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sableseb · 4 years ago

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Illusion

Jack Benjamin x escort!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: allusions to homophobia, sex work, smut, rough & quick, spanking, exhibitionism, dirty talk, degradation

The events that have unfolded in the past couple of days lay scattered in Jack’s mind. He paces the expanse of his lavish quarters thinking of how his life went to shit this fast. His mother and father know. They know how he craves the touch of a man. His father told him to hide it, hide the feelings he has and never let them resurface. His mother slapped him for saying he loved another man. He pushed his secret lover away for the sake of his reputation. Now, the whole court is questioning him, hanging his sexuality over his head in case they ever need to bring him down.

His parents explicitly stated that to be King, he must put away his sinful, lust fueled desires for the same sex. This kingdom his father built is based on the Christian faith and what sort of God fearing kingdom would want a King that kisses men? What a joke. It always leaves a bad taste in his mouth and a sick feeling of not being accepted in his stomach.

As Jack looks out of his bedroom window to the twinkling night life below, he makes a decision. To him, being King is above his true feelings. He’ll follow his parents wishes like the good little soldier he always is. He’ll keep up his playboy, panty dropper act for the sake of the crown resting atop of his head one day.

They want a ladies man? They’ll get one, they’ll see he’s worthy of the crown. He may prefer sleeping with men, but that doesn’t mean he has a disdain for the feeling of a cock drunk broad wrapped around him. And luckily for him, his suave attitude and pretty boy face works like a charm each time he needs a quick fuck.

He knows of a night club that’s crawling with bachelors, married men, and even women looking for a good time, with their night ending by taking one of the ladies who work there home and finding pleasure in between the sheets.

Jack pulls out his cell and taps the first number in his contacts. He bites his nails on the hand currently occupying the phone in anticipation for what he has planned tonight. It’s sure to get everyone off his dick.

It rings for a beat before a, “Hello?” cracks through the speaker.

“Louis? It’s Jack. I’m going out tonight. Make sure all the paparazzi knows. Tell them I’ll be at Pyre.” he says hastily while going around his room searching for his coat.

The line is silent for a moment. Louis knows not to question Jack’s requests when he gets that oddly, erratic tone in his voice. Without a second thought Louis says, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but be careful.”

Jack ends the call and makes his way out of the castle down to the city goers below. There’s a slight chill in the air that goes unnoticed by the people in barely there clothing looking for their next party spot. He brushes through the crowds to his desired destination. Bright, neon colors light up the whole block and to his right, he sees it. Sultry, red cursive lettering spelling out, “Pyre.”

He’s met with flashing cameras and yelling at the front entrance of the club. Good to know Louis is still a worthy asset. He flashes that pearly, white smile that borders boyish charm and slyness. The King and Queen’s son is always a hot topic in the press. And he’s sure that after tonight, he’ll be a hot topic nationwide.

As he steps through the club’s threshold, he’s met with darkness and thumping music. The only source of light coming from the strobes that bounce across the sweat soaked bodies grinding against one another.

He starts to assess the women and sees you. Clad in a silver dress that falls just below that round ass and heels that accentuate those long legs leaning against the bar stool. You’re perfect. Perfect enough for him to already sport a hard on.

He makes his way to you with a certain air of confidence that only he seems to possess. He comes up beside you and leans into your ear to, rather loudly, say over the bass, “The name’s Jack. And I’d really love to have some company tonight.”

You turn to face the man that made his presence known and take him in. Oh, so the prince is the one who needs a good fucking. You’d be lying if you said that this moment in time didn’t give you an ego trip. You’ve always thought about what it would be like to press your lips to his perfect pout and stare into those baby blues as he takes you apart ever since he graced the cover of VOGUE.

You smirk into your drink. “I know a prince when I see one, Mr. Benjamin.”

He figured as much you’d recognize him. All the kingdom knows of him and his risque reputation.

“Then, I’m guessing you won’t deny a prince of his request? I pay handsomely.” he states matter of factually.

He honestly didn’t have to pay you to do anything he desires. You’d have dropped on your knees in the middle of this club if that’s what he wanted. And little did you know, that’s close to what he needed your assistance for in the first place.

With a hefty transaction and a few drinks, you’re walking arm in arm with Jack to the hotel he rented a room in. You feel like a celebrity. A devilishly handsome man on your right, paparazzi on your left, and thousands in cash sitting nice and pretty in your purse. You just hope he’s a decent lay. You haven’t had one of those in awhile. Most of the men you’ve worked with didn’t even make you cum, always left you high and dry. But, the cash they guaranteed was worth the disappointment.

He walks up to the lobby desk and asks for his key card. As the lobbyist searches for the correct one labeled “Benjamin” your gaze drifts. This place is nice to say the least. It’s sleek and mature. A complete contrast to the man next you with his bright eyes and plush face.

After acquiring the card that’ll seal your fate for a one night stand, you both make your way to the elevator. You decide to make the first move once the doors close. Your sexual attraction getting the best of you. As the numbers ticked up, you turn to face the Adonis. You fist his jacket between your hands to pull him in close and whisper low in his ear, “Ya know, Jack,” you let your lips graze his ear with each word you speak, “I really hope you live up to that title you carry.”

Your hand rubs down, starting at his chest and snaking its way down his toned stomach to cup his dick through his pants. Jack’s breath hitches as you languidly palm him. Little shocks of pleasure spike across his spine. He’s a bit taken back from this forwardness you possess. No one ever showed a dominant side with him. He’s the one always in control. And he’s keeping it that way.

He runs his large hands along your curves causing you to lean into him even more before he takes your hand off him and retches your arm back. You’re spun around with such force that your mouth hangs open in shock. He roughly pulls you against him, trapping your aching arm between your back and his firm body.

“Listen real close, baby.” he spits, words laced with venom. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m the one in charge. So, be a good little whore and keep it in your panties until we get to the room.”

The elevator dings and he lets you go, only to grab your hand and practically drag you to the suite. You take note of the wetness that’s pooled in the flimsy fabric between your legs from the little altercation. This little playboy has a rough side, and you can’t wait to see just how rough he can get.

His slender, ringed fingers put the key card to the scanner until the light turns green and you're swept away into the most luxurious room you’ve ever stepped foot in. Dull lights make the blue hues and black tones even that much more alluring. A giant mirror hangs above a bed fit for a prince and the large windows show the city in all its glory.

Jack stalks over towards the window sitting in the middle of the large room. He sees men with cameras still mingling about below trying to get some shots of him and his latest conquest. He’ll give these sleazy excuses of people the shots they desire and more.

You shed your coat and purse before making your way towards the hulking figure near the window. You can tell something plagues his mind. It’s not hard to sense when he looks like a lost puppy in the moon’s hue.

He glances at you as he moves to stand behind you. He pulls you in close by your waist and brushes your hair away from your neck. His fingers are so feather like you almost couldn’t register them. His lips though, you can feel them just fine as they pepper kisses and bites along your neck.

“City’s beautiful isn’t it?” he asks in between his sucking and biting. Creating little patch works of art across the expanse of your skin.

You’re in a trance and all you can do is hum in agreement. The feeling of his hands groping the soft flesh of your hips and his lips dragging along the base of your neck has you silently enjoying the attention. The only sounds coming from you are whimpers and breathy moans.

It’s a symphony to Jack’s ears. He finds your sounds more beautiful than anything Haydn conducted. He may just want sex, but he knows how to appreciate the beauty he finds in the people he beds. He might be an asshole, but he’s an asshole with a taste for the human form.

He places your hands against the window and kicks your legs apart. “What’re you doing?” you ask in slight concern.

As he’s making quick work of discarding his clothes he simply states, “I’m going to fuck you while the city watches.”

What? You couldn’t have heard him right. There’s people down there that could easily see, there’s a million dollar mattress made for a rough fucking. A window is not what you wanted. But, what you want doesn’t matter in your profession and it certainly doesn’t matter to the prince as he pushes his naked body against your clothed one, trapping you against the cold glass.

He hikes your dress up past your hips and stares at the pretty lace thong sitting between your full ass. He grabs at the flesh, pawing and kneading before landing a harsh slap. You jerk against the glass and you feel the sting go straight to your core.

The cool metal of his rings soothe over the places he strikes, easing the burn. His cock is leaking at the site of you spread out for him and the whole world to see.

“You see all the cameras below us, baby?” he asks while rutting his aching member against you. You can feel his precum sticking to your skin. He reaches around your body and pulls your breasts from the confines of the sparkling material of your dress. He starts treating your chest like he did your ass just moments ago. His rings catch your nipple with each grope of your chest making you mewl and arch back against him.

“Make sure to smile pretty, cause you’re going to show them how good I fuck this cunt.”

He rips your panties down your legs and stands between them. You’re soaked for him. And the thought of people watching as he uses you makes you even more wet. You feel him rub his dick through your sticky folds. He bumps your clit a few times and your legs shake with each pass of his bulbous tip against your bundle of nerves.

He slowly pushes in. Your walls welcome him as he bottoms out with ease and you're both letting out pleasured groans. “Oh, fuck.” you gasp. The feeling of his thick cock resting inside you makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. He’s almost hurting you with his size. And so, you try to scoot up a bit to relieve the ache he’s creating.

He grabs your throat, jerking you back up to him. You let out a pained cry. You’re trying to adjust, truly, but he isn’t helping you.

“Nuh uh.” he growls. “You’re going to take what I give you, slut.”

The bit of gentleness he showed you was just the calm before the storm. He forces your face against the window and starts to thrust in and out. His pace is hard and rough. His grip on your scalp helps with leverage. He knows you’re enjoying the stroke of his dick with the screams you let out and the way your pussy is pulsing around him.

“God, how is a whore this tight?” he leans in towards your face, taking in the sickly sweet fragrance you adorn and pants against your neck, “You like being watched don’t you, my dirty girl? I know you do because this,” he lands a smack against your pulsing cunt, “is milking me.”

You let the degrading words help you towards your climax. He’s hitting that spot inside you just right. His balls are hitting your clit with each sharp snap of his hips and it’s all too much. You can barely hold yourself up, the only anchor you have is his firm hold across your stomach.

You both notice the flash of the cameras going off, but it doesn't faze you, you both love it. It makes both of your senses heightened. The thought of these pictures plastered on every magazine and news station has Jack gripping your hair even harder and driving into with such force you fear the glass may crack.

“Jack,” you cry. “Oh, fuck right there. Harder.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth to silence your pleas. “Shut up, bitch.”

He forces your head back and the new angle your body creates has tears welling up in your eyes. The pleasure he’s giving you is borderline painful. But, his tight grip across your mouth and the delicious force of his dick has you wanting more.

Jack can tell you’re getting close because it’s getting harder to pull out of your tightness. He takes his hand that's in your hair and braces it against your hip, making you fuck yourself against him.

“You wanna cum, baby? Go ahead. Show em’ how this cunt swallows me up.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. You scream behind the palm of his hand. You can’t seem to catch your breath, your lungs ache from the air he’s keeping you from. You’re practically lifeless as he fucks up into you, chasing his own release.

“Shit...” he gasps. The vice-like grip you have on him has him snapping his hips against you faster. Jack feels his lower stomach tighten and his balls constrict before he pulls out and finishes on your lower back, just below the bunched up fabric. He takes a moment to admire the mess he created on you. He’s sure his plan of fucking a woman so openly will diminish any doubts about him and who he beds.

He pulls on his underwear and makes his way to the bar occupying the corner of the room to make himself a drink. You take a moment to catch your breath and drag your body from the condensed window pain. Your hair is wild, makeup smeared, and you have cum stuck to your thighs and back. You feel more used than usual. But, this prick just gave you the best orgasm of your life and you’d do it all over again.

You straighten yourself up as much as you can before turning around and being met with a steely, blue gaze. “Congrats, sweetheart.” he smirks, taking a drink from whatever concoction he created, smacking his lips. “You’re a star.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #jack benjamin #jack benjamin smut #jack benjamin x reader #kings

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tobiotetsu · 3 years ago

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the lovers

reversed (prequel)

chapter two: ten of cups

miya atsumu x f!reader

description: the lovers card was a blessing in tarot if pulled up right, with the meaning of true love, prosperity and unity. however, if pulled in reversed, it signified disappointment, foolishness and failure. if he was destined to be your soulmate, why was his presence accompanied by chaos and destruction? if miya atsumu was your fatal flaw, how could he possibly be your fate?

genre: soulmate au, 18+, angst, enimes-to-lovers

cw: family issues, mentions of death, grammar errors

a/n: SO excited to write the next chp!! feedback & reblogs are truly appreciated<3 (wc: 4.4k)

prequel masterlist ♕ chp three

From the outside, the Miya’s were a very well-known family with a prestigious family. Miya Kaito was a well-known businessman in Japan who took over his father’s Marketing company. Miya Izumi, the twins’ mother was much lesser known than their father but was still in the public eye. She was an author of a best-selling novel who lived in Sendai but moved to Kasai when she married Kaito. They had two twin sons who excelled in volleyball and were sure to go professional straight after high school.

They were picture-perfect. But to your eyes, they were everything but.

Atsumu’s prediction of his father's absence at dinner two weeks ago had turned out to be correct. You, Osamu and his mother had waited at the table for almost 40 minutes before coming to the conclusion that once again, he was not coming home.

The lavish mansion was a veil for a broken home.

A father who worked more than he saw his family, a mother who went on trips weekly to resorts to escape her life and two children who had to suffer at the hands of their parents’ actions.

You couldn’t help but think of their family dynamic as you were in the kitchen scouring through the fridge for breakfast, a day before your 18th birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Miya weren’t soulmates but they seemed like they didn’t even like each other. It seemed like their public reputation was the only thing keeping them together.

That was the last thing that you wanted with your soulmate. You were less than 24 hours away from turning eighteen and you couldn’t help but think about who they might be.

Do they live in the Huygo prefecture? Are they the same age as you? Are they kind? A romantic? Were they just as excited to know your identity? Would we have a physical or emotional connection?

Questions like these ran through your mind ever since you woke up.

Usually, your breakfasts were something solid to fuel you for the rest of the day, but you were so nervous for tomorrow that you could barely keep anything down. You decide that some fruit would be enough for now. You stack clear contains which green grapes, strawberries and cherries in one arm as you use your free one to close the fridge door.

Maybe they’re in California? You’d meet them there when studying for school perhaps?

The questions continued to flow as you sat down at the counter in the kitchen on a bar stool as you munched on the grapes. You were so wrapped up in your questions that you barely even noticed that someone had walked in.

You almost choke on the grape when you realize who she was. It was the same girl who was making out with Atsumu in the cafeteria two weeks ago. She also must have been the owner of those over-exaggerated moans that still made you sick to your stomach.

Even though you took a while to acknowledge her, she still hadn’t noticed you. Confused laced your eyes are you stare at her half-naked figure opening the fridge in front of you. The only thing covering her was a large white button shirt with two buttons together at her chest, which you assumed was Atsumu’s.

As you were studying her in slight disgust, she finally noticed your presence.

“Oh hi, I’m Yui,” she said as she tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her hair.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in the same calculus class,” you say before you place mother grape in your mouth. Judging by her reaction to your words, she hadn’t even acknowledged you, but you couldn’t care less.

She stood there in a slight shock before hesitantly speaking again.

“So, are you dating ‘Samu?” she asked as she leaned her body on the side of the fridge door. Her words caused you to choke on the grape that laid on your tongue.

“Samu? No!” You manage to squeak out between your violent coughs. “He’s just my friend”

She seems to be confused by your statement. You never had thought about Osamu in that way and you weren’t sure why she would think that.

“Well, then why are you around here all the time?” Now it was your turn to look confused at her words.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow as you reply.

“You were the one who knocked on Atsumu’s door, right? The one he called princess?” she said as she crossed her arms in front of her half-exposed chest.

Ah, now you understood. Was she jealous?

“Yeah, I was.” your tone changes as your patience was slowly seeping through your fingers like grains of sand.

She nodded her head before stepping closer to the opposite of the table. “‘Tsumu’s mine, so don’t come around here anymore if it's for him.” she spits out with a grin as if she had accomplished something.

You take a moment to respond to her. In one swift movement, you stand from your stool and start to close the container of grapes in front of you.

“One, I live here, I’ve been living here since I was 6,” you said as you snapped the containers louder than you usually did. “Two, the last thing I want is to be around Atsumu.”

You gather the containers and make your way in front of Yui. She said nothing as she stood and watched you place the fruits back into its assigned tray.

“And three, he’s not yours. You’ll be gone by the end of the week, sweetheart.” that was the last thing you said to her as you exited the kitchen. You didn’t stick around the see her jaw hang slack, appalled at the words that came out of your mouth.

You knew she attacked you because of Atsumu but was she that oblivious that she couldn’t see what laid between the two of you?

pure annoyance and animosity

“The audacity!” Stephanie exclaimed as you retold the events from this morning as you two sat outside the school waiting for the boys' volleyball practice to conclude.

“I don’t even want to think about it anymore, it gives me a headache.” you shook your head to the side as you try to forget the whole meeting. “Thanks again for giving me a ride today too, Steph.”

Your usual ride had to stay later than usual to make up his missed chemistry test and you rather walk the 30 mins than ask Atsumu to join him home. Stephanie was more than happy to drive you home after akaashi came out from practice. Because of Mara’s feelings for Atsumu, you never felt comfortable discussing him with her. You didn’t want her to feel bad for liking someone she despised. One can not control whom they love, so you spared her feelings and confided in Stephanie when it came to Atsumu.

“Don’t mention it!” she said as a smile pulled at her lips. “You excited for tomorrow? Finally going to be 18 and find your person!”

Your birthday completely slipped your mind as you focused on the Yui situation.

“I’m so nervous! hopefully, I can find him,” you said as you looked down at your hands. Stephanie could recognize your worry and placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Try not to worry y/n. You’ll find them. I remember the same feeling right before my birthday. The anxiety was eating at my soul but, in the end, everything was perfect. It’ll be like that for you too.” She empathized.

Akaashi and her were your only pair of soulmates to admire; They were the only two you knew. Your parents were also soulmates but you couldn’t see their love blossom due to his passing. You saw how much your mother loved and grieved him, but you weren’t old enough at the time to remember him loving her as much.

“I think they’re done,” Stephanie said as she held her hand. “I felt his signal.”

Akaashi and her shared physical touch. If in 500 meters of her, whatever Akaashi felt physically, so would Stephanie.

And as if it was timed, right after her statement the team came through the school's entrance doors.

“Hey!” Akaashi said as he waived at the two of you. He situated himself right behind his girlfriend. He muttered a small ‘hello’ as he kissed the top of her head and held her hand and rubbed small circles with his thumb against the back of it.

so that must have been their signal.

You could only wish your soulmate was as kind and loving as Akaashi.

You unknowingly stare at the couple in front of you as your phone starts to ring with your mother's picture displayed on the screen.

“Hi, mom” you answer.

“y/n! I need you to run to the store for me. I forgot a few ingredients for dinner today, could you get Osamu to drive you to the market?” Your mother said urgently.

“Uh, I would but ‘Samu’s taking a test right now, he won't be done any time soon.”

“Then can you ask Atsumu to take you?” Her words made you cringe at the thought of being in such close proximity to him for that long.

“Mom, I-” but before you could finish your refusal she interrupts.

“Please, y/n. I’m desperate.” she pleaded.

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell her that going with Atsumu would be impossible, that he wouldn’t even take you in the first place but then you remembered how hard she works. She worked this hard for you, so this was the least you could do for her.

“Okay, I’ll ask him,” you say in a slightly sombre tone as you accept your defeat.

“Thank you!! I’ll send you the list, love you!” those were the last words you heard before she hung up.

“Ready to go?” Stephanie asked as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

“Change of plans. You guys go without me, I gotta find Atsumu.” Both their faces synchronously scrunched together in confusion.

“Are you going to be okay?” akaashi asked, clearly concerned.

You vigorously nod your head and send them on their way, thanking them for offering the ride home.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you make your way inside the school to find Atsumu. Luckily, or unluckily, you found him immediately standing at his locker as he was laughing at something Suna said.

You debated turning back twice but decided to suck it up. With strong strides, you walk up to Atsumu’s figure.

“Atsumu” even though you aimed for your voice to come off strong, even you could hear the strain in it.

He wore his usual volleyball attire, identical to Osamu. White joggers with a vertical black stripe doing down the side of each leg accompanied by a black t-shirt, which clung to his body due to the aftermath of an hour-long practice.

You approaching him for a change, took him by surprise a bit, but even surprise he still managed to wear that smirk to antagonize you.

“What’cha want, princess?” he said as he placed his hands in the pockets of his pants.

There was that damn nickname again.

“Um, I need you to take me to the market,” you say bluntly. Sugarcoating with Atsumu would only lead to his enjoyment but, somehow your words managed to do so anyway.

His smirk grew as he leaned back on the lockers behind him.

“And where’s the person who ya wanted to take you?” he knew he wasn’t your first choice. Hell, he wasn’t even your third or fourth choice.

“‘Samu can’t, so can you or not?” you probably shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum, especially because you had the lower ground.

“Sorry princess, can’t,” he said without a care as he slid his arm through his maroon Inarizaki jacket. “Meetin’ with Yui”

Just her name was enough to remember this morning. Your face contorts in disgust at the thought of her roaming the house barely clothed.

“Oh, you don’t have to be jealous, princess.” atsumu says after witnessing your reaction and assuming it was because of him. You can't help but snort at his response.

“I think you’re telling the wrong girl that.” you can't help but laugh as you speak. Your words earn a slight head tilt from a confused Atsumu and an amused whistle from Suna.

You turn to take your leave from his presence, but before you walk out the school entrance you turn back one more.

“Tell your girlfriend to watch what she says to me next time.” Your voice was much stronger than before. You didn’t stay behind to see the distraught faces of the two men you left behind.

You couldn’t even hear the way Atsumu slammed his locker and Suna’s voice calling him as he rushed off.

You should have eaten more today.

That was the only thing that you could think while you scurried through the food aisles slowly compiling the ingredients your mother needed. Her listen was all over the place; enoki mushrooms, powdered sugar, sesame seeds, fatty tuna, vanilla extract, rice. The list went on longer than you expected.

All the feelings you were being put through today managed to stop you from eating lunch as well. The only thing that was in your stomach was five grapes that you managed to get down before your encounter with the unexpected visitor.

The last thing on the list was a jar of raspberry preserves, which of course was located on the highest shelf of the aisle. As you stare at it, debating if you should make a fool of yourself to jump while flailing your arms to reach, a voice came from behind you.

“Need a boost, princess?” His voice started you causing you to move backwards and stumble into his chest but quickly move away from him. Before you could respond Atsumu reaches up and grabs the jar that you were eyeing.

You turn around to him with wide eyes as he hands you the jar without his usual banter. Silently, you nod your head and take the preserves from him.

“Why’d you come? Weren’t you going to hang out with your girlfriend?” you asked as you placed the jar into the cart.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said firmly as he placed a hand on the cart to halt you from moving.

Why was he acting this way over this? It actually seemed like he was bothered by the situation.

You opened your mouth to respond but the voice that danced on your ears did not belong to you.

“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see.” A deep voice sounded from behind Atsumu. Both you and Atsumu whipped your heads in the voice's direction only to be met with two faces that put a smile on your face instantly.

“Aran!” Atsumu bellowed loudly, as he embraced his friend while you exchange greetings with Kita.

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked.

“We came back from college today, decided to go shoppin’,” Kita said as he lifted up the small basket in his hand.

“Now, the more important question is, what are you two doing here?” Aran asked as his eyes bounced between you and Atsumu. Aran was a friend of the twins ever since they were 9, therefore he was your friend as well. He knew exactly how you felt about Atsumu, so that would explain the way he was looking at the two of you, alone at a grocery store as the sky was enveloped by darkness.

“My mom asked me to pick some things and uh, ‘Samu was busy,” you said quickly, hoping that he didn’t think differently.

Aran nodded his head while pressing his lips together.

“Say, aren’t you guys graduatin’ soon?” Kita said as he shifted his basket from one hand to the other. “D’ya know where you’re going for school y/n?”

Now, this was the first thing that put a smile on your face throughout the entire day. “Yeah, UCI, California!” you said with a proud girn.

“America? What program?” Kita inquired with wide eyes.

“Journalism!” the one word made everyone’s eyes widened.

“Of course it’s journalism. She's the one-woman team that runs the Inarizaki newspaper.” Aran said with a wide smile.

You continued the conversation with Aran and Kita as Atsumu wandered off somewhere in the store. You weren’t sure where he had gone but you didn’t care enough to worry.

As you and Kita conversed, Aran spotted Atsumu at the opposite end of the aisle and slips away from the conversation.

“Bro, where d’ya go?” Aran asked slightly concerned.

“Just walkin’ round,” Atsumu said as he swung his keys around his index finger.

“So, y/n’s leaving Japan?” Atsumu had an idea of where Arans questioning was leading to as he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

“How does ‘Samu feel about that?”

ding ding ding

“Probably not too good,” Atsumu asked knowing exactly how his brother feels about your pretending departure. “I wouldn’t feel too good if the girl I loved since I was 6 was leavin’ the country either”

“So is he gonna tell her?” Aran whispered.

Atsumu let out a soft snort at Aran’s words. “He had 12 years to tell her, ya think he’s gonna now?”

Atsumu knew his twin brother loved you since before they even started playing volleyball. And ever since then, Osamu has never once attempted to tell you of his feelings. It drove Atsumu mad, but he never interfered between you and him.

Before the conversion could further between him and Aran, they both see Kita waving them down.

“Let’s go Aran, y/n has to get this stuff home before dinner!” Kita said as the two large men approached you.

“Happy early birthday, y/n,” Kita said as he gave you a small hug.

At Kita’s words, Aran checked the date on his phone in a panic. “It’s tomorrow!”

“Yeah, the only reason why Kita knew was it came up in conversation” you replied. You were never one to flaunt your birthday. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy big parties and multiple guests but, to you birthdays meant something else.

Your fifth birthday was the only one that you could remember before your father’s death. It was celebrated by only your mother, father and you, but it seemed like the most fun a five-year-old could have. Your mother always mentioned how your father enjoyed small birthdays and how they were sacred. he would say to “only share them with people who brought you pure happiness and expected nothing in return”. And that was now how you chose to live, just like him.

“Actually, I'm having a small dinner tomorrow, do you two want to join? ‘Samu will be there, so you could catch up with him.” Your invitation earned a smile from Kita and Aran but a deep frown by the blonde beside them.

You hadn’t invited Atsumu to your birthday dinner for obvious reasons and weren’t planning to.

The two men looked at each other debating whether to accept or decline but ultimately accepted.

You were expecting Atsumu to chime in but, he hadn’t. He only looked at you with narrow eyes and a frown.

His eyes were laced with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. Anger? Annoyance?

It was only then that you missed Atsumu’s stupid banter because this Atsumu,

This Atsumu seemed to be a thousand times worse

Ten minutes had passed since you last left the market and about twenty minutes since you last spoke to each other.

You two sat in complete silence as Atsumu drove to the Miya mansion in Atsumu’s Red Lamborghini. Mr. Miya bought both the twins a car of their choice for their 18th. Osamu had gone with a black Benz jeep while Atsumu went for the most flashy option.

You debated speaking to him, to break the awkward silence that filled the space between the two of you but Atsumu had already gotten ahead of you.

“Not going to extend the invitation for yer dinner?” His tone returned to its usually annoying self.

You look at him with a blank face and tired eyes. “Are you joking? It’s not like you’d come anyways.”

It was hard to believe that you two were once friends. Now you two could barely be in a car together without it imploding. He was the one that left you out of things, he was the one that no longer wanted to be your friend when you two were 8 years old. So why was antagonizing you over an invitation he wouldn’t even accept in the first place?

He just wanted to pester you in every way possible.

Minutes passed and once again the car was quiet as a mouse. Till Atsumu, once again sparked up a conversation.

“Yui,” You whipped to face Atsumu in the diver seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Yui. What did she say to ya?” He spoke without taking his eyes off the road, foot shifting between the gas and the break.

You were too tired to lie or ask why he cared, so you answered truthfully. “Your girlfriend didn’t like your nickname.”

“Not my girlfriend,” he said curtly while turning the wheel to turn on to your street.

“Fuck buddy, whatever.” you aimlessly correct yourself.

“Not anymore,” Before you could even comprehend his response, you two passed through the white gate lining the mansion.

It was far later than you thought you’d be home. The moon sat brightly in the sky as it was surrounded by small stars. it was basically night You only hoped that your mother wouldn’t be mad.

Unexpectedly, Atsumu helped you carry the grocery bags into the house. He strung 4 bags on his arms as you were left to carry one. You insisted that you can carry half his load but he was already through the door.

“‘Tsumu! y/n! Bless your hearts, thank you kids so much.” your mother said as you two placed the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen. “Thank you for taking her, ‘Tsumu.”

“Of course, Obasa-” before atsumu could finish speaking to your mother something had caught his attention from the dining room.

Or perhaps, someone.

Before you knew it, Atsumu ran to the dining room and stood in front of the table. Instinctively, you follow him to the scene in front of you.

Sitting at the table was Osamu across from Mrs. Miya, and in between them, at the head of the table, sat a man you had not seen in a long time.

Miya Kaito, the twins’ father

“Atsumu” his father's voice sounded cold and hard as it said his son's name. Atsumu must have thought the same thing as you could see him wince at the sound of his name rolling off his father's tongue.

“So now ya decide to come home? What, finally got tired of sleeping at the office?” Atsumu’s voice was blaring, anger coursed through his veins, the only thing he could see was red.

“‘Tsumu! Stop it!” Osamu shouted from his seat in hopes to stop his brother.

“I wanted to have a meal with my family, so just sit down, Atsu-” Atsumu cut his father off not wanting to hear what he wanted to say.

“Cut the bullshit dad! Yer too busy for us and yer too busy for ma. so don’t even fucking try to fix this family, ya broke it a long time ago!” Atsumu’s voice raised in volume.

“Atsumu!” Mrs. Miya shrieked for her son to stop.

“I’m here now, okay? So sit down!” Mr. Miya’s voice matched Atsumu’s in volume as he urged his son to stop.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’m gonna sit down and play house with ya.” was the last thing Atsumu said before storming up the stairs. You stood there in complete shock at what just happened.

Your eyes scanned the room around you. Mrs. Miya held her head in her hands as Osamu's face grew in irritation. Their father stood there with distraught painting his face. Your mom was still in the kitchen, but she still glanced with worry with her hand over her mouth.

Everyone in this house was shaken because of him.

Osamu stood from his seat to go after his brother but you decided to instead. Osamu shouldn’t have to worry about his brother when he's going through the same thing.

You ran up with stairs faster than you ever have to catch up to him.

“Atsumu!” you called from him as you followed him up the stairs. He ignored you as he reached the top of the stairs and walked towards his room's door.

“Atsum-” Your second attempt was deemed successful in getting his attention as he turned around and pushed you against the wall, caging you in his arms.

“What do you fuckin’ want, y/n?” His voice dripped with pure anger. He looks distraught. His eyes were red and glassy and his skin was turning an unnatural shade of red.

“Atsumu, I know you’re mad at him but just go downstairs and talk to him! Everyone’s upset. Just give him a chance.”

“What the fuck do you know about how I feel? Ya got a good mom, yer going to a good school in America and ya live in a big house, which is mine by the way. Yer miss perfect! So don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do. This isn’t your place to speak.” He yelled inches away from your face.

You parted your lips to say something but he left before you could. The slam of this door was deafening to your ears. You stood there, in front of his door in utter shock.

You knew he had a right to be angry, and in no way you were denying that right. But Osamu had every right as well, and he was sitting downstairs beside his father.

Why was it different for Atsumu? Why should he be allowed to create this mess and let everyone drown in his actions?

Why couldn’t he just try?

Atsumu’s words about you left a burden heavier than any weight that has been placed on your shoulders. If you could not speak about his family, why could he speak so thoughtlessly about yours?

Broken families came in all sorts of shapes and sizes; he out of all people should have known that the best.

[ the lovers taglist: @meepmoop12w @okkotsoo @quirklessidiots-trashdump @luna-mothii @unstaaableaf @lilith412426 @sunasbabie @thepsychicartist @gojoussunglasses @encrytpta @yamaguchis-17th-freckle @mavrintarou ]

unable to tag bolded blogs <\3

#miya atsumu angst #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu angst #atsumu angst #atsumu x you #miya atsumu smut #atsumu series #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #miya atsumu #the lovers.series #tw.family issues

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salenakingston · 4 years ago

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Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us

(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)

I said, even if I told ya

It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.

When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.

Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?

They've been looking for you and only you

It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.

Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.

The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.

But they survive.

The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...

Darkness is my signal

Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.

So what are you to me, what are we to you?

The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.

One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.

The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.

The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.

At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.

Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.

But are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.

To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.

Until the blonde was all alone.

The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.

Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.

And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.

They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?

I know that this sounds crazy

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.

Easier said than done.

One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.

The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.

Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.

Waiting for this moment, can you see me?

A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.

But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.

Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.

And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...

'Cause I know that you're out there

Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?

Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.

And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.

This darkness is my signal, come and find me

Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.

Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.

No matter how much it was tearing him apart.

And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.

As having to remember all of that hurt.

Are you one of us?

What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.

Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.

The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.

Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.

And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.

This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.

Are you one of us?

The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.

It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.

Are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.

Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.

Are you one of us?

A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.

And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…

It wasn’t enough.

A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.

And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…

Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.

A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.

A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath.

Are you one of us?

Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.

Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.

A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.

The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.

A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.

Are you one of us?

This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.

We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...

“Said, are you one of us?”

-----

(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

Credits: (In order of appearance)

@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!

@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)

@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)

@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)

@heilos (King Arthur)

@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)

@braveskyered (Knights Fic)

@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)

@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)

@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)

@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)

@neversleepagainau

@atomi-cat (Boneheads)

@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)

OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)

RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc)

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #msa au #my writing #my submission #long post

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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The Surrogate - Chapter 1

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 3305

Rating: E

Warnings: Injuries, smut (M\F, oral sex, vaginal sex, public sex)

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

A/N: Just a reminder as this is a new series you must tell me (preferably by ask) that you want to be tagged or continue to be tagged.

Chapter 1

The sky was on fire. Everything around you was chaos. People running for their lives and parts of buildings crashing to the ground. You were trying to not let the crowd drag you along with them because all you could think was there was nowhere you could go right now that would be safe and if you were going to die, you didn’t want it to be at the bottom of a pile of corpses.

You ducked down a side alley that stunk of trash but was blessedly empty of people. As you took a moment to decide what you would do next, there was a cry from above you and a figure rocketed down from the side of the building, managed to grab hold of the fire escape just long enough to dislocate his shoulder and slow his fall, before landing on top of a dumpster with a loud crash and rolling onto the ground. You rushed over to the figure that seemed to be trying to struggle to its feet.

“You probably shouldn’t move,” you said, crouching down and pushing him back a little. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized this was an actual Avenger. Not just any Avenger either, Hawkeye, one of the original ones. You wondered what he was doing in your town and if there were any other Avengers here. If there were, maybe you weren’t as doomed as you’d originally thought.

“Gotta,” Clint groaned trying to push you back off him. “Need to get back.”

“You’re an archer and at the very least you’ve dislocated your arm,” you reasoned.

“Not dislocated,” Clint groaned, rolling onto his side. “Broken. And some ribs. Might have bruised my spine.”

You helped him to sit up and furrowed your brow. “I might be able to help you,” you said. “A little anyway. Help you get back.”

“What? You a drug dealer?” Clint asked, pulling his arm in against his side.

“No,” you said. “I’m enhanced. I need you to kiss me. And not like a peck. With your injuries, it’s gonna need a full-on make-out session just to get you up.”

Clint’s face did not hide his emotions at all. He furrowed his brow in confusion, then widened his eyes in surprise. His lips pursed together as he considered if you were telling the truth and then a large smile broke out on it. “If you wanted to make-out you just had to ask.”

You leaned in and licked your lips, wetting them well before bringing them to the archer’s. The spark happened immediately as your powers engaged. People often thought it was that spark that happens in stories where two people who are meant for each other finally kiss and fall in love. The first time it happened you’d even fallen for that and you and the guy had ended up dating for a year too long before you realized that maybe there was no such thing as fate, and if there was it could go fuck itself because you weren’t spending another day with that jackass, destiny be damned.

Clint made a soft choked sound and his hand went to your hair drawing you in closer and deepening the kiss. It was good really. Even if he was caught up in the feel of your lips against his, and that spark that ran between you it would help with the process. You teased your tongue into his mouth and he let out a moan as they started to actually do their job.

You were a healer. Your powers worked perfectly in your own body. You never got sick, if you cut yourself it would heal instantly. One time you had been riding a bike and hit a rock. It sent you sprawling and you heard a loud crack in your shoulder and a flare of white-hot pain. People had come running to help but when you got back up, there had been absolutely nothing wrong. Not even a scrape.

They didn’t work so perfectly on other people. You’d figured out through some accidental trial and error that it worked through bodily fluid exchange. Kissing could work on cuts and scrapes, but you’d normally need to donate blood to get to the level of healing Clint Barton currently needed, and that only worked if they were a compatible blood type. There were other ways that worked better than kissing of course. None you wanted to do right here in the street with a complete stranger even if you could talk him into it.

You swirled your tongue with his and licked over the corner of his mouth, dragging the kiss out as long as possible. When you finally pulled back, his bruises were gone and most of his cuts. The arm was definitely still broken but he seemed to be holding it a little better.

“Holy shit,” Clint said. “I - uh -”

“You aren’t in love with me,” you assured him. “Don’t worry. Go save the world.”

He pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his bow from where it had fallen a few feet away. “I wanna talk to you when all this is done.”

“If you save the world, I’ll meet you back here,” you agreed reluctantly. You didn’t know if you'd just plunged yourself into deep water by outing your abilities to an actual Avenger or if he was stuck the ‘true love’s kiss’ groove and you were going to have to knock him out of it, but either way, you were dreading it, even if it did mean the world was safe.

You left the alley not long after Clint and ended up sheltering in a tunnel while you waited out the battle. As the sounds of fighting and explosions died down and the sky began to return to its usual blue, you dared to set back out again. Clean up crews and emergency services had arrived and it was a little difficult evading them, but you eventually made your way to the alley.

Clint was waiting for you alone. It looked like he'd seen a medic. His arm was now in a sling and he had stitches in his cheek. “Was starting to think you weren't gonna show,” Clint said.

“They aren't letting people back into the hub of the damage,” you explained. “Had to sneak past a bunch of barricades.”

“Well, aren't you resourceful?” Clint said playfully. “You got anywhere we could talk? Preferably where I could also get very, very drunk?”

“I doubt anything is gonna be open around here,” you said. “Might have to go further out.”

Clint nodded and the two of you walked out looking for a bar together. He was limping a little and you considered offering your services again, but the looming conversation held you back. You didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

By the time you did find a bar that was open you had hyped up the conversation so much in your head, you were fairly sure he was going to either propose or send you to the raft for being unregistered and breaking the Sokovia Accords.

“Shots?” Clint asked as you went into the busy bar.

“Yeah. Definitely,” you agreed. “And get food. I’m starving. I’ll find a table.”

It took a while to find anywhere to sit. It was like half the city had decided to drink after the events of the day and this was the only bar open. You ended up having to share a table with a group of women who seemed to already be halfway to fully drunk.

“So,” Clint said, placing a tray of shots on the table and sliding into the booth beside you. “Enhanced, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said and took your first shot. He’d gotten Kaluah of all things, though you were grateful for the soft warmth of the coffee liqueur over a harsh burn of something like whiskey.

Clint chuckled and took his own shot. “Gonna make me beat it out of you, are you?” He teased. When you didn’t answer he shook his head and continued. “How’d it happen?”

You shrugged. “Don’t really know exactly,” you say. “I got sick as a kid, and they put me on this drug trial. I got better and I don’t think I’ve been sick since, but it was such a long time between the trail ending and me noticing that I could actually heal myself that I can’t say for sure it was that or something else.”

You both took another shot and Clint scratched at his arm like it was annoying him. “So just healing?” He asked.

“That’s not enough?” You shot back.

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “No, that’s plenty. More than I’ve got,” he conceded. “You’re pretty defensive you know?”

You sighed and sunk back into the chair. The alcohol was already making your head feel fuzzy and you were worried you were going to get into a fight with Hawkeye right in the middle of the bar. “I can just see how this conversation goes. You’re either gonna convince me to join the Avengers or you’re thinking about the kiss and that spark and you wanna ask me out.”

“That kiss was pretty great,” Clint teased.

“I know, it’s the powers,” you said. “People think it’s some kind of soulmate thing. I’ve had stalkers because of it.”

Clint waited as you took another shot. One of the bar staff came over and put a plate of sliders and curly fries down and you both started to eat. “God, I needed that,” Clint said with his mouth full.

“You did do a lot today,” you said.

“Yeah, I saved your ass and you won’t even date me,” he teased.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t date you,” you argued. “I just don’t want an Avengers stalker.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, if you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t fight you off, but I get it. It was something to do with the healing.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Energy transference I think it is.”

There was another pause and you both took another shot. You were drunk now, you knew it. Normally you would be more careful about drinking this much with a strange man but there had been so much today, and he was an avenger.

“Why don’t you want to be an Avenger?” He asked.

You sighed. “I’d be useless. What am I gonna do, follow you all around and make-out every time someone gets a scratch?”

He laughed. “That’s the only way it works?”

“It’s a bodily fluid exchange. I could have spit in your mouth, but I thought that would be hard to talk you into,” you explained.

Clint laughed and held his side. “You kidding? I normally have to pay people to do that.”

You completely lost it laughing. “Oh my god!”

“Alright, alright, don’t make me laugh,” Clint said. “My ribs are still busted.”

“Want me to help with that?” You offered.

He looked you up and down and chewed his bottom lip. “Dunno. Next time we make out, I want it to be because you want to make out with me.”

You giggled and heat rushed to your face. It was not a reaction you were used to but then you weren’t used to good looking superheroes hitting on you either.

“So, if it’s bodily fluids, would blood work?” He asked.

“Blood works best,” you said. “But I can’t keep myself bleeding long enough to do a bleed into their wound thing, and if it’s a blood transfusion, they still have to match my blood type.”

“Well that could still be useful,” he said. “Maybe you are the same blood type as some of us? You could come and see?”

You sighed and picked up the last shot on the tray. Since you got your powers you had wanted to help, but they were so limited you hadn’t been able to find a way to do that and have it actually work. You gave blood regularly and hoped that might have led to some of the miracle recoveries some people go through, but apart from that, there wasn’t much you could do. At least agreeing to go with Clint to see if you might be able to help was something you could do.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go with you, but I warn you, my powers are so limited. I doubt it’ll come to anything.”

“Great,” Clint grinned and put his arm around your shoulders. “Now, to trying to get you to want to kiss me for real.”

You laughed and drank the shot. Clint went up and got more drinks. This time just a pitcher of beer for the two of you to share. Whether it was the alcohol, the stress, the thrill that he was an Avenger or maybe that he seemed to be a completely likable dumbass, you weren’t sure but it didn’t take long until you were locked together, kissing passionately and finding yourself getting more than a little bit turned on.

You were practically sitting on his lap as his hands slid up under your skirt. The spark that ran from you to him, was like a hot current, pulling you to him. He moaned into your lips, completely uncaring that there were people around you. It was likely that part of that was due to the fact you’d been at it for so long his bones were knitting, but he was definitely as turned on as you were, you could feel his erection every time he pulled you closer to him.

You gripped his thigh and he broke the kiss and began sucking on the pulse point under your ear. “I want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

“My place was in the fall zone,” you whined.

He gripped your thigh and pulled you so you were almost straddling him. “Bathroom,” he growled against your ear.

You nodded and he pulled you to your feet. The two of you stumbled to the bathrooms, making out against the wall as you waited for one to become free. As soon as it did, Clint pushed you inside, locking the door behind you. He was still sore you could tell, but even with the broken arm and ribs, he managed to lift you up onto the sink. You spread your legs and he dragged your panties down. You were already soaking for him, and he dropped to his knees and ran his tongue up your cunt. The spark you felt as your powers engaged ran hard through your cunt, making you jerk your hips. You braced your arm against the mirror and gripped the side of the sink as Clint held your legs apart and greedily sucking on your folds. He moaned loudly and his tongue pushed inside of you like he was trying to drink you up from the source. You rocked your hips against his face and he began to focus on your clit, sucking and biting at it. He thrust two fingers inside you and fucked you hard with them. With the current that was running through you, you were barely holding it together. You panted, your head resting back on the grimy glass of the mirror above the sink. Clint’s fingers moved inside you, dragging over your g-spot again and again. You weren’t sure you were going to be able to hold yourself up and your legs kept wanting to snap night around his head. He held them apart and kept going and with a loud cry, you came, gushing on his face. He let out a moan to match your cry and lapped up what he could. He stood and began to fish around in his pocket.

“Jesus, I think my ribs have healed. Should have eaten you out in the field,” Clint teased.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” You laughed.

“Fucking filthy one,” he growled.

You grabbed him by the belt and began to unfasten his pants. “Clint,” you said, still breathing heavily. “I’m on birth control and I’m a healer.”

A slow smile played over his lips and he pulled his cock out. “Well, then,” he said and thrust deep inside of you.

You both moaned, the spark returning again. There was a banging on the door and you buried your face in his neck. “Fuck,” you giggled. “Gonna need to be quick.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Clint teased, playfully. “I can do ‘quick’.”

You burst out laughing and let your head fall back, he held you close and started fucking you hard and deep. He shoved you up against the wall with every thrust and you bit into his shoulder, moaning into his skin. Your fingers dug into his back and you braced a foot on the wall. Everything came together perfectly, the place, the person, your powers, how deep and hard he penetrated you, you lost yourself to it. Your body spasmed and clenched and you came again, holding yourself as close to Clint as you could as it shuddered though you. He thrust hard into you, holding you in place as he came. “Fuck,” he groaned as his cock pulsed with it’s released. “That was…”

“Mm-hmm…” you hummed and he slipped from within you. “The healing thing always makes it more intense.”

“How come it’s done nothing for my ears?” Clint asked as he tucked his cock back away. “I mean, everything it’s been working on, but I still have my hearing aids on?”

You shook your head as you straightened yourself back up and pulled up your underwear. “Don’t know. The worse the injury or illness the more exchange has to happen. I can’t do things like regrow body parts. It does nothing for scar tissue. And the older the injury the less likely it is to work at all.”

“Huh,” Clint said and there was another banging on the door. “You ready?”

You nodded. “Yeah, better let the people pee.”

The two of you walked back into the crowded bar. “You coming home with me?” Clint asked as he took out his phone and tapped around on it.

You shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I don’t even think they’ll let me near my place.”

“Cool,” Clint said casually. “To the roof.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. He just pointed the way so you followed after him. As you reached the roof a large black military jet approached and then hovered above you both. The back end of it opened up and it began to lower itself down, when it was within reach, Clint jumped up into the back and leaned over, holding his hand out to you and helping you scramble inside.

You followed him up to the cockpit as the back end closed again. “Thanks for coming to get me, Nat,” Clint said, kissing the redhead at the cockpit on the cheek.

She scrunched up her nose and ruffled his hair. “What was I supposed to do? Leave you here?”

You watched them as you took your seat and buckled yourself in. There was an easy affection between them and you realized, they were together. Together-together. You’d just helped Hawkeye cheat on Black Widow.

Bile started to bubble up from your stomach and you weren’t sure what to do. You could keep it secret and let it eat at you forever, or you could tell her and she’d probably stab you. It wouldn’t kill you, but being stabbed still hurt and you didn’t want it to happen.

Your conscience seemed to be in control though. The words bubbled up and burst out of your mouth completely out of your control. With a yelp and covering your mouth with your hands, you shouted; “Clint and I just had sex!”

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #pregnancy #the surrogate

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starkrogerrs · 5 years ago

Text

The Darkest Touch

@oluka possessed me in spirit and wrote this. it’s 4450 words of literal p*rn. enjoy.

[Explicit content warning]

Steve shuddered as a sudden, frigid wind blew up the hill. He drew his arms closer around himself, taking in a deep breath. He felt disconnected from any life; he couldn’t see anything for miles around him— all vision blanketed by a thick fog. Another draft of wind made his eyes water. Atleast, he blamed the wind for it.

He’d put on a brave face for his crying mother, as he said his goodbyes — a final acceptance of a fate that was handed to him by the great Oracle himself. Now, he didn’t feel as valiant.

“The virgin is destined for no mortal lover. His future husband awaits him on the top of the largest hill. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

The oracle’s words still rang as clear as day in Steve’s ears.

He gazed into the distance as the sky darkened. Maybe the demon would not be coming, he thought to himself and his heart soared. Maybe the oracle was wrong.

Steve could hardly bear the thought of having to give up all of his freedom — to becoming a prisoner to a monster, of all things.

A dull ache burned in his chest and he let out a sob. He felt a torrent of emotions — fear, anticipation and worst of all, hot, burning anger. His only crime had been that his allure rivalled the gods’; something he had no control over and yet was being punished for. Steve let out a growl and punched the slab of granite beside him as the world grew blurry from his tears.

Before long, the sky turned obsidian and Steve felt his eyes grow heavy. He leaned against the cool stone, feeling the exhaustion take over and fell asleep.

When he woke up, Steve was no longer on the hill. His body sunk into the silken mattress as he blinked his eyes open. The room was stunning — marble furnished and glistening in the sunlight that poured in through the high windows.

Was this the lair of the beast he was to wed?

It certainly didn’t look like one. The chamber itself was thrice as big as Steve’s own home.

He marveled in awe as he slid out of the giant bed and walked outside which led into a courtyard of sorts. The capitals of the giant columns were intricate, glinting scarlet and golden as Steve gazed on, mesmerized. The walls were adorned with carvings and paintings representing fables and stories he’d heard as a child.

“All that you see is yours,” a voice called suddenly and Steve startled. He looked all around him, but could not spot the source.

“Who are you?” he called, fear seizing him. Would he finally see the monster himself?

“I am yours as well,” said the voice. It seemed to be coming from all around him.

“Feel free to explore as you like, retire to your room when you please and dine to your heart’s content.”

“But-”

“My, and by extension now your, helpers, will be happy to serve you.”

“A feast has been laid out for you in the adjoining hall, my lord,” came another voice which Steve assumed was the aforementioned helper's. Again, he could not see anybody.

Steve was still reeling from what had just happened as the invisible attendant guided him to the hall. There, true to what the monster had said, lay a feast fit for the gods. A long table stood in the middle, covered with several mouth-watering delicacies and the sweetest wines. As he took his seat, invisible performers burst into a song; filling his ears with a sweet symphony.

Steve felt strangely content as he settled into the bath laid out for him. While he was on the hill, he had expected the worst. Instead, he found himself at a retreat fit for a god. Perhaps this was preparation for when he would see the demon himself. The thought diminished his spirits, a little.

He spent hours staring at the sculptures that stood in the garden, and then moved to exploring the palace; the marble feeling colder and colder under his feet as night settled in.

Stars began their ascent into the sky and Steve had yet to see his husband.

An attendant guided him towards a room then, which Steve found strange. He asked the voice why he was there, but no reply came. He was all alone in the hauntingly cold quarters. This room was just as big as Steve's, but it was not made for light. It was shrouded in darkness, save for the little that poured in through the open door, where Steve stood.

Steve wandered in cautiously as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A single, large, canopied-bed stood in the middle of the room, if there was other furniture, Steve could not see it.

Goosebumps erupted on his arms as he felt sudden movement behind him and just as he turned, the door shut. It sealed all the light behind it, throwing the room into pitch blackness.

Steve rushed to the door, scrambling for the handle and pushed. But the door refused to budge.

"You wish to leave?"

Steve startled for the second time that day. His heart began to pound inside his chest. This was it, he would finally meet his fate.

"Don't be afraid, Steve," the voice called, and for the first time Steve noticed how cool and honey-like it was.

"I can't see you," Steve said, rather foolishly.

The voice sighed. Steve heard dull footsteps followed by something scraping against the floor.

"There isn't a mortal prettier than you," the voice noted and Steve flushed in spite of himself.

"I wish I could say the same about you," Steve said and knew that his words were scathing.

The voice only laughed. "Trust me, gorgeous. It is in your best interest that you don't see me."

There was a sudden draft and Steve felt something brush against him. What grotesque monster was he facing that he wasn’t to lay eyes on him?

"And why is that?" Steve breathed, knowing that the monster — his fated consort — was standing very close. He backed himself further up against the door, wishing it would open.

The creature ignored him.

"Undress for me," he ordered and Steve froze, his grip on the handle tightening.

"Steve."

The tone made it clear that he didn't really have a choice except to listen. He willed himself to stay calm as he slowly unclasped his chiton, letting it pool around his belt, leaving his chest bare.

He heard the creature's breathing deepen, and Steve felt his skin prickle.

"All off," the voice commanded urgently, and Steve felt his knees give out a little under him.

He tugged at the belt, letting the chiton slip from his skin and down to the floor, leaving him nude and stripped in front of the monster.

"So beautiful," the creature said, voice laced with lust. Steve felt his heart race at the compliment but his mind felt conflicted. He was talking to a monster who would do as he pleased with him.

"I'm going to touch you now," he said gently, and Steve found it inexplicably hard to move away. It was as if he had no will of his own. As the creature moved closer, he could feel his hot, deep breaths fanning his neck.

Steve waited with bated breath, for the touch. What would his skin feel like?

He shuddered when warm skin touched his unclad hip. The creature’s fingers were calloused enough to drive Steve's thoughts into dirty waters; his touch, light, as if waiting for Steve's permission and Steve gulped.

His heart raced as the demon’s hand trailed upwards to his collarbone coming to rest on his jaw. He could feel his breath on his lips, smelling like warm flour and Steve's heart gave a tiny leap. He felt a pair of lips brush against his own, arousal thrumming low in his stomach; the lips pressed harder, and Steve gave in easy, way too easily.

He groaned as the kiss deepened, his destined husband's hands roaming over his skin in a frenzy. He seemed eager, and as aroused as Steve was which only fueled him further. He felt like he was burning and cold all at once under a lover's touch.

Steve let his own hand reach outwards, coming to rest on smooth, warm skin and the creature stiffened against his lips.

There was a sudden flutter, followed by a gust of wind and Steve opened his eyes to find the creature gone, leaving the door swinging in his wake.

Steve spent the entirety of next day in his chamber mostly, recalling events from last night.

His husband hadn't felt inhuman, even though the oracle had said he was; His lips — soft as silk, hands — calloused but gentle felt all too human.

How easily Steve had let go of himself, letting his mind succumb to promises of pleasure. And yet, he found himself wondering where the night would've taken them if he hadn't touched him...

Was he not to touch him? How was he to make love to his husband if he was not allowed to touch him, to feel their skins against each other as they moved in passion?

"The lord has asked you to wait for him in the dark chamber as before, sire," called an invisible servant and Steve shook himself out of his thoughts.

The sun had long set and the moon shone brightly, dimming only when an occasional cloud passed over. Sliding off the alcove, he padded towards the room half reluctantly.

He seated himself on the bed this time, it's unparalleled softness laxing. He wished he could snuggle into it and wake up to find that this was all but a dream. And yet, he was conflicted with his own mind — the creature’s kiss alone had swept him off his feet.

Suddenly, the door shut although Steve had not seen anyone come in.

"You seem to have missed me, beloved," the demon said, in a brazen tone.

Steve said nothing as the man drew closer, his warm breath announcing his proximity.

"I've surely missed you," came a whisper right next to his ear then and his heart jumped, and he felt something wet lick the shell of his ear.

Steve felt an arousal pump through him as he slipped out of his tunic wordlessly, baring himself once more to his invisible lover. His mind seemed to slowly shut off around the creature, as if intoxicated by his seductive charm.

Then he was being kissed again, impossibly heated this time. Steve felt himself growing erect already, as the man's tongue flicked across his lips and then invaded his mouth.

Steve was still squeamish, but the attention to his mouth set his blood on fire. In spite of what had happened last time, Steve reached for the demon again and felt the firmness of his chest, heartbeat throbbing under his fingers. To his surprise, the creature didn't pull away. Instead, closed the distance between them until their chests were pressed together. Steve felt brave, as they continued to nibble each other, sliding his hand down his side, curiosity getting the better of him. His hand curved down the man's bare behind, right down to his thick thighs. Steve tried to picture the man in his head — lean and shapely muscles that fit perfectly into him.

The demon pressed even closer, and Steve gasped as he felt the warm press of his sprung cock against his stomach. He took a shaky breath, as his fated partner moved to his jaw, sucking hard. His moans seemed to only entice him further.

Nothing about his future husband seemed abnormal to him and yet the oracle had said he was a monster. He was truly puzzled.

Steve ran his hands back up the man's ass, squeezing as he went, enjoying the groans that spilled against the crook of his neck. His hands trailed up his back, brushing against something very soft, as if extending from his back — but the creature seized his wrist suddenly, and pulled away.

“Hands off,” he murmured, in between pants and Steve forced a gulp.

Gathering both of his hands, he pinned them against the headboard and Steve felt his cock twitch at the sheer force.

Out of nowhere, he felt something soft and satin-like wrap around his fists and tie them together before they were slammed against the headboard, right above his head.

Steve yanked hard, but the satin restraints seemed to tie him firmly to the bedpost.

"You paint a pretty picture," the creature observed, and Steve felt his body shiver under his gaze. He felt embarrassed and hot, spread out so obscenely before him.

The creature lowered himself onto Steve again, and Steve arched against him, relishing in the warmth that his body provided. His lips sucked at Steve's collarbone, moving lower and lower and Steve felt his entire body grow feverish.

He groaned slow and long as the creature licked down the length of this cock, at a pace that felt like the world was standing. Body tightening as the demon pulled away again, Steve whimpered.

Cold enveloped Steve once more. He whined, needing the creature’s touch. Not before long, he felt a knee wrench his legs apart and pull him lower. His hands stretched against the restraints now, body splayed on the silken sheets as he waited for the creature — man— to have his way with him.

Steve gasped loudly when he felt a finger push inside him suddenly. Slowly at first, the man pulled and pushed, before working in another finger and picking up pace all in one breath and Steve felt like he was going to explode.

Every push lifted him higher and higher, as his body throbbed for release.

"Please," he whimpered, tugging at the darned restraints that wouldn't budge. He was so painfully close.

"My pleasure," came the deep, hoarse reply and with a last, maddening push Steve came all over himself, moaning a string of curses.

"Good boy," the man teased and Steve felt himself flush, although he could barely make sense of anything around him. He felt dizzy still, and blood continued to roar in his ears.

He had hardly recovered from the ecstasy of the last orgasm before he was being turned and pried open again.

"Not done with you yet, darling. Open up."

Steve found himself eagerly obeying the command, despite the fact that his arms had started to hurt above his head. The man pulled Steve's thighs open, draping his legs over Steve's and pressed his length between his hips from behind teasing the hole.

Steve hissed as the man filled him, his walls expanding to take him whole. Deep in his gut something throbbed, and he wriggled against his hips, urging him to move.

He gasped as the man started his pace, pulling out right until the tip and slamming into him again with inhuman force. His fingers dug into Steve's skin as he drove into him, moving faster and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, moans beginning to fall from his lips.

“Faster,” he begged, feeling his walls stretch with each thrust. The violent pleasure built up, as his pace quickened to indescribable speeds.

Each deep jab of his cock felt more violent, and Steve felt himself edging closer to climax once again.

He bucked his hips, as pleasure finally burst forth and he was lost in its surges. His husband pulled him close then, thick arms enveloping him and thrust hard as the bed shook under them.

Steve was beginning to feel light headed, his grip from reality loosening. Just then his lover stilled, grunting hard as his warm seed filled Steve. He felt sweaty and exhausted, but his body thrummed warmly as the man held him close. They fell into the bedding, panting in unison as his lover's erratic trusts came to a still.

"Perfect," Steve heard him whisper and his heart soared with pride.

With a start Steve realised that his fear was long gone, replaced instead with bold curiosity.

"Who are you?" he breathed, attempting to turn but failing.

Steve felt a set of lips press against his shoulder in a chaste kiss.

"All in good time, sweetheart," came the reply and Steve felt his heart flutter. “All in good time.”

Steve couldn’t find the strength to argue.

"What do I call you then?"

"Whatever you wish to. I ask only one thing, that you be here, ready and waiting for me, everyday. Understood?"

Steve found himself nodding at his future husband's words.

"Understood."

"Good," he said and Steve felt his eyes droop, the exhaustion catching up. He didn't even realise that his hands were no longer tied when sleep finally claimed him.

In the morning, as expected, his husband was nowhere to be found. Steve had woken up to find himself bare between the tangled sheets, cheeks flushing as he remembered the events that had transpired last night.

As it were, he felt ashamed to have fallen prey to his husband's allure again. The mere thought of seeing him again filled him with passionate desire and it angered him deeply that he was so weak for him, despite the fact that he was here against his will.

Steve decided to explore the palace more, later that evening, and found himself on a veranda overlooking the gardens. A shallow pool stood in the middle of it, it's shimmering waters calling to Steve. Slipping off his toga he waded in, finding it to be surprisingly warm — a welcome relief for sore muscles. All the while, his eyes searched for his lover, feeling alarmed when anything in the shadows moved. But no one approached him.

As the sun dipped lower and the water grew colder, Steve's heart began to thump with excitement. He decided not to leave the veranda, hoping that his husband would seek him out and be forced to be in the open.

Steve was enjoying the hot water against his skin, when a familiar voice called to him.

"Steve.”

"My lord," Steve called back, mockery evident in his voice.

"Come to me," the voice called again, echoing through the corner shadows. His voice reverberated all around Steve and he felt himself harden at his silken tone, much to his embarrassment.

"Why don't you come to me?" he called back, feeling a chill blossom over his being.

"Don't make me make you, Steve."

The voice seemed annoyed and Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He didn't budge, however, pressing himself against the wall of the pool.

Suddenly, his eyes went dark — a cloth had descended over his eyes and was tied back. He reached for the blindfold, terrified, but his arms were being pulled and tied behind him too.

"You're stubborn, aren't you? Do I have to teach you to obey?"

Steve said nothing, trying to make out just where his husband was standing.

"Get out of the water," he commanded from somewhere above him. Having no other choice, Steve climbed out, trying his hardest to not slip right back in.

"On your knees and bend over," he said hoarsely, as if overcome by the sight before him.

Steve did as he was told, again, falling to the cool marble floor. His erection was throbbing now, the cool wind of the night doing little to help his case.

Steve gasped sharply as something wet — his lover's tongue — swept over his hole. One flick and Steve was already gone. A split second later the tongue had pushed in and Steve screamed something incoherent. He felt his husband grip his thighs, wrenching them apart and pushing in further.

Steve bucked against his mouth, trying to get close to what he now desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had come, the tongue was gone, leaving Steve open, bare and tingling all over.

"P-please," he gasped, wiggling his ass — needing his touch, something, only to be greeted by the cold, cold breeze.

He couldn't even touch himself — but just then, crack — he shuddered, bucking as his husband's hand struck his butt cheek.

He whimpered, feeling the slap ripple through his very core. He was blinded, pain ebbing through his lower body, knees feeling numb and yet, all he could think was how his lover’s tongue had felt.

"You failed to do the thing I asked." Steve didn’t detect any annoyance in his voice but believed him to be serious. He was still on fire and god, he needed him bad.

"Please," he begged, "I'm s-sorry."

"Louder, sweetheart. I can't hear you," his husband said.

"I'm sorry," Steve croaked, feeling his voice thicken with want. "I need you. I'll be good."

There was deafening silence for a moment, punctuated by the man’s deep breaths.

"Walk in front of me."

The man led him to what Steve believed was the dark chamber. Before he knew it, Steve was being pushed onto the silken bed in no time. He was feeling ravenous, needing his lover's lips on him.

His hands were still tied, eyes blindfolded — although it wasn't necessary since he couldn't see him either way.

His fear was once again turning into thrumming desire, the ache between his legs pulsing.

"Why did you disobey me?" the man asked suddenly, sounding pained and Steve found that his heart did not like this one bit.

"I wished to see you, m-my Lord. I don't care what you look like—" Steve began, earnestly.

"Do you doubt my love for you? Haven't I given you everything you've asked?"

Steve found it hard to argue with him at that, but he burned to know who his lover was. "But—"

"If you saw me you would either despise me or love me. I would rather not risk it. "

Steve said nothing, blinking in the dark. Whatever he said, only made him more questions erupt in his mind. His destined husband seemed anything but a monster, and yet his refusal to reveal himself terrified Steve. What exactly was he hiding?

Sprawled on the bed, he felt his husband lower himself onto him again and he was forced to push his thoughts aside. And then the man was kissing him, hands fondling every dip and peak of Steve's body. His hands moved to grip Steve's ass, kneading and twisting until he was a squirming mess beneath him.

"Steve," the voice said against his lips, feverish and frantic. He seemed to be in a different mood today, his tone sounding less demanding than usual.

Still, Steve waited, breathing heavily, ready to do whatever he was asked.

"I'm going to need you to suck me. Can you do that?"

His tone was firm but calculated and Steve felt his heart tighten with anticipation. He remembered how his lover's cock had felt against his stomach and inside him. He wondered what it looked like, mouth watering at the mere thought.

Steve nodded, and he rose, crawling over him. And then, Steve felt the tip of the shaft against his lips. Wetting his lips, Steve pressed a firm kiss against the side, determined to do his best.

He opened his lips then, and the man pushed in, grunting. He could make out its girth and vague shape as he slowly took him in, savoring the salty taste.

His husband hissed as Steve began to hollow out his cheeks, licking the underside as he went. He began to move against his mouth as Steve blew and sucked at his length, hips twitching erratically.

His husband moaned a string of curses as Steve wrapped his tongue around him and sucked hard and fast. Steve bobbed his head up and down the shaft, building up the friction that elicited grunts from his lover. With a shout the man came, his warm cum coating Steve's throat. And he took everything he had to give, gulping hard.

The man pulled out then, moving to kiss Steve again, hand trailing towards his own cock. Steve gasped as he took his erect cock in his palm, stroking him as he kissed him deeply.

Several climaxes later, Steve found himself drifting, feeling more worn out than he had ever before. His destined husband, however, proved to be insatiable — waking him up in between intervals throughout the night and pleasuring him in ways he had never even heard.

Several days passed, as Steve grew more and impossibly intimate with his husband.

For a while it was perfect, Steve felt the happiest and found that he was falling for his to-be-husband.

Still, doubts lingered in the back of his head. How could he wed someone he would, perhaps, never see? In his heart, Steve knew he loved him, knew that even if his husband happened to be the most grotesque he would love him.

Then, why, it finally dawned, did it matter if he did see him?

That night, Steve found himself being ravaged by his lover again— his hands behind his back, mouth agape with pleasure and eyes squeezed shut.

He was pushed over the edge again, and three times after that, until they both collapsed into each other— in a heap of tangled limbs.

His husband had long removed his restraints, one arm draped across Steve’s form as he slept on. But Steve was wide awake, heart beating wildly against his chest. If he could ever chance a look upon his future husband, it was now.

He hadn’t a minute to waste and ran as fast as he could to his room and back, bringing a lit candle into the dark room.

When the flame finally cast its amber light onto his lover’s sleeping form, his body froze. For, instead of a monstrous demon, his husband was the most ethereal being Steve had ever seen. He was lean and muscly — bronze skin and refined features. Perfect, dark curls fell atop his head, long eyelashes resting gently against his cheekbones. Giant, white-feathered wings sprung from his back, that seemed to shimmer gold and scarlet in the dim candle light.

He knew at once who he was, not a man either, as he had thought, but a god. The son of Aphrodite and a mortal man — Tony, himself. He was so drawn to his allure, despite the fact that he had not been poisoned by one of his mechanical arrows. The longer he gazed at his form the more impossible he found it to resist him.

He drew closer, mesmerised, and in his daze, tripped over his feet. A drop of wax from the candle went plummeting down and landed on his lover’s— the god’s— sleeping face.

His eyes snapped open at once, and Steve staggered back— fearing for his life, once again.

#please let me know how it is sjhfkjsd #stevetony #stony #steve x tony #steve x tony au #stony au #stony smut #stevetony smut #bottom!steve #sub!steve #top!tony #dom!tony #mywriting

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Hooray! Two story updates in one week! I guess this Spring Break is proving to be writing productive! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is greatly appreciated and fuels the writing mind! Thank you guys so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter! -Jen

Chapter Eleven

Agatha wasn’t quite sure how long she stood in the doorway with her mouth ajar. A second perhaps? A few minutes? Hell, possibly a millennium? But the only comparison to this moment she could make was waking up from a dream and going straight into a nightmare. Her eyes wander around the room as she noted how every window in sight was plastered over with discarded newspapers and pieces of cardboard--some with scribbled drawings she could only attribute to being Zoe’s. The rat bastard had blocked the sunlight getting in.

“Living room now!” She hissed, Dracula’s cheeky grin only causing the flames of fury to burn hotter within her. “Now!”

Part of her felt as if she needed to grab him by the ear and drag him in there himself as the vampire purposely took his time to follow her out of Zoe’s earshot. Once they were alone, the former nun whipped around to face him.

“Why the hell are you still here?!” She growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Not only are you not welcome, but you have overstayed at that!” Agatha motioned around her. “And you’ve desecrated my house!”

“First, I would like to say that I am rather disappointed in you.” Dracula smirked. “I had originally thought your intentions to be alone with me were for more...intimate reasons.” He didn’t even blink when Agatha slapped him hard across the face. “Clearly you should’ve had your breakfast before we had this talk. You’re simply...well, what’s the term the adolescence use nowadays?” The Count’s devilish grin only widened. “Hangery?”

Agatha sucked in a sharp breath. “I...you…” Her fists clenched so tightly the circulation to her fingers was on the verge of being cut off. “If Zoe wasn’t in the other room, I would rip your stupid sun protection off my windows and watch you die a long, painful death. But I don’t feel like scarring a little girl!”

Dracula chuckled, his smile lopsided as he watched the woman fuming before his very eyes. He’d expected her to be upset, sure, but this...this was true gold. Agatha ground her teeth together, arms now folded over her chest as she continued to scowl darkly at him.

“You do know if you kill me…” He paused. “And I know you very, very much want to. It would certainly be a breach of contract.” Dracula feigned a long exhale, looking towards the direction of the door. “Perhaps I’ll stay until nightfall. It isn’t as if I have much of a choice.” The Count shrugged, his false sense of apology quite evident to Agatha. “A true pity really. But it can’t be helped, now can it?”

Over a hundred ways to slaughter Count Dracula began to manifest in Agatha’s mind. Yet he was right. Until nightfall, he couldn’t exactly leave without consequences no matter how much she’d like him to burn. Literally. Nostrils flared, her brows knitted together as she tried her best to ignore his obnoxious grin.

“You may be forced to stay here.” She spat, not hiding the disgust in her tone. “But Zoe and I certainly don’t have to.” Agatha looked over her shoulder and called out towards the kitchen. “Zoe, go get dressed and put on your shoes, we’re leaving.”

“Is Mr. Dracula coming too?” Zoe replied loudly, sounding hopeful.

“No.” Her aunt answered flatly, glaring at the Count. “Mr. Dracula is staying behind.” Still looking at Dracula incredulous, Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to go change now. Follow me, and you’ll regret it.”

The vampire held up his hands. “Relax, Agatha. I assure you I can manage holding back my temptations to repeat last night’s...experience for another time. Feel free to go get dressed, I can bask in the memories…” He paused, his ever present smirk broadening. “For now.”

Agatha said nothing as she shoved past the vampire, trying to block out his laughing as she stormed into her room. While her body craved a nice, hot shower, her mind convinced her the best option was just to throw on some clothes and leave with Zoe before she went completely berserk. Wearing an old, long sleeved shirt and some worn pants, she stepped out into the hallway to find her niece waiting there patiently.

“You do realize you are wearing two different colored socks.” She noted, eyeing the little girl with a sigh. “And that shirt has a stain on it.”

“So?” Zoe shrugged. “I like it that way.”

Agatha exhaled, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Let’s just go.” Taking Zoe by her hand, she walked briskly towards the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula standing back in the shadows. When he waved, she did not return the favor. “You better be gone when we return.” She growled, tugging on her niece’s hand. “C’mon, Zoe. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” The child asked, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the vampire. “Not somewhere boring, right?”

“To the park.” Agatha said, grabbing their windbreakers from the rack. “And then...maybe some ice cream, I don’t know. We’re just going.”

“Hooray!” Zoe squealed, sounding far more excited about their sudden departure. “Goodbye, Mr. Dracula! See you soon!”

“Oh, I very much count on that, dear Zoe.” The vampire smiled. “Your aunt and I have some unfinished business.”

When the little girl’s attention was preoccupied, Agatha flipped the Count off before opening the front door and slamming it behind them. Once they were outside, the former nun’s grip loosened around her niece’s hand. Zoe hummed to herself as Agatha fished around in her purse to retrieve her phone. Unlocking it, she scrolled down through her contacts before clicking on the one she desired.

“Hello, Jack?” Agatha spoke, letting out a long breath when she heard the other end connect. “Can you meet me at Pannett Park?” She looked over her shoulder, holding the cell close to her ear. “It’s important.”

XXX

Despite it being early in the morning, the park was decently packed by the time Agatha pulled up into the parking lot. She scanned the lot, looking for an empty parking space. Zoe had already unfastened her belt, against her aunt’s orders, and had taken to leaning over the side of the driver’s seat with the intention of helping out.

“Zoe, sit back down.” Agatha instructed, trying to focus on the road and not her loose niece. “The car hasn’t stopped yet.”

“I’m trying to help you.” The girl replied, frowning softly as she peered around. “What if we can never find a space?” She let out an exaggerated sigh and collapsed against her seat. “We’ve been driving for forever!”

“Patience is a virtue.” But even Agatha’s tone was strained. “We’ll find one.”

Zoe let out a huff and crossed her arms in annoyance. After circling the parking lot twice, Agatha finally managed to find a spot. It was right in the sun, of course, but it would work. Turning the car off, she barely had a moment to step out before her niece leaped from the back seat and out onto the grass.

“Zoe, stay where I can see you!” The former nun called out as the girl bounded towards the playground. “Don’t go too far!”

But she was already out of earshot, her laughter becoming more distant the further she went. Shaking her head, Agatha walked over to an empty bench and sat down. Pulling out her phone once more, she unlocked the screen and located Jack’s number.

“We made it. Good luck finding parking, the place is packed.” -Agatha

A few minutes passed by before her cell began to vibrate.

“Sorry, couldn’t text and drive. But you’re right, you’d think there was some event going on. I ended up parking across the street. Where are you?” -Jack

“On a bench by…” Agatha paused her typing, glancing around for a landmark. Not too far off from where she sat was a large sign dictating the rules that all park pedestrians were instructed to follow. “...by a big brown sign closest to the swing set. Can’t miss it.” -Agatha

“Great, I’ll be right over then.” -Jack

Leaning back against the bench, Agatha stared out towards the playground. Zoe seemed to have found a group of children to play with. Her eyes followed them as they ran back and forth in what she assumed was a game of tag. She tried to suppress the thoughts of what occurred last night in her head. His face. His body. The way he made her feel. How she and Dracula had done deeds that would send Mother Superior to an early grave. A shiver ran down her spine at each thought. Memories that she felt conflicted about. The former nun was so focused on trying not to think that she failed to notice Jack taking a seat beside her.

“Hey, you feeling okay?”

Agatha jumped in surprise, turning her head so quickly to face him that she pulled a muscle in her neck. Wincing, she rubbed at the spot and let out a grunt. Just another thing to add on to the ever growing stack of problems she was facing.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” It was a lie and even she couldn’t hide it from her tone. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course.” Jack smiled, his expression soft. “Gave me an excuse to get out of the house.” He inhaled, relaxing a little. “So what is so important that we needed to meet across town in a park to talk about?”

Agatha averted her eyes, unable to meet his. “Something happened and I needed to talk to someone who I could trust.” She paused, her mouth suddenly becoming dry. “A secret rather...big.”

“Oh?” Jack inquired, beginning to sound concern. “What kind of secret?”

Agatha picked at one of her cuticles absentmindedly, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. Her eyes focused on Zoe as the young girl when zipping down the long, curling slide on the playground. She knew Jack was staring at her intently, waiting to hear why exactly she had summoned him here of all place. And though, try as she might, she couldn’t yet muster up the courage to meet his gaze. Especially when it came to what was about to come next.

“Dracula paid me an unexpected visit last night.” She said in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Or rather, showed up inside my house uninvited…by me at least.”

“What?!” The alarm in the man’s tone was almost humorous. Certainly his next emotions would far surpass those when he learned more. “Are you okay? Is Zoe? Does Dr. Bloxham…”

“We’re fine, and no…” Agatha answered, a small twinge of pain coming from the corner of her nail bed. “And that isn’t exactly why I called you here to meet me. Something else happened…” Drawing in a breath, she finally found it in her to turn and meet the young doctor’s eyes. “I had sex with Count Dracula.”

There was a long pause before Jack’s face contorted into an alarmed expression. “You’re joking.” But when Agatha failed to reply, his eyes grew wide. “You’re not joking?! Agatha, what...what were you thinking?!”

“Shh!” She hissed softly, glancing around her as if half expecting to see Bloxham pop out from between the bushes. “Keep your voice down. I said it was a secret for a reason!”

“I can’t believe you would...did he force himself upon...what the hell were you thinking, Agatha?!” Jack stumbled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Why…”

“It was consensual.” It was no use trying to hide the embarrassment in her voice. “And I don’t know what I was thinking. One minute we were fighting and the next...and the next…” She shook her head, frowning deeply. “It was a mistake, okay? A dreadful, horrible mistake that I can’t take back.”

The young doctor shook his head. “...Did he bite you or anything?” A look of horror crossed his features. “You aren’t going to become a vampire now, are you?”

The former nun rolled her eyes. “Last time I checked, having sexual intercourse with a vampire doesn’t lead to one, well, becoming a vampire.” Sighing heavily, Agatha slumped against the seat. “What am I going to do, Jack?”

“You want my honest answer?” Her fellow colleague asked.

Agatha nodded. “Yes!”

“Well, I have none.” Jack replied sheepishly. “I’m not sure what to tell you other than Bloxham can’t ever hear about this. If she knew...it wouldn’t be good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have no choice but to continue to work with him. Think you can act like it never happened?”

“I'm quite certain he’ll likely make sure that I’ll never forget that it actually happened.” Agatha grumbled. “But maybe I can figure out a way to keep his hideous, fanged mouth shut.” She turned her attention to the playground, making sure that Zoe was still in sight. “She likes him, you know.”

“Who?” Jack asked. “Bloxham?!”

“No.” Agatha scoffed. “Zoe. She’s the reason he keeps getting into my bloody house! She’s befriended him. Or he’s using her...manipulating her...what difference does it make?” A small smile crept across her features. “She’s a Van Helsing. Being fearless in the face of the undead runs in her blood. Which, I suppose, has its advantages and disadvantages.”

“Like inviting a vampire into your house.” Jack answered.

“Exactly.” Agatha exhaled. “Like inviting a bloody vampire into my damn house.”

“She means well.” Jack added, his attention now on Zoe as she proceeded to swing across the monkey bars. “She’s a good kid, even to those who don’t deserve her kindness. Despite everything she’s been through. I couldn’t do it.”

“I know.” The former nun agreed. “That’s why I worry…”

Before Jack had a chance to reply, Agatha’s phone began to ring. Frowning softly, she pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. Dr. Bloxham. Meeting Jack’s eyes, she unlocked the screen and answered.

“Hello? Agatha Van Helsing speaking.”

“Yes, good morning, Agatha.” Bloxham replied in a flat voice. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from anything important, but I need you to come to the Foundation at your earliest convenience. There is something that needs to be discussed and it cannot wait.”

“What does she want?” Jack whispered softly.

“I don’t know.” Agatha muttered, covering the speaker. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

“Jack! Jack!”

Agatha and Jack both turned their heads to see Zoe hurrying over with a wide grin spread across her face. She immediately flung her arms around the young man, peering up at him with bright eyes.

“Come push me on the swing?” She begged. “Please?!”

“Let me watch her.” Jack offered, patting the young girl on the back. “I’ll take her back to my place and you can pick her up when you are done. Really, it’s no trouble.”

“Agatha? Agatha, are you still there?”

The former nun held her phone towards her ear. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m still here.” She glanced over at Jack who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. “And I’ll be there shortly.” Agatha ended the call and exhaled. “Thank you, Jack. You are truly a saint.”

“Quite a compliment coming from a nun.” The young doctor chuckled.

“Former nun.” She corrected, smiling as she turned her attention to Zoe. “Monkey, I have to go into work for a little bit. You're going to hang out with Jack at his house. I want you to be on your best behavior, okay? Hopefully I won’t be gone for very long.”

“I promise, Aunt Aggie!” Zoe saluted before tugging on Jack’s arm. “Can we go swing now?” “I owe you big time.” Agatha chuckled, standing up from the bench. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jack assured her. “Just worry about yourself...or don’t stress...you get the idea.”

She tried to force a smile as she leaned down and kissed the top of Zoe’s head. Giving one final wave, she turned on her heels and began making her way to the parking lot. Worrying. That was better said than done. A whirlwind of endless possibilities, mostly bad ones, of why Bloxham needed her now began to swirl in her mind. Swallowing hard, Agatha unlocked her car and got into the front seat. It was only the morning and today was already proving to be very, very long.

XXX

Unlike the park, the parking lot at the Foundation was nearly empty. Agatha tried to focus on her breathing as she fished around to find her badge. Bloxham couldn’t possibly know about what happened between her and Dracula last night. Could she? Inhaling deeply, she made her way into the building that seemed far larger than usual.

“Ah, Zoe, so glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Bloxham sounded surprisingly friendly as Agatha approached her boss, something that felt very unsettling. Feigning a smile, she nodded in agreement as the woman motioned for her to follow. Their heels clacked against the tiled floor as they made their way into Bloxham’s office.

“I apologize for pulling you away from whatever it is that you were doing. But I wanted you to meet someone important.” The corners of Bloxham’s lips twitched into a grin that would curdle milk. “Someone I think who just might help us with dealing with Count Dracula.”

As she opened her office door, Agatha’s eyes fell upon a tall man. His blond hair, though thick, was greying at the sides and the look in his brown eyes was cold. When he became face to face with the former nun, he gave a small nod in greeting.

“Ms. Agatha Van Helsing.” He greeted, extending his hand. “It’s a true pleasure to finally meet you.” Bloxham joined his side and suddenly Agatha began to feel claustrophobic. “You might not know me by name, but my ancestors were responsible for founding this over a century ago.” A small smile crept across his features. “My name is Howard Murray, the true descendant of Mina Murray herself. And I would like to lend my hand in personally assisting you and the others with Count Dracula.”

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #BBC Dracula #Caught in a Riptide

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Best Movies Coming to Netflix in May 2021

https://ift.tt/3vzaZUu

Movies are slowly coming back to life at the cinemas. You can see it with each glowing report about a Godzilla vs. Kong or Mortal Kombat doing solid business. And for those with more discerning tastes, films like In the Heights and Those Who Wish Me Dead are definitely going to make their release dates.

Nonetheless, there are many who are understandably not ready to go back to theaters (or have yet to get an HBO Max subscription). Thus Netflix remains an old reliable option. While the Netflix movie selection can be narrow, each month offers some worthwhile gems to revisit or even discover. And May has a surprisingly robust group of Hollywood films from the last 40 years coming to the streaming service on May 1. Here are the best ones.

Back to the Future (1985)

Great Scott! Back to the Future is coming to Netflix. As one of the most beloved films of the 1980s—if not ever—it’s doubtful we need to explain in great detail why this is exciting news. From its star-making turn by Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly to the grand musical score by Alan Silvestri, everything about this movie justworks. Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale’s script is like a Swiss watch in precision, paying off every single setup in the film’s first act when Marty commandeers a time machine made by Doc Brown (a lovable Christopher Lloyd) and accidentally travels from 1985 to 1955… to meet his parents as teenagers!

More time has passed since the movie’s release than the once massive generational gap between the film’s primarily ‘50s setting and 1985. Yet it still plays as a timeless story about family, time travel, and manure. Large piles of manure. By the way, the rest of the Back to the Future trilogy is coming to Netflix, too.

Hachi: A Dog’s Tale (2009)

Forget about all the “sad” dog movies of the last decade where canines have funny voiceover narrations and then die on repeat. Hachi: A Dog’s Tale is a very bitter, bittersweet dog’s journey based on a harder truth. A remake of the 1980s Japanese film, Hachikō Monogatari, this American movie is based on the real events surrounding Hachikō, an Akita dog who lived in 1920s Japan. Every day Hachikō would run to the train station, awaiting his master’s return from work. One day, after a fatal stroke, his master never returned. Yet for another 10 years, the dog would escape its various new owners and spend the afternoon waiting at the station.

Directed by The Cider House Rules’ Lasse Hallström, Hachi captures this anecdote about a dog’s loyalty with grace and genuine sweetness. But you’re not going to get through it dry-eyed.

The Land Before Time (1988)

Before it birthed a string of straight-to-video movies meant to babysit pint-sized millennials, the original Land Before Time was a generational touchstone for childhoods in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. Overseen by Don Bluth at the height of his talent, and in partnership with Steven Spielberg’s Amblin Entertainment, The Land Before Time is a marvel in animation from the period before Disney Animation’s renaissance. It follows an assortment of baby dinosaurs, including a recently orphaned “longneck” named Littlefoot, after a horrible earthquake has rained devastation on all the isolated herbivores. But together they may just find salvation in a land called the Great Valley.

Essentially a dinosaur road movie for children, to the modern eye it’s told with a surprisingly delicate sensitivity. There is no fourth-wall breaking humor and sideways smirks here. It’s a very earnest fairytale captured in the lost art of hand-drawn animation.

The Lovely Bones (2009)

Based on Alice Sebold’s 2002 bestselling book of the same name, The Lovely Bones has a tough premise: a teen girl is raped and murdered, and goes to heaven where she watches her loved ones attempt to process and move on after her disappearance. The debut novel was not only very popular, but generally well-received for its treatment of trauma, sexual assault, and grief.

The movie, directed by Peter Jackson and starring Saoirse Ronan, Rachel Weisz, Susan Sarandon, and Stanley Tucci, among others… was not as well received, fairly criticized for its prioritization of CGI heavenly visuals over a nuanced, character-driven story. You may wonder, then, why we’re recommending a movie that wasn’t great? Because The Lovely Bones is a fascinating watch for those interested in the limits of adaptation and, in particular, how a great filmmaker with expansive resources (including a very talented cast) can fail if they’re not the right person for the job.

Mystic River (2003)

As one of Clint Eastwood’s best films as director, Mystic River was the first cinematic adaptation of a Dennis Lehane novel, and the author’s hardboiled vision of Boston’s tragically seedy underbelly is well realized here. As much about the hard luck community on the South Side as the story of three men, it nonetheless tracks how neighborhood lives intersect.

We meet three boyhood friends in the movie’s unnerving opening and then jump to their bitter middle age. Oe of them, reformed gangster Jimmy (Sean Penn), has a daughter who’s been found murdered in a gutter. His onetime pal Sean (Kevin Bacon), now a detective, swears he’ll figure out who the killer is, and both men’s estranged acquaintance Dave (Tim Robbins) knows more than he’s letting on. All three’s fates are interlinked in this operatic passion play about the traumas we keep hidden until we’re drowning in regret.

Notting Hill (1999)

Though Four Weddings and a Funeral might have put writer Richard Curtis and star Hugh Grant on the map as the kings of ‘90s British romance, Notting Hill is arguably their true pinnacle. Grant plays a foppish bookshop owner who happens to meet the most famous actress in the world, Anna Scott (played by Julia Roberts who might just have been the most famous actress in the world at that time) when she stumbles into his shop.

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Zombie Comedies Ranked

By David Crow

From the sympathy brownie competition, the junket where Grant’s William Thacker has to pretend to be a journalist from Horse & Hound, and Rhys Ifans in his pants, there are plenty of funny, moving moments. But it’s the two montage scenes—a walk through Notting Hill as seasons change to Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine,” and the final montage to Elvis Costello’s “She”—that would melt the hardest of hearts. Rom-com perfection.

Scarface (1983)

Reviews were not initially kind to Scarface, director Brian de Palma’s explosive three-hour remake of the 1932 gangster classic starring Paul Muni (that in turn was based on a novel which loosely chronicled the rise of Al Capone). Written by Oliver Stone and starring Al Pacino as psychopathic Cuban refugee-turned-drug-kingpin Tony Montana, the 1983 film was excoriated by critics for its relentlessly graphic violence, excessive foul language, and over-the-top performances, especially by its leading man. But critics at the time missed the point: Scarface was a reflection of its time—the hedonistic, greed-driven, cocaine-fueled ‘80s—and was appropriately and utterly crazed as a result.

The film did mark the moment when Pacino transitioned from intense, thoughtful character actor to (mostly) histrionic circus barker, but he leaves it all on the field and his mania drives the fast-paced film to its epic, bloodsoaked, and unbelievable (in all aspects of the word) conclusion. As a metaphor for the insane decade of excess that birthed it, Scarface is riveting, breathless, occasionally shocking and often unintentionally hilarious. It’s the gangster movie on coke.

State of Play (2009)

Kevin Macdonald’s remake of a British miniseries by the same name turned out to be a strong thriller in its own right. With a whip smart script by Tony Gilroy and Billy Ray, this movie doubles as both an enjoyable investigative procedural and a love letter to journalism just as newspapers were beginning to die out in the 2000s. Russell Crowe plays Cal McAffrey in the film, the last of the old school guard of reporters, but his ethics will be challenged when the congressman with a dead young woman on his staff turns out to be his old college buddy (Ben Affleck). Rachel McAdams also stars as a young blogger who learns the thrill of chasing a story that takes more than an afternoon to research. Helen Mirren, Robin Wright, and Jeff Daniels also star.

The Whole Nine Yards (2000)

Remember when they made comedies for adults? The Whole Nine Yards is one such anomaly. Really a buddy film about a suicidal dentist (Matthew Perry) and a gangster living under a phony alias who moves in next door (Bruce Willis in one of his last truly charming performances), this giggles and gangsters laugher is a secretly delightful ensemble movie with a deep bench of talent. Indeed, Kevin Pollack, Amanda Peet, Nastsha Henstridge, and Michael Clarke Duncan, as the cuddliest gangster you’ll ever see punch your protagonist in the balls until he’s pissing blood, all get to shine. With a twisty plot, it’s an R-rated throwback to the type of screwball shenanigans that were once Hollywood’s bread and butter.

Zombieland (2009)

It’s rare when calling something the second best zombie comedy ever made is high praise, but in a horror subgenre that also includes Shaun of the Dead, this is high praise for Zombieland. As an R-rated teen comedy, one suspects the filmmakers almost lucked into the absurdly talented cast they assembled with Emma Stone, Jessie Eisenberg, and Woody Harrelson. In the years since this movie’s release, all three were nominated for Oscars (Stone even won one), but in ’09 they’re just having a blast with this goofy stoner hybrid about a dysfunctional makeshift family having fun during the zombie apocalypse.

Also, it features arguably the greatest comedy cameo ever conceived. If you haven’t seen it, I’m not going to spoil it for you here either…

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thirdwars · 4 years ago

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the battle at diagon alley // diomedes avery.

Mentions/features: Cassius Rookwood, Eden Dolohov, Juliet Avery, Davina Travers, Molly Weasley senior, Olive Longbottom, Jimmy Fletcher, Ronan Nott, Molly Weasley junior, Theodore Burke, Fiorella Longbottom. Triggers: violence, torture, blood, death, loss of a child.

To summarise: Diomedes came out to attack and had so much fun. Pre-battle, he has a little huddle with Cassius and Eden, where they discuss their plans. He’s told Juliet to stay away. At the battle, he duels with Davina, who he injures mildly and who abandons the fight. He also comes across Molly Sr, who he fails to kill. When he sees Olive, he supposes that it’d be poetic to subject her to the cruciatus curse, and he does, but is confunded by Jimmy before being able to finish the job. This leaves room for Ronan to get some spells in, but once Jimmy and Olive have disapparated, the spell breaks and he duels the other for a while. He also comes across Molly Jr, who he intends to kill with the sectumsempra after having failed to kill her namesake. Unbeknownst to him until later, he fails at that too. He also comes across Theodore Burke and Fiorella Longbottom while they’re in the midst of their half-hearted duel, something he will keep in mind in the future. I’m not sure about the order in regards about all these events, I just know that Molly senior came before most of them! Ahhhh. Diomedes comes out relatively unscathed, to a rather furious Juliet ( which is played out on the dash, see here ).

THREAD 001: Eden, Diomedes, Cassius.

EDEN DOLOHOV: murder tw / "I'm going to take out the Minister," Eden announces. She's still as a statue, hands clasped under her chin in a perversion of prayer, eyes trained on the table in front of the three of them. It's an unfamiliar sight to anyone that doesn't know her well — this is her planning face. Granger-Weasley at the helm of government is a problem, after all, and even if she cares little for politics, it doesn't hurt to clear the way for the Death Eaters to assume control of the Ministry. "Killing Potter was the right move, of course, but he wasn't the only thing that gave mudbloods and blood traitors hope."

Her eyes flit to Cassius and Diomedes, then. Her resolve is steel-firm, but she's accustomed to collaborating with the two of them — strength in numbers, and all that.

DIOMEDES AVERY: murder, death of a child tw / Part of him wants to say, all child-like, that he wants to take out Hermione Granger, but he bites his tongue. Eden can have her glory: he'll find his own. "It looks like Lestrange junior will be focusing on Longbottom," he said, thinking out loud. He'd like to see all of them die, all of Potter's friends picked off. "So that leaves three more of them, if he succeeds." With them, he meant those who'd been there the last time Voldemort had been defeated, when his father had gone to jail. "I'm not sure, what would be more ... ah, satisfying. Most of them dying in one night, or drawing it out a little?"

He shoves his chair back, folds one leg over the other. "I'll focus on their children, I think. Nothing like losing a child to make someone lose their fight." His mind thinks to the hole he ripped in the Bardon family, and he smiles despite himself.

CASSIUS ROOKWOOD: He doesn’t like deferrring but it’s a necessary sacrifice. It won’t always be this way. But until then, it’s true enough that he find Diomedes and Eden valuable, feeds off their energy. There is, perhaps, purpose after all in letting the lines between alliance and friendship blur. “Come now, Dio, it’s not meant to be satisfying. We take life only to accomplish our goals,” Cassius makes as if to lecture but can’t hold back a sharp smile. “Though of course, I’ll take out any Weasleys I see with pleasure.” They both make valid points, a good team despite Cassius knowing in the end they each had their own agenda. “The Minister is the brains”, he agrees, nodding at Eden. It’ll be a challenge but he’s seen her in action, and he believes she’s capable of defeating Granger. He’d far prefer Eden have whatever glory would come attached to the deed than Rabastan. “And undoubtedly the most important target. But losing Potter didn’t break them. Victoire Weasley assured me of that personally. Apparently, it only made them want to to fight harder.” Cassius only just manages not to roll his eyes at that. “We need to kill as many of them and their people as possible. Destroy their numbers.” For the most part, he takes this planning session with utmost seriousness but once more he lets humour into his voice, “We could always make it a friendly competition.”

THREAD 002: Molly Sr and Diomedes

DIOMEDES AVERY: death of a child tw / Eyes fall on the matriarch of what is Diomedes least favourite family, and he hardly hesitates as he approaches her, wand at the ready. "Shouldn't you be keeping your children indoors, Molly?," he asks, voice sharp, aiming his wand at the ground at her feet, where he lets the cobbles burst in an explosion. He's smiling behind his mask, feeling like he's getting the revenge he deserves, he has deserved for so long. "You already lost the one, after all."

MOLLY WEASLEY SR: Molly’s head swings around at the sound of her name. ‘’And shouldn’t you be in Azkaban by now?’’ She snaps in retaliation, jumping back as the ground beneath her feet explodes. A shooting pain explodes in her left leg. FURY takes over her body and she sees RED, she throws a scorching spell, watching the flames burst from the end of her wand and dance in the air as they move. ‘’ do not talk about my family. ‘’

DIOMEDES AVERY: He jumps aside as the fire shoots past him, missing him only just. Impressive. "Azkaban? You should know better than to put your faith in such a faulty prison." He lets out a cold laugh, then, sending pain-inducing hex her way. He wants to see her family burn, fall, eradicated. "But your family loves to be talked about, don't they? Weasley this, Weasley that, the fucking paper is filled with you red-haired nuisances. It's like you're asking for it."

MOLLY WEASLEY SR: The pain hits her in the chest and for a moment she’s sure her hearts going to give way. She bends over in pain, hands over her chest, the others words echoing in her head. She will not back down. ‘’ You sounds almost jealous,’’ it’s said with a laugh as she sends another scorching hex his way.31 October 2020

DIOMEDES AVERY: "Oh, of what?" He laughs, even as the scorching hex hits him, and he points his wand to his aflame robes, putting out the fire. His actions are quick, but he hates the gap that he's leaving in his offense, and he soon points his wand at her again, returning her favour and sending a scorching hex back. "Two dead family members, in less than a month? Can't say that I am."

THREAD 002: Olive and Diomedes ( torture tw throughout )

DIOMEDES AVERY: Much like his shoes, he picks his duelling partners with care. Diomedes thinks not everyone is worth is time, considers the long-game. Short-term sadism isn't his style, after all: he much prefers to cause suffering that lasts. And so, when eyes fall on one of the Longbottom children, a plan clicks into his mind. What happened to their grandparents is legend, after all, a notorious fate: who is he not to try and show her what they went through? He's quick to act, wand at the ready, "Longbottom," he calls. "How's grandma?" And then, his wand whips. "Crucio."

OLIVE LONGBOTTOM: in years past, olive had staunchly refused to attend the annual halloween fair that was held in diagon alley — she was never a fan of such large groups of people. but (one or two, certainly not all) her sisters and her parents had practically begged her to come along and she had reluctantly agreed. the night had gone by rather smoothly, much better than she could have expected, and she had been enjoying spending time with her family. then, all hell broke loose. the death eaters decided to do what they did best, turning a joyful event into a terrifying one. olive lost track of her family rather quickly, not by choice, but due to the sheer chaos happening around them. standing in the middle of the street (like an idiot), she scanned the area around her, desperately trying to locate her family. it was then that she heard the voice of diomedes avery and her stomach dropped. she swiftly turned on her heel, wand drawn, her eyes filled with a mixture of panic and rage. "she's saner than you are." olive spat, his allusion towards what had happened to her grandparents only fueling the anger boiling up inside her. when she noticed his wand she acted quickly, darting behind the nearest building in order to escape whatever spell he had in store for her. the failed cruciatus curse missed olive by inches and instead, connected with the brick of the shop that she had jumped behind, scattering debris on everything in the immediate vicinity, including her. "protego." she whispered, taking a moment to gather her breath (and her thoughts), before stepping out from behind the building, ready to face diomedes. "what the fuck is wrong with you?" she hissed before raising her wand once again. "sectumsempra!"

DIOMEDES AVERY: As she hides behind the building, he's just satisfied at her cowardice. Let him terrify her. He doesn't care about the pain he causes, he cares about the power it grants him: the power that comes with being feared, with being run from. He wants to hold all the cards, to be the strongest piece on the board of chess and win. When Olive shows her face again — just when Diomedes was considering striding over, cloak billowing — he grins behind his mask. "Plenty," he snarls, waving his wand to dodge curse, redirecting it to the building. Debris covers his shoes, his cloak, but he hardly cares. In this anonymity, appearances hardly matter, after all. "Using dark magic, now? What would your dear father say?" He remembers the start of the battle, how Neville Longbottom had dropped, with a satisfied smirk. "If he can even speak after tonight, that is." One by one, all of them will fall. Harry first, now Neville, and hopefully Eden is taking care of their new minister somewhere, too. Perhaps after tonight, there'll only be three left. For now, though, he'll keep himself busy with one of their children. He focuses on Olive, wand waving again as he attempts a — "Crucio!" — again.

OLIVE LONGBOTTOM: as he redirected the spell into the nearest building, she cursed under her breath. she didn't want to admit it but he was talented, much more so than she had previously assumed. when she heard him talking about her father, she tightened the grip she had on her wand, knuckles turning white. "don't you dare talk about my father." she replied, attempting to keep her voice as calm and level as possible, not wanting to give diomedes the satisfaction of knowing that he had been able to get under her skin. on the inside, she was screaming, panicking, obsessing over what he had said about her father — why hadn't she spent more time trying to find her family? when he attempts another cruciatus curse, olive tries to redirect the spell, but she isn't fast enough. pain, a white-hot pain, floods throughout her entire body and she can't help but scream. "leave me and my family alone!"

DIOMEDES AVERY: "Oh, what are you going to do about it?" His voice his a sneer, his expression filled with sickening glee. "Me keeping my mouth shut won't save him." The legacy of the Longbottom family is stuff of legend, and Diomedes feels nothing but satisfaction at the idea of building on that. Taking a part in it. He doesn't care about the causing of pain, per se, just the rammifications of it, the things it means. The Longbottom family will not know rest: that he promises. Not untill they all die. Her screaming echoes, and Diomedes' lips curl into a grin as he steps closer. "Actually, no, I don't think I will." His voice is a snarl — this is classic predator versus prey. "I'm just trying to give you something to bond over." Ruthless, merciless, twisted: Diomedes Aveyr is far removed from the polite man he presents himself to be, and that is where his danger lies. He is both, after all, a man of luxury and wealth and charity, as well as a monster. "Crucio."

OLIVE LONGBOTTOM: "why don't you just kill me?" she spoke through clenched teeth, still in excruciating pain. "kill me and leave my family alone." olive didn't want to die — in fact, she was afraid to die. there was so much that she still wanted to, so much that she still needed to experience, but she was willing to sacrifice that all for her family.

THREAD 003: Davina and Diomedes

DIOMEDES AVERY: On first look, a scene like this – chaotic, fiery, filled with debris and mess – doesn't seem like Diomedes' scene. It is, though: he'd been raised with an appetite for chaos, and it shows in moments like these. He carefully picks his sparring partners, not wanting to waste time on those who weren't worth it, and so when he sees Davina – estranged cousin, childhood friend, enemy – he chooses her. He intents to hurt. He intents for her to know it's him: it's not like she hasn't been able to guess. Diomedes gets close, wand pointed at her face – it's so familiar that he hardly needs look at it, "Kind of ballsy, to show up when you have so many enemies, Davina." His words are spat out, his eyes narrowed behind his mask.

DAVINA TRAVERS: she’s rattled. all she can think of is catriona, and getting away, getting back to her instead of staying trapped in this battle that isn’t her’s to fight. somehow, a voice cuts through the din. she knows that voice. so desperately wishes she didn’t. “well, i’m not quite subscribed to the family newsletter anymore, so i didn’t have time to prepare.” but he’s right, he’s right, he’s right — how many people here would be just as quick to hurt her as they are to sneer blood traitor? there’s a pang in her chest for him. she can’t bring herself to put the name to the voice. she refuses. “if i’d known i was such a hot topic, though, i would have picked a better outfit to see everyone in.” grip adjusts on her wand, tightens. she doesn’t want this.

DIOMEDES AVERY: Good. She knows it's him. He hopes that his oncoming ruthlessness will instill her with a sense of fear, that she will refuse to reciprocate it. Davina is weak, he thinks. "I think you should have reconsidered your outfit regardless," he says, and he's unable not to think back to those days where they'd bantered as friends. Their history lies between them, so much lighter than whatever is between them now: a hatred, a deep-rooted anger, a feeling of betrayal, in all truth. He hates to admit it, but it's rather unsettling that she knows him so well. On the other hand, he knows her well, too. "Where's little Catriona, then? I should hope you brought her, to such a fun evening?"

DAVINA TRAVERS: there’s something poetic about blissfully ignoring red flags for years, and then having all of those flags waved in front of your face in the form of a wand. one where the etching alone is familiar, evocative of school and big manors and laughter. once upon a time she wondered how they were so similar, but now she just thinks that they couldn’t be any more different. “i can think of a furry little thing you should reconsider too, but i suppose i’ll keep my mouth shut.” even still, she finds the desire to protect him lingering in her lungs. it was so fucking sad. “where she is is none of your business.” a shrug, like saying c’est la vie. “remind me, does your daughter know about your extracurricular activities?”

DIOMEDES AVERY: Even here, people seemed awfully occupied with his mustache. Eyes roll behind his mask, Diomedes' tendency to be annoyed not stilled by the chaos around him. "You'll keep your mouth shut? Then why, in Merlin's name, are your lips moving and making sound?" The taunts are childish, almost, but that's what he's used to when it comes to Davina. As adults, they barely talk after all, most of the words spoken between them either child-like remarks or their conversations before she left. "Hmm, she's my family, is she not? That makes it my business." His family loyalty hardly extents to her runt, though. He lets out a laugh, then, but it's cold, hiding the discomfort he feels as Davina addresses Helen. "Oh, come on now Davina, you must know enough about child development to understand that she is much too young to know, let alone understand, such things!"

DAVINA TRAVERS: "y' got me there. i've never been good at the whole quiet thing, anyway. think that runs in the family? i've always thought it was a rowle trait." just when she thought she had taken a step forward in her life, she's sent reeling five steps back. perhaps she shouldn't be surprised that it's him that has that impact on her, as stinging and abrupt as any hex to the gut. "so she's family now?" a click of her tongue. a tilt of her head. "i thought that was forfeited the day i was kicked out. might want to make up your mind, eh?" davina knows she's no longer precariously balanced on the edge of dangerous cliff -- when he laughs, she's falling headfirst into the canyon that had eroded between them over the years. he laughs, and a chill ghosts down her spine. he says her name, and it feels like a curse. the center of his attention was the last place she wanted to be. "sure. but you know as well as i do that even the best attempts at sheltering someone from the truth can fail. does she know about me? do you ever wonder if she did whether she would start questioning everything that daddy dearest told her?"

DIOMEDES AVERY: Her wit is sharp as a knife, as sharp as his, and he falls back into this way of banter easily. "At least there's one thing you didn't disappoint on." The list of reasons she did disappoint is endless, most of them labeled as personal betrayals in Diomedes eyes. No one breaks his heart and gets away with it. He's not built for pain like that, has not been raised to be familiar with things like nostalgia and perhaps even, deep down, regret. Because the truth of it all is, is that he misses Davina. And he can't have that. "Oh, only in the technical sense. Emotionally, she's nothing to me." He pauses. "Or, well - perhaps a little less than that." He hates that she speaks of Helen, hates how it gets to him, the thought of his daughter questioning him. He's doing this for her, after all, for her and all the children of his that might follow. Davina is clever, though, and knows how to point her arrows. Diomedes hates her for it, when he once loved her for it. "Helen will never be like you Davina." That has to be the truth, because anything else is unimaginable. He hates how she's able to get under his skin, and he tightens his grip on his wand. "She will value loyalty, family, unlike you."

DAVINA TRAVERS: "go on." when she looks down the path of the wand pointed at her, she meets the silver, emotionless face staring back at her. davina wonders if he feels the same noxious lump in his lungs that she does with every word that drags against her throat. "paint me all the ways that i ruined the family. how i let all of you down. how i am the disappointment. tell me whatever story you've created to vilify me because it can't be worse than anything i told myself when i was alone during that pregnancy." there's a certain breathlessness to her, now. she thinks she might hate him when he speaks of catriona. the challenge he makes of her loyalty. (hurt and ugly nostalgia root in her chest. it blooms, like an invasive thing that spreads and spreads until there's nothing left of her to claim.) davina's throat bobs when she swallows and spine straightens. fingers shift in their grip on her wand. "you say that, but i think part of you is afraid. it wasn't like my da' ever saw it coming, either. helen might not look like me, she might not sound like me, but there's always a chance she could become me."

DIOMEDES AVERY: The worst thing is this: Diomedes thinks, somewhere, that she is right. He does not like guilt, it's not an emotion he permits himself to feel, but as she speaks about being alone in those months, something eats at him. Still, he's been raised on a warped vision of history and has made that all his own, and even this - something so personal - is something he can twist. He is the one in the right. "Oh, boo-hoo, Davina. Must I remind you that you had options, and still chose to leave? I won't cry for you." Family loyalty is one of the things that is deeply rooted in Diomedes Avery's being, something that starkly opposes all that he does now. It stirs, as he looks at Davina, her emotions so much more easy to read than his are. He is glad for the mask, because he knows his face is revealing more than he wants to. He hates nostalgia, and it seeps through him like poison. He has no retort to the comments on Helen, because Davina is right, she's right, and it scares him, it throws him for a loop, so he just waves his wand in stead, "Diffindo!"

DAVINA TRAVERS: “you keep rattling on about loyalty, but where was that virtue when my parents were more loyal to appearances than their own daughter?” she had always worn her heart on her sleeve. hiding her emotions wasn’t something davina was familiar with, and this was a pitfall her mother had often found. but alisha rowle had also been the one to show her how to sharpen her words when she was angry — taught her to shoot to kill. davina’s been provoking him this entire time, that much she’s certain, and it’s a question of just how hard he’ll retaliate when it’s said and done. “i’m not asking you to pity me. i just think you’re so fecking sad, diomedes.” his name tastes like something decayed dripping off her tongue, and she wishes she could take it back. but she can’t, and she isn’t quick enough to completely sidestep the curse he directs at her — though she manages to avoid a direct hit to the chest, it still skims her dominant arm. coat sleeve and shirt beneath are ripped near her shoulder as the skin beneath tears open into a nasty gash. “expelliarmus!” she can’t be certain it’ll reach her mark. heart beats out a melody dissonant to the symphony of madness around her: run, run, run.

DIOMEDES AVERY: blood tw / "I am not your parents, Davina, if you have an issue with them I suggest you send them an owl." He says her voice like its a curse, something dirty that needs to be spat out. That he has regrets, about how things went back then, he doesn't say: such things he hardly admits to himself, after all. Diomedes is carefully skulpted lies and disillusions, it's how he's able to observe the world the way he does. "Well, I don't need your pity either," he snarls. "I'm quite happy, after all." And that he is, especially on a night like this, when power seems so easy to grab, every curse he sends that hits its target a rush. That is what he wants: pure power. He does not want this nostalgia or longing, this hidden curiosity in regards to how Davina is. When his curse hits her, albeit not too directly, he grins behind his mask. Sadism is easier than empathy, after all. He watches the blood with a satisfaction, considering how ruined hers is, despite the magic flowing through it. It's not a waste. He dodges her spell with a quick protego. "What, are you tired? You're not getting my fucking wand, Davina."

DAVINA TRAVERS: blood tw / "then i guess my issue with you is that you're a coward. would you have really forgiven me if i'd gone with those plans, anyway? she still would have been born a half blood. all the lies in the world couldn't change that." chest rises and falls in heavy breaths. seeds of doubt linger at the fringes of her mind -- would she have been able to say anything she has tonight if he didn't have the mask? would she be able to look him eye to eye and lay herself bare? of all things she abandoned, diomedes is one of the ones she regrets the most. "are you? because, i gotta say, it really looks like you could use some new friends." she can feel the blood dripping down her arm. it's warm, and the fabric of her clothes clings to her skin. there's no way to tell how deep it is, but there's an inexplicable flash of pain against her nerves when she moves her arm again. fight or flight is a powerful instinct, and davina finds that the need to flee outweighs any desire to continue this twisted dance. she takes a slight step back. "not tired. out of practice, maybe." another step. just enough to give her room -- "confringo!" davina doesn't linger long enough to make sure that the blast hits the stone between them, simply hopes that it's enough to knock him back. then she runs straight into the bedlam, abandoning him again.

DIOMEDES AVERY: "I'm the coward? Didn't you take the easy way out? Speculate all you want Davina, but had you stayed, I would have had your back." And now he's ready to drive a knife into it, as if their history does not matter to him at all. Of course, a knife to the back is personal, and proves that he does care. It's clear, from the way he fights her with words rather than magic, that he does, from the way he considers their history out loud, albeit twistedly. He cares, and he hates himself for it. No: he hates Davina for it, and points all blame to her. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm quite satisfied in my interpersonal relations." His voice is dripped in sickening honey, a drawl made out of years of praise and prejudice. He watches Davina step back, and considers it a victory already. Part of him hopes she runs, another part will condemn her for it if she does —— and so when the confringo hits the street between them, Diomedes knocked back, he grins behind the mask. Weak, she's weak, just like she was years ago when she chose the easy way out. He does not follow Davina, if only because he knows he will have his revenge one day. And then, she will see his face.

THREAD 004: Molly Jr and Diomedes

DIOMEDES AVERY: It can't be said that Diomedes doesn't have an artistic touch to what he does. He considers himself a deliverer of poetic justice, or at the very least poetic suffering, and so when he sees Molly Weasley junior (as if one of them wasn't enough), he fights off his current duelling partner with a stunning spell and moves on. How poetic is it, after all, if he fights both Molly's in one evening? He sends a stinging hex her way - if only to get her attention - and then calls (because a duel without a bit of dialogue is bland) to her, "All by yourself, Weasley? Is that wise, these days?"

MOLLY WEASLEY JR: "Oh my god!" Molly yells as she jumps out of the way of the death eater's hex, more out of annoyance than desperation. Her makeup is smeared, and she supposes she looks not at all serious and fierce but rather pathetic in her bright pink, cheetah-spotted outfit. She readies a shield charm (her specialty, thick and sparkling) before shouting back. "Fuck off, you fucking muppet! Tarantallegra!"

DIOMEDES AVERY: "You want to dance?," he asks, dodging the hex. Diomedes, is in all truth, amused by the other's interpretation of a duel, and he almost wishes the other could see the way he's grinning. "This isn't second year duelling club, Weasley." He sends another pair of stinging hexes her way, relatively harmless yet effective enough for now.

MOLLY WEASLEY JR: "It's not? Because I feel like I'm talking to a twelve-year-old right now." The stinging hexes — well, they sting, but Molly knows this Death Eater is capable of much more. He's toying with her, in that fucked-up little way Molly's always heard about in stories of Bellatrix Lestrange, who likes to play with her food before she eats it. Her shield falls, and instead of recasting it she sends three Knockback Jinxes to the Death Eater in quick succession: "Flipendo!"

DIOMEDES AVERY: "You must have met some interesting twelve year olds, then." He'll give her one thing: she's quick-witted, and apparently quick with her wand too. He dodges the first two jinxes, but the third one hits him— he's knocked backwards in the rubble surrounding them, his fall broken by a quick non-verbal spell. She's got ... well, he doesn't want to say skills, but spunk at the very least. He rises, wand pointed at the ground near her feet, "Expulso," and he's moving forward, distance closing between the two. Then, a cutting hex, "Diffindo," for good measure.

MOLLY WEASLEY JR: blood tw / She only just manages to jump out of the line of fire of the Death Eater's expulso; it blows apart the stones where she was just standing, sending sharp stones cascading against her legs, sure to cause bruises. The cutting hex opens a gash on her calf as well. "Fuck you!" That's the least of her concerns, however, because it's quickly dawning on her that she's no match for this masked man as a duelist.

Thinkthinkthink — Molly wracks her brain in an effort to think of a spell that can buy her time to run away. She sees a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye — and it doesn't even matter that it's probably not her aunt, it just gives her the spark of inspiration she needs. The young witch aims her wand at the space between the Death Eater's masked eyeholes and rattles off Aunt Ginny's most famous spell: the bat-bogey hex.

DIOMEDES AVERY: blood tw / Behind his mask, Diomedes Avery is showing his ugliest self. A twisted smile, watching the other dance around his curses and failing, eyes dark. He failed to kill the other's grandmother: maybe killing her namesake would be good enough for today. Determination takes a hold of him, and he's planning to end this. Sooner, rather than later.

Her hex takes him by surprise, and things go fast, then: bats force their way from his nose, his mask falls to make way, and then wings are slapping him in his face, leathery and quick. Indignant fury takes a hold of him, ice cold, the embarrassment inspiring a rage. He's never been one to shrink, when made a fool of: he's been fed too much pride for that.

He forces his mask back on, hoping she's not seen him ( and if she has, it hardly matters: she won't live to tell the tale ). "Sectumpsempra!" His voice is all ill-contained fury, as he slash, slash, slashes, not once or twice, but thrice. He watches the gashes open in Molly's skin with sickening satisfaction. A moment he waits, saying, "Say hi to your uncle, will you?", before retreating as she falls.

#* diomedes. ( eden. )#* diomedes. ( cassius. )#* diomedes. ( molly. )#* diomedes. ( molly ii. )#* diomedes. ( olive. )#* diomedes. ( replies. )#* plotdrop. ( the battle. )#uhhhhh yikes

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wyrmmaster · 5 years ago

Note

I started granblue recently on large part because of your posting about it. What happed with Yuel thata got you so upset?

Okay, I’m tempted to point you to some of my other posts but I’m not gonna do that and instead I’ll use this ask as a place to lay everything out, both for my sake and everyone else’s - sorry, this might get long.

Right, so. In the beginning you have Yuel. Unusually for an Erune, she has a massive tail on top of larger than average ears.

Yuel’s a bumpkin, a hyperactive goofball, and generally just all around a nice person. Yuel, bless her heart, is on a quest to discover artifacts that belong to the ancient royal family she serves to return it to glory but is a bit scatterbrained and can’t focus on one thing for too long so really she’s just On an Adventure™. You learn that beneath that ADD is an incredibly perceptive woman that can deduce the exact emotional state of everyone around her and cleverly cheer them up or offer them support without ever seeming to actually go out of her way to do it. She gets people to loosen up and enjoy themselves, even if they’’re miserable.

Later, you have Societte. Like, Yuel, she has a massive tail and larger than average ears.

Her introduction to you is freezing solid a small army of monsters that had you cornered. Societte is grace given physical form but, bless her heart, is shy to the point where even after that display of power she can’t actually talk to you. You guys just patiently interpret her mumbles and slight gestures until you get the gist. Turns out Societte’s the princess of that ancient royal family, and Yuel’s nominal master. You learn that the earlier freezing wasn’t a fluke: beneath that shyness is solid steel. Societte is powerful, brave, and fiercely protective even to her own detriment.

Through Societte, you learn that this ancient family ruled an empire lost to time under a benevolent nine-tailed fox goddess that gave them her power.

They meet in your crew, on your ship.

Yuel discovers that Societte is The Princess™ - this shocks her. She knew that Societte was Important, the local village ojou, but not the level of quasi-religious importance that she actually has. Yuel gets angry that she wasn’t told. They’re old friends, you see. More than that. Even this early on it doesn’t take much reading between the lines to assume they’re actually a romantic item.

Societte starts sobbing because she wanted to tell Yuel everything, she wanted to go with her when she left the village. But the knowledge that she’s the princess is dangerous. There are a lot of murderous people that are after her, to try and get rich. Some of them murdered her parents while she watched.

Turns out the tails and bigger ears are signs of the lineage, and massive red targets. This has given Societte a complex about her ears and tail, and in some of her homescreen lines she outright asks if they bother you and says she’s doesn’t want them.

So, to protect Yuel, she doesn’t say anything and lets her go far away. Then she leaves the village, to try and find out why all this is happening and to protect them from any more roaming bandits that come after her.

The two reconnect and Yuel gets Societte to calm down and look at her journey through a different lens: Societte’s not guilty of anything, she’s not on her miserable quest out of penance or obligation, the cruel world that’s taken so much from her and made her so scared isn’t all bad. They’re together now, and they’re gonna get to the bottom of this - together, as it should’ve been.

Now, enter Yuel’s 5-star fates.

This story obviously focuses on Yuel, and how she feels about Societte and her own role in the grand scheme of this situation. Yuel loves Societte more than anything, but she’s a bit jealous. Societte as mentioned is grace given physical form. Societte is gorgeous, extremely powerful, and a flawless dancer with natural talent that Yuel will never compare to.

However, we learn that Yuel is also a princess - and heavily implied to be the real heir over Societte. Remember: the ears and tail are signs of the heritage.

So, Yuel’s found some ancestral weapons of her own. They’re hers, and they give her memories of a dance, and she does it flawlessly - once. This unlocks her true power and massively boosts her magic.

But she can’t do that dance again. Just can’t. Societte tries to teach her, but again, Yuel does’t have her talent. She fails over and over again and gets angry.

That nine-tailed fox goddess doesn’t approve. Thinks Yuel’s a failure, and useless. Unworthy. So she turns that increased power back on Yuel and starts cooking her alive with her own fire.

This is alleviated when Yuel stops trying to follow an ancient dance and just does whatever comes to mind. Channel herself into the dance, yeah? And she ends up with something more special and beautiful than the traditional dance. Ninetails approves, and stops trying to kill her.

Moral: Yuel is special and talented in her own way; not lesser than Societte, if not exactly equal. They set out anew on the journey with the knowledge that both of them have much bigger roles in this than they assumed.

Then you have Societte’s fire version.

This story focuses on Societte’s trauma. She goes back to where her parents were murdered in an attempt to remember the dance they were doing there and do it herself to finish whatever they were trying to accomplish.

We learn that there’s more to this whole thing than there appeared to be - a fragment of Ninetails’ power is sealed in a stone, and it’s pumping out extremely dangerous poison gas. And it’s spreading more each day. This is not the only stone. And the gas will spread from all of them until the world dies.

Turns out Lady Ninetails ain’t so nice. They’re given visions their ancestors - Societte’s foremost among them - using the ritual dances in front of Ninetails, and channeling her power.

Here, Societte finds her true motivation and overcomes her grief. She will do what she must for the people she loves. She’s got to do what she needs to do, to save everyone. The journey continues on a very solemn but no less hopeful note.

Interlude: Summer Yuel.

We see how close the two are. Yuel follows a Societte who’s grown mostly out of her shyness and can apparently go out and meet people, sparking conversation herself. The change in behavior is so marked Yuel’s flabbergasted, and assumes she started dating someone.

But no, Societte was just doing that to find out where the best vacation spots in the area are and to commission swimwear for the two of them. They enjoy a fun evening with each other and the crew.

The fate episode ends with what amounts to a love confession.

Now, where it could’ve been great but starts to fall apart.

Their first event, Forgiveness and Gratitude.

Enter Kou.

Through him, we learn there were nine royal families, ranked from first to ninth.

We learn that Societte is the scion of the First, and Yuel of the Third.

Turns out that the empire was built around these families sealing an evil Ninetails away and stealing her power to bring about a golden age.

Kou for his part is of the Ninth. This family was mistreated, and basically used as nigh worthless servants by the other eight. In a bid for power, the Ninth betrayed the other eight and sided with Ninetails. The legends about her being a benevolent goddess and the royal families having a shitload of treasure were fabricated by them in order to set bandits after the heirs of the other families as the empire eventually fell apart, so the Ninth would be the only ones left.

Kou was supposed to Ninetails’s vessel so she could return to the world and conquer it.

But…. Now there’s two better candidates. One of them is super gullible and kind.

He tricks Societte into throwing herself on the chopping block instead.

This is important: Ninetails is ecstatic over this. Using Kou was like finding a broken, rusted sword. Getting Societte? The Scion of the First? Finding a fucking chaingun with fifty belts of rounds. She is by far the superior vessel, because again, Societte is just that talented and powerful.

This is solved by Yuel being Yuel, and using her bond with Societte to save her from the possession. Yuel, the freed Societte, and an apologetic Kou work together to defeat the apparition of Ninetails’s power.

That? That’s good. Don’t like how quickly Kou was forgiven, but it’s serviceable.

The bad part? The event is stuffed with onee-chan /ss/ jokes. And people ate it up.

So, we get the event that never should’ve happened.

We get Kou and The Hollow Existence. An event with a character’s name in the damn title.

This event, as you’d guess, focuses on Kou. Turns out the little dude’s actually the FInal Boss for Ninetails. He knows everything, and is inexplicably the most talented and powerful now. He’s the hero. Remember: he’s supposed to be the failure. The spare. The “I’ll take what I can get” for Ninetails. Not so anymore. With zero setup or explanation.

Then we get You. You is a cheap knockoff of Kou, but a Girl This Time, both in and out of story. It’s an actual plot point. You’s being tricked by Ninetails, who’s using her resentment to fuel a revenge streak. Ninetails is gonna use You as a vessel when she’s strong enough. Kou saves her from Ninetails and helps her out of her funk. By himself.

Yuel and Societte’s impact on this event is nonexistent. The major players and main characters don’t do shit but get jobbed and have extremely skeevy shotacon bait moments with Kou. There’s an entire scene dedicated to Yuel intentionally making him uncomfortable by trying to get him in a bath with the two of them.

Yuel goes from emotionally perceptive and kind to a near molester. Societte’s character development is scrapped entirely and it’s like she’s who she was in her first fate episode.

This event quite literally invalidated everything that came before it. Everything was scrapped to make Kou the hero and pander to shotacon fans.

That’s the end of their story.

It’s bullshit.

#gallingsiren

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raidbossmadi · 5 years ago

Text

Crumbling

Note: This takes place about 3 years before the events of BL3

“T-Ty I want to go h-home.”

“We can't go home Troy. I told you already,” Tyreen sighed and ran her hand through Troy’s hair. They were holed up in a shitty shack on Promethea’s Skid row. Typhon hadn’t held onto much money and the money that he did have she was trying to make last before they could make it to Pandora, it was bad enough that they had to make this pit stop to refuel the Centurion after underestimating exactly how much fuel they had .

There was the fact that she knew from slips in his office on the Centurion that Typhon had a bank account, but he’d been missing for two decades and there was no way she could just march up to a bank and proclaim herself Typhon Deleon's heir, that was probably one they heard all the time.

As if to make matters worse, Troy had gotten sick, it wasn’t the first time since they’d left their father but it was the worst so far. She got up to re-wet the cloth she’d draped across his forehead, his hand weakly grasping onto the corner of her shirt.

“D-don’t leave m-me.” His eyes were glazed over in fever and he’d done this every time she’d gotten up to get him something.

“I’ll be right back Troy, I promise.” She said gently, pulling herself loose from his grip. Not for the first time she found herself wishing she was her mother; Leda had always seemed to know how to handle Troy at his sickest and among the many regrets she had surrounding her mother's death the largest was that as with most things she did it was Troy who had suffered the most as a result.

This of course was not to say Tyreen hadn’t loved her mother of course she did, but she was very aware that every choice she had made after her mother’s passing could be viewed in such a light that she was cold and uncaring towards her weaker twin. But she did care she wouldn’t have lied to him if she thought he would of left the oppressive grasp of their father any other way. She wouldn’t be forsaking her own needs to care for him like she was now if she truly hated Troy.

It was just hard, they were both adults and they had nothing to go on but their fathers stories of what the world outside Nekrotafeyo was like. A world that they had found was as dangerous as Typhon warned but not for the same reasons. They had yet to encounter people looking to tear them apart, but there were plenty of people who thought they could take advantage of the twins only to be put in their place.

Tyreen was lost in her thoughts for a moment not realizing how long she’d been way until Troy started coughing and she couldn’t help but hurry back to him replacing the cloth on his head and patting him on the back in an attempt to help him through it. She needed to get him medicine but not only was it the middle of the night she also had no idea where to go.

“You should try and get some sleep Troy, I need to go out and try to find you some help .” She soothed, knowing full well that she too needed sleep, she’d barely gotten any herself in days but she couldn’t stop herself from working around the clock to make sure Troy was ok. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. He’d already dealt with so much because of her.

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she slipped out the door, she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long and given their living conditions she was worried what might happen if someone else came across their home and saw Troy as an easy target. She wasn’t even sure where she should go, she couldn’t just turn up at pharmacy and demand their drug supply. She didn’t even really know what Troy was sick with. What she really needed was a doctor.

She was panicking,even though she was outside the house it felt like invisible walls were closing in around her. The thought of losing the only person she could trust, the only person who understood her completely crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her tattoos flared her powers ready to protect their owner from a threat that did not exist, she was a danger to anyone she might encounter. She had to get under control, this wasn’t about her, this was about Troy.

She leaned against a dirty brick wall and took several deep breaths. She needed to pull herself together, every minute she spent away from Troy was another minute something terrible could happen to him. She felt so stupid and helpless for the first time since they left home, things had just worked out so far though and she supposed all she could do now was hope that they continued to work out.

Fate it seemed was in Tyreen’s favor as after walking towards the nearest group of buildings and she saw a neon medical cross emblazoned on a building and she hoped that there was someone there willing to help her. She was sure she looked a mess feeling the receptionists eyes on her from the moment she stepped through the door.

“Can I help you Miss?” The woman asked standing up seemingly startled by her sudden entrance.

“Not me, my brother he’s really sick. I can’t move him.” Tyreen began. “We’re not far from here a-and I can't be gone long but he needs help, please.” She hated how pathetic she sounded but on the other hand she really needed to sell how helpless she felt in this situation. She needed someone, anyone to take pity on her and help.

The receptionist looked at her, looked to her tattoos scribbled something down and looked behind her again. “Stay right there hun, I won’t be but a minute.”

True to her word the receptionist returned through the door with another woman in tow, slightly taller with multi-color tipped blonde hair wearing a doctor’s coat and carrying a medical bag.

“Come along, there’s a truck in the back we can take.” She said. Tyreen nodded and followed after glad that at the very least she was being taken seriously. “My name is Spectra by the way, what can I call you… I don’t think Siren is going to cut it.”

Tyreen blinked a few times not expecting to have been pegged as a Siren so easily despite the obvious exposed markings on her arm, she was accustomed to them being hidden by the coat she wore but in her haste to get to finding help she had left it behind.

“My name is Tyreen, Tyreen...Calypso.” The name still felt foreign in her mouth even though it had been at least a month of not being Tyreen DeLeon. To be fair at the moment she didn’t feel worthy of carrying her mother’s name when she was failing so spectacularly at the one thing Leda had wanted for her children.

Tyreen directed Spectra back to the dwelling the truck pulling up in the tight alleyway. Tyreen wasn’t sure how Troy would react to her bringing a stranger into the house, even if he was extremely unwell. He was skittish given that he couldn’t defend himself, so she took a rather large lead leaving the door open for the doctor to follow.

Troy was still curled up on the mattress, a thin sheet of sweat coating his skin. Much to her dismay he was awake, she had been gone too long and it was clear he was in distress. She sat down on the edge of the mattress resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Troy, it’s Tyreen I’m here.”

“Y-you were g-g-gone.” He stuttered clearly struggling at this point to string words together, his visible rib cage struggling to expand. She had gotten back just in time it would seem.

“Shh I know, I’m sorry. It’s gonna be ok though, I brought a doctor. They’re going to help you, you just need to relax.” She reassured as Spectra entered through the open door assessing the conditions the twins lived in briefly before her eyes locked onto Troy.

“Dear Lord, I know we’re in the slums but surely you two haven’t been staying here long term?” She asked pulling out instruments from her bag. “He’s your brother right, What’s his name? How long has he been ill?”

“Troy, he started feeling sick maybe four days ago. He only got this bad earlier this morning though, normally I can handle it on my own and it goes away but he’s only gotten worse.” Tyreen decided it was smart to leave out the fact that she usually had all manner of things to leech to bolster Troy’s strength with, but here there was hardly anything unless she wanted to go after humans and that was something that would draw attention and on top of that was not something she was willing to do quite yet.

Spectra nodded and stuck a thermometer into his mouth only to be surprised when he resisted the action, she didn’t think he had that kind of strength in him presently. “It’s alright Troy, I’m only here to help.” She reassured though now that she was this close she noticed the things about Troy that were abnormal outside of his sickness but made no comment.

“A hundred and four, I’m going to have to bring him back to the clinic, he needs professional grade treatment.” She said putting away the thermometer. The doctor paused for a moment as if seeing Tyreen clearly for the first time and furrowed her brow “You’re both very clearly under weight, I want to bring both of you back in.”

Tyreen chewed her lip scared of what would happen if others at the medical facility learned of the two sirens. However Spectra was right and Tyreen conceded. “You have to keep us on the down low though.”

“It’s just me and the nurse you saw at the desk at the clinic, nothing to worry about.”

Tyreen said no more instead shoving the few valuables they had into a duffle bag as Spectra moved Troy to the truck. She didn’t trust the safety of the house to leave anything behind nor did she honestly know if they’d be back. Spectra could betray them and sell them to Atlas but honestly at this point getting Troy looked after was more important than the possibility of becoming a test subject for the rest of her life.

She felt a bit numb as she climbed back into the passenger seat. She had been so sure they couldn’t trust anyone yet this woman had rushed to their aid without a second thought. There was so much Tyreen didn’t know about the world outside Nekrotafeyo, so much that she didn’t know about people. Her trust was wary and suspicious but she knew she couldn’t drive away everyone who wasn’t Troy, that wasn’t sustainable for survival.

The ride and intake process at the clinic was mostly a blur, it was nearing five in the morning now and through all the stress Tyreen had finally mentally checked out not even noticing when Spectra approached her with an IV into her arm to help quell her own dehydration. She snapped to attention when the doctor reached out to touch her though dodging out of the way.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Despite her best efforts she couldn’t control herself right now, if she was touched she would leech that was the state she was in.

“I can do it myself.” She had spent enough time learning from Tern how to find veins and treat herself just for situations like this. Spectra gave her privacy which Tyreen appreciated not wanting to be gawked at while she stuck herself with a needle.

In lull between hooking herself up to the drip and waiting for an update about Troy, Tyreen managed to doze off into a fitful sleep. It wasn’t until she heard someone calling her name that her eyes fluttered open with a start, seeing Dr.Spectra crouched to eye level with her.

“Tyreen? Tyreen? Sweetheart you can go back to sleep in a minute I promise, just one question.” Spectra kept her motherly tone especially after realizing the twins were clearly alone outside of each other. “Those markings on your brothers left side… is he a siren too?”

“Uh yeah, I mean…kinda? I mean he can’t do anything, our Dad always told us that Troy was just a broken siren… I dunno what that means but…” She shrugged her shoulders she didn’t fully understand the implications and weight of her own powers, only that they were unpredictable and dangerous. That they were the only thing sustaining her brother yet they could so easily destroy in the same breath. She didn’t understand why other sirens they had researched like Lilith of the Crimson Raiders didn’t seem to be as dangerous as she could be.

Spectra frowned and wrote something down on her notepad. “Alright, get some rest sweetie. Your brother is in good hands.”

Tyreen has wanted to ask more but her mouth couldn’t keep up with her thoughts and the doctor was gone before she could ask her to wait. She shifted in the chair still exhausted and eventually fell back asleep.

Waking up in a strange place was enough to jolt Tyreen to high alert even when she recalled the night's events. She frowned at the strip of gauze on her arm where at some point in her sleep the IV had been removed, a smart move given that a sleeping Tyreen was safe to touch . She opted not to wait for Spectra to return to her instead recalling through the fog of exhaustion that clouded the previous night which room in the small clinic was Troy’s, about to enter before she heard the voices inside.

“Yeah I’m telling you Spec, I checked the databases three times there’s no medical history for either of them. The last records of a Calypso on Promethea date back to the Atlas Vault Acquisition Division which was merged into the Crimson Lance twenty years ago at least.”

“Their Mother perhaps?”

Tyreen paled, she had forgotten that Leda was from Promethea, that her mother had been a Siren owned by Atlas corporation, the reason their father had always feared them getting out.

She took a breath and walked in anyway, knowing what she would have to do if things turned sour. However, when she walked into the room, the two women, Spectra and the nurse from last night looked more concerned for the young Siren who just walked in then Tyreen expected.

“How are you feeling Tyreen?” Spectra asked as Tyreen walked past almost on autopilot to Troy sleeping form. He looked a little better at least though the tubing and machinery hooked up to him made Tyreen’s heart skip a beat. He was so helpless and all she wanted was to take him away from here, to protect him.

“Tyreen?” Spectra repeated.

“Fine, I’m fine. Will Troy be ok though?” She asked her eyes staying locked on her brother.

“He will, his fever has gone down to a manageable level and we’ve got him on some antibiotics. It’ll be ok Tyreen.”

Tyreen sighed and sank into the chair at her brothers bedside allowing herself to truly rest for the first time since Troy had fallen ill. She could be hard on her brother, she knew that she could see distant and cruel but at the end of the day she terrified of losing him like she had their mother.

None of that mattered right now, all that mattered was that he would make it through this. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, They would make it through this.

#My Writing #My HCs #Tyreen Calypso #Troy Calypso #Calypso Twins #Starts sliding in Characters that make up the inner circle of the CoV in my writing #There will also be a part 2 to this

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jarienn972 · 5 years ago

Text

A Simple Spell - Chapter Twelve

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I honestly did not plan for this latest @cssns chapter update to take so long. I had the majority of this finished over Thanksgiving weekend, but then an awful upper respiratory infection started making its way around my household. The past few weeks have been a blur and I feel like I've been completely out of touch. I finally managed to get the haze out of my head and finish up this chapter.

There are two chapters left in my outline so expect some big reveals coming! I really appreciate everyone who has read, shared and commented along the way. Thank you so much for sticking with me with my first AU! Thank you @kmomof4 for being such a great cheerleader and I’m sorry I made you wait so long for the next chapter. And as always, thanks to @lassluna for her beta assistance along the way and to @cocohook38 for her incredible artwork!

Read from the beginning or get a refresher: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Also on AO3 and FF.net

In such a remote area, the process of extricating the unconscious Captain Jones from the root cellar had been a time-consuming challenge. Since the ambulance wasn't off-road equipped, the paramedics had been forced to hitch a ride in Graham's 4x4 and utilize the SUV as an improvised transport vehicle. After a few tense minutes of concern as the team determined the best way to carry the wounded man from the cellar, Emma finally breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her friend loaded safely into the back of Graham's vehicle.

She would have been happier to accompany Killian to Storybrooke Hospital but since space was limited, she remained behind to return the borrowed ATVs and then returned to the Sheriff's station with David. He parked the cruiser in the alley behind the station and they entered through the rear door near the break room. David ducked into the break room to start a pot of coffee brewing, needing a caffeine boost after their busy morning. Emma continued into the squad room, dropping her gear atop her desk as she collapsed her weary body into her chair. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, but she was incredibly relieved as they'd managed to locate Killian quickly and best of all - alive. Of course, the outcome hadn't been entirely perfect as they had no idea who had abducted the captain or why, but at least they had a few leads.

After delivering Killian and the paramedics to the ambulance, Graham returned to the house in the woods to gather evidence. David wanted fresh eyes on the crime scene - to search both the main house and the root cellar, primarily tasking the deputy to find the identity of the current occupant. David would have handled it himself, but he was worried about his little sister and what her state of mind might be after finding the man she was dating unconscious and injured in a hole in the ground. And he became even more concerned when he strolled into the squad room to see her tossing items out of her desk, frantically hunting for something.

"Problem?" he asked quizzically.

"Yeah - my mother's journal… I can't find it…," she replied, emptying what remained of the top drawer onto the floor. "I put it in this drawer before we left - I know I did!"

"You sure? Maybe you put it in the bottom drawer instead?" he suggested, but it only earned him an unpleasant glare from his sister.

"I put everything in here together - the box and both books. The box is still here," she said as she lifted it for him to see. "And so is the other book, but the journal isn't anywhere to be found…"

"Well, I doubt it just vanished. You're absolutely sure it was in your desk?"

"Yes, David - I'm sure. Someone must have taken it off of my desk."

"Emma, come on… Who would break into a Sheriff's station to steal a diary?"

"I don't know. It makes no sense, but then not much that has happened this week has made any sense. What if this was just another part of our so-called warlock's sick game? What if he kidnapped Killian as a diversion so he could get his hands on that journal? He was probably afraid that mom might have left clues."

"Considering she lost, I can't imagine they'd be good clues," David quipped, but she didn't appreciate the sarcasm.

"Maybe she left clues about what not to do?" she retorted, her frustrations nearing the boiling point.

"Maybe… Look, why don't you head over to the hospital and get an update on Captain Jones' condition? I know you're worried… I'll keep searching around here and see if the book might have just been misplaced. The rest of the paperwork can wait until Graham gets back here."

"Fine. Just please, let me know immediately if you find it?"

"I'll bring it right to you. I'm sure it will turn up. Now - go. I'm trusting you to get the Captain's statement when he wakes."

"I will. Thank you, David." Wary of leaving any of her mother's other items behind lest they vanish along with the journal, Emma scooped up the box and the spellbook. She wasn't going anywhere without these now, certain that Gold had hung onto these things for a reason. She hoped David was correct and the journal was around here somewhere, but she wasn't feeling particularly positive right now. She was certain someone had taken it while they were rescuing Killian, but why? The answer to that question would likely be the key to unraveling this entire mystery.

**********

Emma arrived at the main entrance to Storybrooke General hospital a little after 2pm and, after a brief spat with the head nurse, was directed to Killian Jones' room and provided a synopsis of his current condition. He'd needed some minor surgery to repair the damage to his wounded shoulder and he was also being treated for some mild hypothermia after being in the damp, chilly root cellar for an unknown length of time. The staff was baffled by his lingering comatose state as none of his injuries would explain why he remained unresponsive. Dr. Victor Whale, the lead physician overseeing Killian's treatment, suspected that drugs might be involved and and ordered blood samples taken and sent to the laboratory for processing. Until they had those results, everything was pure speculation.

She found herself staring at the shell of a man laying before her on the hospital bed, one who bore little resemblance to the brash Captain she'd first encountered days ago. Maybe it was the flimsy hospital garb he wore in place of his dark leathers, or perhaps it was the silence of his sharp tongue, but either way, she felt as if she were in the presence of an entirely different person. There was a vulnerability to the man in front of her and Emma couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness for him - both for his ordeal and for the fact he had no family to be here with him.

She had already spoken to his first mate, Mr. Smee, to advise him that the Captain had been located and was currently hospitalized. The skittish little man had stopped by briefly to check in and say thank you, but hadn't stayed. In the Captain's absence, the task of running the Jolly Roger fell upon him so he couldn't stick around long. His crew was likely the closest thing to family that Killian Jones had but there was still distance. It was another bit of kinship that Emma felt with Killian. She'd spent years alone after her mother died, and yet even when she'd found David and the rest of her ever-expanding family, she wasn't as close with them as she'd been with her mother. She and Killian were both essentially orphans and her gut was telling her that she needed to be here for him.

As Killian lay sleeping beneath a pale blue blanket drawn up to his bandaged shoulder, Emma sat quietly in a padded wooden armchair in front of the room's large window, focusing intently on her tablet screen. She may not have her mother's journal, but that wasn't going to stop her research. She was fiercely determined to make sense of all of the week's strange events. Nothing about the things that were happening sat right with her and she needed to figure out why.

She'd received another message from Belle not long ago which fueled her study. The librarian had uncovered a few articles that she believed would be helpful to the deputy, emailing Emma copies of anything she could send electronically. She also advised that she'd located a few books that were pertinent to Emma's interests. After returning Belle's call and arranging to have the books delivered here to the hospital, Emma had started perusing the electronic files immediately. There were quite a few scans and links to look at, but she figured she had some time to read before Killian woke.

But she also had plenty of time to think - maybe too much. All of the week's events seemingly stemmed from her casting the true love spell - the spell that was now mysteriously missing from the book she'd recited it from. How had she seen it in there before when Zelena had recited another from the same book? Had it been visible only to her or had it existed within those vellum pages only to disappear once recited? And then there was that stupid spell itself… She'd felt so compelled to cast it, but had she now drawn innocent bystanders into its mix? Unlike her mother's situation, she knew that both Killian Jones and Walsh Gibbons were real. Unless Killian's entire crew was an elaborate ruse, they'd been sailing with him for years so Captain Jones wasn't imaginary. And Walsh - she'd known him for a while now. They'd dated when she lived in Boston so he was real enough. Now both men's fates were intertwined with hers and for what? So some greedy, needy warlock could cheat her out of her powers if she couldn't figure out which man was her true love?

The whole damned situation irked her. She certainly wasn't the first witch to cast a spell to find love. The very fact that these spells exist was evidence that others had been every bit as hopeful (or maybe desperate) as she'd been. But had she stumbled onto this particular spell by accident or had it been predestined? Had the warlock chosen his victims in advance or was it mere coincidence that both she and her mother had become his victims?

No one had yet mentioned who the warlock's first chosen opponent had been or whether that person had been kin to Emma's family so that had been one of Emma's questions for Belle. There had to be some sort of record as to who that unlucky person had been and fortunately for Emma, Belle had been successful in locating a name. The first opponent had also been a woman - a powerful witch by the name of Ursula who had arrived to Storybrooke from the West Indies in the early 1900s. Belle hadn't been able to uncover any information about what the warlock had used to trick her, but the reports from the time stated that she'd not only lost her powers, but also her voice. A month later, she'd been found floating in the bay, apparently having drowned herself to end her suffering.

What sort of sadistic bastard was she dealing with? He clearly enjoyed preying on women, but why? Were they easier targets or were their powers stronger? Knowing she'd fallen pretty easily for the trap, Emma assumed women might be easier to coerce, although her powers certainly didn't seem to measure up to her mother's or to what she'd read about Ursula's. Had Emma been targeted because of some weakness the warlock had observed? And why did he feel it necessary to resort to so many games?

Magical deals be damned - something wasn't adding up here.

Emma had entirely lost track of time when she heard a faint rap on the room's door. Glancing up, she was somewhat surprised to see David's face peeking around the doorframe. As he passed through the entrance, she could see that he had a stack of books tucked beneath his left arm and a carry-out bag from Granny's clutched in his right hand.

"I figured you'd text me first," she greeted her brother as he deposited the books on a narrow counter beside the sink and dropped the bag of food onto her lap.

"Mary Margaret insisted that I bring you something to eat and as I was leaving Granny's, I ran into Belle who said she was bringing these books over for you. Since I was already on my way over, I figured I'd save her the trip and brought them myself. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to find the journal you were looking for."

"I didn't figure you would," she replied dejectedly. "I'm quite certain that someone took it while we were searching for Killian."

"Pretty bold to steal something from a deputy from inside the station."

"Even bolder if they abducted and stabbed Killian to provide themselves a diversion," Emma added.

"Agreed. How's he doing anyway?" David asked, jabbing a finger in the direction of the slumbering man in the bed behind him. "Any change?"

"No. He's still unconscious, his heart rate is extremely slow and his breathing is unusually shallow. Dr. Whale said that there's no real medical reason for it so he's running some tests to check for drugs or other substances that might be in Killian's system."

"Could be some really strong knockout drugs, but I guess we'll have to wait and see. I really would like to get his statement and get this crime linked to a perp…"

"There's no way to know how long it will be until he wakes, but in the meantime, I've got some reading to do."

"I see that. What's the subject?"

"Some history and some stuff about warlocks and wizards, but without the magical school and British accents… Well, al least no accent until Killian wakes."

David shook his head at the exhausting thought of doing this much reading. "I'll leave you to your studies then but I'll check back in a few hours."

"Sounds good. Thanks, David."

"You're welcome. And I do hope your captain here wakes up soon."

"Me too," she said as David strolled through the doorway and turned out of her line of sight. As she stood, she inhaled the tempting aroma of onion rings as she placed the take-out bag on the windowsill and took a couple of steps over to the counter to retrieve the books. Her eyes were drawn to the figure on the bed and she couldn't help but stare at him while picking up the first book from the stack. Mythology of Supernatural Beings was the title and the book cover was emblazoned with a devil's trap pentagram. This wasn't going to be light reading but she was ready for the challenge. She had a few suspicions about what was really happening in this town but she wasn't yet ready to share her theory - or the choice she'd made. She fully intended to put an end to these silly games permanently but she needed to be sure.

**********

Emma hadn't realized that she'd dozed off until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She woke with an involuntary shudder, stunned for a moment until she recognized the face of the brunette nurse who'd been in and out of the room all afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Deputy Swan. I didn't mean to startle you, but you have a visitor downstairs in the lobby."

"Oh… Alright then… Thank you, Michelle." Emma closed the book on her lap and placed it over onto the windowsill before pushing herself to her feet. Maintaining a vigil at a hospital bedside wasn't the most comfortable way to spend a day. "Would you have Fred keep watch on this room and page me if anything changes while I'm gone?"

"I'll be happy to, Deputy, although any changes in Mr. Jones' condition don't seem likely at this point."

"I know. Wishful thinking on my part. His case is still active and I still need to get his statement." Emma was reluctant to leave Killian's side, especially when they'd yet to identify his abductor but she knew that Fred the security guard wouldn't let anyone past without proper authorization. Killian would be fine for a few minutes while she went downstairs to see who was waiting for her so she stepped into the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. When the doors parted, she made the left turn into the main hallway, strolled past the security checkpoint, gift shop and snack bar into the open space of the entrance lobby, not expecting the person she found standing there.

"Walsh? What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously.

"I hadn't heard back from you all day so I got a little bit worried - especially when the other deputy said you were here."

"I'm fine. It's just been a very hectic day. I've been waiting here all day waiting for a kidnapping victim to wake up so I can get a statement."

"Is that why you had to leave the diner this morning?"

"Partially," she replied, not wanting to divulge too much information. "Just the usual chaos that is the life of a deputy sheriff in Storybrooke."

"I'm sure," he chuckled before sighing with relief. "I'm just glad you're alright and… well, I was going to see if you would like to join me for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, Walsh. I really can't. This is still an open case and David and Graham will really need my help to catch the kidnapper." She was trying to let him down easy, using work as an excuse so she didn't have to reveal that she really just wanted to be here with Killian. "I would love to, but maybe another night?"

"Of course. I understand," he replied in a quiet, dejected tone, his posture now echoing his visible disappointment. "Please, call me tomorrow. I really would like to have one more evening with you before I head back to Boston."

"I'd like that, too," she insisted.

"Well, I hope he wakes up soon so you can close your case."

"Me too," she said as she gave him a quick hug that turned out far more awkward than she'd expected. She'd wanted it to be a nice, friendly gesture, but she wasn't feeling as though her sentiments were being reciprocated. Walsh had wrapped his arms around her back, but she sensed no emotion from the embrace - at least not the sort of emotion one would expect from someone claiming to be concerned about her. "I'll see you later, Walsh."

Then again, perhaps she was reading too much into things after everything she'd been reading. As Walsh vanished out of the hospital's front doors, the little gears inside Emma's head were going into overdrive so she decided to call one person who could help clarify things a bit - Graham.

She yanked her phone out of her jeans pocket and dialed his number, worried that she might get his voicemail, but he finally answered on the fourth ring. "Hey Graham. Turn up anything?"

"Not much," he replied. "The place was pretty bare. I pulled a few fingerprints, but those will only help us if the person is in the system. Oh, I did find some interesting scraps in the fireplace that lead me to believe that those dust voids on the mantle were from photographs. I bagged the scraps as evidence but I want you to have a look at them."

"I'd love to see what you've got. Can you bring them by the hospital?"

"Yeah. I just got back to the station, so give me a little while and I'll be over."

"Sounds good. Oh, Graham - did you happen to talk to someone and mention that I was here at the hospital with Captain Jones?"

"No. Only people I've spoken with were David and the search party, but as I said, I just got back. Any particular reason?"

"No, that's okay. Just had some curious people stopping by and asking questions, you know?"

"Probably just someone trying to get the scoop for tomorrow's paper… Any changes though?"

"'Fraid not. Seems like it's going to be a long night."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you in about an hour or so then."

"See you then," she said as she disconnected the call, strolling over to an unoccupied, quiet alcove off of the entrance hall, needing to make another call with more privacy. Walsh was long out of view, but her conversation with Graham left her ill at ease. Graham hadn't spoken to Walsh so how the hell had Gibbons known she was here? And how had he known that the kidnapping victim was a man? Something smelled rotten here…

She scrolled through her contacts to find the number belonging to Mayor Regina Mills, dialing it even though Regina would be none-too-happy to hear from Emma again today.

"Hello, Emma," Regina's voice greeted her in a flat, disinterested tone.

"Regina, I need your help with something," Emma stated, keeping her voice low in case prying ears were nearby.

"Again? What spell did you cast this time?"

"Yes, again… And I didn't cast another spell. There have been some odd developments in the case."

"Such as? Robin told me that you found Captain Jones. Was there something odd about that?"

"Nothing specifically about finding him, but there are a lot of other things that aren't making sense… Regina, if I'm right, this town is dealing with something more powerful than a warlock…"

"You're probably jumping to conclusions, but just what do you think is going on?"

"I don't want to get into it over the phone. Can you come down to the hospital? I don't really want to leave here until he wakes up."

"Then call me back when he does."

"That's the thing, Regina - no one has any idea when he might wake up. He's been unconscious since we found him, but Dr. Whale can't find any medical reason why."

Regina's ears perked up at those words. "He's not injured?"

"He was stabbed, but not severely enough to be unconscious this long."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

***********

Regina seemed to have a permanent scowl etched onto her face today but at least she showed up promptly. Emma had advised security that Mayor Mills was on her way and to let her pass, not that anyone really would have dared to stop her. Emma wasn't really sure where to begin as Regina pushed open the door and entered the room, taking a side-eyed glance at the dark-haired patient on the bed as she passed.

"Well, at least he's good looking…," Regina quipped. "Now, just what the hell is going on, Emma? What was so secretive that you couldn't say anything over the phone?"

"I'm not sure it's safe to talk here…," Emma said as she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm worried that someone might be watching…"

"Then we make some privacy," Regina stated as she withdrew her ebony wand from inside her pantsuit jacket and waved it with theatrical flourish, producing a force field that sealed the room off from the rest of the world. "There - problem solved. You know how to set up a protective spell. Unless your magic is slipping, you're really distracted by this."

"Look, Regina, let me preface this by saying that this has probably been one of the most overwhelming weeks of my life. I've been here in Storybrooke for a few months, but I've been bombarded with more surprises and secrets this week than I could ever have imagined, so if what I have to say sounds crazy, imagine what has been going through my mind for the past several days."

"Noted," Regina replied without emotion as she sat down in the chair Emma had vacated.

"Okay, so I've been told by everyone this week that my mother was once a powerful witch who was tricked out of those powers by losing a challenge set up by a warlock, but what if that story isn't entirely true?"

"What about the story do you think is false? We've been told for generations that the warlock gave this town it's magic. It's our town's legacy, Emma. You've known that story for a few days and you already think it's wrong?"

"It just doesn't seem like a warlock would be powerful enough, not to mention that he'd have to be immortal to keep coming back here after all these years… I think we're dealing with a far more powerful being…"

"Seriously, Emma? A few months into the study of magic and you're suddenly an expert at identifying warlocks and magical beings?"

"Don't berate me, Regina! I may not be a magical expert, but I'm not an idiot and I'm a good enough detective to know when the clues don't add up. After skimming through my mother's journal and researching some stuff Belle sent me, I think we might be dealing with some sort of trickster."

"A trickster? You think that Loki is running amuck in Storybrooke?" Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes at the deputy.

"Loki is just the Scandinavian name for a trickster," Emma stated firmly, the irritation in her voice increasing. "There are other names for them in other cultures, but whatever you want to call it, a trickster fills in some of the holes in the story. Tricksters like to play games so these ridiculous challenges make more sense. This crazy true love spell… Killian being kidnapped to try to throw off my decision and whatever is affecting him now that's keeping him unconscious…"

Regina stabbed a finger in the direction of the sleeping Killian Jones. "That? That's magic - dark magic."

"What?" Emma wasn't sure she believed what she was hearing. "Magic? What does magic have to do with this?"

"When you called and said that they couldn't find any medical reason, it reminded me of a dark potion I'd only ever heard of before. A sleeping spell."

"Sleeping spell? Those are a thing?"

"We're not talking Sleeping Beauty here. It won't make him immortal and sleep forever. If this is the potion I think it is, he's stuck in perpetual sleep. He can only be awakened with the antidote - assuming whoever cursed him made one - or by a kiss of true love."

"A kiss of true love? So it is like Sleeping Beauty… And if he is my true love, he'll wake up, but if he's not…"

"You lose your powers and he'll stay like this forever," Regina deadpanned the obvious.

"Thanks for not making my decision any easier…," Emma sighed as her eyes drifted over to Killian's peaceful-looking face. She had no idea if he could hear what they were saying. Was he screaming at her on the inside? She hated that so much hinged on a seemingly impossible choice.

"So you haven't determined which one of them is your true love yet?" Regina questioned.

"No, I haven't. Every time I think I have it figured out, my brain thinks up something that changes my mind… It's incredibly frustrating and there's no way to just wave my wand and fix things…"

"If you had asked, I would have told you that matters of the heart generally aren't best served by magical shortcuts," Regina reminded her.

"I know - I screwed up… All the good it does me now…" Emma lamented as she sat down on the bottom corner of the bed. "It's my fault that he's stuck like this…"

"How is this sleeping spell your fault?" Regina chastised her. "You may have cast a spell that brought him into your life, but you didn't make the potion or give it to him. You don't even know for sure that your love spell is related to what happened to him…"

"I'm pretty sure they are," Emma replied defensively as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. "Hold on a moment…," she said to Regina as she fished out her phone to see Grahams name on the display. "It's Graham. He has some evidence for me to look at." Regina nodded, uninterested in whatever evidence the two deputies were going to discuss. "Hi Graham… Yeah, room 306… Okay, thanks… See you in a bit."

Emma disconnected the call as Regina stood up brandishing her wand to lower the conjured protective barrier. "Better drop the protection spell so your partner can get in. Was there more you wanted to tell me or can I go now?"

"You're not going to weigh in with an opinion on my theory?" Emma wondered.

"I'm reserving my opinion until there's more evidence," the mayor insisted, seeing Graham's face in the doorway. "I'll talk to you later."

Emma nodded as Regina traded places with Graham, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she strode into the hallway while Graham took a tentative step into the room.

"Why was Regina just here?" Graham inquired quizzically.

"We had some coven business to discuss," Emma told him, which was only a partial lie. The conversation was about magic and spells. Graham didn't need to know more than that. "So - what did you find out there?"

Still hovering next to the door, Graham reached into his coat pocket and removed three sealed evidence baggies that he passed to Emma. "I found these scraps in the fireplace. Somebody tried to burn some photographs and I think you'll find these interesting…"

"Well, let's see…," she replied as she took the plastic bags from his hand. The remnants of the photos weren't very large and they were badly scorched, but Emma could make out some of the detail. The first black and white scrap showed a portion of a woman's face. She appeared to have dark skin and jet black hair, but the photo was so coated with soot that it was difficult to tell. Emma didn't recognize the woman in this photo but her eyes lit up at the familiar face. "This is my mother," she announced, pointing at the burnt image of a blonde haired woman with long, flipped bangs that were vintage 1970s. "It proves Ozmund Welch or whoever was living out there did have a connection to my mother."

"You may want to look at that last one…"

Shifting the two images she'd already seen to the bottom of the pile, Emma's jaw fell slack at the third imagine. "Son of a bitch…" she muttered, yanking out her phone and tapping one of the contacts. "Graham - stay here and don't let anyone through that doorway…" She darted into the corridor with the bag still clutched in her fist, leaving a bewildered Graham behind. She had the phone to her ear awaiting an answer, bypassing the normal greeting when the person on the other end answered. "Regina - are you still in the hospital?"

"I just walked outside. What is it?"

"Meet me in the lobby. There's something I want you to see," Emma implored as she stepped inside the elevator.

"Fine," Regina replied, pivoting on her heels to return to the lobby. "This had better be good…"

"It may answer one of our biggest questions…" Emma explained before her phone lost service inside the elevator.

Regina was waiting for her when the elevator doors parted at the ground floor and as soon as the other passengers came and went, Emma ushered Regina over to the still-unoccupied alcove she'd called from earlier.

"Alright, Emma… what is this about?"

"This," Emma stated as she held up the evidence bag for Regina to view. "Look at this… Graham found it in the fireplace at the house where we found Killian."

"What am I looking at here?" Regina queried, squinting her eyes as she glanced at the scorched photo, trying to make out the image.

"It's a photo of me." Emma said as she showed Regina the other two remnants. "And here's one of my mom and a really old one of a woman I think was the first victim… I understand the possible connection to my mom, but if he's got photographs of all of his opponents?"

"That's a little disturbing, but you said this would help give some answers. I don't understand…"

"Regina - this isn't a recent photograph of me. It was taken in Boston a couple of years ago. The dress I'm wearing was from an undercover sting - the same case I was on when I met Walsh!"

"Could it be a coincidence?" Regina asked, but she already doubted that herself.

"Do you believe in coincidence?" Emma retorted. "If this warlock or trickster, or whatever the hell he is, was stalking me then, he had to have already known who I was. I didn't even know I had magic back then, so how did he? Only someone who knew my mother could possibly have known that which meant they had to be connected to Storybrooke…"

"Which means…?"

"I think it means Walsh is no innocent bystander. I don't think my true love could possibly be someone who was already plotting this game years before I knew I was playing."

"Well, there's only one way to know for sure…"

"And that is?"

"You make the choice that Captain Jones is your true love and then you get back up there and kiss the holy hell out of that man."

#CSSNS #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell #sorry to leave it there but the next chapter had to start with the kiss

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liathgray · 5 years ago

Text

Anyways, here’s that essay

Please keep in kind this was not written to be consumed by people familiar with the source material, it was for a class. It’s focused on weird stuff and was meant to compare and contrast the Judas Contact storyline and season two of Titans.

Okay, here we go.

In 1984, a four-part story was published as an arc in Tales of the Teen Titans titled as The Judas Contract. Since, it has become one of the most influential and well-known stories to come out of the DC publishing company for its bold story choices and permanently changing characters who had been around for decades, as well as introducing death as something that can occur in the present, not just in the mechanics of a backstory. It garnered four separate adaptations, the most recent of which being the second season of Titans, a loose live-action version of the titular team. Between the two, there are many small plot and character details that do not line up, so for the sake of simplicity, pedantic plot elements will be removed from the comparison, instead focusing on individual motivation, the importance of the setting, and how characters are impacted and changed by the actions in the narrative.

The Judas Contract proper follows a team of pre-established young heroes being unknowingly spied on by their newest superpowered member, Tara Markov. She works alongside Slade Wilson, a mercenary and personal rogue of the Teen Titans, feeding him important information in order to fulfill his contract to kidnap them, hence the title of the arc; there is a Judas among them. The contract is almost completed until Slade’s son, Joey, enters the picture, determined to prevent any more death at hands of his father, emotionally conflicting Slade enough for Tara to feel betrayed and collapse the cavern they had been in, killing herself in the process. In the end, it is her story alongside the former Robin, Dick Grayson, who is inspired to take up a new vigilante identity as a result. Titans, has the same basic idea of there being a mole in the group and the evolution of Dick from Robin to Nightwing, but the surrounding plot and progression are entirely different. The Titans had existed previously, but broke up due to a series of events involving Slade, starting with the murder of a teammate, and ending in the death of Joey. There’s much grief and trauma surrounding this, so when years later Dick decides to reopen the team’s old headquarters to house and train new young heroes he stumbled across, his old friends are a mix of angry, re-traumatized, and reluctant, especially with the re-emergence of their aforementioned enemy. In the place of Tara, there is Rose. Daughter of Slade and, again, the spy on the team who, unlike Tara, has a change of heart and reveals her betrayal in an attempt to warn her newfound friends.

The most striking element of both is the use of character, and in what direction the agents go in, especially in light of the overarching themes that they share; that of redemption, recovery, guilt, and betrayal. In the comic, the focal point for all of this is Tara. She is continually treated well by her teammates whom remain compassionate to her, despite her brashness and tendency to get violent. They know little of her, yet still welcome her into their home and personal lives. It is revealed to the audience early on that Tara is working for Slade, which makes each interaction she has with those she is deceiving all the more upsetting, even distressing to watch. Tara’s particular flavor of trauma deals with abandonment, something she acquired after being forced out of her home country, which later developed into malignant narcissism. She becomes very attached to the idea of being in a position of power and finds comfort in the presence of Slade, as he was the first person to justify her being alive. Tara, in the end, fails to redeem herself, instead the illusion she had built of stability and power came crumbling down after she spends ally after ally until there is no one, and she has no power left. Though it’s somewhat cynical, the idea here is that these cycles of betrayal and neglect cannot always be broken, that’s the point of this character; sometimes people are just too dysfunctional and if they are not willing to put in the work to get better and heal, they just won’t.

Rose, Tara’s counterpart, goes through a very different metamorphosis, despite the setup being similar. Her initial motivation was revenge for the brother she never knew, having been told it was the Titans who killed him when in fact it had been Slade, though it wasn’t intentional. Slade, however, blamed the Titans, specifically Dick, thus Rose believed him and was willing to participate as a double agent. When she encounters them for the first time, she is met with sympathy and understanding, people who didn’t value her as a weapon, creating incongruity with the story she was fed of elite fighters and master manipulators. Upon learning the truth about the circumstances under which her brother died, and who exactly killed him, she backs out. Rose realized she was lied to and manipulated, almost immediately grasping the gravity of the situation and seeing how hard she was pushing people whose greatest crime was daring to care about the very person she thought she was avenging. Later, she tells her newly acquired love interest the truth, following it up by saying, “I’d take it all back if I could. But I can’t.” (Zhang). Where Tara failed, Rose succeeded; she got rid of the poison in her life and recognized that she was the bad guy, alongside seeing the humanity of those she attempted to sabotage.

The theme of redemption and recovery doesn’t stop with Rose. It is furthered by all the other existing characters, young and old. On the basis of new beginnings for the second generation, and moving past the collective trauma and fear associated with teamwork for the first. More so than anyone else, this idea is present in the journey of Dick Grayson. In the original story, he is motivated to save his friends from an ugly fate while in the throes of a very real identity crisis involving the title of Robin, which he had recently discarded, believing that it was time for him to grow past the role and create a legacy entirely his own. Which he does do; he rebrands himself as Nightwing, rising to the occasion and overcoming the difficulties of abandoning a role that represented his culminative childhood and heritage to do save the people he loves. It is very much about the conquering of his external obstacles.

This is not the case in Titans, it is largely about his spectacular fall from grace and the struggle of building himself back up from rock bottom. He had kept a secret from all his closest friends about the death of Joey; he told them Joey was murdered before he found him, when in fact, he wasn’t. Joey died trying to protect Dick from Slade, and Dick felt so much guilt and shame in having been partially responsible that he lied about it for years. When his teammates find out, his worst nightmare comes true: they leave him. He is with next to no support, devoid of the family he fought tooth and nail to keep together, and is left in the tomb of his last chance to remain stable. While Rose and Tara had to redeem themselves to other people, Dick’s story is a redemption to himself, not anyone else. He stops doing things for other people and imagines himself of deserving the loneliness of, in essence, being re-orphaned. In a desperate attempt to find forgiveness, he seeks out Slade who, instead of offering the sought after peace of mind, says, “I sentence you to live alone (…) Forever knowing that your Titans family lives and breathes somewhere out there in the world, but you can never be with them.” (Morales). His lowest point is monumentally more devastating than his comic counterpart; he isolates himself entirely, going as far as to get himself jailed to carry out the self-imposed punishment, expecting to be abused and killed alone in a prison, the prospect of death barely startling him. In moments like this, the tragedy of the character hurts so much more because the audience knows that if he gets knocked down, he may not get back up, he has every reason not to. Which is why it is so earnest and exhilarating when he does. Dick was broken down to his factory parts, every mistake and bad trait not only was put on display, but magnified. He was made to confront those things before being able to piece himself back together, only then could he take on a new identity as Nightwing. Seeing him fall again is tangibly damaging to the character, so seeing him climb his way back up, scratching, clawing, slipping up, and struggling all the way, it’s all the more satisfying when he reaches the top.

A large part of this fall and rise, or in the case of The Judas Contract, the lack off a fall, is to do with the setting. The comic has all their main characters living in relative harmony or with their own spaces. When they are not off stopping cults from destroying political landscapes or battling supervillains, they are at home, going about their daily lives as somewhat normal people with jobs and relationships. It exemplifies that they all have a decent grasp on who they are, and even if they don’t, they have a bed to go back to and a support system to rely on. This is an established team with a running headquarters, lovingly named Titans Tower, the scene is only a part of the narrative as the backdrop, as a story punching bag that ultimately doesn’t matter, and that is all it needs to be. The story is much more interested in the series of events taking place, otherwise known as the act. Everything that goes down becomes a spoiler because there are so many plot points to cover and twists to reveal, thus the scene becomes story fuel, which in turn fuels the act, fueling the actors. There is less of a fall because they all have a home to turn to; it is built around the idea that the primary agents are at least somewhat realized people, with lives of their own. They react to the world around them as it throws obstacles, and the idea is re-enforced by the irrelevance of where the action takes place, wholly opposing the priorities of its live-action adaptation.

Not to say that Titans doesn’t jump from place to place, in fact it shifts its characters around quite a lot, but those moves are reactions to and influenced by the primary setting. The Titans operate out of, again, Titans Tower, but instead of a home and safe place, it is a monument to their old team’s sins. A ghost town that continues to haunt them, bringing back their darkest times and motivating nearly every move they make. When they first arrive, it’s tense, they’re subconsciously expecting the worst and prepare to bail at the first signs of trouble, which they eventually do. It is their return that sparks the entire story moving forward, and the presence of a looming shadow built from mistakes colours their reactions and triggers a sort of trauma response. Conversely, it is a beacon of hope and rebirth for the younger members. It is the first place wherein they have been allowed to be themselves, even at their worst, then collectively learn to get better as a group, a family even. The motif of past and present, trauma and recovery, informs the presentation of Titans Tower, making the growth visible in ways it previously hadn’t been. Using the setting as story plays into how Titans is structured; it drip-feeds the audience information, allowing the plot to meander so each development can happen and be processed before the next major plot point kicks in, and if they lose the setting, their home, there’s nothing else, thus the consequences are much steeper.

Throughout its two seasons run, Titans has been unapologetically divisive; deeply flawed characters with a universe quite different from that of the comics. It was not designed to make audiences comfortable, often forcing them to look at the worst parts of characters they might have previously idolized and showing the amount of hard work that has to be put into self-betterment. It is highly character-driven, mostly following interpersonal relationships and intimate growth. Barely anyone feels self-assured, often scrambling for any sense of identity. Though everyone goes through their fair share of change, this is ultimately Dick’s redemption story to himself. It departs from the source material, which often showed readers the best parts of people, that the downfall of heroes comes from outside sources while overall making a cynical statement about the cycle of abuse regarding Tara. These are heroes who know who they are and have no problem in the actions they make, whereas in the adaptation, almost every conflict is generated internally by lies and secrecy. The adaptation removes the halo from these supposed heroes and allows the emotions to be a bit dirty and muddled, creating an equally satisfying but very different take on a classic comic story.

#titans #DC Universe #DC comics #tara markov #rose wilson #joey wilson #jericho wilson #slade wilson #deathstroke #robin #nightwing #dick grayson #titans dcu #ceces lengthy excretes

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gerudospiriit · 5 years ago

Text

One of the Lucky Ones

A Chrimbus Prezzie for @royallunatiic that I adored writing for her! <3

Basically a thing about Vegeta I’ve been entertaining in the back of my mind for several months. It’s a lot of things and very centralized in Vegeta’s head and feelings and oof. It focuses on canon and non-canon moments and kinda explores themes with Vegeta’s character I feel get overlooked inside and outside of canon material. It is also based on a mix Lau’s (royallunatiic’s) hcs and my own. I wouldn’t call it a retelling but more of a change in perspective that delves into darker themes surrounding Vegeta.

As a fair warning for others that might choose to read: this fic includes violence, gore, abuse, harsh language, some sexual content, mentions of depression, and probably things that people who hold canon as the Holy Grail will not like. It is a very rose colored glasses off kind of read. There is probably something in this that everyone won’t like but that’s the beauty of things, isn’t it? And this IS about Vegeta so :3

Also, side note, some of the formatting got lost between here and google docs and im too lazy to go through and try to fix that, so unfortunately some italic emphasis within the bulk of it will be lost, rip.

Most importantly, I hope this lives up to the hype, Lau! <3

Vegeta raised a white-gloved hand to his scouter, options flashing across red glass until he settled on the general’s name and scouter number. “Nappa, what is our estimated time of arrival?”

Several seconds of silence passed, the prince’s temper flaring a centigrade more with each impatient tap of his foot on the pod’s floor. Just as he clenched his jaw and prepared to snap at the other Saiyan and more forcefully request the information he sought, his scouter beeped followed by the unmistakable grumble of the man who served to raise him in lieu of a biological parent.

“Let’s see…” Vegeta rolled his eyes when he heard Nappa yawn. How the large Saiyan stayed comfortable crammed into the tiny space pods even with the help of the pod’s assisted stasis setting baffled him. Less than half the other man’s size, Vegeta struggled to rest for any proper amount of time no matter his level of exhaustion or the length of the trip. Nothing a usual plague of similarly themed nightmares helped. Years of getting used to it was the usual spiel the general gave when the prince cared enough to question him. “Twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours before we get to take revenge for Raditz and destroy that damn mud ball.”

Vegeta grunted in response. He could have laughed at their cover to keep anyone listening in on their conversations from knowing their true objective. Neither Saiyan cared to avenge their fallen comrade, Saiyan or not. Raditz foolishly set off to find his weakling of a brother and got himself killed. If such lowly warriors could best him, he was a waste of space and resources. Good riddance; Vegeta had no time for coddling the third class fool, anyway. They had Dragonballs to secure and immortality only suited the strong. To overthrow and kill an all-powerful tyrant, he would only suffer the company of the very greatest warriors.

“Very well. Rest up, Nappa. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Don’t tell me these Earthling’s got you scared,” the general scoffed, the creak of leather sounding as he shifted in his seat. “Raditz’s power level didn’t hold a candle to ours. We’ll blow ‘em all away, no trouble, a year of training or not. And without Kakarot, it will be a cinch. In and out, just like we planned.”

Vegeta snarled. “Watch your tongue, Nappa. I’d sooner fear Cui than a lowly Earthling.” He hoped the bastard heard that. Or that Frieza did and would relay the message to amuse himself with the soldier’s rage. “They are at least clever enough to gang up on Raditz. I would hate to see you meet your end over stupidity.”

“Fat chance.”

If Nappa had anything else to say, Vegeta missed it. He had switched his scouter off to take his own advice. Or try. His anticipation to achieve immortality, to finally avenge his people and end Frieza once and for all. Kept his mind from shutting down. To take back what was promised to him, what was rightfully his. For his own, personal revenge for the abuse and embarrassment he endured under his rule. As little more than a slave. Jaw tense at the memories, he closed his eyes.

His nerves went into overdrive as the door slid shut behind him, the fur of his tail standing on end at his waist. A request for an audience with Frieza never bode well in past experiences. It usually meant a beating or other form of degradation in front of his cronies or for his own sick amusement. And with the weight of his planet and his race perishing still heavy on his heart and mind...what more could Frieza say or do to him?

Before he could kneel or greet the tyrant, Frieza turned from his locked view of the passing stars to the young Saiyan rooted a few feet in front of the door, trying his best to keep the hollowness he felt in his chest from his gaze. In front of Nappa and Raditz, he had tried to remain aloof. Stunned by the suddenness with a hint of anger at cruel fate and be the strong leader he now had no choice but to be to them. They answered to him, not his father. Not any more.

“Ah, Vegeta! Such shocking news!” Frieza threw his free hand in the air to complement the dramatic flare in his voice. He set the glass of wine he clutched in the other on the nearest surface and floated toward him, reptilian feet meeting tile before the Saiyan. “My condolences, of course. An asteroid of all things wipes out the Saiyan race!”

Vegeta swallowed, gloved fingers curling into his palms and his tail tightening around his waist. He did not need to be aware of Frieza’s general distaste for his people to hear the mocking undertone dripping from every word. The misfortune of his race was a cause for celebration to the tyrant.

“We will move forward,” he responded robotically, straightening his posture and meeting Frieza’s wicked, crimson eyes. His mouth went dry when he saw the humor dancing in them. “We will continue to serve as we always have.”

The emperor of the universe placed his hands behind his back, contemplating. Searching for ways to toy with the boy like a predator who had cornered its prey. “Spoken like a true prince with so much responsibility suddenly on his shoulders.” He sighed, the latter portion of his tail idly striking the tiled floor. “Such a shame to lose so many monk--I mean, soldiers. Their lives are irreplaceable.”

Rage burned hotter in his hollowed out body. It danced on his tongue and clawed at his jaw, desperately trying to pry his mouth open to retort or spit in his face or simply scream. Anything but the fear-soaked silence that pervaded. What did he have to lose? Everything he had been promised--his kingdom, his people, his planet--had all been obliterated. Dying now would grant him mercy. But the fighter in him, the angry, scorned warrior, screamed louder. He screamed for blood. For vengeance. He was young, but he didn’t believe that asteroid story. It stank worse than Nappa after a long day of training in the wastes back home. And this performance, this farcical show of compassion, only fueled such suspicions.

“Come now. Don’t look so glum, Vegeta. After all...” Frieza rested a clawed hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Tight. “You’re one of the lucky ones.”

No, no, no.

This had to be another nightmare.

Vegeta clung to the last dregs of consciousness his weakened state would allow in order to type the coordinates--any coordinates--to what he hoped would land him at a base to get patched up. His hand shook over the buttons, and his vision doubled and tripled while trying to make sense of the screen. Blood trickled down his forehead and off the tip of his nose. Every inch of him screamed in agony. A few more seconds of focus...that's all he needed….

He fell back once he thought he counted enough characters punched in, gritting his teeth as the careless motion jolted a new bolt of pain through his body. Obsidian eyes hooded, he watched the stars, asteroids, and planets whizz by in a blur through slitted gaze. He felt his consciousness fading, his mind replaying the bad dream Earth had turned to in a jumbled chronology of events. The fight with Kakarot, how the third class stood up to his every attack. That damn brat and his bald friend and the fat one interfering. Cutting off his damn tail. Squeezing the life out of that clown in his Oozaru form. Saibamen and the joy of watching those worms struggle against them and Nappa when they wouldn't give them the Dragonballs. The brat transforming. Nappa's blood on his hands for his failure. The bald one sparing him.

Spared. Not victorious. Not immortal. Broken. Beaten. Bloody. And spared by a worthless third rate warrior and his weakling friends. The great Prince Vegeta bested by a troupe of circus performers. He could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if he had the breath and fortitude for it. Pride damaged, a small part of him hoped his battered brain had typed the coordinates in wrong. Dump him off on some random planet to die alone with what little dignity he had left. Let his race perish once and for all with him. Kakarot was no Saiyan. He did not deserve the warrior blood that roared in his veins. He was an Earthling. He barely knew what it meant to be a Saiyan. The hardships he had faced. How it felt to lose everything.

Kakarot. His bloody fingers twitched as the name of that fool spun around his mind in a taunting sing-song like some sick nursery rhyme. Yet. He didn't know that feeling yet. Sparing him was the biggest mistake those Earthlings could make. He would make Kakarot suffer. He would kill each of his friends one by one in front of him. Slow. Grueling. Starting with the fat one that robbed him of his tail. Then, he would kill Kakarot. No. He would spare Kakarot. Beat him to a gurgling mess of blood and broken bones and destroy his planet with him on it. Yes, that would do nicely.

First things first: immortality. Namek. Frieza. Then, Kakarot.

Quaking hand rose to his scouter. He sent out a distress signal. Just in case.

He convinced Nappa to let him out of his sight with relative ease and bored Raditz with some excuse about checking out the moons of the planet for vegetation types to keep him from tagging along to leave the planet they were ordered to recon alone and undisturbed. The assignment was close to the coordinates of his home planet, committed to memory in his youth. After nearly a decade, the close proximity tugged at an emotion he couldn't place. Deeper than curiosity but darker than nostalgia. A need to put to rest his doubt and disbelief, and affirm it had not all been a cruel joke Frieza played on him all these years.

Though, as his pod flew ever closer to his destination, a dim hope flickered in the buried part of him that still mourned and despaired over the fall of his race. For that reason, he kept his eyes closed, the vision of his home planet painted on the inside of his eyelids. Until the pod slowed, and the change in motion coerced the Saiyan Prince's eyes open to see…

To see nothing. Nothing but stars and space dust.

He didn't know how long he stared, or how many times he cancelled his pod's attempts to reroute him to a place for a proper landing when the current coordinates yielded nothing solid. His chest tightened, his throat and eyes burned as he rested a gloved hand on the red glass of the pod. Tears poured from his obsidian eyes as his fingers curled into his palm and he banged his fist against the window. Gone. All gone. He had known it all along, hadn't he? What did he really expect to find out here?

He buried his face in his hands with a shuddering breath, sliding them back into his hair before letting them fall limply at his side. He couldn't deny it now; Planet Vegeta had been obliterated along with everyone on it. Reduced to no more than space matter idly drifting among the stars. In that moment, even his memories of his youth seemed to join them as any attempt to recall them left him numb.

Another request to reroute to the nearest planet echoed too loudly in his ears. Vegeta spared the empty vacuum where his home once lay one last glance before inputting the coordinates to the planet he and the others had been assigned.

Vegeta switched off the ship’s gravity controls soon after touchdown on the long forgotten planet he had chosen for training. The gradual shift from 450 times the Earth’s gravity back to normal levels welcome after hours of pushing through the training drills. He gripped the console to steady himself and hunched over as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his visage and pooling between switches and buttons. Every muscle, every fiber of his body ached from the strain of training at the high level of gravity. So much so that just a twitch of his fingers depleted far more energy than anything should. He slammed his fist down on the control panel and straightened up. He had no time to rest. He had to push himself, push through the pain and strain and keep going. He was running out of time. He needed to become a Super Saiyan no matter the cost.

Measured steps carried him to the bag he had packed. He rummaged around and pulled out a fresh set of armor. He tore off the sweat drenched rags his training reduced the current set to and tossed it aside, replacing it with the clean suit and chest armor. He ignored the toll the simple action took on him and yanked his boots and gloves on. He punched the button and released the door hatch to descend onto the planet’s surface. Away from the distractions of Earth, the planet that had become his chosen prison. He had to stay close to his prey, keep his enemies close. Make this unexpected resurrection count.

His second chance at life had begun with sucking in dirt before rising out of a shallow grave. Followed by witnessing a third-class warrior fill the slot in his race's history meant for him. Vegeta had stared up into a tumultuous sky as the very planet beneath his boots breathed its last breaths, erupting and quaking as a greater power threatened its very core. Awestruck, the Saiyan prince watched legend become reality. Kakarot had achieved what most wrote off as legend, aglow in gold, hair and eyes changed from dark hues to light: a Super Saiyan in the flesh. And he faced off with Frieza. Would soon kill Frieza. Both milestones he promised himself and only fit for the last living Saiyan royal. The clown snatched his birthright and vengeance for all he and his people suffered under Frieza from him in the span of hours.

The realization only settled after the whirlwind of astonishment, initial pride in the irony of a Saiyan ending Frieza, and momentary swell of invincibility with the idea of being back on top with Kakarot and Frieza both dead suddenly switched direction and whipped him into the nearest wall. The damned fool survived after all, according to those bumbling Earthlings. His mood tanked, and something akin to panic intertwined with his rage: what now? Where did he go from here?

Immortality didn't strike his fancy anymore when living forever seemed worse than death, the easy way of winning. He could cross Frieza off; he couldn't kill a dead man. That left Kakarot and his friends. He could kill the latter whenever he chose, the only one posing a possible challenge being the Namekian. But what use was that when he could not stand up to Kakarot's retaliation? The fool had thrown his whole plan off kilter! Stole everything promised to him and made him look like a fool! The Saiyan Prince would not--could not--be bested by this low class a third time. Kakarot would die by his hand, that would not change. But he needed to train first, achieve Super Saiyan and do it better.

And so he trained. Day and night until he flirted with death. Haunted by the image of Super Saiyan Kakarot battling Frieza on a dying planet. The memory of sensing that power for the first time seemed stamped on his ki perception, a power that threatened to bring him to his knees. Bitterness, vengeance, and rage surged him onward, a man possessed. Driven by an ever present need to take his place as the most powerful being in the universe.

And yet, despite all that, he remained unchanged. Stronger, certainly. But he still lacked the key to transformation, and that only ignited his fury further. What did that buffoon have that he lacked? How? The singular word bounced around his brain like the simulated ki blasts of his training program. What was the secret? Time ticked down until these androids meant to doom them all arrived. He refused to die to some mechanical monstrosities, not before he got his chance to prove once and for all that he was the superior warrior.

They would serve as a testament to his strength. His ascension to legendary status. But he had to get there first.

The sky above him raged in a violent storm, lightning streaking the dark at intervals of mere milliseconds. The air around him surged with power, a reflection of the intense wrath that blazed within him. The ground shook from the force of the accompanying thunder, rattled his very being to the core. He felt awakened, his previous exhaustion forgotten as a new wave of invigoration overpowered it.

So his training began. Unencumbered. Uninhibited. Free of the petty distractions that interrupted him on Earth. Until the meteors threatened his ship. Fine. A new training exercise. He zipped through the shower, punching and blasting his way through the chunks of space rock with precision and finesse. The warm up, he found, when a meteor half the size of the planet entered the atmosphere, parting the clouds in a fiery cascade. The Saiyan prince soared upward, confident when his previous employment required him to destroy entire planets on a whim. He pulled his arm back, energy building in his palm before he shot it toward the meteor. Though, instead of resulting in an explosion, the behemoth swallowed the light, only spraying a few chunks of matter from its surface. Another blast. A barrage of them. Still it inched closer to his only means to escape this planet. His training had left him too drained. This damn rock was going to strand him there on that empty planet. No! He wouldn’t let that happen!

Mustering every last ounce of energy he could, he pulled both hands up to his head, the back of his right hand pressed into his left palm. Purple energy built around him and in his hands. “Galick Gun, fire!” With all he had left, he shot the violet energy through his hands toward the encroaching meteor, energy bursting from his palms and striking it at near point blank range. The explosion shot him straight toward the planets surface, his used up body crashing through rock formation after rock formation before slamming into the ground.

Immense pain and the ringing in his ears were all he could register as he lay prostrate in the wide crater for countless minutes. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the lightning streaked sky above him. He needed to move, to ensure his efforts yielded success. He pushed up with his elbows, snarling as pain ripped through him, and he shifted to his knees and dragged himself to the edge of the crater. He stretched his hand out on level ground and hoisted his upper half from the hole; it was all he could manage. The Prince of all Saiyan’s reduced to crawling, clawing his way out of a crater. Too weak to best a meteor and stay on his feet. How fucking pathetic.

Vegeta beat his bruised and bloody fist on the stone ground, the guttural growl growing in volume with each pound to echo the thunder rolling around him. How many more times did he have to fail? He failed his own race, and then couldn’t even take proper revenge for their murder. He failed Nappa and Raditz, no matter how damn weak they were. At this point, what made him any better? Kakarot bested him, too. Isn’t that why he killed Nappa? Because the bumbling idiot couldn’t even kill an Earth-raised, third rate Saiyan? Even a damn kid from the future had surpassed him! The Prince of all Saiyans! He who had been promised the universe and then some by his damnable father! What did he have to show for it? For all the pain and abuse and training? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. He had been reduced to buying his time on a planet he should have just destroyed upon landing, surrounded by the very idiots that began his streak of shitty luck!

What had Frieza told him? “You’re one of the lucky ones.” Ha! At that moment, he would bet the universe got off on shooting him down and kicking him in the ribs.

He bowed his head as tears of rage and shame filled his eyes, though his gut boiled fiercely. He forced himself onto his feet, stumbling a step before regaining his balance. Nothing. The word echoed in his ears, roaring in the thunder as it answered the lightning. He had nothing left. Had lost it all long ago, but he refused to admit it to himself. And suddenly...everything that had driven him the past three years meant nothing. He didn’t care about Kakarot or killing him or surpassing him. He didn’t care if he left this planet. He didn’t even care if he lived. How long had he walked on borrowed time? His second chance at life was a damn joke, a literal accident, extra time for the universe to taunt him for his failings.

Vegeta’s heart pounded in his ears, beating on his sternum like a war drum. The rest of the world fell silent around him as his rage exploded. Pure power rushed through his body and he tilted his head back to bellow his fury into the void of space above. Blinding light flared from his form and burst with a planet-quaking boom.

Consciousness flooded back like a sea’s tide, the area around him now illuminated in a golden glow. A glow that originated from him. He raised his hands and flexed them before balling them into fists. Such power. It felt incredible. Endless. Roiling throughout every ounce of his being. His shoulders shook as laughter rumbled in his chest and finally burst from his mouth. He took to the air and shot through the angry sky, admiring his speed. He destroyed mountains as he whizzed by them, each target bigger than the last. If he didn’t need the ship, he would have destroyed the planet itself just to see how easy his new power made it.

Landing near the ship (still intact, surprisingly), he powered down, acutely aware of the toll it took on him. He would have to fix that, master the form and improve upon it. It felt surreal, like he would wake up at any moment. But he knew better. He knew he only had nightmares.

He had truly done it. He had become a Super Saiyan.

“Well, I guess there really is a first time for everything.”

Vegeta didn’t care if the bartender’s comment was meant for him or merely the young woman musing aloud; he kept his attention on the drink sitting in the open space within his crossed arms on the polished wood. He could still hear the vapid giggling of the two women as they trotted to the elevator at the back of the room, clinging on the arms of his charmed comrades. It was nothing new to the prince, especially on obvious busy work like this meant to keep them out of Frieza’s line of sight for a little while. Until he needed them again. Everyone knew years of mining and drilling by the Cold’s forces had sucked this planet dry of any valuable resources. The inhabitants ranged from an occasional surprising street fighter to abysmally weak, and very few even knew how to control Ki. The bulk of Frieza’s force there had already evacuated, sent on more fruitful endeavors for the empire. At best, this planet would be made a base, and the inhabitants would have to continue to live with Frieza’s soldiers. But, this far out, Vegeta wasn’t that optimistic.

A misstep had earned them this pointless assignment on the edges of Frieza’s claim to the universe, and they were given three days to complete a full recon and report, not counting travel time. Peeved and annoyed with the gall Frieza had to assign them busy work, even Vegeta agreed that, after finishing up the assignment in just over a day, they could use the remainder of their second day to use as they saw fit and send the report in on the morning of their third day. For Raditz and Nappa, that typically meant booze, food, and fucking whoever would have them. For Vegeta, he would likely find a space to train at his leisure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of three or more men not break out into a fight over my sisters’ company. Unless you’re just not into women...I suppose I shouldn’t assume…”

Obsidian eyes finally slid over to the woman, and, in comparison to her siblings, he understood why she would not appeal to the masses as easily as her sisters. Shorter and more plainly dressed in a shabby-looking, moss green jacket (the bar blocked the rest of his view of her outfit), she appeared to prefer avoiding attention rather than grabbing it. Two, beaded braids framed her face while the rest of her tawny hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the same braids appearing intermittently throughout. She lacked the nearing gaudy makeup her sisters donned, and freckles dotted her lightly sun-kissed cheeks and the bridge of her slightly misshapen nose. A preference for the outdoors, perhaps, if not natural. The long ears inherent of her race jutted out from the side of her face, and he noticed the rose color dusting their tips.

“Your sisters aren’t my type,” he said finally, in hopes of shutting her up. She seemed to be the type to talk more when nervous. If she didn’t continue to ramble, he could at least take some solace in the fact that her voice held a more mellow timbre than the near screech of her sisters’. He picked up his drink and took a hearty gulp. Supposedly the strongest they had, but he knew he would need to drink these all day to even earn a buzz.

He heard her hum and he thought she might take the hint and busy herself with cleaning the counter or glasses. Something other than making small talk with him. Wishful thinking.

“I would ask what your type is, then, but I’m going to assume you won’t answer that.” He offered her a grunt in response, though he couldn’t stop himself from casting her another glance, as if her unasked question reflexively piqued his curiosity to check if she fit such a bill (not that he really knew his type, anyway; he didn’t care to figure it out, but he always knew what wasn’t). The only features he would consider striking in her face were her eyes, an unusual shade of shimmering silver he could not recall ever witnessing. “You’re Frieza’s soldiers, right? You and your friends?”

He fixed her with a glare, insulted, but unsure of how to correct her first: the Prince of all Saiyans answered to no one unless he wanted to and he would never refer to Nappa or Raditz as a friend. However, in an attempt to avoid more pointless conversation and seem interested in talking to her, he replied with a growled, “Yes,” and drained his glass.

“So, you can fight, then?”

Vegeta slid the glass across the bar toward her--which she expertly caught, much to his surprise considering the suddenness and speed--and rose to his feet. A stupid question, and he was sure she knew it. He pulled the neck of his armor out to fish out his pay chip, intent on paying for his drink and making a hasty exit, and slapped it down on the bar.

The woman retrieved his chip, but made no immediate move to run it. “Um, this is going to sound like an odd question but would you spar with me? I need the practice…” Silver eyes darted to the tapping of his fingers on the wood, and she rushed to the terminal behind her. She returned and offered the chip back to him. However, when he reached out for it, she snatched it out of his reach. She didn’t flinch when he growled; she expected an answer.

The Saiyan prince lifted a hand to his scouter, but it hung in midair. A habit to check a prospective opponent’s power level. He lowered it again. His tongue wrapped around a haughty rejection, but held it firmly in his mouth. Such a strange request when none that he surveyed on the planet could touch even the lowliest of Frieza’s men, and most showed no signs of any fighting prowess besides. He doubted she was much different, but his boredom and curiosity convinced him to humor her. If she had the guts to challenge him, he could grant her the satisfaction of understanding just how grave her mistake was.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Her eyes widened; she obviously expected him to refuse. A show of sharp canines in an annoyed snarl reanimated her. She slapped the chip back into his waiting palm and darted toward a door off the bar, tearing the apron from her waist and shrugging out of her jacket as she went. Vegeta tucked his pay chip away as she shouted into the next room that she was going out. She slammed the door before whoever was behind it could protest and joined him on the other side of the bar. Unencumbered by the bar and her jacket, he saw that she wore a baggy pair of pants that matched her jacket in color and a pair of boots common in style on the planet. The white shirt turned out to be a tank top that clung to her body and bore a strip of her midriff, accentuating toned arms and abdomen. Heat rose in his cheeks when his mind registered that she was...shaplier in the chest area than the jacket allowed onlookers to guess. He turned on his heel quickly to preserve his pride and class.

“Great! I know a place not far from here. Nice and open and people don’t usually hang around there.” The woman followed him outside and, before he could ask if she could fly, her feet left the dust-riddled street and she took off. He huffed and flew after her, catching up with ease. She could use ki. That at least meant this spar might scratch the surface of interesting, at least.

“I am surprised you can leave your bar unattended on a whim, even in a backwater town like that one. Is business truly that slow?”

“My parents will handle it,” she responded shortly, her attention set in front of her. “They own the place, anyway. They’re lucky I give enough of a shit about my sisters to stick around, help out, and protect them, and they know that. They sure as hell never do it. Besides, they probably think I’m off to earn money, anyway, so of course they’re not going to question it.”

Vegeta had his suspicions about the two women when they fluttered over to the trio upon entering. His icy demeanor spurned them immediately, but Nappa and Raditz welcomed their flirtations without qualm. He heard their whispers and the exchange of terms through their giggles; he had tagged along to enough brothels to understand their inner workings, no matter how low key and whether he participated or not. However, he could not recall any where parents pimped out their children. Such vile beings this universe hosted…

They touched down in an open field, the patches of green within the nearly dried up landscape the most he had seen in miles. “Do you plan to charge me for this spar then, woman?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. A slight smirk curled his lips. “Do you charge per punch landed? Extra for using ki?”

Her brows lowered and corners of her lips dipped downward as she stretched an arm over her chest. “You like to hear yourself talk after all, don’t you?” She snorted and switched limbs. “Obviously, I knock out or kill those who agree to spar with me and rob them blind. Requires much less calculation.”

He might have believed her if he hadn’t caught the quiver of her lips in a flash of a smile. “Ha! Well, I think you’ll find I’m much more difficult to take down. But, if you can, I’ll give you every bit of currency I have to my name.”

“Great, I’ve been eyeing a new pair of boots.”

She sprang forward before the last word could register meaning in the Saiyan’s mind, punches and kicks flying in a flurry of speed he did not expect. He dodged them without issue, his arms remaining folded, and allowed his focus to gauge her skill level. Quick. Unpolished but confident and strong swings, suggesting she taught herself to some degree and had enough success. The ever lessening presence of her smirk further suggested the latter; she was not used to having this much trouble.

Finally, Vegeta allowed an easily dodged uppercut to connect with the underside of his chin, a test of her strength, how hard she could hit. His head snapped back, the point of contact smarting and his teeth ringing from the impact. He expected her to celebrate her small victory, but she proved him wrong. A sweep of her leg sent him skidding several feet from where he stood. He only just recovered before she attacked again. Fine, she proved clever enough. Though a piss poor strategy like wearing her opponent out wouldn’t work on him.

He ducked beneath a fist aimed for his face and caught her ankle as she attempted to follow up with a kick. He responded to her surprised gasp with a rumbling chuckle of his own. “Not bad. But I’m not just some urchin you picked a fight with off the street.”

Vegeta tugged the woman forward, taking advantage of her lack of balance, and sidestepped. He shoved and elbow hard into her spine and sent her sprawling face first into the dust. “Hmph, if that’s all you have to offer, fly home. I don’t waste time with weaklings.”

She pushed off her hands and twisted at the waist to shoot a wave of lavender ki straight for his face. He bent back to avoid it, the heat brushing past his face before he heard it explode in the cliff face behind them. His smirk widened when he found her back on her feet and charging him again. He dodged and blocked her blows once more, but he noted the significant boost in her speed and strength. Good, she was taking this seriously now. He had given her an immediate understanding of what kind of opponent she dealt with, and she rose with that challenge. Respectable, even if her power level only ranked among the middle levels of Frieza’s ranks.

Their spar continued on much the same way: Vegeta allowed her to punch, kick, and toss ki blasts his way to her heart’s content, then he would return a few blows and knock her away. Each time, she came back stronger, faster, more determined to level the playing field no matter how wide the gap between them or the blood and bruises on her body from his strikes. An admirable warrior in her own right. She impressed him, as far as the denizens of this doomed planet went.

As the daylight began to fade, the sky dyed various hues of burning orange, he noticed each time she fell, she took a few seconds longer to rise up again. Finally, a kick to her side sent her sailing sideways and skidding along the ground. Her body slammed into the bottom of the cliff, and she laid motionless for several seconds. Just when he thought he had knocked her unconscious or her body had finally given out, he heard her groan and flip over from her side to her back, a grin on her face.

“Alright, that’s it. I give in.” She forced herself to a sitting position, expression contorting in pain with every miniscule motion. “You win. But you knew you would this whole time, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” He cocked his head to either side, stretching the tendons in his neck. Their spar hadn’t been the most productive for him, but it hadn’t bored him either. A rarity, even with those meant to be on his skill level. “You surprised me. I would have never guessed anyone on this planet could even come close to the level you’ve achieved.”

She shifted to face him and swept her forearm over her face to rid it of sweat, blood, and grime. “It was actually a Saiyan that inspired me to learn to fight, even if I had to teach myself. I was little, but I watched a Saiyan woman fight off another of Frieza’s soldiers when he wouldn’t leave her alone. It was eye-opening when I was taught all along that women didn’t fight. Not respectable ones at least.” She shrugged a shoulder and rolled it for a stretch and Vegeta grunted; too many societies he had come into contact with believed similarly. He found it pathetic and ridiculous. “I couldn’t turn down the chance to fight one, to test myself. It’s been ages since I’ve seen another Saiyan…”

“That’s because we’re the last three.” The admission tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and he scowled. He usually did not correct anyone ignorant of his people’s fate, kept his comments to himself when some merchant or whore wondered aloud about the last time they did business with a Saiyan. And yet, this woman had him yapping about something so personal without even trying. Must be the lack of food. When had he eaten last? That morning?

The woman’s face fell. “O-oh...I-I’m--”

“Save it.” Vegeta stomped over to her and stuck out his hand, the suddenness causing her to flinch back. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, a little rougher than he initially intended, though, if it bothered her, she said nothing. He released her hand. “Where is the best place for food here? Everything I’ve tried here tastes like molten garbage.”

“Well, there’s really not much left, as I’m sure you noticed.” She dusted herself off and pulled the strap of her tank top back into its proper place. “But...you’re welcome to stay at my place for the night. If you want. It’s quieter than the hotel, that’s for sure, more comfortable, too. Many of the rooms there haven’t been cleaned in quite a while, if you want the honest truth. My parents have yet to hire new help after skimping on paying the last batch of employees, my sisters refuse to help with that sort of work, and…”

She trailed off when she noticed his pointed look, how she hadn’t answered his question. She swallowed. “And I can cook. So you’ll get food, peace, and comfort. The offer’s open so take it if you want.”

Vegeta watched her take to the sky and mulled over the offer. With how she seemed determined to chat with him, he questioned the validity of her claim to quiet. The growl of his stomach voted in favor, proposing that almost anything could beat the trash he and his cohorts had wolfed down the day before. Comfort...his mind lingered on that word, twisting it into a more lewd definition. Images of her toned, nude body beneath him among a tangle of sheets, glistening in sweat as her moans filled the air…

White energy surrounded him and he shot into the sky after her. Fine. What did he have to lose anyway? Unless Frieza felt some sort of sentimental value toward this planet and those who roamed on it, she would likely be killed in the near future anyway. A shame, considering her potential. It was too bad there weren’t more like her. Enough to make her planet a worthwhile gem among the tyrant’s endless trove…

He wondered if she knew that...understood what his and his lackeys’ stay here likely meant for her and her home…

"We're getting married, Vegeta. That's final."

He swore the damn woman had an alarm on every door he frequented, from his bedroom in the guest wing to the gravity room. Perhaps on his bed, too, as he had just convinced himself to roll out of it, dress, and hole himself up in the gravity chamber to train until his body begged him to stop. He had just pulled the door open and there she stood, scowling and balancing her brat on her hip. The kid seemed unfazed by the aggravation in her voice, more intent on sucking his thumb.

Vegeta gripped the doorframe, the only thing to keep him from shoving her out of the way and continuing on his way. He had spent months away after Cell's defeat, once more a man lost and unsure of his purpose. His pride in tatters when even Kakarot's brat had surpassed him. Those days remained a blur in his memory as he worked through his rage until it fizzled out and he had nothing left to fuel him. Hollowed out, unfeeling, unmotivated. One moment he wanted to steal the woman's father's ship, blast off into space and challenge every powerful warrior he could find to validate his own strength. Take over the Cold empire as he was meant to. In the end, that all felt pointless. A set up for another string of unfortunate failures. Thus, he settled on the only thing that felt familiar, the only thing that brought even the remotest sense of contentment for him: training. Even if it meant suffering the woman and her worthless friends.

"Hello! Earth to Vegeta! Did you hear a word I said?" Bulma swapped the half asleep child to her other hip. "I know you decided to disappear on me and your child for months, but surely that didn't affect your hearing!"

He wished it had, her shrill shrieks unfriendly to sensitive ears and already threatening a pounding headache. "I heard you, woman," he growled, making to shove forward only for her to shift in front of him. Marriage to a weak Earth woman who could not even fight...he could hear his ancestors laughing in Hell. The only attributes she possessed he would consider remotely worthwhile were her decent looks and intellect when it came to technology. Nothing marriageable about her to a true Saiyan. Not to mention her obvious desire for Kakarot no matter how she tried to hide it. In his time there, he found Earth's ideals, especially those surrounding marriage and mating, starkly differed from those of Saiyans. And not for the better. They craved companionship and what they called love as the highest goals in their lives. They would set aside everything for it, change themselves for it, no matter how long or hard they worked to achieve whatever goals they had before. Saiyans rarely married, even his parents married as a mere show of power, the Saiyan King with their most powerful, accomplished, and terrifying general. They mated when they chose, and if a brat resulted from it, it didn't always mean they stuck around as a pair. Here he found, that was taboo. Unacceptable and improper.

"And just why do you think I would want to marry the likes of you?" he asked, hoping a thinly veiled insult would upset her and send her crying to her parents or that beta male she still fucked around with.

His words only deepened her glare and she stood her ground. "Are you kidding me?" She pointed at the brat, now babbling and tugging on the neckline of her shirt. "You knocked me up, you creep! It's the right thing to do, and you owe me and Trunks at least that!"

"Because you weren't throwing yourself at me the moment the damn Namek dragon sent us all back to Earth." He could insult her, belittle her, nearly kill her friends, treat her like utter trash and order her around like a damn servant day in and day out and she still flirted and tried to bed him. The meaner he was, the hornier it made her. Of course he caved eventually; he had needs, too. He hadn't even thought of impregnating her, his bestial instincts begging him for release in more carnal avenues and blinding him to the possibility in the moment. He stupidly forgot their races were even genetically compatible. She wanted to fuck, he needed release; the answer was simple at the time. "I don't owe you shit, woman, now get the hell out of my way before I force you out of the way."

"After I let you live, eat, and train here for free, you really think you don't owe me anything? I don't think you've ever even said thank you!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He had had enough of her shit for another few months. He shoved forward only to be blocked again. His temper flared, hackles rising in warning.

Bulma merely scoffed. "You need to man up, Vegeta. Own up to your 'mistakes'," she huffed and yanked a strand of her hair out of the child's clutches before he could stick it in his mouth. "I'm going to be straight with you since no one else--not even yourself--will. Your entitled, cocky prince act was cute at first, but it got old real quick. Your outbursts and temper tantrums are childish. Newsflash, Vegeta! You're not even a prince anymore! Your planet and people are gone, and the few left would never bow to you! You're not royalty, and no one will ever treat you like it! Get over it and stop acting like a baby. You have a child now, I'm going to be your wife, and you're going to learn to live here like a responsible, normal person!"

Had she spewed this drivel a few months, a few years ago, he might have blasted her where she stood for her disrespect. The emptiness inside him kept him from caring about her stupid opinions, her expectations of him, the grains of truth in her prattle. He did not care if she thought him a "real man." He did not even care that she insulted his title, his bloodline, or attacked a sensitive subject she could not begin to understand the gravity of. But the attack on his pride as a Saiyan, to order him to conform to her idealistic model of normalcy and perform the part of the happy husband and father, roles he didn't care to fill with the likes of her...that threatened to put her through the wall she stood in front of.

"That's rich coming from a spoiled brat like you," he snarled. She didn't know shit about him and she didn't try either. Why the hell would he want to bond himself with a woman like her? His dark eyes found her blue ones, the darkness in him bubbling to the surface. "Say one more word to me today and I'll rip your voice box from your throat."

This time, Bulma stepped back, her spine meeting the wall as she swallowed. He could smell her fear, no matter how little her stubborn frown wavered. He huffed and moved past her, stomping toward the glass doors at the end of the hall that would lead him onto the manicured lawn still drenched in the morning dew.

"How typical! Hear something you don't like and you throw a fit! Solve all your problems with violence like the ape you are!"

Vegeta halted halfway to the door. Every muscle in his body tensed as a war for control raged inside him. His mind had converted Bulma's voice to Frieza's, the slur and similar ones echoing in his skull joined by the cruel laughter that often accompanied it. One fist slammed into the wall beside him while the other clutched his head. He had to move. Get out of that damn hallway and away from the damn woman. He could hear the brat screaming from somewhere far away, his mother trying to hush him and throwing another insult his way.

He willed his feet to walk. Once outside, he shot into the sky. Away from Capsule Corp. Away from the city. He would not suffer her shit another second that day.

Glass and bone crunched beneath his boot, fresh blood further staining once ivory leather. The screams and groans of pain had subsided, the only sounds around him the crackle of flames and the occasional whistle of the wind. The scent of death and burning flesh filled his nostrils, fueling the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

He kicked a corpse aside--a soldier, if the armor meant anything--and tapped the button on his scouter with bloodied fingertips to perform a scan of the area. See if any unlucky fools escaped his initial razing of the planet. He had the whole assignment to himself. Nappa had protested; the planet had been in rebellion for quite some time and housed unexpectedly powerful warriors in great numbers. How even the strongest warriors could fall when outnumbered. Vegeta ignored him and threatened to toss him out an airlock if he tried to follow without his say so. It would be a worthy test of his strength, an uninhibited and untethered display of his power, if the reports had any merit.

As it turned out, they didn’t. Not that he could see.

His scouter beeped three times as it picked up a reading, the yellow characters flashing on the red glass indicating it originated behind him. Close, weakened if ever strong. Attuned ears picked up the slow approach with one foot landing heavier on the pavement than the other, a poor attempt at stealth. One left. And here he thought he had been thorough…

“You damn monster,” the lone survivor croaked behind him. Vegeta opened his eyes enough to note the surge in his power level on his scouter, a light behind him lengthening his shadow. So, he would fight to his last breath.

The Saiyan turned on his heel to face his heckler, tongue lashing out to lick gore--his or someone else’s, he didn’t know or care--from his face. The local had definitely been caught in the crossfire, armor cracked and broken, his body littered with bruises and painted with blood. He put all his weight on his right leg, the left hanging limply beside it. He held a ball of ki in his hand, though the light guttered with the fading of his energy.

“How very original,” Vegeta drawled. Terrifying speed placed him directly in front of the dying soldier. He gripped his wrist and snapped it back in a sickening crack, sending the attack meant for him jetting into space. The man howled in pain, widening the smirk the Saiyan wore.

“Y-you’re no better than him...than Frieza!”

His smirk fell into a tight frown, and his grip tightened. “You’re right.” Vegeta raised his hand level with the soldier’s face. “I’m much, much worse.”

Vegeta fired the blast at Kakarot. Point-blank range and putting him on guard with no chance for immediate retaliation. He had to be if he wanted to protect all those people spectating in the stands behind him. He watched as the force behind the energy forced him back, back, back. Until he finally had to relent and fly out of its path. Yellow light soared into the crowd and exploded through the cement structure, a path of ruin left in its wake through the city beyond. Screams of terror and anguish filled the air, a symphony to the Saiyan’s ears.

Finally. Finally he would get what he wanted, what he craved for all these years: revenge. To best Kakarot and once and for all reclaim his rightful place as the most powerful Saiyan in existence. Babadi’s magic did no more than reach into the depths of his mind, his soul, and resurrect Vegeta. Tearing the man once feared the universe over, the savage and ruthless destroyer, from the shallow, unmarked grave he himself had shoved him into. For comfort. For ease. For conformity on this wretched planet. The fingers of the wizard’s black magic plucked the pesky attachments he developed from his mind like overzealous weeds. Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans was whole once more, beaten down pride and burning rage reignited and flaring hotter than any star.

They called his decision to succumb to Babidi’s mind control weakness. Slavery. No. The wizard had no more control of him than anyone else should have these past years. He felt more powerful than he ever had. He raised his hand again and shot another blast into the crowd. This. This was what he wanted. He would not let anyone or anything stand in the way of his battle with Kakarot. Not the Kai. Not Gohan. Not this Buu creature or Babidi. They settled this today. He would reclaim his honor, his destiny.

He would stand in Kakarot’s shadow no longer.

Vegeta struggled against the powerful arms that restrained him, tail lashing in fury as he fought with fists, feet, and teeth against Frieza’s goons. He could hear Nappa bringing up the rear, pleading the young Saiyan’s case with Frieza: he was young and hadn’t learned to respect his betters, his mourning made him mouthier, that he would handle punishment himself and ensure it never happened again, anything other than locking him away like that, to lock him up in there instead. They both knew his words fell flat in the tyrant’s ears; Vegeta had finally crossed the line and told the emperor just what he thought of him and Frieza did not tolerate insubordination.

The soldiers tossed the young Saiyan to the back of the dark room. He roared and darted forward, only to collide with the cold metal of the door slamming in his face. He only just registered the pain it caused, already launching himself for the door again, intent on busting it open. He screamed and rammed into the door, bellowed for Nappa to let him out this instant. Deep down he knew his protests were swallowed by the darkness that encompassed him in the small space, but it didn’t stop him from yelling until his throat was raw. From bashing his full weight into the door until his small frame went numb.

Furious, he bounded back. Ki built in his palms and he shot every ounce of energy he had toward the door. The blast rebounded straight back and struck him in the chest. The force knocked the wind from his lungs and smashed him into the wall behind him. His body slid to the ground and he laid still. Limp, too weak to move.

It was too easy to lose track of time in that pitch black cell, and he did not know how long he lay there. Light filtered into the room as the door cracked open. Freedom! He willed himself to fly toward it as a tray with a paltry sum of food was set on the cold floor along with a glass of water. Vegeta nearly grasped the edge of the door but, once more, it slammed in his face and nearly took his fingers with it. He growled, his throat screeching in protest at the guttural sound. He felt along the edges of the door--or what he thought were the edges of the door--for any kind of hand hold. A way to grip it and force it open. Sealed tight, as expected. He kicked the tray into the wall in his stubborn frustration.

He counted six meals. Six failed attempts at escaping. Sometimes, he woke up from his slumber, and when he felt around the cell, he found the food waiting for him. Missed opportunities. The meals barely kept him alive and awarded him no energy. He slept more often than not, plagued by dreams of spending the rest of his life there. The deaths of his parents and people burning up in the wake of an exploding planet. Nappa and Raditz being tortured in his absence...He always woke up in a tighter ball after such nightmares, tail squeezing him in makeshift protection…

Light flared and burned his eyes, causing him to hiss and tuck his face into his chest and arms. Large hands slipped beneath him and scooped him up. His tail bristled in warning and his body stiffened, all senses on high alert. The restraints held fast, the familiar scent of the Saiyan general filling his nose and calming him. Nappa carried him out of the cell, and Vegeta buried his face in his armor, fighting the tears of anguish that threatened to fall.

Before long, he was deposited onto his bed. The young Saiyan prince squirmed beneath the blanket and faced the wall in his bunk, knees tucked to his chest. He heard Raditz shift above him but his light snoring remained uninterrupted. He held his blankets tight around him, clutching them like a lifeline and laid perfectly still. He still felt tired, drained, but his eyes remained wide open and set on the wall. He never knew he could miss a bed or a pillow so much. Or the sound of Raditz snoring. Or light.

After a long while, hours perhaps, he heard Nappa sigh; he had forgotten the general remained in the room at all. “I’m sorry, kiddo...so damn sorry.” He spoke in nearly a whisper, his typically strong and boisterous voice close to shaking. “I wish I could protect you like your parents wanted...like you deserve.”

Vegeta’s grip tightened on the blanket that failed to warm him. He felt cold. Always so cold. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t do you any good, Nappa,” he mumbled, a half-hearted reprimand in comparison to his usual temper. He turned to face Nappa, staring him down with a blank expression and hollow eyes. “Mother, father...everyone else is dead. We survived, and we’ll keep doing it...no matter what it takes.”

He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re the lucky ones.”

Upbeat dance music filtered up to the balcony on a light summer breeze to the balcony on the other side of Capsule Corp. where Vegeta had taken refuge from the ongoing celebration. No one noticed his exit, and he had no qualms with that. While most left him to his own devices, he tired of the idle conversation, the laughter and music. Thus, he snatched up a cooler of beer and took off to the other side of the building, settling in at a table on one of the balconies.

He tipped the bottle back and drained the rest of its contents. He threw it into the air, toward the setting sun, and blasted it into nothing. Since Majin Buu’s defeat, he felt as if he floated through space and time, a phantom going through the motions of a routine that felt more pointless by the day. Not even training held his interest long and, more often than not, he found himself flying around the planet aimlessly but pretending to have a purpose.

Kakarot had once more proven himself the better warrior and killed Buu. He swallowed his pride and accepted it, accepted the fact that he would forever be second place. In the moment, he thought acceptance would free him and perhaps it had at the time. But as time passed and he returned to life on Earth playing the role of husband for show and father and took up his training regimen...a weight bore down on him, growing heavier each day. He grew restless and craved direction, purpose. How long had he chased that dream of revenge? Of surpassing Kakarot and anyone else who challenged his birthright as the most powerful Saiyan--no, being--in existence? After losing Raditz and Nappa, being humiliated on Earth and Namek...he had clung to the only things he truly understood: rage, pride, and vengeance.

Vegeta reached down to fish out another beer from the icy confines of the cooler. He flicked the cap off with his thumb and pressed it to his lips, draining half the bottle in a single gulp. He considered the idea of taking the spaceship and wandering the universe that always lingered at the back of his mind. Search for warriors to train with, test his limits and break them and the monotony. The desire to conquer and claim what his father promised him had faded to a fever dream. He lacked the patience it required these days. As usual, he squashed the idea before it could spur him into action.

Maybe someday he would find something that sparked the fire in him again, gave him purpose. Or he would spend the rest of his days in inanity, performing a part in a play he neither tried out for or wanted. Waiting for the next tragedy to befall the Earth or universe so he could feel alive for a day or two or until the threat was exterminated, likely by Kakarot. And then the cycle would repeat: he would train to get stronger, a new threat arises, Kakarot proves he’s more powerful. Maddening. Unfulfilling. Reality.

He let his head fall back and watched the whisps of clouds lazily sail through the darkening sky. What had Frieza told him when he found out about the destruction of his planet and people? That he was one of the lucky ones. Lucky...by Earthling standards, many had told him that for one reason or another: you have a hot, rich “wife” and don’t need to work, a place to live and food to eat, a healthy son, the fact that he was alive to live the next day. Nothing that truly mattered to him; an ideal Earth life did not appeal to his Saiyan warrior mentality. In fact, he could not think of a single moment in his life where he would consider himself lucky, even with Frieza dead and unable to be the source of his despair.

Raised voices and laughter from inside shifted his attention to the glass doors. Kakarot had finally showed up. His friends surrounded him like flies on shit, grinning and laughing with the buffoon like he had been there all day. Even his shrew of a wife who had complained about his absence all afternoon to anyone who would listen smiled in welcome. Kakarot...the damn bastard. He drank the last of his beer and stood up.

Vegeta had lost everything else--his title, his race, his birthright--but, as he stared down his longtime rival from behind a pane of glass, he knew he could cling to one, single truth: he was a warrior. Always would be. And he would never stop pushing and breaking his limits his way.

#royallunatiic #vegeta #fanfic #fanfiction #db fanfiction #dbz fanfiction

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afanc0d · 5 years ago

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Hedge Riding: Encounter with Sigma the Magus and The Nymph of The Lake

Disclaimer: this is a bit personal and I wasn’t sure if I should’ve posted it. I decided to do it anyway to show people what hedge riding is like for me. Also bad writing up ahead.

Codependency has always been a lingering entity in my life. Thus, when changes occur there is a tendency to cling on desperately—denial, false hope, and rationalization typically occur simultaneously. These tendencies stem from childhood trauma yet at the same time, reasons for certain behaviors are inexcusable in the grand scheme of things. At the end of a five-year relationship, all these tendencies came crashing down, as if I was sinking deeper in the depths of the ocean and everything surrounded my body and psyche to a crushing and suffocating pressure. There was a feeling of being trapped yet I felt the need to sink in deeper for the sake of concepts and principles.

Such concepts and principles fueled codependent behavior. I was a huge believer in a “grand scheme”, an “ultimate purpose”, a “meant to be”. These ideas were borne out of Christian ideals, where an ever-present and all-knowing being planned a path and purpose for individuals. This concept enabled my behavior, as a result, I saw a relationship with this person as the means and an end—a purpose, the purpose of my life. Everything that I have planned in my life was to be with this person and for this person. A hard concept to shake, a hard person to let go.

I believe the Magus visited me to chastise me from this train of thought.

At the beginning of my journey, my spirit usually stands over my physical body—where I see myself blindfolded in a meditative pose. As soon as I separated, I saw a masked shadowy figure loom over my body. My immediate reaction was fear because it was unknown. Luckily, I always cast a circle of protection before journeying to alternate reality—thus, the masked shadow is unable to take hold of my body.

I ignored the entity because I believed that if I acknowledged it, then it would follow or attack me. Ironically, the shadow still followed and attacked me. As my spirit made its way to the hiking trail, the entity started smiling at me with sinister intent, then he started harassing me. He held onto my arm, causing my steps to become heavier, my lungs filled with fear. I finally spoke to him and told him to “be gone”. He let go for a few seconds, but immediately took hold of my left arm again and kept harassing me verbally. I don’t remember what he was rambling about, but he was saying things while being a burden. I pretended to be fine with his harassment and said, “it’s okay, you can hold onto me, I am unbothered by your presence”—but, I was afraid.

I finally reached the hiking trail as well as the tree that I use to enter the lower realm. My spirit companion named Kip came out of the roots—something he rarely does. I will talk about Kip another time if he allows me. He chastises the masked shadow, telling him to detach himself from me. Kip, then transforms into his griffin form and rushes me through the dirt tunnel of the root system. The shadow chases after us matching our speed but barely catching up.

We flew past the forest clearing and the golden wheat fields and quickly arrived at Sheridan’s cottage. Sheridan opens the door and looked at us with an exasperated expression, asking me “what have you done now”, while peering at the masked shadow. He then addresses it and says “you can’t enter here you’re disgusting”—but the masked shadow disrespects Sheridan and enters anyway. He thrashes the place and tries to grab me and put me in a choke-hold.

Sheridan mutters a spell and throws a concoction at the shadow. What was revealed is an old man graying and hunched covered in robes. All the hostility from him vanished, instead a calm and authoritative demeanor surrounded him. He introduced himself, “I am Sigma the Magus, I have many things to show you” he points at me, then beckons me into a large golden mirror. Within the mirror, it shows a forested area, revealing an ethereal lake with a large waterfall feeding into it.

I was afraid to go with the Magus, so I asked Kip if he could come along with me and he did.

We entered through the mirror, there the ethereal lake glimmered with an unearthly shine. Graduating between pastel colors of pink, blue, green, and yellow. The magus sat on a stone by the shore of the lake, Kip and I followed him. I don’t quite remember how the conversation between the Magus and I went, but we spoke about my past decisions and anxieties. There, he told me to kneel and proclaim the changes and covenants I plan to make. What was most important to me? What am I ashamed of? What mistakes have I made? What is my true nature? I spoke loudly and true, but one thing I could not do is let go of this person that I’ve been in a five-year relationship with. The thought of proclaiming, “I will let him go for I have hurt him in many ways, and he has hurt me. The pain we inflicted cannot be healed, for our codependency, prevents us from doing so” brought me so much pain I could feel my stomach curl and my mouth latch close. My soul and physical body had tears streaming down my eyes. Memories of love flashed through my mind, and none of these words could be uttered.

There the nymph of the lake appeared from the surface of the water. The Magus introduced her as his wife, but he never gave me her name. She had long wavy hair covering her breasts, with a majestic tail shimmering as the lake did with silk-like fins. Kip transforms me into a mermaid, then I followed her into the depths.

The lake was ocean-like, as we moved deeper the shimmer and glow faded into the distance. Slowly we were surrounded by a somber dark blue—then total darkness. A structure appeared as we reached the bottom of the lake. Four columns of stone surrounded a centerpiece that had a luminescent glow. The nymph motioned for me to approach the light, as I held it in my hands—the same memories flashed into my mind. As I was reliving these memories a ghostly voice spoke “There is no such thing as destiny or fate. Nothing is intertwined, but there is a connectedness to events. What only exists are causalities and actions. Things that are out of control occur because of proximity; the die rolled out by lady luck—a happenstance. The things you experience, the people you meet, the pain that exists. Happens for a reason, but not pre-conceived reasons, rather reasons that happen from other reasons. A series of events, a domino. Chaos that exists in the universe and the chances of objects interacting with other objects.

—he is a happenstance. There is no red string of fate binding, he is not an angel sent by an eternal being. He is just a man that you met and fell in love with. Nothing more nothing less, and all the structures of this relationship are falling apart. Behaviors and tendencies betray, you cannot continue this relationship anymore.” The stream of memories ended, and the voice faded.

The nymph and I swam back to the surface, the shamanic drumming changes its rhythm, indicating the end of my journey. I bid farewell to the Magus and Nymph. Once again Kip transforms into a griffin—I mount his back and return home.

#hedge #hedgerider #hedgeriding #hedgewitch #hedge witch #shamanic journey #astraltravel #astral travel #hedge witchcraft #hedgewitchcraft #witch #witchcraft #hedge riding #hedge journey

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kissmetae · 6 years ago

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Lethality

x Hoseok

❧ AU: Vampire!AU || You lived comfortably in a small village where Hoseok, your partner was well known for his dancing and performing. The young kids admired him and his name was well spoken of… but you had a deep secret…

A secret Hoseok knew of and had long ago accepted, consumed and addicted to your love.

Vampires were seen as evil entities, legends and stories were spread around of their dark and sinful ways and how they’d be burned and turned into ashes was seen as heroic by the mortals…

You knew it would all change between you and Hoseok one day. Relationships with mortals always ended in either death or death with rebirth as a vampire…

The bond you had would be broken if you ever turned him, but it would be replaced by a new one. A bond you knew little to nothing about, but with the help of your friend Jimin, who too was one of your kind; he made sure you would bond… the right way…

|| SMUT + angst | 7k | x reader ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic. Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: Mature || sexual content, unprotected sex, blood, vampirism, “poison”(vampire blood lol)

❧ Smut features: (In no particular order) Bottom!Hoseok gone Top, riding, on a table, rough, desperate, biting, neck licking, hair pulling, drinking each other’s “poison”, neck sucking, loud sex, bonding, turning into a “newborn” vampire...

❧ A/N: This au takes place in a somewhat historic time period, but non-specific.

His hands gripped the sheets tight.

He was seated on the edge of the bed with his head leaned to the side as a suffocated moan escaped his throat.

Your hands were holding his neck in place with a firm grip, sitting next to him on your knees.

His hard aching cock was straining tight against his pants and he whimpered in sheer desperation.

Just a little bit more…

You caressed his jaw with one of your hands and the other moved further into his hair.

He was breathing heavily, groaning for mercy until he suddenly relaxed.

“Finally…” you thought and pulled away from his neck.

His shoulders sunk down and his posture weakened from finally getting his release. You licked up the side of his neck and placed a soft kiss against his sensitive stained skin.

“Did you cum before I was done?” You teased.

“Sorry.”

“I’m only messing with you.” You smiled and scratched the back of his head soothingly.

“It just… feels weird still.”

“In what way?” You pouted, letting your hand fall.

“How it makes me feel.”

“You should feel it while we do it.”

Hoseok raised a brow at you suggestively.

“Is it not the same feeling?” He asked with a hint of a cocky attitude.

“It’s stronger… I bet you’ll scream.”

He snorted and pulled you down with him as he lied down on the large soft bed.

“You should rest now.” You whispered.

He put an arm over you.

“I am resting with you.”

Why did he always turn into such a sweet soul after?

You had always tried to keep drinking and sex apart… but you wanted to give him the experience, but it could have consequences…

Allowing him to cum as you drank from his neck was your treat to him… his reward for letting you feed off of him. But it was a natural response to your intoxicating bite as well. He was fully clothed with his loose fitted shirt pulled down over his shoulder for you. Apart from the stain caused by himself, you had gotten away clean this time…

His sweet taste lingered on your lips and you wanted to kiss him… but for a mortal to taste their own blood wasn’t very enticing… no matter the love.

It was only a matter of time before you would lose yourself and either turn him or have him killed…

Vampires like you needed to kill their prey and feed off of them entirely to feel fully satisfied… but in this small village it was easier said than done.

People knew each other and it was harder to get away with something compared to the larger cities.

Hoseok was the only one that knew, the only one that accepted you for what you were, despite being dangerous… but you loved the man and he loved you, even before he knew of your dark secret.

Over the course of time he had almost become your helper, assisting you in finding your prey and if it took too long in-between he would always be there and offer his neck to you…

A clear symptom of your effect on him…

Once bitten, not turned… you become addicted to the feeling… even more if the bitten is struck during sex.

You had your fun a few times, but for each time it became gradually harder for you to keep control of your urge to bite him during your euphoric state…

It’s what made a relationship with a mortal complicated.

Many stories ended with one or the other nearing their fate brought on by their own desperation for the other. Either vampire killing its lover or lover getting itself killed by obsession… the best outcome would be turning him, also meaning partially killing him… something you just couldn’t do to him…

The stories and legends you had heard through old ancient tales all spoke of how doubts grew, vampire thinking their lover’s love wasn’t true, merely fueled by their obsession or lover not being able to accept not being able to have them fully… leading to doubt in love, probably fueled by the extreme possessiveness that came with the obsession.

You knew it would happen to Hoseok eventually, but you swept it under the rug. You didn’t want to think about it, as if avoiding the issue would make it disappear or postpone itself.

In the now he seemed fine… only fond of the feeling of your bite and you had convinced yourself that that was ok.

Did Hoseok know of these things?

Somewhat…

He was already well aware of the risks he enrolled himself in by staying with you, but he insisted upon finding out, he wasn’t going to leave you for anything and the words hurt you at the same time as they broke your heart… knowing the potential outcomes.

He was your lover and protector…

If the village found out about you, they’d burn you alive.

Vampires were well heard of… but doubts of their existence still existed but not in the numerous popular stories spread around.

To put it nicely, your kind was never romanticized in these stories… you were described as beasts, demons and sometimes even evil entities.

You were no less human than anyone else in the village only that you lacked their mortality… and had a few more years behind you than most of the elders.

Oh, and of course… a thirst for blood.

Hoseok was popular in the village, always talked about, always praised and cherished.

He was talented, hard-working and a performer… no wonder he had managed to charm you so easily.

The kids of the village always looked at him in awe when he moved around, dancing near the fire or at the festivals.

You on the other hand, kept a low profile.

There was one other person who knew of your true self besides Hoseok, but Hoseok was the only mortal to know.

Jimin, a fellow of your own kind ran one of the shops in the center of the village. Selling a bunch of various items along with a few “over the counter” items…

Jimin, the complete opposite of you, kept a high profile.

People knew who he was, knew his name and his whereabouts… all charmed by him.

Voluntary charmed? Not so much…

He knew what he was doing and he knew almost every soul in the village had had him haunt their dreams at least once… either with a fearful visit or a visit of pure lust for him.

Hoseok and Jimin would’ve been great friends… if it wasn’t for Hoseok’s symptom of possessiveness.

Jimin was a threat to him.

And no, Hoseok didn’t know of Jimin’s true nature and saw him as a mere mortal like everybody else.

You never avoided telling Hoseok when you met up with Jimin.

You were close friends and if you lied to Hoseok and it would ever come out that you had spent time with Jimin, it could have bad consequences… and Hoseok was no match for a full blood vampire like Jimin…

Jimin always showed worry towards your relationship… because he knew too well of what could happen.

“Are you sure?”

“I love him Jimin.” You cried out when you confessed about your “sin” to him.

“Then there’s nothing to do, just make sure you protect him the way he’ll protect you… and tell him before you do anything else.”

The night was young and there were events to take place in the village center later. A sort of midnight festival was on and it meant a bunch of fun performances, food and activities would be on. Something you eagerly anticipated to enjoy and Hoseok was lined up to perform as well, luckily in the start so you could enjoy the rest of the festival together.

But in the given moment your clothes were scattered around you and your hands were pressed against his warm chest.

He moaned loudly and you whimpered as you felt yourself find your way closer to your release, riding his cock.

It was by this moment the thirst would usually kick in but you hoped that drinking from him earlier today would make it easier for you withhold.

“You’re incredible baby…” He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down your tensed thighs.

You leaned down on his body, pressed against the hard wooden floor of your living room and kissed his lips passionately. With your hands you caressed his upper body, moving up and over his shoulders delicately. Exploring each and every curve of his toned body, despite haven done it numerous times but you never got tired of feeling him up and neither did he.

His hands moved from your thighs to your hips and he began to direct your thrusts, pushing your down deeper and urging you to go faster.

Much faster and you’d find your release before him.

You muscles were aching and almost sore and your thighs were near to give out after riding him for what felt like forever. But your urge to bite him hadn’t kicked in. Thank goodness... but the goodness wasn’t here to stay.

“P-please bite me baby.” He pleaded, near his release.

“No.” You speed your rhythm instead.

“Please baby… I’m so close.”

Hearing him beg for your bite was making it hard for you.

You ignored him again and chased your own release, making him curse from your rough rhythm.

“Yes baby…”

You bite your lip and felt your core clench tightly as your muscles almost felt numb from the sensation.

You whimpered and lowered yourself onto his cock a final time, making your muscles release and break free into a pulsating orgasm followed by a long moan.

Wasn’t he cumming!?

Despite your sensitivity you kept riding him.

“Baby, are you close?” You asked, caressing his face.

“Bite me!” He begged again, hanging on the edge of his release.

It was getting too much.

You couldn’t handle him anymore, he was a lost cause and you had to let him cum…

The mere thought of doubt in your mind triggered your urge to bite him, unable to hold back anymore from sinking your teeth into his sweet neck…

This was for his sake…

You leaned in by his neck and he groaned loudly at the stinging bite.

He had his arms tightly wrapped around you and thrusted upwards, meeting your riding rhythm and making you whimper against his neck from the overstimulation.

With a suffocated scream he finally came, releasing his load deep and with a pounding heart from your bite.

Your eyes were bloodshot… you couldn’t pull away…

You weren’t drinking and panic took over… you had to pull away! If you didn’t you’d poison him and he’d- he’d- Your mind fogged as you felt a second hard orgasm through your body.

Your conscious was screaming but you couldn’t act upon it.

“Pull me away!” You groaned.

“But if feels so good…” He moaned.

“Push me off Hoseok!” You mumbled against his neck. It felt like an inner battle between instincts and your will to protect him.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you tried to pull yourself away from his neck with your own will power fighting back.

His cock slipped out of you and you pulled away from his neck with a whimper and immediately stood back up, grabbing his shirt to shield yourself and ran out of the room.

A mere minute passed and he stood up and ran after you, grabbing his underwear and stepping into them on his way out and pulling them up.

“Babe? Babe?”

He found you in the bathroom, hiding your face in his hands and wearing his shirt.

“Babe?” he pulled your hands away.

You sniffed.

Your eyes were dark red and your fangs were fully out. From the corner of your mouth was a smudged black stain.

Hoseok reached to wipe it away with his thumb, not taking any notice of what it was and you quickly grabbed his hand, hindering him.

“Don’t touch it!”

“Babe what’s wrong? You’re worrying me. Did I hurt you?”

“It’s poison Hoseok!”

“Poison?” he asked, confused.

You nodded and grabbed his shoulder to turn him sideways so you could look at his neck.

Black smudge…

Fuck.

“I’m so sorry!” You cried out hugging him.

He was even more confused.

“I don’t understand.”

“I poisoned you.” you sniffed.

“W-what does that mean?” His hands pressed reassuringly against your back.

“I don’t know- I don’t know how much I gave you.”

He gulped.

“I- I asked for it.” he held back his tears of worry.

“It’s all my fault, I couldn’t hold back I-“

“I asked for it!” He yelled, pushing you back and gripping your arms hard.

“Babe I asked for it, may this be the destiny I waited for but there’s nothing we can do about and why worry when we don’t even know.”

“I can’t suck it out.” You sniffed. “I can’t risk giving you more.”

“I feel fine ok! Don’t worry!”

“It takes time…”

“What takes time?”

“The poison… either it kills you or it changes you… Only if I gave you my full dose it would be lethal… but an overdose could still lead to you not being able to handle the switch… Maybe Jimin can help us…”

“Jimin? Why Jimin?”

Oh no…

“Jimin is... he’s one too.”

He clearly didn’t like the fact.

“I don’t want his help.” He said in an angry tone.

You woke up breathing heavily, sitting up straight immediately.

“W-what happened?” you yelled.

Hoseok was standing in your bedroom, getting dressed into his performance outfit.

He tilted his head to the side with a confused look.

“You had a nap?”

“Did I poison you!?”

“What are you talking about? Did you have a nightmare?” he walked over to you and sat on the bed, caressing your cheek.

“You fell asleep after we had sex.”

“Did you cum?”

He chuckled.

“Why are you asking these questions baby? Of course I did.”

That was too vivid to be a dream…

He sighed.

“I can’t lie to you even if I try… You blacked out honey.” He sighed.

You reached for his neck and checked and there were fresh wounds on his neck, now clean…

You knew it wasn’t a dream…

“H-how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, still.” He smiled, raising his shoulders.

“Hoseok you realize what is going to happen right? Your reaction is so… so accepting.”

“I feel fine.” He repeated. “And if I turn… doesn’t that make us able to be together forever?”

“It does…”

“But we’ll have to leave… You can’t be here once you turn... it’s dangerous.”

“But you’ll protect me right?”

“With my life.” You cupped his cheek. “Tell me the second you feel weird, or any other emotion baby, please don’t hide it for me. Are you in denial?”

“Maybe… but I feel fine honey, I’m telling the truth. I thought about this so many times and if I had to pick between loosing you and have you turn me… I ‘d pick you.”

“Hoseok you’re obsessed with me, you don’t have a choice.” You confessed, holding back tears as you got out of bed.

“I’ll meet you in town… I need to talk to Jimin… we can stop this.”

“But I want to turn.”

“You don’t!” You yelled, turning around.

“The poison is doing this to you! Don’t you realize you could die!?” You cried out.

“I won’t.”

“I-“ You cut yourself off by just leaving.

You couldn’t wait anymore, you had to get to Jimin and you wanted to bring Hoseok but of course he would never accept help from him…

You ran as fast as you could and arrived at Jimin’s shop with a heavy breath. The shop was closed for the festival but you still knocked aggressively at the door.

“Jimin open! It’s me!”

You continued knocking, desperate.

After a short while a half-dressed Jimin opened the door with a frown.

“What’s the hurry? I’m getting ready.”

You stepped in without a word and slammed the door shut.

“Jimin I poisoned him!”

“Wait, poisoned Hoseok?” He shook his head.

“Talk to me, calmly and explain.” He ordered, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“We… we were having sex and he kept begging me and I- I couldn’t hold back and then I couldn’t pull away and-“

“Calm.”

You took a deep breathe.

“When I pulled away there was residue from my poison and I don’t know what to do Jimin-“

“There’s not much you can do… is he conscious?”

“He keeps claiming that he’s fine and I can’t trust him… he’s not reacting like I imagined he would and it’s scaring me Jimin! I pulled away but I don’t know how much he got of it…”

“So he didn’t get the full dose?”

You shook your head.

“He’ll switch.” Jimin sounded confident and walked up to one of the shelves in the tiny shop.

“What if he got an overdose?”

“Dying from an overdose is very unusual, it depends on the human’s immune system and he’s a dancer right? He should be in good health so you shouldn’t worry.” Jimin said, sounding almost a little nonchalant.

He took something from the shelf, a glass bottle with a greyish-lavender color fluid in it.

“This is lavender tea with licorice root.” Jimin said and handed the bottle to you.

“When he starts showing symptoms of shifting, have him drink this, it should ease the cravings he’ll get.”

“Blood cravings?”

“Among other… if you’re going to the festival have him walk by and I can take a proper look at him.”

“He said he didn’t want your help.” He sighed.

“Like always but he doesn’t have a choice this time, if he’s becoming one of us he’ll need to get out of his possessive jealous blah blah he has going on and accept that I exist and trust you.”

“I told him that you were one…”

“And he still rejected me? I hope his symptoms die along with his mortality.” He snorted.

“Don’t you have anything to make the change stop?” You pleaded.

“Why would you want to stop it?”

You couldn’t find an answer…

“I just- I don’t want to ruin his life...”

“He stayed! You warned him!”

“But he’s obsessed with me!”

“Do you think he’d pick this even if you had never ever bit him!?”

You took a moment to think.

“Maybe…”

“See! So stop having doubt in your man! You’ll regret it. Trust me I know.”

“I trust you Jimin it’s just….”

“It’s just no, nothing, no thing, you’re obviously struck by your own symptoms.”

“I just want what’s best for him…”

“By not trusting that he loves you? He stayed when you told him, remember? Not anyone would do that, you’re lucky to have him and you should cherish him more…”

You sighed.

You did not come here for relationship advice.

“Bring him by later ok? I want to talk to him.” Jimin said before you left.

He felt like a nagging sibling but you were grateful for him.

The festivities had already begun and decorations and multiple lanterns decorated the streets.

You were roaming around to waste the last minutes before Hoseok would perform with some other dancers, looking around at the pop up stalls and activities.

Most activities were aimed for kids but you didn’t mind.

There was a fireplace with a group of kids sitting around it eagerly listening to two older kids telling a sort of theatrical version of a story. You decided to join and took a seat by the fire to listen to what they told.

Something you quickly regretted doing.

“They tied it to a pole!” The story teller announced and his friends wrapped rope around their other friend who was struggling to get free.

“And they lit the evil vampire on fire!”

The friend screamed dramatically.

Oh gosh…

“The vampire turned into ashes from the light of the fire and the village people were finally safe and free! The hunter was rewarded with treasure and praise and a statue was raised in his honor!”

Vampire hunters? It was a long time since you’ve heard of them.

The younger kids listening raised their arms to ask questions. Suddenly a pair of hands landed on your shoulders and you quickly looked back, seeing Hoseok smiling.

He took a seat beside you.

“What are you doing?” He asked the kids who looked at him in awe.

“We’re doing a live action story telling!”

“Wow! What story?”

“It’s about a vampire that- that he was mean and then he turned into ashes because the not mean guy helped the village.” One of the younger kids attempted to explain.

Hoseok chuckled and you could tell that he was concerned.

“Are you sure you’re all old enough to listen to scary stories?”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“Me neither!”

“It wasn’t scary!”

“You don’t vampires are scary?” You asked the kids.

“They’re scary but the story was not scary, I heard a scarier story once and it didn’t scare me either and they’re not real.”

“You don’t believe in vampires?” You gasped, acting surprised. “I once saw one.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not.” You lowered your voice. “She was really pretty and helped a lot of people but she had to run away because a prince fell in love with her.”

Hoseok chuckled.

“Did the prince let her run?”

“I don’t know.”

Hoseok placed a hand on your thigh gently.

“Well you have fun kids, I have to go. You coming babe?”

You nodded and stood up and he grabbed your hand.

“Bye!”

For a moment you forgot about the switch and the poison… it felt normal, why would it not?

But you knew deep down that it would all change… you didn’t want to leave the village… not yet, you could still stay a few more years without causing suspicion but if Hoseok was a “new born” vampire… his risk of getting caught was a lot worse.

You walked with Hoseok towards the performance area were people had begun to take their seats on the benches assembled.

Hoseok kissed your cheek sweetly before running over to the other dancers and you took a seat in the back. After a short while someone suddenly sat down next to you and the people around you turned their heads to look at the handsome man that joined you.

“How’s he doing? Jimin asked, placing a leg over the other.

“It’s like nothing ever happened…”

“Hmm.”

The performance begun.

Various fabrics and drums were involved in the advanced performance and you watched with great admiration as Hoseok’s body moved in the most fascinating ways to the beats, unable to look away from him.

His expression on the wooden stage was so serious, giving him and aura that felt intimidating as well as sexy while he performed.

He was immaculately passionate, like with everything.

The intricate performance came to an end and he finally faced the audience, spotting Jimin first. His smiled stayed but you spotted the sudden twitch of his eyebrow.

You couldn’t tell if you were being delusional or not but for a second you could’ve sworn you hinted a red tint in his eyes.

“Something’s wrong.” Jimin said and stood up, leaving his spot.

The audience clapped and the performers all bowed for the viewers of their performance.

You clapped, looking at Hoseok but throwing glances at Jimin who was walking towards the stage. Everyone stood up, getting ready to leave the area and head back to the street of the festivals and you quickly lost sight of Jimin in the crowd.

What was wrong? Why did he say that? Did he see something you missed or noted the red tint as well? You tried to get past the crowd moving in the opposite direction as fast as you could.

You saw a hint of Jimin further ahead and tried shoved and tried to get to him faster.

He was watching Hoseok intensely when the performers stepped down, waiting for him.

In the final moment before they caught eyes with each other you reached them both.

The atmosphere changed and they glared at each other.

The people passing by didn’t seem to notice or care, acting as if the three of you were invisible.

Jimin pointed at his face and Hoseok’s eyes followed his fingers. You stepped between them, looking at Hoseok’s eyes only to realize that what you’d hinter was clearly there… among the dark patterns were faint red lines taking over around his iris.

He smiled when he saw you.

No words were exchanged.

The wound on his neck was red and irritated…

You placed your hand against his cheek and looked deeper when his eyes suddenly looked up and he lost his balance.

Jimin rushed to your side to help you catch him as he lost consciousness.

“Hobi!” You called out, your voice mute.

Jimin quickly picked him up in his arms and you ran away from the still unalarmed crowd towards Jimin’s shop.

“Baby wake up! Wake up!” You touched his face repeatedly, moving his hair out of his face and caressing him.

Jimin had put him down on of the tables.

“Do you have the lavender?” He called out.

“What happened!?” You cried out, reaching into your pocket panicked and handing Jimin the small glass container.

“Hold his arms.” He ordered and tilted his head back by the chin, opening his mouth.

Jimin poured the content of the glass bottle down his throat.

“He… he’s so cold.”

“It’s the switch, just keep holding him, your touch will comfort him.”

It was hard to hold back your emotions.

This was way out of your comfort zone. Never had you witnessed or had to deal with a switch…

Jimin took a closer look at the bite, feeling the area with his fingers and examining it.

“It’s a turning bite, without a doubt.”

His blood vessels had slowly become clearer around the area of the bite…

“We should tie him down, to be on the safe side.” Jimin suggested, awakening your worries even more.

What would happen when he woke up?

Would he wake up?

What if he woke up and all symptoms were gone and he realized his mistake in choosing you!?

Millions of thoughts were rushing through your mind. Overthinking, worrying, plotting.

Jimin had briefly gone to collect something to tie him down with and returned while your mind was fogged by your thoughts. There were heavy metal chains…

He pulled the chain over and under, securing the heavy metal by his feet.

“How long will it take!?”

“It’s varies, it can take anything from fifteen minutes to three days if he’s unlucky.”

“At what point should I start worrying?”

“Never, he’ll sense it.”

The more time passed the paler he looked and it was hard not to be worried. Pale and cold to the touch… You grabbed his wrist and as expected his pulse was long gone.

You looked at Jimin with panic in your red eyes.

“Calm down!” Jimin scolded in a low voice.

“Is there no way we can wake him up faster?”

“There are ways, but I’d advice letting him take his time, we don’t know what stage his body is at and it’s not worth the risks.”

Minutes felt like hours.

Jimin took a closer look at his face after a while.

“He’s sweating, it’s a good sign…”

You quickly ran to grab a cloth and patted his forehead softly.

“How do you know so much about this?”

“I’ve accidently changed a few myself… been through it countless of times. So trust me when I tell you not to worry… the first time this happened to me I was on my own and I freaked out and… thing didn’t turn out well.”

“What happened?”

“He sensed my panic and woke up, his body couldn’t handle it and his mind was ahead of the switch so he collapsed in front of me on the floor and that was It.” he told, looking down at the floor but being seemingly unbothered by the fact.

“Did he recover…?”

“He died.” He clarified.

You swallowed nervously and caressed Hoseok’s hand.

“Please don’t…” You prayed.

More time passed, endless anxious waiting.

“We should test his symptoms the second he wakes up.” Jimin suggested, tugging lightly at the chains.

“How?”

“It’ll be entertaining to see how he’ll react.” He said with a deviant smirk.

Did you dare know?

“Just don’t hurt him…”

“Oh he won’t be the one getting hurt is my guess.”

“What exactly is the test?”

“Well, with your consent I could kiss you, either on the cheek or properly and we’ll see how he’d react…”

“How should he?”

“Those chains won’t be able to hold him down.”

“It’s the fascinating part with newborns…” He continued.

You were well aware of the fact that Hoseok would have an unbreakable bond with you as you gave him the lethal bite… but as a non-mortal his obsession with your bite should disappear…

In the corner of your eye you suddenly spotted subtle movement and instantly faced his way.

“He’s waking up!” You almost leaped the few steps keeping you apart.

His eyes blinked softly, revealing his dark red eyes.

He seemed exhausted.

“Where am I?” He groaned, straining against the chains as he moved.

“In my shop.” Jimin said.

To your surprise he didn’t frown at him for once…

“I gave you something soothing but your thirst will naturally take over soon.” Jimin explained.

“W-why am I chained?”

“For you own safety.” You caressed his cheek.

“Can you untie me?”

“You’ll have to get rid of them yourself.” Jimin smirked and gave you a look.

“You can see this as somewhat of a revenge for your attitude over the years towards me… and as a test…” Jimin said, walking over to your side of the table.

You sighed.

“Say, do you love her Hoseok?” He walked up behind you and pulled your hair back from your shoulders.

“Of course I do.” He said, looking confused.

He caressed your shoulders.

“Why are you touching her?”

“Because I can.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop me… or would you like to see me bite her?” he chuckled.

Hoseok didn’t respond.

“What happened to your possessiveness huh?”

He moved to your side, moving your hair to behind your ear. With a delicate touch he caressed your jaw, turning your face to him.

You felt frozen.

With his eyes lingering on Hoseok, he tilted his head to the side, leaning in closer and closer to your face.

“Stop!” Hoseok called out.

“You can’t stop me.”

“Make him stop Hoseok.” You ordered… testing him.

Jimin’s lips brushed against yours and he strained against the chains.

“Stop!”

“It’s just a harmless platonic kiss, why are you mad?”

“She’s mine!”

“Then I’ll steal her.”

He was taunting him endlessly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Jimin asked with a smirk.

Hoseok got his arms free and pulled the chains apart aggressively, making you gasp. Within seconds he threw himself at Jimin who was laughing. With an easy push Hoseok fell to the floor.

“Show me respect!” He scolded.

Hoseok stood up without a word and walked over to you like an upset puppy, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head against your shoulder.

You gave Jimin a questioning look.

“Wait for it.” he said. “And you’re welcome.”

“What-Ah!”

The sharp pain shot through your neck as Hoseok suddenly latched on to you, making you stumble.

“Hoseok I don’t have any blood!”

“That’s not what he wants…” Jimin commented.

You whimpered.

“He wants the poison.”

“See it as a newborn seeking its mother, only that for this one you’re his lover… if you taunt them they latch on sooner… and he gets to bond with you properly.”

The rough suction at your neck made you weak, and you couldn’t help but slip a moan at the odd yet wonderful feeling.

You tangled a hand in his hair, wanting to hinder him from stopping.

As a non-mortal… you’re immune to the poison…

Why didn’t Jimin tell you about his real intentions?

Hoseok pulled away after a while and your empty heart beat was aching.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You panted.

“He could’ve latched on to anyone and you would’ve let him, I only wanted to ensure it would be you.”

He was breathing heavily by your ear.

“Let him have his way now… enjoy it.” he chuckled and backed towards the exit of the store.

“Where are you going?”

“To enjoy the rest of the festival, I’ll be back in two hours, and if you destroy something, you pay for it.” He pointed.

“Jimin!”

“You’ll see what I mean!” He called and closed the door.

What was…-

Hoseok’s hand suddenly moved up under your shirt along your side.

He leaned back, revealing the black traces of your poison on his lips before leaning in to kiss you with pure desperation and lust.

The taste of your own poison on his lips was oddly arousing… it tasted sweet, yet also bitter…

You tangled your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting his tongue, desperate for more…

He groaned against the kiss, pulling you even closer and tighter against him.

His hands moved further up and he pulled away from the kiss for a mere second to pull you shirt over your head and throwing it to the floor. Strong hands landed back at your hips and he walked you back against the table, lifting you up on to the edge of it and standing between your thighs.

He grinded himself against you and you noticed his hard bulge.

He moved your skirt up by stroking his hands up your thighs and with a rough grip he took a hold of the sides of your underwear, pulling them down your thighs as you pushed yourself up for him.

Your lips wouldn’t part, the sweet taste of his kiss completely consuming you, making you lust for more… the touch of his hands on your body, the rhythm of his hips as he soothed your aching cravings for his cock… and the taste of his poison.

You could smell the scent… the switch… the loss of blood, how it turned into poison… he smelled like vanilla.

Vanilla you wanted to taste more than anything…

You made the move to make your lips part, a struggle against his desire to kiss you.

But you were quicker than him.

A hand of yours slid down the back of his neck to his shoulder and with the other you pulled his hair, tilting his head to the side.

Your lips caressed his skin, his scars from your bite…

You licked across them, pulling his hair harder to stretch his neck out more.

With a loud moan from Hoseok, you pierced his skin.

He tasted like vanilla.

Curses fell from his plump lips as the pleasure of your bite took over his every sense.

You slid your hands down his chest and abdomen, reaching for the tied belt of his pants and loosening it, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear.

He was dripping with precum, more ready and aroused than ever to be pleasured…

His thirst for blood was under control… but not so much were his other desires.

You caressed him, dragging your hand gently up against his cock and causing him to groan softly.

By a sudden push you were parted from his neck and your back hit against the table with his strong hands holding you down by the shoulders.

With quick hands he lifted his top over his head and threw it on the floor before climbing up on the table. You moved back up and his hands found your hips, pulling them close to his hips.

The black fluid dripped down from his neck down over his collar bone. As he leaned down on top of you, you took your chance to lick up what had spilt.

You could feel yourself growing more and more addicted to him, may it be the poison or your need for his body… but you needed relief urgently.

You held your hand on his neck, pulling him down further to kiss you almost causing him to lose his balance. Luckily for the two of you the table was big and steady… hopefully Jimin would forgive you, after all he was at fault for whatever would happen…

Unable to hold back much more Hoseok hand wrapped around his cock and he dragged the glistening tip up and down your slit a few times before pushing against your entrance. With a gentle thrust he slipped in, pushing himself deeper and meeting your desire for him.

There wasn’t enough time to be gentle after that, need taking over at its very peak.

Hoseok pulled back and thrusted back in hard, stretching you out with his thick size and sending tingles through every nerve.

Hands fell to his bare toned back, desperate to hold onto something for support as he fucked you.

Having him on top for once felt amazing… you were used to riding him, being the one in control but with his newly gained strength, something new seemed to have come along with it.

You leaned your head back, accidently breaking the kiss to let out a whimper.

His lips immediately found your neck instead, kissing I and licking against the wound caused by himself.

It might have been obvious, but your neck was you sweet spot as well as his. You could bite him anywhere in fact, but the neck area was always the most enticing.

His hips slapped hard against you, hands gripping your waist tight, holding you in place for him as he had his way…

“Baby you feel so good…” He groaned, finally voicing words to you.

Was this the type of bonding intended?

Either way you didn’t care in the moment.

You pulled him closer, holding him tight against your chest while he breathed heavily by your ear. The tight brief numbness was growing stronger and stronger with each thrust, each time he pulled out and with every breath. Needless to say you were on the verge of breaking, releasing every tension built up in your body and mind, every knot being brutally untied by being torn apart…

A high pitched moan followed by his name fell from your lips as you felt yourself get close.

He sped up.

Thrusting faster and deeper, his groans and breath getting heavier as he brought himself closer to his own release while chasing for yours.

With a heavy grunt he got slower, but thrusting deeper.

“Fuck I’m so close.” He groaned, holding you tighter to an almost bruising point.

Your nails dragged against his skin and you begged in thought for him to just move his hips one last time, it would be enough as long as he didn’t stop.

To your relief he pulled back and out almost complete before ramming back into you hard, sending you over the edge and breaking every knot inside as you orgasmed, pulsating tightly and your head falling back as every muscle released in your body with a deep exhale.

Your hands fell from his back to the table and with another deep groan his breath fell short and his thrust got slower and deeper as he cummed.

Taken out, he fell heavy on your body, desperate to claim his breath back.

You pulled his hair back with his hands and looked deeply into his bloodshot red eyes.

“Are you thirsty?” You asked, breathlessly.

He shook his head softly, mouth open as he panted.

He freed himself from your hold and nuzzled against your neck, kissing your bite mark softly as if to soothe it, despite it being painless.

He carefully pulled out, cock slipping out of you and his toned body climbing off.

On slightly quivering thighs he stood back down on the floor.

His skin was glowing from sweat and his hair was a mess…

You pulled your skirt down to shield yourself from his gaze and sat up carefully.

How long had you been going?

How long would the lavender drink be soothing his first?

It didn’t take long before for the after-math to wash over you in a form of a strong release of oxytocin. You had to protect him… find him something to feed on whenever it was time and comfort him as he did… The first feed was always fueled by desperation and fear, but with you by his side you could make sure he didn’t feel fear…

You got down from the table and wrapped your arms around his waist.

He hugged you back and placed a soft kiss against your forehead. His lips, neck and chest were stained black as well as your own neck, lips and shoulders…

What you had been up to was clearly obvious and you both looked… dirty.

“We should get dressed before he comes back...” You whispered shyly, head against his chest.

The only sound you could hear was of his breath…

You moved your hands to his face and caressed his lip with your thumb gently before pushing his upper lip up to reveal his withdrawn fangs…

The switch was complete…

… as well as the new unbreakable bond, stronger than any bond you’d have previously…

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