl cum without being taught, don’t ever think you’ve done something wrong. Okay? You and I have eternity now…though I would appreciate a bed before we do anything else? I can get behind fucking on top of a fresh kill but this dungeon is gross.’ Aemond couldn’t help his chuckle at that, lifting his mate back up and using his torn shirt to cover her nudity before moving to take her to his bed chamber. The rush he got through his body as he ran there felt like he had left his internal organs behind as he caught himself on the door making Y/n giggle. ‘You’ll get used to that, I promise.’

‘I don’t believe you on that one.’ He teased, shutting his door and locking it to ensure no one could get in. ‘I really hope you weren’t looking forward to that dinner tonight, because I’m not letting you out of this bed before dawn.’

‘Is that so?’ She teased before he tossed her onto the soft mattress, pinning her back down playfully.

‘It is my love. You are all mine for the rest of the night.’

‘I’m all yours for the rest of forever sweet boy, we have all the time in the world.’

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

[scholomancefan]

Horrifying prompt/idea:

Omegaverse where Shen Yuan is Shen Jiu and Qiu Jianluo’s son.

For Context: I’ve been reading Sha Po Lang, and Chang Geng’s relationship with his (supposed) mother in his memories had me thinking of Shen Jiu (after escaping the Qiu household) raising Shen Yuan similarly, with alternating murder attempts, machinations, and pity.

Fun fact, in the first draft of Marrying the Scum Villainess's Daughter, Shen Yuan was going to be Qiu Jianluo's and Shen Jiu's! But that was too dark for what I wanted to be a lighthearted comedy, so I cut it 😅 Anyway, here's my first try writing omegaverse! Please be gentle ❤️

“All this time this man has deceived you!” Qiu Haitang cried out. “He’s no beta. He’s an omega, the wife of my brother, and the bearer of my nephew Qiu Yuan!”

Everyone turned to stare aghast at Shen Qingqiu, including Shen Yuan himself.

It couldn’t be true. Shen Qingqiu was a beta just like Shen Yuan. He’d gotten Shen Yuan on some brothel worker somewhere, something Shen Yuan’s bullies on Qing Jing had rubbed in Shen Yuan’s face over and over.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes were like black marbles, and there was no life in them. Only purest loathing for the alpha Qiu Haitang as she made her accusations.

The Huan Hua Palace Master stroked his beard. “These are serious accusations,” he murmured in a carrying voice.

Because omegas were little better than property to be bought or sold through dowries–treasured in families, to be sure, but one could never hold a position of power. Whether they were even allowed to cultivate was generally the decision of their alpha after they had been mated; how could omegas be expected to control their base lusts without a firm and guiding hand?

“He murdered my brother, Qiu Jianluo, and stole their child,” Qiu Haitang wept. “Qiu Yuan, a precious omega of our house!”

And now it felt like all the air around him had vanished. Shen Yuan couldn’t breathe.

“Baba…” Shen Yuan whispered.

The teas. The damn teas that Shen Qingqiu insisted they drink together every day. Shen Qingqiu had never liked Shen Yuan; had encouraged the other disciples to bully him, had turned away from Shen Yuan’s tears. But he insisted every day at the same time that they take tea together. It was a far cry from family bonding. It was as much warmth as Shen Yuan ever had from him.

“The omega Qiu Yuan of course cannot remain in omega Shen Jiu’s care,” the Huan Hua Palace Master insisted.

This!!! Fucking!!! Setup!!! Everyone was just taking Qiu Haitang’s word for everything, even though Shen Yuan was certain he and Shen Qingqiu were still to all appearances betas. This could only mean one thing… or rather, that one person was behind this.

“We will arrange a marriage for him straight away to a trustworthy cultivator of great promise,” the Huan Hua Palace Master continued.

There it was.

Shen Yuan peered through the crowd and sure enough there was Luo Binghe, watching the proceedings with the smug look of someone for whom everything was going according to plan. For the protagonist everything always went according to plan.

And in this case apparently the plan was to collect Shen Yuan into Luo Binghe’s harem like a special edition Pokemon card!

Gongyi Xiao stepped forward and reached out to Shen Yuan. “It’s going to be all right,” he said softly, the trappings of kindness trying to hide the poison of the lie.

The snap of a paper fan unfurling. Blood spattered the cobbles at their feet. Gongyi Xiao clutched his bleeding wrist and cried out in pain.

And then it was Shen Qingqiu standing there, shielding Shen Yuan from the view of the crowd.

“If you try to take Shen Yuan, I will slaughter you all and dance in your bloody remains,” Shen Qingqiu snarled, and raised his fan, stained crimson at its qi-honed edge.