#caution with that fic it has dubcon elements

[tiggerriot]

(junkyard owner simon from meaner than a junkyard dog )

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Girl On Fire 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

You don’t know why you’re trying. Why you’ve marked the day on the calendar. Loki’s coming home but nothing’s going to change. Still, there’s a glimmer of hope inside of you that wants him to prove you wrong. 

So it is that you wake up early with a list of to-dos and to-gets. You have a plan. That makes the days a bit easier. When you have something to do, you don’t have time to think. 

You think maybe if your husband comes home to a nice dinner and a tidy home, he might have some epiphany. He might realise he likes it better there then on the road. He might just see what’s been right in front of this the whole time. He might even remember the vows he spoke a decade ago. 

What happened? When did he forget? When did you become an afterthought? 

No, you won’t be. Not forever. He’s just overworked. He’s busy. He has a lot going on. He can’t pay for your lifestyle sitting at home. Get over it. Get over yourself. 

You grab your purse and head out. You have a list. You’re going to make his favourite dish; sesame crusted salmon. You’re no Michelan start chef but you know a few tricks. It feels good to have a purpose, to have something ahead of you. And it will be nice to eat more than the microwave noodle bowls you’ve been living off of. 

You ignore the dirt littered across your walk as you clutch the reusable bags in your fist. You’ll fix that before he gets back. He won’t know the difference. Hell, if you dug up the whole strip, he might not even notice. 

You try not to fixate on it. That’s your problem. You latch onto things and they just build and build until they boil over. You’re a mess. It’s like he always said, you hold onto stuff. You just can’t let anything go. 

The grocery store is busy. The cramped aisles add to your impatience as you search out each ingredient. Why does that woman need to have her cart right there? Why does that man keep inching closer as you’re searching the spice shelf? Back off! 

You join the queue to check out, feeling worse for having made the trip. All the people have you amped up and anxious. People are always so stressful. Why is that customer bitching at the cashier about an expired coupon? They don’t care, they make minimum wage. 

You make sure to offer a smile to the overworked staff. You were once one of them. Loki likes to remind you of that when he remembers you exist. Nope, don’t do that. This isn’t about the past. You’re going to have a lovely dinner and talk and laugh and... try. 

Yeah, you thought the same thing last month. And the month before. 

Your optimism is waning as you come out with your bags over overpriced ingredients. Every time you go shopping, you swear it’s more expensive than the last. You tuck the bags behind the seat and brace yourself for the drive home. The clogged parking lot gives you little hope for a smooth ride. 

The traffic mellows as you reach the suburbs and you slow down and take each speed bump with caution. Children run after each other or walk with parents. You don’t know if you want any but Loki’s not really offering up the chance. His fleeting touches don’t offer much more than his own satisfaction. 

You turn into your drive and rub your lower back as you lift the bags out of the car. You push the door shut with your hip and turn, stutter stepping in place. Something’s different. Your flowers! 

The white and pink tulips are still lost to the squirrel’s mischief but in their place are new stems. Blue petals standing tall. You glance across the street then back again. You’ll have to go over and thank Jonathan. He really didn’t have to do that. 

You’re almost teary-eyed as you get inside. It’s just something small. It’s not that big but it feels like the world. He thought of you. Someone thought of you. 

Were you that pathetic? To go to that effort just to replace some flowers, you must’ve made quite the tragic scene. Suddenly, you’re not so eager to show your gratitude. 

You put everything away and make your way through your list. You check the clock between chores. Scrub the stove, clean the dishes, mop the floors; do everything you neglected in your husband’s absence for your bouts of tears and lazy nights of reading romance novels until you pass out. 

As the hours pass, you feel your stomach fluttering. You’re almost excited to see him. Loki’s coming home and you’re going to make it special for him. And you’re going to ask him that big question. Do you think you could stay home for a bit? 

It’s fear as much as it is excitement. It’s not like you haven’t thought to ask it before. The answer is clear. Each time he leaves, it’s for a little longer. He always tells you the same thing; he has to pay his dues, he has to show that he can do the job. 

Not this time. If he’s not going to change, then you have to. If he won’t stay home, then you’re going to start looking for a job so he can. If you bring in money, then he can’t hold his wallet over your head. Worse comes to worse, it’s a way out. 

Makeup done, hair too, your best dress on, the food is cooking, the house is fragrant with savoury aromas, and you’ve timed it all perfect. It’s almost five. His flight was supposed to get in half and hour ago. 

Your phone vibrates.  You grab your cell from the table by the front door where you left it to charge. It’s him! 

A text. Not a call, just a text. You tap the screen and read it eagerly. Your shoulders drop and you drop your phone. 

‘Won’t be home til ten. Business dinner in town. Big client.’ 

Worse than the disappointment is what he doesn’t say. No ‘love you’, no heart emoji, not even an apology. Just the facts. Just another excuse. 

You don’t respond. What’s the point? You don’t even know why he messaged. You should be flattered that he even bothered. 

You shake your head and drop the phone on the screen. You should’ve expected this. Maybe you did. Maybe you get some sort of thrill out of the rejection. 

The oven beeps. Just in time. You go and take the pan out, silencing the alarm with your thumb. You toss the fish onto the stove and spin away. You want to scream but you just don’t have the energy. You march back to the doorway and stop yourself. 

You take a deep breath and push it all down. The rice is done. You turn it off and the veggies are glistening perfectly. You might not be a professional but damn it looks good. 

You take a glass container from the cupboard and carefully begin to transfer the portions. You make up two full meals. You were precise in your measurements, sure not waste a morsel. You seal the lids and the walls fog up. You stack them and carry them down the hall. 

You steel yourself as you pass through the front door and keep your chin high. The tulips sway gently in the early evening breeze. You get to the curb and muster a smile. You cross and march up to Hattie’s house. The old woman has been reclusive of late but by her nephew’s report, you can assume why. 

You go to the front door and ring the bell. Your stomach is churning again, in a much different way. You wait, doubt rising with each second. You’re about to turn away when Jonathan answers the door. He’s just as you remember; strangely familiar but refreshingly not. 

You swallow and stamp your smile in place, “I just wanted to say thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.” 

You hold out the containers and his brows rise, “oh, you didn’t need to do all this.” He takes them, his warm fingers brushing against yours, “that’s so nice. And it wasn’t any trouble. It was getting crowded in the garden.” 

“The least I can do,” you insist. 

“Don’t you look wonderful? Special occasion?” He looks you up and down. When’s the last time a man did that? 

“Oh, uh, no... not anymore,” you look away, “anyway, I hope you enjoy. Salmon, jasmine rice, and some roasted veg. Nothing very special.” 

“Ah, but it is,” he says, “unfortunately, my aunt’s already abed and she has a very strict diet,” he intones, “so... would you like to join me? I’m afraid it’s all too much for just me.” 

He raises the containers and examines them. You’re too embarrassed to admit what’s happened. It would also be insulting to admit the food isn’t even meant for him. 

“I’ve some wine that would pair nicely with fish,” he continues, “and good company.” 

You consider his offer as you peek over your shoulder. Your house looks ominous like a horror movie. Empty and dark. There's nothing for you there. You face him again. 

“I’d love to.” 

[humanpurposes]

do u have any recommendations for modern dark or toxic aemond? i feel like u r the only one i dare ask 🫣 xx

I’m kinda honoured?? 😍 I need dark/toxic modern Aemond like I need oxygen so I've GOT U

If anyone has any more recs or self promo feel free to add to the list! I’m always looking for more sick and twisted Aemond fics 😈

Goes without saying these all have dark elements, targcest, manipulation, noncon/dubcon, violence in some cases so proceed with caution

x reader

The Commune by @adragonprinceswhore

Misery by @elaratyrell

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Rip my heart, heal my soul by @flowerandblood

burn and bleed by @sapphicrhaegon

(I'm sneaking in a Michael Gavey fic if you're into that because) Stuck on You by @ewanmitchellcrumbs is actually a masterpiece and I reread it all the time

ALSO Ange has an upcoming dark!modern!Aemond fic called Cozened Indigo which I'm really really really normal about :)

x other character(s)

Like, everything by @sapphicrhaegon if you’re into Helaemond. I love curves and curses, and two children in a motel is on my reading list 😈

the game by catalystcomet (Aemond x Helaena with a bit of Daemon)

suck it and see by parlamante (Aemond x Rhaena)

stargirl interlude by faded_moon (Aemond x Jaeheara)

[valthevalkyrie]

The Philtre (4)

The Run. The Hunt. The Choosing. The Devotion. A series of events traditionally used to test skill, wits, honor, loyalty, virility, and survival. If you can’t catch your Omega, or any Omega for that matter, you were never worthy of them to begin with. Curtis has his eyes on the Omega who's been Unclaimed for the past seventeen years.

Pairing: alpha!Curtis x omega!reader (tall, mid 30s) Word Count: 3.6 k SeriesWarnings: NONCON/DUBCON, A/B/O, canon style violence, tall!reader, reader is 6', Curtis is 6'4", language, fighting, explicit smut, rough sex, hate sex, possessiveness, jealousy, probably incorrect descriptions of archery type things A/N: I'm so sorry this is nine months late!! i got stuck on a part and lost my muse. But good news (?) I was laid off last week and will have a couple months free to write more. Special thanks to @brunetteavenger for all your kind words on the last chapter, I'd look at them all the time to motivate myself. Hope you enjoy 💕

This is a (soft!dark/dark) fic, and contains the usual elements and themes in dark!fics. It is explicit in every sense of the word. PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOUVE READ AND UNDERSTAND ALL WARNINGS.

masterlist series masterlist

They trade shifts after four hours, the moon’s light making its way through the foliage, making the forest floor sparkle like reflections in the water. After what feels like 30 minutes she finds herself being woken up again by Yona.  “Wake up,” she whispers. “Someone is coming.”

“Handle them.”

“No,” Yona taps the center of her chest. “Something’s not right.”

She sighs. As tired as she is, she sits up and mentally prepares herself to fight again. Her best student was proving to be a not so great companion for a Run. She drugged herself and was now refusing to handle intruders even though she was more than capable. But she had to have faith in the girl’s Intuition as it was one of the strongest she’d ever encountered. “Make sure all the weapons are in the tent, then stay inside.”

Although her eyes itch from lack of sleep, she makes room for Yona who comes back in soon after, weapons in hand. When she goes to take the girl’s place outside, she’s pulled back. “No. Something’s not right. You must stay inside.”

With the help of the moon, she could see the young girl’s fear. She can’t help the confused furrow of her brow. Why would she need to hide? She understood Yona’s hesitation due to her lack of experience, but it made no sense for her to be hiding as well.      

“Can you sense how many there are?”

Yona just shakes her head.

Her mentor scratches at her ear and looks down, contemplating her choices. She was never one to cower away from anything, although she eventually nodded her head. With every pull of the zipper, less and less light made its way into the tent. When she zips the tent shut, the darkness is almost overwhelming. It didn’t take long for their eyes to adjust to the darkness and although there wasn’t much light coming in, they could make each other out. 

“Be sure to focus on your breathing and calm your heart. Let them think we’re sleeping.”

She hears a twig break in the distance as she finishes instructing Yona. The girls strain their ears, listening out for the intruder’s next move. They can’t smell them at this distance, so they’re not sure yet what their designation is. 

Things are quiet for a while and she can’t tell where the intruder has gone until she hears the shift of leaves on branches at what should be the entrance to their little clearing. If she weren’t so quiet right now, she’d have missed it. 

Whoever they are, they're light on their feet. She can’t hear them walking, but she can sense them getting closer. 

The feeling of being watched starts to set in. She knows they can’t see her, but eyes are on their tent all the same.

The closer they get, the more a bitter twang begins to settle in her nose. They must be an alpha. An arrogant alpha, because the more they approach the tent, the heavier their footsteps get. 

Either they think they’re too asleep to wake up to the sounds of their footsteps or they just don’t care at this point if the girls wake up. 

The footsteps slowly but surely circle the tent at a distance, and with every lap they get closer until they stop at the entrance to the tent. The older of the two slowly gets a grip on her hatchet as they wait with baited breath for the entrance to open. 

As they wait, the heat in the tent increases, no breeze to filter through as their temperatures rise. The girls are sweating, one shaking with fear and the other with fury. Yona twitches violently, a sign that her cramps are worsening. Her hand searches for her godmother’s and when she finds it, she squeezes it tight. The older woman can hear Yona begin to pant as the pain builds. In an effort to make sure no sound escapes the young girl, she redirects the hand holding hers to Yona’s mouth. Right as their fingers brush over her cheek, a clear whine escapes and everything stills.  

The intrusion to the tent never comes. Instead, the footsteps begin to circle the tent once again except they got further out. Over and over again the mystery alpha circles them, breathing harder every time. Farther and closer, farther and closer. Just when they think the intruder might have left, they start their pacing once again. Teasing them, surely knowing they’re awake at this point. 

On the latest rotation the footsteps stop once again at the mouth of the tent and the harsh breathing outside stops. Instead of opening it, the alpha presses their face against the fabric and takes in a deep breath, deep enough that the fabric makes an imprint of their nostrils. 

Enough bullshit, the older omega thinks and slams the handle of the hatchet into the nose of the intruding alpha. 

They cry out and she rushes to open the tent, Yona’s efforts to pull her back useless. When she makes it out she sees a familiar face, their scent hitting her at full force. 

“Franco.” There was a reason she couldn’t tell who it was, the old man’s usual scent was as bitter and rank as they come. “Why are you here?”

“The same reason any of us are here,” he gurgles through a broken nose. “To find a mate.”

While her godmother had a respectful reputation, Franco’s was anything but. He had a history of mates who died young, only two produced him heirs. One died young and the surviving one was no better than him. No one who had any self respect associated themselves with them. 

Until Wilford took over the clan. 

He gave Franco the Elder and Franco the Young positions of enforcement, giving them the freedom to harass who they liked with minimal repercussions. The power had gotten to their heads.

“If I remember correctly my last words to you were that if I were to see you again, I would kill you.”

“Your exact words were, ‘if you try to mate me again I will kill you’. I’m not here for you, you’ve aged out of your value.” His gaze settles behind her. “I’m here for her.”

She does nothing to hide her noise of disgust. “That’s not going to happen.”

“The code of honor dictates I be given a fair try.”

She turns to look at the girl who is sweating profusely and clutching her stomach. Yona was in no shape to fight. Franco was right, the code of honor gave him the right to a fair try, but she couldn’t risk the young girl’s life. If the fight didn’t kill her, a life with him would.

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Oh please,” she sneers. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”

“Let us not forget who left you that scar,” he indicates to the one on her eye, “in your prime.”

“I was seventeen.” She gave a dark laugh. “I was nowhere near my prime.” She considers him for a moment. “Leave now, and I give you my word that I will not kill you.”

“I would rather you give your word to let me have a go at the youngling.” He takes a step closer as he wipes at the blood coming out of his nose.

She sneers, “take one more step and-”

Yona calls her name. When she turns, she sees the girl in obvious pain but with a fire in her eyes. 

What her mentor doesn’t know is that Franco the Elder had been following her around their town, whispering profanities at her. Dark promises of how she would be his and all that he would do to her. 

It ends tonight.

Everything she had done until this point was in an effort to perform without the looming greatness of her godmother’s reputation. Regardless of her failure in that venture, she knew she had to do this for herself. Her intuition had made her aware of Franco’s lurking even when he wouldn’t approach her. 

“I’ll have a look at his offering.”

“Oh, I have no offering,” he sneered. “I prefer the combat method of The Choosing.”

With obvious effort, she straightens her posture and her hand leaves her abdomen. “Fine.”

“Yona, no.” Her godmother turns to her. “There is no need to prove your abilities. I know how capable you are.”

“This isn’t for you. It’s for me.”

There is obvious conflict in her face as she deliberates. She’s close to saying no and fighting Franco herself, when she sees the determination in Yona’s face. 

“Very well, then.” She turns to Franco. “You may have your chance.” 

Franco grins, his teeth red with blood.

“No weapons. You fight as equals.”

Franco makes a show of throwing down his only weapon, a hunting knife. Yona had no weapons on her to begin with.

She moves in front of her mentor, taking a deep breath to center herself. As she settles into a fighting stance, Franco’s grin widens. He follows her movements in an exaggerated manner.

“I can smell your cunt from here, little one.”

Yona says nothing, adjusting her stance.

“You’d best prepare yourself for a life with me.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t wait to feel your virgin cunt squeeze me tight.”

She pays him no mind and focuses on the task at hand and doing her best to push aside the pain. While she made a fool of herself the entire Run so far-ignoring common sense and years of training-she knew better than to make the first move. 

So she waited while filth spewed from his lips. The longer she waited and said nothing, the angrier he got. 

“You stupid little bitch. If you thought my other mates had it bad, just wait until I get my claim on you.” And he swung.

She ducked and jabbed at his face but he dodged the hit. She set out with another hit but he grabbed her hand, pulling her close while slapping her in the face. 

The hit was enough to make her lose her sense of direction for a moment and he took advantage and pulled her by her hair. He pulled her back to his front and took a deep breath of her hair. 

“I knew you wouldn’t put up much of a fight. I knew your dirty little cunt wanted me.” He inhaled her scent again and groaned. “You’re the sweetest one, yet.”

Yona took advantage of his distraction and slammed her elbow into his diaphragm, winding him. As soon as he let go she spun around and punched him in the face. Right hook. Left hook. Uppercut. 

She takes him by the shoulders and slams her knee into his abdomen and lets him fall to the ground, wheezing. 

Yona bends down. “You may be bigger but you’re old and slow. I reject your offering and deny you my devotion.”

As she turns to walk away, he grabs her foot and twists it while bringing her down to the ground with him. Yona’s chin hits the ground on her way down and the pain of the fall and her heat blinds her while Franco’s hands wrap around her neck. 

“I never yielded, you stupid fucking cunt.”

Yona’s hands scramble trying to catch his but he just squeezes harder, straddling her legs and pinning her down. 

Yona’s godmother watches on in horror, waiting for the girl to break free from Franco’s hold. But she doesn’t. As the seconds wear on and she sees Yona’s face start to turn blue, she knows she must throw out the code of honor if she wants to save the life of her ward.

She tightens her hold on her hatchet and rushes forward, slamming the handle into the side of his head. When he falls over, she adjusts her grip and swings down with as much force as she can, lodging the ax in his skull.

Dropping next to Yona, she moves to give the breath of life to the youngling. A few tense moments and frantic breaths later and Yona begins to cough. 

Her godmother sobs in relief and mutters a quick and thankful prayer to the Mother. 

About fifteen minutes later Yona is sat near the campfire with a blanket from her pack wrapped around her. The temperature had seemed to drop dramatically after her close call with death. Her heat had intensified, making her feel cold and the sweat on her body only made her feel colder. She was borderline delirious.

“How are you feeling?”

Yona whimpers as another cramp wracks through her body. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Well, our heats have been provoked and you haven’t had many to begin with. They get easier to deal with over time.” She places a hand on Yona’s knee. “You did very well for your first Choosing fight.”

“Didn’t yield,” Yona groaned.

“That aside, you did very well. I’m proud of you.” She runs a hand over Yona’s sweaty hair, making her way to her back to give her a few soothing rubs. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

The older omega makes her way to the bags. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she double and triple checked them.

“Where’s all the food?” There’s no answer. “Yona. Did you eat all of the food?”

The girl’s whimper serves as her answer. 

She sighs. “For the love of the gods, Yona.” 

The only time she could’ve had to eat what was left of the food was during her short watch, her cravings a result of her heat. It could also have been the nerves. Gods know the girl had been wracked with them since the beginning. 

She pinched her nose, took a deep breath and looked back at the girl. “Alright. What’s done is done. We can only move forward. I will go hunting.”

“D’you wan’me to come?”

“Absolutely not. You can barely stand. You can barely talk. I need you to stay in camp.” As she gathered her weapons Yona doubled over again in pain. “Come. Sit here.” She helped Yona sit closer to the fire. “Did you bring your bow?” The girl shook her head. She sighs. “Here. Take mine.”

“How’ll you hunt?”

“Don’t worry about that. I want you to stay focused. Anyone comes in, you shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She grabs her pack and heads over to Franco’s body, struggling a bit to take the hatchet from his skull. Pinning his head down with her foot, she yanks it out. “Now, be sure to drink plenty of water while I’m gone, don’t leave the camp, and for the love of the gods do not fall asleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She nods and turns her back to the girl. Her chest is tight and her shoulders tense. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving the girl alone. Although she did a good enough job fighting off Franco the Elder, the fact that her ankle was most likely fractured and her heat was getting worse worried her. She could only pray to the Mother that Yona had enough strength to fight through the pain once more if anyone breached their camp. 

She can’t help but compare Yona’s first Choosing fight with her own during her first Philtre.

She’d turned down a few offerings for The Choosing by the time an alpha decided her first answer wouldn’t be enough. 

He was a belligerent old fool who had been tired of being alone for so long. He demanded she fight with him. And fight with him she did. Her anger got the best of her and she killed him before he had a chance to yield. 

She knew of the rumors of her stringing up alpha’s intestines like a garland and placing their heads on spikes. It was mostly true. It was not her promised who became her first kill, it was the old man. Her fury over her promised not coming for her as they had agreed had consumed her. In her mind, she was at war with any and all alphas who dared approach her with no respect in mind. 

Thank the gods Yona turned out so different to her. Sure, she was different enough that she made incredibly poor decisions in the heat of the moment, but she was different enough that she couldn’t see her turning out as bloodthirsty as she had become. 

As she makes her way through the wood, she goes surveying the ground, trying to find any kind of tracks. It’ll be a little harder to hunt without her bow and arrow, but she should be able to make some traps.

Disregarding the deer tracks she finds, she instead zeroes in on the rabbit tracks, moving slowly once she finds its burrow. Retrieving the necessary materials, she constructs a simple snare. Once that’s done, she settles down a ways away and waits and hopes it doesn’t take too much time. She doesn’t want to leave Yona alone for too long in her condition. 

After waiting for about ten minutes, she hears a rustling behind her. Turning her head, she catches a whiff of alpha. Rolling her eyes, she stays sitting, hoping they don’t notice her so she can have peace while waiting for her food.

It doesn’t work out in her favor. 

A breeze passes by and she shuts her eyes in frustration as she hears the footsteps stop once her scent reaches them. They slowly make their way to her and as they get closer, she can make out several pairs of footsteps. 

Eventually they make their way to her, surrounding the tree she’s sitting against. She pays them no mind, inspecting the dirt underneath her fingernails.

One of them calls out her name. 

She looks up and can’t help the smirk that twists her lips. “Franco the Younger.”

“How are you doing on this fine evening?”

“I’m doing just fine. Just waiting around.”

“For what,” a woman asks.

“For an alpha like one of us, obviously,” Franco answers. “I’m not sure if any of you are aware, but we are in the presence of the longest reigning Unclaimed in the clan.”

Sparks of interest erupt in the eyes of the other four alphas.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Frankie, but I’m planning to round out my Unclaimed years at an even eighteen. Possibly even twenty.”

“You just haven’t had someone like one of us to try for your hand.”

“I’ve rejected many types of alphas over the years. Your father being one of them.”

“Ah, but he was close,” Franco traced the shape of her scar over his own eye. 

“That’s fair,” she nods. “How about I make the same deal with you that I did with your father not too long ago. Leave now, and I give you my word that I will not kill you.”

Franco and his goons laugh. “There is no way my father took that deal.”

“You’re right,” she takes her pack off her lap and situates it next to her. “That’s why he’s dead.”

“Impossible,” he growls.

“You see this blood?” She lifts her hatchet. “It’s certainly not mine coating it.”

His lip curls in fury. “This bitch is mine.” 

Slowly rising to her full height, the others could not have done a worse job at hiding their shock when they all took a step back. Caked in the blood from earlier, covered by the darkness of the night, and six feet tall, she was sure she was quite the sight.

She places her ax in its holster at her thigh, making sure the blade is covered. Walking out into the light of the moon, she makes sure to bump shoulders with him as she walks past. “Let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”

Like father, like son, Franco the Younger pulls out a large hunting knife.

“I’m going to gut you like a fish,” he growls.

“I’d like to see you try.”

They circle each other for a beat before he lunges for her. She grabs his hand, throwing an elbow to his face and turning into his body before slamming an elbow to his gut.

Disarming him as he catches his breath, she turns and jams the knife into his neck. His eyes are wide as they look into hers, mouth gaping as he falls to his knees. She places her foot at his chest and kicks him back to pull the knife out of his neck. 

As he bleeds out onto the forest floor she turns to the others.

Everything stills for a moment.

An animal squeals in the distance.

The alphas rush at her and she slits the neck of the one closest to her. She spins out of the way of his falling body and uses that momentum to throw the knife into the chest of the next one. 

The third alpha tackles her to the ground. She throws a punch to her face and tries to push it back. The alpha tries to wrap her hands around the omega’s neck and they struggle a bit before the omega takes a deep breath and goes limp. This gave the woman on top an opening to choke her.

The alpha’s distraction gave the omega the chance to reach for the ax strapped to her thigh. With a practiced hand, she quickly unsheathed it and swung at the woman on top of her.

Blood spattered her face as the ax struck the alpha’s head. She quickly pushed her off before looking for the last alpha. 

He was laying face first on the ground with an ax in his back. 

As she rushed to her feet, a tall figure came out of the shadows.

Her eyes widened. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t caught the new scent in the air. “Curtis,” she breathes.

They stare at each other for a beat before he breaks the silence.

“Why’d you tell the kid I was dead?”

A/N: You have no idea how long I've been wanting to write that last part 😩 It was one of the first scenes that popped into my mind once I had the series idea fleshed out. Please, please, please tell me what you think, I'd love to know your reaction to that last bit lol

P.S. can anyone teach me how to make skinnier dividers that have a transparent background? mine never work no matter how hard i try lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silver Lining 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You yawn as you look into the barren depths of your cup. Bucky sits up and rolls his shoulders, a dimple in his cheek. He looks you over as you furrow your brow curiously; do you have something on your face?

“W-what?” You bat your lashes.

“Should've got ya something with caffeine,” he says.

“Oh… little l-late,” you look over as the baristas wipe the counters. It's almost closing time, “s-s-speaking of-f.”

“Mm, yeah, I suppose,” he slides over his stapled papers, “you got all my notes. When I get back, we'll figure out the final draft and get the mic going.”

“S-sounds g-good,” you stutter and swallow another yawn. When you're tired, you can barely speak straight. “I sh-should head ou-out.”

You chomp down as yet another yawn rolls up your throat and your eyes nearly roll back. You smile as best you can and stand, grabbing your bag to pack up. He gets to his feet and pulls on his jacket.

“I'll give you a ride,” he offers.

“No, n-no, it's o-okay–”

“You shouldn't walk,” he looks outside as the night contrasts the white ground, snow still piling high.

“J-just as bad d-driving,” you comment.

“I got snow tires,” he insists, “really, I'd… I'd feel bad if you walked.”

“Y-you would?” You snort.

He gives you a look. That look. The one that warns caution. You put your hands up defenselessly.

“Fine, I-I'll let y-you drive m-me,” you surrender. “B-b-but you should know, I'm n-not that h-ho-hopeless.”

“Never said you were,” he pulls a beanie over his gray hair, “not a big fan of the cold myself.”

“Yeah, i-it probably m-makes your b-bones hurt,” you slide your arms into your coat.

“You making fun of me?” He scowls.

“No-o, I just… my st-stepdad always says–”

“It's fine. It does,” he sniffs, “cracked a few ribs playing ball in college. They never heal right.”

“Ouch,” you hook your bag on your shoulder.

“You got a curfew?” He checks his watch.

“Wh-what? I-I'm thirty,” you exclaim.

He chuckles. That takes you off guard.

“I know, I'm not too old to make jokes too.”

“Y-yeah, I w-wasn't–”

“Relax, it's fine. Better go before we're snowed in,” he leads you to the door, thanking the staff as he opens the door and waits for you to go ahead of him.

Well, there might blizzard brewing outside but he seems to be thawing.

🩶

You get home to a quiet house. Your sister, Kira, hushes you as you come upstairs, her children already asleep. She has a clay mask on as she hogs the bathroom going through her nightly routine. You dip into your room and hide.

You didn't expect them to wait up for you. That's ridiculous, but no one even asked about the job. It must be the excitement of a full house. Your sister does everything right so of course they'd want to focus on her. Maybe tomorrow.

You get in your pajamas and settle into bed. It’s hard to still your mind and the jittery energy still swirling inside of you. You put on a lofi video and let it play as you close your eyes. You have the weekend to make the last tweaks and you’ll finally be onto the next step. You hope.

You spend Saturday penned up in your room, hunched over at your desk as you go through the notes from your meeting. As the clock ticks close to noon, your phone vibes, drawing you back to the land of the living. You rub your eye sockets and groan. You need to eat.

You check your phone; you have a message. You flick your thumb up and blink at the text. It’s Bucky. You still haven’t saved him as a contact, recognising him only by the last four digits of his number.

‘Quick pitstop. Forgot to ask last night. How can I pay you?’

You chew your thumb as you think. That’s the awkward part. Even though you’re doing work, it’s still a bit strange. It isn’t like a company where the money just pops into your account on schedule. 

‘I can give details when you get back. Hate to add stress to your trip.’

You hit send and sit back, stretching your neck. Your phone buzzes again. You don’t expect a quick response.

‘Asking now. Will be heading into no reception. Wanted to pay you for scriptwork. Will pay rest after recording.’

Your stomach knots. You’re trying to be polite but you can’t deny that you could use the money. With Christmas tiptoeing closer, you should really get on gift shopping.

‘Right. I have Venmo.’

You tap the arrow and wait. He doesn’t answer right away. When he answers, it’s just the thinking emoji, followed by another text.

‘I’ll figure that out. Do I need your email or something?’

You sweep away the chat and tap into your app. You copy your payment code and paste it into the chat. You follow it with a quick message; ‘should prompt you how. If you need to wait, it’s fine.’

Thumbs up. That’s it. You accept that. To be fair, from him, it’s an improvement. It seems you’ve found a tenuous truce with him. You’ll take that if it means you’re not scooping into your savings.

You can hear your sister and mother gabbing as you leave your room. You stop at the top of the stairs and brace yourself. Things didn’t exactly leave off on the best terms.

You descend and sneak past the dining room where they sit and sort through your mother’s vast Christmas card collection. You’re careful not to draw any attention as you enter the kitchen and quietly pop a pod into the keurig and set your mug on the tray.

Your coffee brews with a grind, giving away your endeavour. You don’t look back as you hear the scuff of slippers. Kira enters and clinks her empty cup down on the counter not far from you. She couldn’t wait until you finished.

“So, how was your job? A bit late to be rushing off to work.”

“It’s f=freelance,” you say. “It’s g-g-good.”

She scoffs, “ah, well, that’s great. You can get out of mom and dad’s hair soon enough.”

“Y-yeah,” you agree, cheeks scalding with embarrassment, “w-working on i-it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You know, Catherine called me the other day…” she mentions your previous coworker, her friend from college, “guess she got a promotion.”

You nod. She’s goading you. What does she expect you to say? Does she expect you to apologise for leaving a bad situation?

You take your cup of coffee and sidle away. She chuckles, the way she always does when you don’t feed into her drama. Her mug hits the tray heavily.

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” she preens.

You keep going without an answer. You yawn as you come upstairs and hear whispers ahead of you. You rush forward, sloshing hot coffee onto your hand as you approach your open door. Why didn’t you close it?”

As you get to the threshold, there’s a sudden clatter and you gasp. Jamie sits in your desk chair as your laptop lays face down on the floor. Casey is underneath the desk tugging on the power cord. You shriek and sloppily slam the mug onto the shelf mounted just beside the door.

“W-w-w-what are you d-d-doing?” Your emotion overwhelms your voice, “how–”

You hear footsteps rush up the stairs and Kira hisses as she marches down the hall, “shhh, my kids are sleeping.”

“No, th-they aren’t,” you hurry forward and take Jamie out of the chair. As you shoo Casey, your sister enters your room.

“Don’t hurt him,” she demands.

“Wh-what? I w-wouldnt–”

“Don’t touch my kids,” she comes forward and scoops up Casey then takes Jamie’s hand, “they’re just curious.”

You bend down to pick up your laptop. You turn it over and find lines streaked up in a spectrum. Smashed. Broken. Demolished.

“They b-broke it,” you whimper.

“Ugh, whatever,” she hauls her kids back to the door, “it’s just a computer.”

You stare at the ruins and shake your head at her back. What are you going to do?

[valthevalkyrie]

The Philtre (1)

The Run. The Hunt. The Choosing. The Devotion. A series of events traditionally used to test skill, wits, honor, loyalty, virility, and survival. If you can’t catch your Omega, or any Omega for that matter, you were never worthy of them to begin with. Curtis has his eyes on the Omega who's been Unclaimed for the past seventeen years.

Pairing: soft!dark!alpha! Curtis x omega!Reader (tall, mid 30s)

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, A/B/O, canon style violence, tall!reader, reader is 6', Curtis is 6'4", language, fighting, explicit smut, rough sex, hate sex, possessiveness, jealousy, probably incorrect descriptions of archery type things

This is a soft!dark fic, and contains the usual elements and themes in dark!fics. It is explicit in its descriptions of violence in every sense of the word. PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU'VE READ AND UNDERSTAND ALL WARNINGS

A/N: this was originally for Siri's Soft Dark Challenge which was roughly a year ago, I think. Like most things, I didn't finish it on time. The more I thought about it, the more lore seeped out and I couldn't figure out how to execute what I saw in my head. Shoutout to @sweetlyscared for helping me with the initial brainstorm of the fic. (i know she's on a break from Tumblr but credit has to go where it's due) Hopefully this comes close to what I'm trying to do.

masterlist series masterlist

It was the dead of night.

Not really, but that would’ve made things easier. 

Dawn was just breaking and as much as she wanted to relish in the morning dew and sounds of the waking forest - owls returning to sleep, crickets turning off, whatever other bugs and shit that roamed the night, and start to take in the squirrels awakening, the birds starting to sing, etc.- she couldn’t. 

This morning was unlike any other. It wasn’t one for meditation and relaxation. It was one of danger and survival. It seemed the forest knew as well. The noises of the animals were subdued, more cautious for this time of year. The morning fog was denser, the humidity heavier - she could feel it weighing her clothes. She knew she had to get a move on and she’d normally rush through no problem. But this year she’s not alone. This year she had more than herself to think of. Maybe it was the daunting thought of having to protect a youngling this year. Maybe it was the humidity weighing her down but she felt like she was trying to wade through the thickest mud. The further they went into the woods the thicker the brush was - the less kept the grounds were. The further from safety of the Temple, the more gnarled the tree roots and branches were - scratching at their arms, snagging at their clothes - as if to stop them from getting farther - getting to that area where not all return. As if the wood wanted to keep them safe - while also representing the danger they were headed towards. 

And again, usually she’d pay it no mind, but she's not alone this year. It’s hard enough sometimes to keep a level head - but she can feel herself start to spiral. It’s not like her - especially this early on in the Run - especially since she’d been doing this for so long. The loudest noises around were the footsteps of her charge - trampling through the forest - leaves crunching, and twigs snapping. They’d been out since the moon rose, the young one keeping pace the entire night.

“Yona, do you remember what I told you of your intuition?

“To always pay attention to it?”

“Yes,” she gave the girl a small smile, “but what about yours in particular?”

“That it was good? I don’t know, I can’t remember.”

“Well, you’re going to need to dig through that head of yours and remember all that I’ve taught you over the course of your life.” She stopped walking and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, the other gently tilting her head. She made a point to make eye contact. She spoke firmly, but as gently as she could. The girl must be scared enough as it is, I don’t need to cause anymore distress. “Those who don’t remember have no control over what happens and that’s what this is all about. Establishing and enforcing your control, your power. Your intuition is far stronger than the rest of the newcomers. That is your saving grace and you must,” she shook her a bit, “you must take advantage of it. Do you understand?

“Yes, ma’am.”

They forge on for a couple miles, the sun fighting to shine its way through the darkening clouds filling the sky. 

“Alright, we’re almost there. Don't forget everything I told you. Remember your intuition, remember your training, and if at any moment you don’t want to do this alone anymore you call for me and we meet at the place I told you. It’s not far from here. About two miles north of where I’m taking you.

The kid doesn’t answer.

When she turns to look at her charge, she notices the girl spinning in circles slowly, eyes taking in the view of the trees above. Her eyes are rimmed in red, glassy and out of focus, feet barely leaving the floor, mouth open as if all strength of her jaw is gone, yet still muttering something while no words leave her mouth. She prays to the Mother - please don’t let this be what I think it is. “Yona, what are you doing? They’re on their way and we need to get to the hide immediately. Hey. Hey! Come here. Look at me.”

Stumbling when she stopped mid twirl, the youngling made her way towards her mentor, a small smile on her face. When she got close her gaze was fixed somewhere near her neck. She lifted the girl's face by her chin, and noticed the bloodshot eyes. 

Her grip grew firmer when she lifted it higher trying to make eye contact with the youngling. “Don’t tell me,” she ground out. “Don't tell me you’ve been huffing that shit today of all days.” 

The girl didn’t react. 

“Yona,” she snapped. “Talk to me. Tell me you’ve been doing anything but what killed your father and what will pretty much guarantee our death today.” 

Yona’s eyes finally seemed to focus on her mentor. Her name tumbled out of her mouth with a smile. “Kronole?” She lifted her hand and in her palm was a small gray lump. 

“No!” She smacked it out of her hand, causing the girl to lunge for it. The older omega grabbed her by the waist, “no kronole, Yona. The Alphas will smell it - I don’t know how I didn’t catch it earlier. We have to go before the sky cracks.”

“They’re already here,” Yona mumbled.

Her head whips towards the youngling. “What do you me-” the sound of the ceremonial trumpet broke through the eerie quiet of the forest. 

“Shit,” she hissed, “we gotta move. Now.” She tossed Yona over her shoulder. They were already pretty close to one of her favorite safe spaces.

It didn’t take too long for her to decide that the girl’s continuous twitching and jerking was not only going to slow them down, but hurt the girl. 

“Ok,” she crouched and put the youngling on a cushioned part under a tree. “Sit here for a second, alright?” Yona barely  responded, and she knew that must mean she’d been huffing that shit for a long time during their journey, probably even before the ceremony. Or, she thought, it was sometime in the beginning of the journey, when they were talking. She must’ve done a poor job hiding her nerves and the youngling took advantage of her distraction. 

Knowing that letting the stress of her charge’s state distract her even further would put them in more danger, she closed her eyes and attempted to center herself. With a deep breath she tuned in to the sounds of her surroundings. The crackle of leaves being crushed under them, the ants crawling on her fingers, the crescendo of rustling leaves, the pressure of the frequent rushes of wind, distant sounds of thunder, and even further out, the sound of chanting Alphas.

“Fuck this shit.” She turns to Yona, “they shouldn’t be that close if the trumpet just sounded.” She lugs the girl back over her shoulders and books it. 

The once quiet forest bursts with sound as she runs. She ignores the branches scratching at her and the roots underfoot threatening to trip and slow her down. Unfortunately, she knows the girl is going to end up all cut up, but if she focuses on it too much, they’ll be fucked. 

As she runs she can hear a few alphas closing in on them. Pushing herself to run faster, she feels her calves straining, each step harder than the next. 

Right as she bursts through the perimeter of their intended camp, she gently tosses the kid on the floor as far from their entering point as possible, she does a quick one-eighty and reaches for the folding bow strapped to her bag. With a jerk of her arm the bow opened and it started raining, and she prayed to the Mother that it quickly washed the scent of Kronole off of them. Preparing to take down as many alphas as possible that got to them she nocked an arrow when a clap of thunder sounded and lightning struck the ground before her. When the flash of light disappeared she saw three alphas breach the treeline. 

She very quickly took down two, a lanky one with sunken eyes, piercing his throat and a woman with hollowed cheeks. The third alpha manages to rush her before she can nock another arrow, tackling her to the ground. Rolling out from underneath him and maneuvering out of her backpack at the same time, she reaches for the hatchet holstered to her thigh. Both at a crouch they growl at each other.

Slashing when he lunges at her, she manages to knick his shoulder. The alpha tries to circle her but she won’t let him get close to the unconscious youngling behind her. 

Running headfirst towards him she slashes upward, slicing her way up his sternum and lodging the ax in his jaw. Slamming her foot into his chest, she pulled out the ax and used the momentum of the pull to swing at a hulking man who made his way through the barrier and who she recognized as someone who pushed Kronole. He ducked and dove under her arm towards Yona.

Before she had a chance to go after him, she was kicked in the knee by a woman, bringing her to eye level with the alpha’s knees. She took a swing, a knee for a knee and brought the woman down, slashing her neck before she hit the floor. 

Turning, she saw the drug pushing alpha running with an unconscious Yona in his arms. Grabbing the ax with both hands she pulled back and threw it, lodging the ax in his back. 

As he sank to his knees, she ran for the girl hoping to get to her before the full weight of the alpha crushed her. While she was able to yank the girl out of his arms enough to avoid her lungs being crushed, her legs got stuck beneath him. The older omega shoved the dead man off the girl and gently set her on the ground near her discarded bag.

A/N: This is my first attempt at any kind of dark writing; it will most likely be three to four parts. Please let me know what you think. I've been thinking of this fic for about a year and I'd love to know if it's had the effect I intended. Thanks 💕

[valthevalkyrie]

The Philtre (3)

The Run. The Hunt. The Choosing. The Devotion. A series of events traditionally used to test skill, wits, honor, loyalty, virility, and survival. If you can’t catch your Omega, or any Omega for that matter, you were never worthy of them to begin with. Curtis has his eyes on the Omega who's been Unclaimed for the past seventeen years.

Pairing: alpha!Curtis x omega!reader (tall, mid 30s) Word Count: 2.4k SeriesWarnings: NONCON/DUBCON, A/B/O, canon style violence, tall!reader, reader is 6', Curtis is 6'4", language, fighting, explicit smut, rough sex, hate sex, possessiveness, jealousy, probably incorrect descriptions of archery type things A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one, I hope it shows 💕 I'm hoping to have the next chapter out by tomorrow maybe. It might be shorter than all of them so far, but it will not be the last

This is a soft!dark fic, and contains the usual elements and themes in dark!fics. It is explicit in every sense of the word. PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOUVE READ AND UNDERSTAND ALL WARNINGS.

masterlist series masterlist

The dead body method worked. They were only attacked a handful more times, each alpha stronger and smarter than the last. 

The sun crept further into the sky, the heat making the bodies fester. The stronger their decaying scent grew, the less they were approached. The sun’s heat wasn’t the only kind growing stronger, the women were experiencing heat flashes, subtle cramps flaring up every now and then. There was a tension growing between them in the fear of what their heats would make of them; if they’d ravage them completely and render them unable to defend themselves and each other. 

As the day wears on and in the lulls between attacking alphas, Yona is put to train as she would on the outside. Her mentor takes advantage of the conditions in order to make Yona the best fighter she could possibly be. She knows if the Philtre isn’t called off soon, sore muscles will be the least of the youngling’s worries. 

They’re sitting and snacking when Yona is warned not to get too comfortable after eating since the ceremonial horn is usually sounded before sundown during the Philtre. They take their time eating, as the more experienced omega is almost confident they’ll be let out at the traditional time; before their heats become a problem. 

Yona’s eyes are bouncing between the sun and her godmother’s face whose eyes are trained on the sky. She can see the frustration building the further down the sun sets and the longer the horn isn’t sounded. Her breathing gets deeper, brows furrowed so deeply it was as though there were gashes in her head, fists so tight her knuckles were pale. 

“This isn’t right. They’re supposed to announce the end.” She sighs deeply. “I was worried this would happen.” As the sun gets closer to the horizon she lets out a curse. “This is what happens when you don’t trust your Intuition.”

It isn’t until Yona is digging through her bag for another snack that she notices the other omega has yet to move. She’s standing with her arms crossed, staring at the sky. Yona may not know much about her godmother’s history but she definitely knows her mannerisms, and the way she’s playing with her lips? That’s stress. That’s discomfort. She was anxious.  

“Are you ok?”

She doesn’t respond for a moment. “No,” she muses. “I’m not.” She finally turns around but doesn’t stop playing with her lips. “I don’t understand why they won’t let us return. I figured the heats and ruts were a fluke this year, but that paired with the early alpha release and now this? Something is very, very wrong.” She drags her hands over her face, “I don’t know what to do.” If Yona weren’t paying as close attention as she was, she’d have missed that last bit. “Plus, it’s your birthday tomorrow.” 

In an effort to distract her, Yona decides to take advantage of something that was said earlier. “Don’t worry about my birthday, I’ll just make sure next year is a good one. Hey, you remember how you said you would have told me about your first Run?” The other woman nods. “Well, do you think we could do that now? I think we’re going to be here a while,” she attempted to joke. 

She gives her a small smile and nods. “Yes, I do think we’ll be here a while.” With a deep breath, heads over to Yona and sits next to her. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything? You said you had a boyfriend. What was he like?”

“Oh, he was wonderful. He was a very quiet person, he liked to observe others and everything around him. Always so serious for someone so young.” She smiles at the memory. “Taller than me, which is hard to find. He was sweet and kind and always looked out for other people. He was just a really good person.”

“How long were you together?”

“Three years, technically. He started courting me when we were fourteen and we officially got together at sixteen.”

“I thought courtships were only if you planned on making an impression on an omega before a Philtre?”

She smiled. “He did everything with purpose. We didn’t know our designations yet but he knew he wanted to be with me regardless of the outcome. He wanted to make sure I gave him a chance in our first run.”

“But everyone starts at eighteen. Seventeen if your birthday is close enough.”

“Like I said, he was very serious and very purposeful. He liked to plan ahead.”

“Do you mind me asking how you lost him?”

This made her pause. After all these years, it was still hard to think about. “No, I don’t mind.” She shifted into a more comfortable position. “As you now know, we got together when we were fourteen. We were inseparable. We were each other’s firsts. First kiss, first time, first love. We loved each other fiercely and knew we were meant to be together forever. I knew no one else would be better for me, love and provide for me the way he did. I knew I would always and only choose him and we were ready to fight to prove our love.”

She looks down and starts to play with her fingers. “We had agreed to meet as soon as possible near a tree that had been struck by lightning. A few months before the Philtre we snuck out and tried to map the land so we knew exactly where to find one another.”

“I thought that wasn’t allowed?”

“It’s not,” she smirked, “but we did it anyway. On the day, I prayed extra hard at the Temple to the Mother. I made camp exactly at the tree, tried to prepare myself, calm myself down. I was fresh blood so a lot of older alphas had attempted to give me offerings but I was not having any of it. I knew who I wanted and they were not him, so I rejected them.”

“They didn’t like that, did they?”

“No, they did not. They were my first kills and my stress made me sloppy. Half a day had gone by and he still hadn’t shown. Some alphas were understanding, others belligerent. The longer he left me alone the angrier I got, the more aggressive I became. I lost myself in the anger. I provoked every suitor that came my way just to have an excuse to fight. The next thing I knew, the ceremonial horn had sounded and I was all alone, covered in blood.” She pauses. “I was so angry. How dare he leave me alone? Did he find someone he liked more, decide my love was not enough? That I was not enough? It wasn’t until I got back that I learned he’d been lost and my anger turned into the deepest sorrow I had ever felt.”

“So you weren’t there when he died?”

“No, I was not. But I heard he died with honor. Sometimes when I think about him hard enough it’s almost like I can smell him again.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again? Move on?”

“No. It’s him or no one.” They were quiet for a while before she wiped the sweat off her forehead and announced, “it’s time for bed.”

“What?”

“We’ll have to take turns keeping watch and our heats are going to get stronger any second now.” She held out a hand for Yona to get up. “I will take the first watch, you go get some rest.” 

While the young girl gets settled, her godmother can’t help but reminisce over the time spent with her lost love. On their time in school, the kisses they shared, the promises they made. 

When he first started courting her he would give her notes everyday, little things, like how he hoped she’d have a good day. When they became official, he’d crafted little capsules and would stash the notes for her to find. There he’d profess his love, tell her how beautiful she was, make silly jokes. On special occasions like their anniversary and her birthday, he’d used them to make a scavenger hunt for her presents. He’d blushed so hard when she started making little notes for him too and it became a game to them. 

His laugh is what she missed the most, though. He was never really one to laugh around other people. The most he would do was smile and maybe chuckle in public, although he smiled at her often. When he did laugh it was a thing of beauty and she took pride in getting him to do it. It was booming and full of joy, unadulterated and pure. He’d clutch his chest and always made sure to tell her he loved her when he was done. That laugh never failed to make her feel like she was the luckiest person in the world. If she could wrap herself up in a sound, she’d smother herself in his laughter.

Her first Run had been a tough one. When she learned that she’d lost him her heart shattered into a million pieces. She was seventeen with her whole life planned out and the biggest part of it was gone. Everything went to shit when she lost the love of her life. 

Over the next seventeen years she learned to morph her grief into something else - fill that aching emptiness in her chest with something new. The love she had for her goddaughter, the responsibility of training omegas for the Philtre, the dedication to remaining Unclaimed. 

She missed him in moments like these. Yona had been her ward for the past twelve years, she was basically her child. How would he have reacted to her stunt? Would he have been tougher in reprimanding her or would he be understanding? What would it be like to fight beside him when alphas with bruised egos came around, desperate for a mate?

She would catch a faint whiff of his scent every now and then, coincidentally when she’d be thinking of him. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if the thoughts on him came before or after she recognized the smell. Like now, his scent had been drifting in the breeze since she sat down with Yona and told her story. 

Although now that she thinks about it, the smell is almost too strong. Usually it was faint enough to make her doubt smelling it in the first place. But now, now it seems as though he were actually near; his smell getting through the stench of rotting flesh. When a breeze brushes by, she knows something is amiss when his scent hits full force. 

She jumps up, reaches for her bow and walks the perimeter of the camp. She circles once, twice, and still cannot pinpoint the origin of the scent. She focuses on her senses to weed out what was wrong in her surroundings. She feels out, senses the woods and its creatures and eyes on her. She keeps walking until that feeling of being watched starts to feel the strongest. 

Once there she nocks her bow, steadily raising it to the treeline. With each breath she focuses on her surroundings, trusting her intuition completely.

In. The rustle of the leaves as the breeze filters through. 

Out. The sound of owls hooting, night creatures scurrying. 

In. The fading scent of petrichor and the putrid smell of rotting flesh, her lover’s scent bleeding through.

Out. She can hear Yona’s gentle whines as her fever starts to ramp up. The feeling of her own temperature rising, the drops of sweat rolling down her neck.

In. There. The gentle sound of dead leaves crunching under the weight of something. Of someone. 

She shifts her aim to where her instincts tell her the intruder is. As they move so does she, except with more stealth than they seem capable of. Whoever they are, they’re good. Not as good as her.

The more she focuses on their scent the more she realizes it isn’t quite her lover’s scent. The musk not as deep, the undertones not so sweet. Whoever this is smells like her long lost love but isn’t him. 

They stop again, and as she draws back her arrow about to let it fly, the wind picks up and their scent disappears. She stills. Her ears strain as she tries to follow their footsteps but she can’t hear them over the rustling coming from Yona’s tent as she writhes and whines in discomfort. She lowers her bow when she’s sure she lost them. When she’s absolutely sure they aren’t there or doubling back she leaves her post and goes to check on Yona. 

At seventeen - well, eighteen now - the girl hadn’t experienced many heats. She wasn’t used to the pain and her guardian couldn’t help but worry about her ability to protect herself. Clearly the suppressants they had been taking were nothing compared to the enhancers they’d been given. Hopefully, the training done throughout the day gave the youngling a taste of it and gave her an idea of how to work through the discomfort.

Peeking into Yona’s tent, she sees the girl had shed her jacket and had started sweating through her clothes. She was clutching her stomach in her hands and did the occasional twitch and whine in pain. It killed her not to be able to help the girl. 

Of course the first year she decides to bring along a Shadow is the year where everything goes to shit. 

Yona had been brought to her at six, freshly orphaned and soon after finding her father’s body. Those first few years were difficult to work through, the trauma the youngling had faced rendering her speechless. Her godmother struggled as well. There’s a difference in occasionally caring for a child and then having them around 24/7. She’d been incredibly worried that the damage her loss had done to her heart would be too severe to give the young girl the love she deserved. 

The years had proved her wrong and for that she was grateful. She had hoped that they were close enough for Yona to feel comfortable enough to speak to her about anything, but clearly she was wrong. No matter, you can’t have everything. 

She returned to her post and over the next few hours tried to strategize for every outcome she could think of. Meanwhile her temperature continued to rise and her cramps got stronger. She gave thanks to the Mother that they had not been severely affected by the enhanced pheromones of the alphas they’d interacted with, otherwise their heats would be much stronger. Hopefully they would encounter less alphas now that they had more bodies covering their scent.  

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed! I'm going to try something I've never tried before in the next chapter and hopefully it turns out well. Expect another two chapters (at least) out of this bad boy before it ends. Please don't forget to comment and let me know if you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it!

[valthevalkyrie]

The Philtre (2)

The Run. The Hunt. The Choosing. The Devotion. A series of events traditionally used to test skill, wits, honor, loyalty, virility, and survival. If you can’t catch your Omega, or any Omega for that matter, you were never worthy of them to begin with. Curtis has his eyes on the Omega who's been Unclaimed for the past seventeen years.

Pairing: soft!dark!alpha! Curtis x omega!Reader (tall, mid 30s)

Word Count: 2.6k

SeriesWarnings: NONCON/DUBCON, A/B/O, canon style violence, tall!reader, reader is 6', Curtis is 6'4", language, fighting, explicit smut, rough sex, hate sex, possessiveness, jealousy, probably incorrect descriptions of archery type things

This is a soft!dark fic, and contains the usual elements and themes in dark!fics. It is explicit in its descriptions of violence in every sense of the word. PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU'VE READ AND UNDERSTAND ALL WARNINGS

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It was the rumble of thunder that woke Yona, a faint haze still left over from her Kronole high and rain wetting her face. A cursory glance at her hands explained the stinging in her skin - she was covered in cuts. 

Taking in her surroundings, she noticed she was in a small clearing at the bottom of a cliff face with a thick barrier of foliage. Strewn about were a few bodies each with varying amounts of blood. Above them all was her mentor. 

The Philtre had barely started and Yona could see why she was the longest Unclaimed in their clan’s history. A beast of an omega at six feet tall with sinewy curves, she had smears of blood all over her face as though she had tried wiping it off but somehow managed to miss most of it, the rain not helping wash it away. Her hair had become a mess, blood dripping off of it with the rainwater. 

Word has it that she keeps trophies of all the alpha’s she’s killed and makes a point to kill as many as possible. They say she was once promised to an alpha and killed him in her first Run. Cut his body open and strung up his intestines like a garland, head on a spike. Supposedly she did that to every alpha that came for her during her first year. 

Watching her arrange the bodies, hatchet in hand made Yona question just how true the rumors were. 

Its when she tries to get up that the older omega’s attention draws to her. “Great,” she grunted. “You’re awake. How do you feel?“

“Um. Not great?”

“You telling me or you asking me?”

“Telling?”

Yona grimaced at the other woman’s grunt. Fuck. The Philtre’s barely started and she already fucked things up by getting high and drawing a handful of alphas to them. By the looks of them they were addicts. Yona recognized one of the men as the guy who dealt her the Kronole she brought. 

Making her way over, she couldn’t figure out why her body felt as sore as it did. “Why am I all messed up if you did all the fighting?”

“Well you were bouncing around on my shoulders while I ran us to safety, you probably ran into a tree or two, and I kinda had to throw you around a little bit. Now,” she braced her hands on her hips, “I want you to set up camp on your own while I handle the bodies.”

And Yona did just that. Usually in training she had the best time, but she could tell today was not going to be one of those days. Since she was dealing with the effects of her lackluster actions she knew her time would not be as impressive as usual. 

Yona feels heat rising from her neck as she sets up camp, the eyes of her mentor burning through her. She knows she must be a massive disappointment so she doesn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. In hindsight, her efforts to uphold her practice time and her stress over getting everything right distracted her enough to do  a poorer job than usual.

“You did good,” she says as she drags a body to the edge of the treeline. She makes a failed attempt at wiping her hands clean on the way back to Yona. “You’ve done better before, but you’ve also never been in the heat of the moment and hopped up on Kronole.”

Right before Yona’s about to thank her and apologize, a posse of alphas break through their perimeter. 

They don’t rush the way the others did, these seem to be thinking a bit more about how to approach the girls but they make no effort to do the traditional scenting. They still seem like the kronole is what called them, but they look much more put together than the majority of the last bunch. 

When she turns to her mentor for direction, she sees the hatchet in her hands. Yona dives for her hatchet strapped to her bag. As she does, her elder quickly launches her weapon at one of their chests, distracting two while the last goes after Yona. 

The man knocks the hatchet out of her hand and she punches him in the face in return. His head snaps back and she quickly punches him first in the diaphragm, then his groin, knocking him to the ground. When she reaches for her weapons she feels a yank at her ankle and she quickly collides with the floor. The alpha clambers over her beelining towards her throat. Jamming her thumbs into his eyes is the only thing that stops him and she squeezes as hard as she can, doing her best to let his roar wash over her and not intimidate her. She quickly grabs her hatchet and slashes his throat open. 

When she finally manages to shove him off she looks around for more but only sees bodies being moved by the older omega. 

“Good job, young one. Disarmed quickly but you didn’t let that give him an advantage. There’s the Yona I know.” The praise brings a bit of pride to Yona, warms her chest a bit. Makes her feel better for the mistakes she made in the beginning. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Never mind. The warmth died out as quickly as it came. 

“This isn’t like training. This is the real deal. You have to make sure not just any alpha Claims you. They must be the one to take you down when you’re fighting the hardest or the one who matches you in strength and skill. Anything less means death.”

Yona sits on a log to catch her breath while the older woman rearranges the bodies again. “Why do you do that? Move the bodies?”

“Once they’re surrounding us, their scent usually hides us from the dumber lot. Speaking of, what was the deal with the kronole?”

She feels bile rise in her throat. She really hadn’t thought the kronole through. “I was nervous.”

“So you put us at risk with a highly addictive drug?”

Yona looked down at her hands and didn’t say anything.

“I need you to answer me, Yona. Tell me you knew the risk and did it anyway.” 

She still said nothing. She could feel the embarrassment building. The older woman was usually much more lax with her, very understanding of her mistakes and always encouraging her. Not once in her life did she have to deal with any serious disappointment from her. 

“Yona. Answer me. Tell me why you thought it was a good idea. Did you think this through at all? About how it would affect your first run?”

“No I didn’t! Ok,” she shouted.

The older woman’s face went dark. “Watch your tone with me. I’m not one of your little friends.”

“And that’s exactly the problem! You’re not my friend. You’re my teacher, my mentor, my caregiver, this all powerful and unstoppable godmother who is the epitome of Omega perfection!” She begins to pace while the other sits on a log. “My entire life you’ve been unmated. You hold the longest record in the clan and you’re one of the best fighters and you don’t do anything less than perfect. Do you know how bad it would look for me to come out of this mated to some idiot? If I wasn’t as good as you to go unmated but then to end up with some fool because I just wasn’t good enough?” More embarrassment fills her as tears run down her cheeks. She’d tried to hold it in but wasn’t strong enough. “Was it stupid to calm myself down with kronole? Yeah, but it was worth it to find something to take all the nerves and fears and insecurities away. To feel nothing, go on my own and do what I needed to do to make you proud. Did I hope to be able to handle it better than I did? Also yes. But what else was I supposed to do with your reputation looming over me the way it was?”

“You could’ve tried talking to me,” the older woman softly said. “If you would have, you’d have learned that I had the same fears you did my first run. Except it wasn’t with someone else’s reputation hanging over my head, it was my relationship on the line.”

Yona wiped her face. “What do you mean?”

She sighed and scratched behind her ear. “I’d gone into my first Run with a boyfriend who I was hoping to turn into a lifelong mate. I was worried our relationship wasn’t strong enough to survive something as intense as the Philtre. That almost ruined me.” Rubbing her face she sighed again. “And if you would’ve told me, I would’ve helped you calm down. We never would’ve split up like the original plan.”

Yona was quiet for a moment, letting the other woman’s words sink in. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no changing what has been done. We can only go forward. So,” she smacked her knees and stood up again, “come help me clear that out,” she gestured to the area where most of the alphas had seemed to come through.

As they clear the space Yona tries to discreetly watch her godmother. Now that she opened up to her it just filled her with more questions. How does she do it? How long did it take her to get over her fears? How far into her trials, how many years did it take for her to become as good as she is? 

They made sure to clear everything up to the treeline surrounding them, as the rain died off. They’d managed to make an almost clear circle, with the bodies and logs bordering the edge, so as to make sure any incoming alphas would have some sort of obstacle coming in, a warning of any entries. 

“Come,” Yona heard. “Let’s eat.”

When she turns, she sees some snack laid out on the floor in front of their unlit campfire. They sit quietly for a while, Yona peeking at the other woman regularly. 

“Ask what you want to ask. You’ve been staring for a while.”

“Why did we kill those alphas out right? Aren’t we supposed to scent them?”

“Do you remember the order of the Philtre?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She nods at her to continue. “The Run, the Hunt, the Devotion, and the Choosing?”

“Go on.”

“The Run, where omegas set off to build their camps and traps. The Hunt, where alphas set off to find a suitable omega and surround their omega’s campground. We’re supposed to scent each other. The Devotion, where they present their offerings and showcase their camp nests. And the Choosing is where the omega chooses who they feel most compatible and fight. Then the alpha claims the omega.”

“You’re mostly right but you mixed up the final two. We are supposed to scent each other in the Hunt. If the omega finds the scent pleasing they allow that particular alpha to stay close, if they don’t they send them away. Alphas only attack if they want to prove their worth and if they win, they get to stay close. The alpha usually wins when the omega has been merciful. The Choosing occurs first. Offerings are presented and fighting takes place and the omega chooses whom they feel most compatible. The Devotion is a second opportunity for any alpha who still feels the need to prove their worth. They fight against the Chosen Pair, proving how compatible they really are. A truly great pairing is evenly matched in skill.”

“So what went wrong here?”

“Take a moment and reflect on the scents all around you, look into yourself and see what doesn’t feel right.”

Yona does as she says, taking a deep breath and centering herself. The scent of petrichor strong in the air, the nuttiness of their protein bars, their sweat, blood, the heavy musk of alpha pheromones from the cooling bodies, and something tangy and strong enough to make her crinkle her nose. “They smell strong and bitter.”

“What else?”

Her eyes stay closed as turns her attention towards herself. She can tell her own scent is strong, but that’s to be expected with the enhancers they were given. She feels a subtle tingle creeping up her neck, an almost imperceptible cramping, a gentle heat stirring in her loins. “My heat,” she gasps and with a jump she starts pacing. “Why am I getting my heat? I thought the enhancers were only for the pheromones?”

“They are. Clearly there’s something wrong with this Philtre. The alphas were released too soon, we’re on the verge of our heats, they’re probably on the verge of a rut. There’s no telling what could happen. That’s why I’m not taking any chances with these alphas. As far as I’m concerned, it’s kill or be killed.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait it out. However long that means.”

A/N: Hopefully y'all liked this lol I'm going to try to update once a week, especially since there should only be two more parts left. Curtis will show up soon, I promise lol Thank you for all the likes you've given, please don't forget to tell me what you think.

I'm not really one to do taglists but you can follow/check out @valthevalkyrielibrary for updates on any works I do.