#fuck being frozen fuck dying of hypothermia

[pwurrz]

2 years ago it took me a solid 6 months of grinding, preparation, character building (and putting it off) before i reached the summit of dragonspine. and that was all because of the stupid time trial challenge at the bottom of the cave. today, it only took me a few hours to complete the entire world quest from start to finish. i’ve dedicated so much time to genshin i’m kind of having a crisis about it

[imagineabuttercream]

Prank Gone Wrong (Jack x Reader)

You'd known Jack Maynard since elementary school, and if you were honest with yourself you'd had a crush on him ever since. You had filmed a messy video for Jack's channel with Josh and thankfully Jack lent you some clothes so you could shower and change out of your sticky ones. You had spent the rest of the night hanging out with the boys and were coming back the next day to film a video for Josh's channel. Unfortunately, you didn't know that you had been caught in the crossfire of a prank war.

Getting ready for bed, Jack brushed his teeth and remembered he had set up a go pro in the bathroom to catch Josh singing in the shower. Grabbing it and reviewing the footage on his mac, he realized that he had caught you in the shower. Jack immediately paused the footage, his hand coming to cover his mouth.

"I can't." he said, running the mouse to the red X to close the window. Staring at the frozen frame of your body on the camera, Jack let his curiosity get the best of him. "Just a second." he said, clicking play. He watched you rinse your hair and caught that you were singing one of his favorite songs, a smile creeping onto his face. "Jack, what the fuck are you doing?" he asked himself, pausing the video again.

He went to close the video and delete the footage, but something caught his eye. You and Jack were the type of friends to tell each other everything, but you had a secret. You had a tattoo between your shoulder blades that you got when your grandma had passed. It was a personal thing that you wanted to keep to yourself, so you never told anyone. Jack played the video, watching for a clearer image of the tattoo.

"Jack!" Josh called, walking into his room.

"It's nothing! I wasn't doing anything." Jack said, slamming his lap top closed and ripping his headphones out of his ears.

"'Cause that doesn't look suspicious as fuck." Josh laughed. "If you're going to watch porn, at least close your door."

"I wasn't. It was....Nevermind. What's up?" Jack replied.

"Y/n is headed back over." Josh said.

"It's nearly 2 in the morning, is she okay?" Jack asked, nervous you would find out what he did.

"The heater in her building is broken and she was coming over in the morning anyways. I told her to pack a bag and she can just crash over here until it's fixed." Josh said, giving Jack a weird look. "Are you alright, mate?"

"Yeah!" he said, his voice cracking. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Yeah. I'm fine. Is she just going to sleep on the couch?"

"I figured she'd bunk with one of us." Josh replied, knowing you had done it before. "Just wanted to give you a heads up. Finish wanking before she gets here. I'd rather not scare her out of the house." Josh said, closing Jack's door.

Jack opened his mac and felt guilty just seeing the video open. "Jack, you're an idiot." he told himself, deleting the footage. He heard the front door open and close. Hoping he wouldn't have to face you tonight, he stayed in his room.

"Thank you." he heard you say to Josh. "It is freezing in my flat."

"Of course. We can't let you freeze." Josh replied, giving you a hug. "Holy shit you're shivering."

"I know. I just need blankets and I'll bundle up on the couch." you said, tucking your hands into your sweater after dropping your bag by the couch.

"Do you just want to share mine?" Josh asked, grabbing your bag.

"Works for me. I warn you, though. I'm a cuddler." you laughed, following Josh to his room. "Jack asleep?" you asked.

"I don't know. He's being weird." Josh replied, setting your bag by his closet.

"That's nothing new." you laughed, crawling into the bed after Josh.

"Holy shit, your feet are cold." Josh squealed.

You laughed, "We've established I'm dying of hypothermia."

"Well that won't do." Josh said, pulling you towards him, making you the little spoon to his big spoon.

"Mmmmm, you're so warm. Thank you." you giggled. "Goodnight, Josh."

"Goodnight, Frosty." He replied, sending you into another fit of giggles.

Jack finally ventured out into the living room after it got quiet. He didn't see anyone on the couch and your bag was nowhere to be found. He walked down the hall and peeked in Josh's room. Seeing Josh with his arms around you left a weird feeling in his stomach. He didn't like it and he didn't know why.

The next morning Jack was the first to wake and he wasn't too happy about it. He had been up most of the night thinking. First, he had really fucked up and he knew it. The guilt was keeping him on edge. Second, even though he shouldn't know it, he knew you had a tattoo and he was upset you hadn't told him about it before. You guys usually trusted each other with everything. And finally, he couldn't make sense of his feelings. He was upset you had fallen asleep in Josh's arms, but he couldn't figure out why. Deciding to avoid all of it, he grabbed his keys and wallet and left the flat.

Hearing the door slam shut, you woke up. "Josh?" you said, sliding out of bed. "What was that noise?"

"What?" Josh said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Walking out into the flat, you called out for Jack but didn't hear anything. "Hello?"

"He must have left." Josh said, ducking into Jack's room.

"He slammed the door." you said, wondering what was wrong with your friend. *Where'd you go?* you text him, hoping everything was okay. He text back *Just gone for a walk. I'll be back for Josh's video.*

Jack hadn't gone for a walk. Well, unless you count walking straight to MIkey's apartment. "I'm fucked." he said, plopping onto Mikey's bed. Mikey just stared at Jack, half asleep. "I said I'm fucked, mate!" Jack said, flailing around dramatically.

"Jack, what are you talking about?" Mikey said, sitting up in bed.

Jack spent the next 5 minutes explaining everything that had kept him up all night.

"Oi, mate. You're fucked." Mikey said, getting out of bed and pulling black jeans on. "Get up. I need food and coffee."

Sitting in a cafe around the corner, they placed their orders. While Jack was taking a drink of his water, MIkey asked him a question. "Do you think she'll still date you after she knows what you did?"

Jack spit water all over the table and Mikey. "Date her? Why on earth would I want to date her?"

"Mate, why do you think you were so mad when you saw her with Josh?" Lp asked, wiping the water from his jacket and face.

It took jack a minute. "I was probably just mad about. Well, you know. I don't like her. That's stupid. I think I'd know if I liked someone I've known my whole life." Mikey raising his hands in defeat, didn't say anything back.

When jack finally made it back to the flat, you and Josh were already setting up for the video. Trying to act normal, Jack asked, "What are we filming?"

"I figured since we have Y/n here we'd do Never Have I Ever. Conor's working on something upstairs so it's just us." Josh said, adjusting the tripod.

"Perfect. Cool. Works for me." He said, just standing around.

"Hey! You're back!" you said, walking up to Jack and hugging him. "Where'd you go?"

When you hugged Jack he was torn between wishing you hadn't and not wanting to let go. "Breakfast with Mikey."

"Nice. Hope you had a good time." you said, walking over to help Josh.

The first part of the video went fine, but then Josh brought up that you were sleeping in the flat because your heating was out and Jack made a jab at Josh. "I bet you kept her plenty warm, mate." looking upset.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Josh said, giving Jack a questioning look.

"Jack, I would have crashed with you like normal, but you were asleep." you replied.

"Sure, my turn. Never have I ever gotten a tattoo." Jack said, raising his 'I have' paper. You and Josh raised your 'I haven't' papers.

You started next. "Never have I ever..."

Jack laughed, interrupting you. "Never have I ever lied to my best friend." He stared at you, waiting for you to answer. "So you're going to lie about lying now?" He asked, when you didn't answer.

"What are you talking about?" You asked Jack.

"I'm talking about the tattoo between your shoulder blades you never told me about, even though you've gone with me to get every single one of mine." Jack practically yelled, regretting saying anything. If you came clean, he'd have to as well.

"How...How do you even know about that?" You asked, but didn't get a response.

"So you admit it!" He continued raising his voice.

"Jack, stop yelling." Josh stepped in.

"Oh, fuck off, mate. I'm sure she'll crawl back in your bed for comfort." Jack said, regretting every word. He was just digging himself deeper and finally he stood up and walked out of the flat.

You had tears in your eyes, and Josh didn't know what to do. "He's been off since before you came over last night. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"He's right, though. I should have told him." You didn't understand how he knew, but you felt guilty for keeping it from him. You sat there and explained to Josh the whole tattoo and why you got it and kept it a secret. "I hate when he's not okay." You cried, venting. "I know he won't ever return my feelings, but his friendship is important to me." You talked a bit more and then packed up your bag.

"Y/n, please stay here. Your heater won't be fixed for two more days." Josh begged you, not wanting to to be alone or stuck in your freezing flat.

"I'm good, love. Let me know Jack made it home safe, yeah?" You said, heading home.

When Jack came home, Josh cornered him. "What gives, Jack?"

"I screwed up, mate." Jack replied, explaining to Josh what he'd done and how he knew about the tattoo.

"You're an asshole. An even bigger asshole than you think you are." Josh said, going to his room and pulling the SD card from his camera. "Watch this and then make it right." Josh went to his room and closed his door.

Jack pulled up the card on his computer and watched his outburst all over again, cringing and swearing at how stupid he had been. After watching himself storm out, he listened to you explain. And then he listened to you tell Josh that you had feelings for him. Watching how broken he had left you, Jack closed the lap top. Something was clicking in his head. He wanted to be the person that comforted you when you were upset, not the person that left you upset. Grabbing his keys, he stormed out of the flat for the third time in one day.

Jack paced in front of your door for a solid five minutes before he gathered the courage to knock. Opening your door, you were surprised to see Jack. "Come in." You said, stepping aside.

"No." Jack said, standing in your doorway. "You may not want me to come in."

"You're always welcome in my home, Jack." You insisted.

"Not after you hear what I have to say. This seems like a good location in case you want to slam the door in my face." He said, refusing to come in.

"Oooookay." You said, waiting for him to continue.

"First, I have to apologize. Josh and I have been pranking each other and there was a camera set up to catch him singing in the shower. I didn't know you'd be in there." Jack said, waiting for you to understand.

"That sucks, but it's not the end of the world, Jack. Did you delete it?" You replied.

"You're not mad?" He asked.

"Embarrassed, but not mad." You said, cringing thinking about him seeing you in the shower.

"Well there's more." Jack cleared his throat. "First, you have no reason to be embarrassed." Jack said. "Second..."

If he saw enough to compliment you, you realized that he had actually watched the footage. "You didn't just delete it, did you?"

Jack started panicking and he couldn't stop the word vomit "I'm so so sorry, Y/n. I watched it for less than a minute. I swear I didn't watch the whole thing. We've been friends since before we knew we even liked boys or girls and I've never looked at you like that before until it was just sitting in front of me and then I saw your tattoo and I was confused and then I was a little hurt that you kept it a secret because we tell each other everything and then I realized how badly I had fucked up by watching it at all. And then THEN I saw you sleeping in Josh's arms and I wanted to punch him so hard. Y/n, I hated seeing you sleeping in his bed and I didn't understand why but Mikey told me it's because I like you and I accidentally spit water all over him but then I realized he was right. Which made everything so much worse because I had already done something unforgivable and then Josh yelled at me and made me watch the video of what you said after I stormed out like a fucking child and seeing you hurting just killed me....Y/n, I never want to be the person that makes you feel like that....." Jack stood there out of breath and out of words.

"I think I got about half of that." You laughed. "Why did you spit on Mikey?"

"Are you laughing?" He asked, starting to shiver from the total lack of heat in your building.

"What you did was messed up and embarrassing, Jack." you said stepping to the side and telling him to come in.

"I know, love, and I'm so so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you." he said, teeth chattering. "I didn't even think you'd let me inside."

"You didn't let me finish." you said, closing the door. "Recording me was an accident, but you should have deleted it. No one likes feeling exposed." you said, blushing. "I think our friendship is stronger than your dumb mistake, though. I just wish you would have talked to me instead of blowing up on Josh and yelling at me. You were kind of a huge ass hole."

"Will you please forgive me and give me another chance to not fuck this up?" Jack asked.

"Of course, love. I do reserve the right to use Josh to get revenge, though." you laughed.

"That's fair. I'm half naked on the internet already, so I've accepted everyone will eventually see me nude." Jack replied, finally addressing the temperature. "You were not kidding. It's like the arctic in here."

"No shit." you laughed. "Apologize to Josh. And tell him we'll re-film his video tomorrow." You said, walking to the door.

"As if. You're coming with me." he said, grabbing the bag you had dropped at the door.

"You're forgiven, Jack. You don't need to baby me." You said, opening the door.

"No, you don't understand. I didn't get a bit of sleep last night after seeing you in bed with Josh. If you won't come back to mine, then I'm going to slowly freeze to death in yours." Jack said, still holding your bag.

"I still don't get why you got so upset that I bunked with Josh. All three of us have shared a bed before. We're just friends." you said, slipping your shoes on.

"But I didn't feel the way I feel now, y/n." Jack said, realizing you hadn't quite caught the point of all of this. "I don't want to share a bed with my best friend. I want to wake up next to the person I love."

Letting his words from earlier sink in, you shook your head back and forth in disbelief. "Jack Maynard, you are ridiculous. You know that?" you said, closing the distance between you two.

"There's actual proof of that all over the internet, love." Jack chuckled.

Standing up on your toes, you pressed your lips to his. "Also, if I had known that seeing me naked would make you fall in love with me, I would have taken my clothes off years ago." you teased him, walking out of your flat. You could hear him laugh behind you.

"That's not it at all, you freak. Though feel free to exercise your right to be naked any time you like." he joined you, closing your door behind the two of you. "It was seeing you with Josh. It just cleared some things up for me."

"Well now that we're clear, can we please get an Uber back to yours. You made me leave my warm blanket nest." you said, pulling your sleeves over your hands.

When you got back to his flat, Josh was sitting in the living room, doing something on his computer. "I take it you two sorted yourselves out?" he asked.

"I'm going to let you two talk." you said, hugging Josh and making your way to Jack's bed. When he finally joined you, he told you he'd apologized to Josh. "I'm glad." you said, feeling his arms wrap around your middle.

"How long have you felt this way about me? Like how long have I been missing this?" he asked, pulling you tighter to his chest and burying his face in your hair.

"I'm pretty sure I've always felt this way, love." You replied, smiling at how Jack's words slurred a bit when he was tired.

"I'm an idiot." he replied.

"But now you're my idiot." you giggled.

"How do you manage to sound both condescending and proud at the same time?" he laughed.

"Oh, go to sleep, Jack." you replied, still smiling.

"Half way there." he replied, placing a kiss against your hair.

[smallestapplin]

:O other people like Ice-type Red! Yay!!! I've had that bc for a while now and it's fun to see others talking about it!! Fav head canon right there!! Him being specifically related to Glalie is super cool!

I have my own hcs I wanna share :)

When Red leaves his mountain, or goes anywhere warm, he begins to "sweat out" his cold resistance. In reality his body isn't use to having to regulate his body temperature to keep him from over heating, so he's really building up his heat resistant (I think it would be funny if he never noticed it was the other way around. It's normal not to get cold in the winter right?)

Lapris noticed immediately and constantly tried to baby Red before he was aware. Constantly, and I mean constantly giving the child ice to nom on. Red really appreciated the free food

Larpis failed to inform Red about this. Larpis thought he knew, he did not

Red can subsist off of ice. Like he can just eat ice and it will make him less hungry. This is what eventually made him realize his ice-type thing going on. All his other Pokemon, especially Snorlax, are deeply worried and confused when he eats ice as a meal. Stop!! That!! It's probably not good for you!! Eat some real food!! Larpis, however, approves

Red's mom used to take ice away from him because eating ice is supposed to be bad for you, but the doctors noticed that no matter how much ice Red are his teeth weren't damaged. She thought he had an iron deficiency for the longest time, as ice chewing is a symptom of that

The fact that he was able to walk up Mt Sliver in shorts and a t-shirt should of been the thing that tipped him off, but being a Pokemon master never afforded him critical thinking skills

By the time he's in Aloa he has near perfect control of his ice-type powers. Blue uses him as a cold pack fucking constantly. Tho in the hotter months he sometimes takes ice baths to deal with the overwhelming heat when he can't on his own

Red is very curious as to why he's only see psychic and ghost trainers show off their abilities and types. I feel like he'd wonder if the buff fighting type trainers were fighting types themselves. He and Pikachu get into a long argument about this, later he probably argues about this with the researcher as well

Red's body temperature has been steadily dropping as he's gotten older. Less to do with aging, and more to do with being in his element. Before he went to Mt Sliver he was just slightly colder than the average person, a chill baby if you will, nothing weird here. During Mt Sliver his body temperature is so low he should of died from hypothermia at least five times now. After Mt Sliver hes more chilly to the touch

Charizard is very annoyed that Blastoise and Lapris get most of the cuddle time, but also doesn't want Red putting his cold feet on Charizard's tail so cuddling with Snorlax will have to do

Yes, Red does sometimes sleep in Lapris's pool. It's nice in there and Venusaur can stop warbling about the likelihood of him drowning. He's fineeee

Yes, Pikachu does brag to Charizard about having fur

Lapris eventually teaches Red how to do some Ice type moves (local couch sealing researcher is dying to know if Red can only remember the same amount of moves as a Pokemon, or a different amount)

You think Red would feel a vibe coming from Glalitite bc he's part Glalie? If so the researcher would likely ask him if he can mega evolve. The question is so confusing that Red just wanders out into the snow storm to an ice lake where they can't follow to have a small think existential crisis in peace

By the time of Aloa when Red has ""reentered"" society, and by reentered I mean got a higher tolerance for people so was less likely to fuck off to some mountain, he has a habit of buying frozen food and just eating it as is in front for people just to see their reactions. Blue has never hated him this much

Red's typing and part Pokemon status has nothing to do with his ability to understand pokemon and communicate with them. Weirdly enough many psychic trainers struggle with understanding pokemon as much as the average person. That's a different brand of Red weirdness, unconnected to the first one

👀👀👀 goddamn these are amazing.

This was dope to wake up to.

[hunterscoffee]

Frozen Nights

Oneshot Masterlist Black Noir x Reader Warnings: Swearing, Nudity Word Count: 529

Your breath clouded in front of you like you were breathing fire, you stood in a frozen wasteland, sheets of ice stretched as far as you could see and snowflakes fell from the sky, only to be caught in your eyelashes. Your whole body shook and you could see why when you looked down at yourself, you wore nothing. Your bare toes were blue against the ice, the rest of your feet, and whole body for that matter, was a bright red, cheeks blushed against the cold.

“What the fuck?” you muttered to yourself under your breath. Still absolutely mystified as to how you managed to find your way to what looked like Antarctica whilst naked. You had come to terms with your death many times during your employment with Vought, though each time you had thought you were dying for the sake of humanity, now you were just freeing to death. Oh god you hoped no one wrote that on your tombstone, Y/N L/N died of hypothermia whilst naked in the Antarctic. You took a tentative step forward, lightly pressing the pad of your right foot into the ice, as soon as you put weight on that foot the ice cracked. At that moment you had a single thought. Fuck.

You vaulted out of bed. Chest heaving as you glanced around the room. It was indeed freezing, but you were not in Antarctica, which came as a relief to you. A look to your left told you why you had been so cold. Noir lay in bed, completely covered in the pile of blankets that you had sworn you had covered yourself in before you had fallen asleep. He had his back to you, completely silhouetted in the dark room. You took a moment to compose yourself before you crawled across the bed, trying to move over him without waking him up. It was so rare that Noir slept the whole night without being plagued by nightmares or the guilt forced upon him by Vought.

As gently as possible you pulled part of the duvet and blankets off him in order to bury yourself into his warmth. Though you had tried your hardest to be ever so gentle you knew he had been awake since you had woken from your dream. Noir lifted an arm so you could better nestle into him.

“I’m sorry about waking you up.” you murmured.

“Is fine.” came his whispered reply, his voice was thick with sleep, making it even deeper than it normally was. He pulled the duvet over you, then rested his arm over your waist, pulling you further into him. You were already about to fall asleep, the rhythm of his heart a lullaby.

“I love you.” you mumbled, you missed the blush that spread across his face and the smile that lit his face up because you had your face pressed into his chest.

“I love you too, more than you know.” he kissed the top of your head, listening to your breathing even as you fell back asleep. You loved him, he was nothing, barely recognised by most, not even his own person. You loved him.

[whitleyschn33]

Nitpick November: 15

So let’s make this quick!

Yang’s V7 outfit; I hate it! Beyond its mechanic vibe instead of biker girl, beyond its overuse of brown, besides that brown being the ugliest shade of brown to ever exist, it’s horrendous because it is way too fucking cold for Atlas’s climate.

The only elements of this outfit that look good for a tundra are the boots and jacket. The boots are thick and sturdy, good for hiking through snow, it looks like she’s wearing fuzzy socks under them, and the jacket at least looks padded with insulation and has fur around the neck. That’s where the warmth ends, though.

Her overalls look thin and like they’d do a poor job of keeping someone warm, having such a low back, unzipping down the front, and having the option to unzip and unfasten the legs. The fact that Yang refuses to keep the thigh zipped up either makes it look even colder, and makes Yang look like an idiot - why would you willingly uncover yourself in the middle of a frozen wasteland? That desperate to show off to Blake? Then there’s the fact that the only thing she’s wearing underneath the overalls is a flimsy-ass tube top. Her chest is completely exposed, and what parts of it that are covered are covered with such thin fabric that it would do an awful job at actually keeping her warm. Who the hell let her walk out into Atlas dressed like this? XD

I get that Yang is supposed to be the sexy bombshell of the group, but this is just so glaringly impractical for the weather she’s in that it makes it look like Yang should be dying of hypothermia. It wouldn’t have been any trouble to have her wearing a sweater underneath her overalls, and to have her wearing thermal leggings to cover her thigh if she insists on keeping the leg uncovered. She doesn’t have to be constantly flashing her bare cleavage to remind you that she’s the sexy party girl. I realize that I’m a (probably) straight girl and my opinions on feminine sexiness don’t count, but let me tell you - the thing I find sexiest on a man? A tight black sweater. That’s it. As much as I might drool over a bare chest, there’s something about tight black sweaters that gets me going, and from what I’ve seen, sweaters can look just as sexy on women - and that could have absolutely been applied to Yang here, giving her a tight but still warm pair of thermals that accentuate her body’s curves while still keeping her looking like she’s prepared to head out into a blizzard. It’s not that hard.

This outfit is for a mechanic in early fall, not for a huntress in the middle of a freezing tundra. 

[jangofctts]

Tough Luck (Boba Fett x reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, violence, language, dry humping,  oral (m), sex with binders, vaginal fingering, mildly dubious consent, mild cumplay, more sexual favors (jfc), vaginal sex, consensual loss of virginity, 

Chapter (1)

a/n: howdy hey bucket fuckers. welcome to the second chapter!!! thank you so much for ms. @bobafctts​ for helping me THOT and help with the process of this bad boy in addition to @djxrxn​ whom ALSO encourages all these DISguSTAnG thots. love you, whores 🤠💖❤️ 

It’s a grueling ride to Coruscant. Even with a midway stop to refuel, it takes more than a couple weeks to arrive. 

You wish Boba Fett had thrown you into the carbon freezer. 

It’s...boring down here. 

The bounty hunter had left you alone, preferring to lock himself away inside the cockpit. Not like you’d want him anywhere but there, that is. He’s not some circus clown meant to entertain an impartial audience—you’re his quarry. A quarry worth a quarter million credits.   

The rare occasion you do see him is humiliating as is. Monitored refresher brakes and the singular hellacious shower incident. True, all he had done was wrestle your kicking and screaming self into the little cubicle then proceed to lock you in—and yet…Never in the entirety of your existence had you encountered anything more glacial than that water.  

Stars—you swear he has a direct pipeline to Hoth. 

With fingers frozen and teeth chattering so hard they rattled your skull, you made quick work of scrubbing at your hair and body. It’s a miracle you survived certain death by hypothermia, even more so you haven’t caught a cold in the following hours.   

There are limited chances to protest and rebel, close to zero in fact. He’s proven to be stronger on more than one occasion, man-handling and knocking you around like some squeaky toy left to be chewed on for some oversized loth-cat. 

He’s taken away the sole thing you’ve craved since coming aboard this ship; ripped it from your fingers and shattered it upon a duracrete floor. You’ve never chosen the petty undertaking after flustered nerves and lost arguments in life; it festers and twists into malice like a weight over your chest. But you’re no longer there. 

Here, after the first meal bar landed in your lap, you surrendered your pride and tore into that idle act of revenge.     

The meal bars thrown at your feet now begin to pile up; the one small defiance you can spare. It’s either this or throw your head against the wall until you pass out. Tragically and against your own volition, the imagery your brain provides for it forms a bubble of unease in the pit of your stomach. The sight of your own blood makes you queasy anyhow.   

It’s not ideal. You’re knifing hungry, but your act of defiance works. Faster than you’d originally thought as the second sleep cycle rolls around. 

Boba Fett’s spurs chink against the front of his boots, the glare of the shiny metal catching against the dim lighting. He doesn’t carry a meal bar this time. Instead all he brings is an ion storm filled with buzzing irritation you can feel crackle against your skin. Your eyes sweep up his figure as he plants himself before you, his head tipped down to meet your half-hearted glare.    

With a long sigh, squats and lifts up one the meal bars, the shiny wrapper crinkling under the pressure as he points it in your direction. “I’m not interested in delivering a corpse.”

“I’m not hungry,” you quip, turning your head to glower into the murky darkness of the ship. 

You jump, a pitiful squeak escaping your vocal cords as he throws the bar at your feet and lunges. His hand clamps around the binders, the roar of your heart deafening against your eardrums as he yanks you in close. 

“What is it you want?” He snarls, “A deal?”  

“I see how you treat your deals,” you bite back, straining against his grip. “You’re a liar and a cheat.” 

Boba wrenches you forward, the tip of your nose skimming the edge of the tinted visor from how close he leans in. “Careful, Rabbit. If I recall correctly, you offered me a favor not a contract.”

Despite the inky blackness of the visor, you could easily mistake it with the intensity of a dying star. You’re caught in that same familiar, lecherous pull from before. It feels wrong to be brought so close; like dancing over the serrated edge of a blade, not meant for a mortal soul to be wandering along.  

“I’ll ask again.” He states, the leather squeaking as his fingers clench tighter. “What is it you want?”

There’s no bargaining for a merciful death. You’ve seen how that would play out. All your cards are exhausted and spent and the only thing you’re left to bargain for are simple accommodation before you’re appointment with a firing squad.   

“No more binders. At least for more than a couple hours.” You rush out, afraid if you don’t speak with haste he’ll cut you off. “And...and I want a blanket. It’s—it’s cold.” 

He considers this, each second like a poorly wired hyperdrive—seconds from imploding. You let out a shaky breath as you catch the near imperceptible nod. “Is that all?” 

“Yes...I-I think.” 

He snorts. “You think? What else do you require, Rabbit?” 

You ignore the sarcasm dripping through the syllables like melted sugar. Be it intimidation or your own hormones betraying your rational mind, your eyes dip down. You curse yourself for his perceptiveness. 

It comes with the job you suppose. No one becomes the best bounty hunter in the parsec using untrained eyes.  

“You know, girl,” he chuckles, a gravelly rasp against the vocoder. “I could...return the favor.”

If you had it your way, wielding an iron grip of control on your own body, you’d stop the tidal wave of crackling arousal from licking at your heels and settling in the pit of your stomach. It’s a rush of electricity guilt yet you’re able to reign in your tongue and speak; as shaky and unsure as it is.  “What makes you think I want anything more to do with you?”

“There’s no harm changing your mind,” he says. Boba cocks his head to the side and rocks forward, capturing and twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “As you said—you’ll die soon anyhow.”

With a goading tug on your hair he sits up, the tinkle of his spurs filling the space as he saunters a couple paces away. He smooths a hand over a large cargo crate, the leather glove rasping against the wood and with a sigh, he sits. He settles his back against it, your eyes not once leaving his figure, entranced by each subtle movement and swish of his cloak that bunches beneath him.  

“Come claim your favor, Rabbit,” Boba purrs, crossing his legs and leaning further into the cargo crate. He’s awfully nonchalant—like a loth-cat furled out in the sun. Though you know, behind the undisturbed facade, one wrong move and he’ll pounce; sink those razor sharp talons into exposed flesh.   

“Anything?” 

If you could see his eyes, you imagine he’d be rolling them. He pats his thigh. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and then we’ll talk.”

You don’t think about the fact that this is worse than before. That you’re letting yourself clamber over his crossed legs and into his lap. You hate that the crackling fire, greedy and dark, burns through your core as if it had never had a taste of pleasure before.  

His hands skim up your thighs, covered and impersonal. You don’t let that kernel of disappointment wiggle into your thoughts—it’s bad enough you’re here. In spite of this, you think, fuck it. You might as well. Your life is such a shit show anyhow might as well indulge.   

You hiss in surprise as your crotch meets the unforgiving metal codpiece. “Take it off?” 

“You take it off, Rabbit.”

Your teeth clamp down into the inside of your cheek. Bastard. Cocky, smug, asshole—

The list could go on forever and despite the irritation snapping inside your chest like a cut wire, your fingers find the latches to the dark green codpiece. You’re rough taking the blasted thing off, delighting in the bounty hunter’s little chagrined grunt as you tug and pull without much caution. 

“Careful.” 

You shoot the best glare you can muster and stick your tongue out, jolting as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass in retaliation. With a clatter the codpiece falls off; the thick swell of his cock creating an attractive line against the white fabric. 

The same trepidation returns. You’re digging your own grave here, shoveling through dirt and tough layers of gravel in order to toss yourself in. It shouldn’t be this easy to convince yourself to fall into those greedy claws of arousal.

“Well?” Boba challenges, snaking a hand around the swell of your waist. “Get moving before I change my mind.” 

“What do you suggest I do then?” You snip, exasperated by his indignant shrug. 

With a low hum he anchors his hold over your hips and yanks you further over his crotch. “You could be a good girl and get yourself off.”

You swallow, chewing on the edge of your lip. “Like this? Nothing else?” 

“I don’t know, Rabbit,” he sighs, “but it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Before you can ask, he rolls his hips up, pressing the firmness of his cock against your covered cunt. You gasp and rock into him, a hand shooting out to grab at his shoulder pauldron. His snort of amusement only encourages your spiral into madness as he allows you to set your own pace; a timid and shallow undulation of you hips that only serves to amp up the craving and not sate it in the slightest.    

Stars, it’s hard to think like this. Every spark of pleasure is a catalyst to the inferno that tears through the fabrics of your being. It’s an effortless process to forget who you’re using to get off; easy to tumble into that pit of pleasure with each buck of your hips.      

Your cries are harsh, an incoherent string of curses and his name all thrown into one. Fuck—it’s blinding. The catch and pull of the fabric against your clit and the hardness of his cock that presses against your inner thigh; pitching quite an impressive tent in those creamy white trousers. 

It rushes up, searing and white-hot that’s got your whole figure into stiffening and catapulting into bliss. With a groan your head dips onto his shoulder, the scent of plasma and an undercurrent of smoke lingering on the fabric of his cowl. Your hips still rock into his lap, riding out the last dregs of pleasure. 

In retrospect you should have known. Deduced that this favor claimed as yours would shift into something completely his. He’s never satisfied with the terms unless he gets the larger cut. 

Just as your hips begin to slow, he readjusts his grip and grinds his straining cock against your sensitive pussy.     

Boba’s hands, one cradling your spine while the other clamps down over you ass is an anchor so unyielding it’d take a ship cutter to brake; he’s heaving your body into they jerky and erratic roll of his hips, too far gone to care about technique or poise. Just a means to an end—desperate for release. His breathy grunts reverberate through the vocoder, near deafening this close to your ear as the hand resting between your shoulder blades, latches onto the back of your neck. 

If not for the intensity of your orgasm, devastating and still wracking through your body in tiny jolts of lingering pleasure, you’d have fought his hold. Instead, you allow Boba to urge you forward, the cool metal a shocking contrast against your forehead in comparison to your flushed state. His own head is bowed against yours, playing into that foreign sense of intimacy as he finds his release. 

With a stuttered groan, his fingers harpoon into your flesh and cums. 

His chest heaves, fervent gulps of air harsh and distorted by the vocoder as he winds down from his high. You’re no better; your breath fans across the visor, the humidity painting a foggy layer of perspiration over the visor as your body still quivers with the aftershocks of pleasure. He’s the first one to part; jerks his head away as if you've burned him.   

In the following seconds, it’s as if your eyes are glued to that visor. There’s no telling wether you’re moments away from being slaughtered or allowed to sustain this little charade he’s put you through.    

“Oh, Rabbit…” A shiver tears down your spine as he glances between your bodies. There’s a wet patch, the fabric dampened by both your combined releases staining the front of his trousers. “What a waste.” 

You gasp as his hand curls around the column of your throat, your cunt clenching as the pressure tightens. With once last, teasing squeeze his fingers move to tangle into your hair. “Clean up your mess.” 

With a not so gentle yank on the strands you’re coerced into clambering off Boba’s lap. He guides your head forward, uncrossing his muscled legs to let you crawl up and settle between his thighs.     

Your hand quivers, somehow able to pop open the button and pull down the wet fabric. Smeared globs of his release stain the soft, dark skin, his cock still thick and swollen even after orgasm. Your tongue passes over your bottom lip as you lean in, a new, fresh wave of arousal carving through your frame. 

The taste isn’t horrid, still warm and mildly salty as you tongue laves at the crease of his thigh. Your tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva down to his balls, the skin velvety soft against your mouth. Boba jerks as you suckle them into the wet heat of you mouth, carefully swirling your tongue over them then tracing up to his softening cock. He grunts as you lick along his shaft, the flesh twitching as you lap up the rest of the sticky substance.   

Boba’s hand nudges at your forehead, then shifts and maneuvers himself out of your hold. Not a word is spoken as he pulls up his trousers and thumbs the button closed. He snatches up the codpiece laying pathetically on the ground and reattaches it around his groin. 

You don’t mean to flinch as he dips down—force of habit—even if all he does is reach for one of the abandoned meal bars. He pushes it into your hand; no room for arguments and perches himself against the cargo crate, one ankle crossed over the other as his arms fold over his cuirass. He dips his head, the message loud and clear to hold up your end of the deal. 

“You don't have to watch me eat,” you mutter, biting off the corner of the foil with your teeth to open it. You roll a piece of the pasty food into a crumbly ball between your fingertips then pop it into your mouth. You grimace at the taste. Bland. A bit like dirt. 

Except…dirt has flavor. 

Not to mention the fact that he won’t stop staring. Tracking every move—unsettling and curbing your appetite into a mess of anxious knots. You don’t like being analyzed and monitored like an ill-tempered child. It’s a long shot to ask and receive an answer, but you’re desperate for anything to fill the silence.  

“How did…um…you find me?” 

Kriff, you can’t even ask about anything normal, can you?

Boba cocks his head to the side, letting that unnerving quiet draw out until you’re sure he won’t respond. And then; “People leave trails. Even you, clever rabbit”

You force yourself to choke down another bite of the bar. “What was my trail then?”

You’re split between the desire to know what you did to ensure your capture while battling your queasy surprise that he’s chosen to indulge your questionings. “The pilot.”

A knife of dread, so sharp and swift it cuts through the layers of cartilage and bone; the blade lodging itself into your heart. “W-what?” 

“The Imperial one.”

Elliria Beren. Elli— 

No. No—that’s…he’s toying with you.  

Dantooine is the last place you saw her. Alive. Wild, auburn hair blown from her braids caused by the windstorm that swept up through the grassy plains; the clouds, colossal and dark, swallowed up the sun as they rolled across the horizon. Her flight suit was hastily thrown on, rumpled and against regulations in the rush to help you. She told you to run—stole the TIE fighter to give you one last, undeserved chance. 

It feels like a broken promise stapled to the roof of your mouth as your mind dregs up the remnants of that day. She’d thrown her arms around you, crushing you to her chest, smelling like oncoming rain, and that contraband perfume she’d bought on Alderaan; a delicate sweetness you can hardly remember.

With Elliria, there was no fear; cradled in her arms and severed off from the world. There, you've done nothing wrong, you are not being chased by some relentless terror. You could sleep inside that moment. You could live inside that string of seconds. It would be fine. It would be perfect. You could escape and mend you fragmented heart strings. 

But you’re not there. 

You’re here. 

Here on a bounty hunter’s ship. Here there is fear. There is great sorrow. There is a litany of sins and a throng of terrors devouring at your soul. You led her straight to her death. Right into the very jaws of the man who sits before you. You hadn’t even considered she’d be caught.   

Your stomach churns and coils as bile pricks at your throat. What have you done.  

“I found her on Tatooine,” Boba continues, either enjoying your obvious horror or unabashedly oblivious.

No. Stop fucking talking. You bite back a choked sob as he raises a finger, tracing it across his cuirass. There—alongside the braided pieces of hair mounted as trophies, sits a red and blue ribbon. How haven’t you seen it before? You were there when Elli was awarded the Imperial Medal of Valor—it’d been the first time you’d seen her smile in months.  

And now…now it hangs upon the pauldron of a bounty hunter as a conquest won. “She was a good shot—but I was better.” 

Your chest is a wall of fire; the air you breath constricted and hot as your throat mimics that of a too tight collar on a fancy suit. You don’t care that stinging tears spring from your eyes and carve burning paths down your cheeks. Grief and wrath spin inside your chest with the fierceness of a vortex all-consuming. You shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have forced his hand into revealing that all you ever do is leave a wake of destruction behind you. 

The abrupt, sharp, buzz throughout the ship slices through your despair. The comm system is flashing, attempting to patch in a call. The moment he stands, your mind races with plots of vengeance. You have nothing but your fists, your sharp teeth and bitten off nails. You don’t care. 

He turns his back, his cloak rasping against the floor. 

A momentary lapse in judgment on his part to leave himself vulnerable to a quarry free from their binders. 

With a cry you launch yourself across the small space, hooking your arms around his neck. He shouts out a curse, the weight of your body causing his own to pitch backwards. All air punches out of your lungs as the back of your head cracks against the ground, the full weight of beskar platting slamming into your chest and stomach. 

Your hold around his vulnerable throat loosens, giving him more than enough wiggle room to spring up. Your fist snaps out, the skin over your knuckles splitting open as it connects with the sharp edges of his helmet. He scrabbles to contain your flailing hands, eventually ensnaring your writs between his fingers with ease. 

Bucking your hips and kicking your legs out does nothing to save you from Boba wrestling you onto your stomach, straddling your thrashing body, wrench up your arms, and snap out a new pair of binders. Boba snarls as your elbow manages to stab into a vulnerable gap in his armor, forcing him to throw his entire weight over you. 

You don’t mean to slam the side of your face into his helmet—hurts you more than it would ever him. But it’s satisfying to feel him jerk and hiss out a curse.

“Stop this.” He barks, digging his forearm harder into the flesh of your shoulders. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

The blooming mark forming over your left eye socket is proof enough. The most damage, if any, would show up as bruise from where his own beskar had brutalized the skin or where your elbow had connected on his ribs.  

You want to fight—tear into his flesh until he feels even an ounce of the kind of pain he’s caused. Instead, he chooses something different.    

“I’m sorry about your friend.”  

Friend doesn’t sound right. And lover too bold. Feels overly simplistic; shallow to what you had with Elli. Like glossing over a three hundred page holonovel. “I hate you.”    

There’s no malice, no gloating. Just...sincerity. “Truly, I am.”  

You don’t know what’s worse; the fact that there’s nothing to latch onto, bare your teeth and spit out words more jagged than broken glass or if it’s the hollow void that carves out the cavity in your chest. The frigid vacancy that follows after a forest burns; charred skeletons of a once lush forest. Everything in your life has been burned, flipped and torn inside out more than you care to think about. 

Stuck in that strange limbo between the devouring vortex of agony and revenge. Flirting with dull edged apathy that blankets the pain with buzzing static. 

You choose the latter. 

It’s easier.  

It’s not fair Elli is dead. But there’s nothing you can do to change what happened. 

Some of that pressure bearing down on your spine eases as your body goes lax. You’re not sure how much time ticks away as you lie there against the dirty floor. Enough time to count the screws connecting the durasteel walls and the individual planks making up a cargo crate. You don’t care that Boba Fett continues to maintain his precarious position seated on your thighs, or the inquisitive touch between your shoulder blades. He isn’t the one to hate in this situation. You are. 

That gentle, uncharacteristic touch smooths down the line of your spine, disappearing once it reaches your bound hands. 

“You’re such a tiny creature...” You don’t think it’s meant for your ears, more of an observation he lets slip than a conversation starter. Regardless, it sends a shiver from the base of your skull and down. 

With a curious hum, Boba shifts, slotting his hips against your ass. The added weight is uncomfortable, it digs your hip bones into the durasteel flooring. Yet, unlike the beskar codpiece supposed to be strapped to his groin, all you can feel is a different sort of hardness present.

“There’s still fight in you yet, Rabbit.” 

Your fingers curl into fists so tight the bite of your fingernails leave crescent shaped indents. His hands smooth along the waistband of your trousers, the soft leather tickling the sliver of exposed skin where you shirt became rumpled. “Does that surprise you?” 

He huffs. “No. But you could put it to better use instead of attacking me.”  

“Like what? Fucking you?” Bitter resentment builds like ash over you tongue, even if the idea of it sends a charged volt of interest down to your lower belly. 

Boba’s fingers crawl down your thighs. “I didn’t say that, but if you insist.”  

You scoff and wriggle. “You’re deplorable.” 

“Is that a yes, Rabbit?”

Maybe, you think as you nod your head, this will fill that torn void with temporary gratification. Steal away your thoughts and loose yourself something akin to the mind numbing affects of alcohol. 

Boba hums in acknowledgment, hooks his fingers around the elastic and yanks down, underwear included. You can feel the weight of his stare wracking down the newly exposed skin, pliable and wanton—and all for him. 

You squeak as he takes two, plentiful handfuls of your ass, spreading and massaging the flesh. It’s as if the only reason he exists is to torment you. Pull from you the embarrassed flushes and ashamed squeaks. You’re relieved once he retreats.   

Though it’s not a moment later his hands are back over you. Gloveless. It’s a shock to your system feeling the scrape of calloused fingertips trail over the curve of your spine. A curious touch, one unfamiliar with the softness of skin, yet the fleeting presses rapidly turn into the only thing he knows. 

Your sharp inhale echoes into the ship as his fingers trail down the slit of your cunt, gliding through the slick, already leaking from your core, with ease. You jolt as his fingertip catches against the tiny bundle of nerves, the pressure teasing and light. Never enough to satisfy, just a cruel reminder just how easy it is to get you worked up. With a muted whimper, your hips twitch, silently begging for anything more. Anything to fill your clenching cunt.  

He obliges with a smug chuckle, lazily pushing a finger into the ring of velvety muscle. You whine as he slips in another digit, scissoring and shallowly thrusting in out, thoroughly coating his hand with your arousal. Just as the buzzing strings of pleasure begin to build up, he extracts them. Frustration pierces through your sternum, your teeth clamping down over your tongue in order to quell your irritation.  

There’s a rustle of fabric and a harsh inhale from the man behind you as he closes the space between you. Your pussy clenches as the tip of him touches against your clit, the flesh searing and painfully hard. You shudder and exhale a long, stuttered breath.    

“I can tell you haven’t been fucked right,” he purrs, dragging the flushed head of his cock through your folds. “Why don’t we fix that?” 

Boba gives your thigh a swat and shifts, ready to align himself and sink into your clenching core. That heavy haze of pleasure is abruptly yanked out from beneath your feet, panic piercing through your heart with an alarming jolt. You seize up and jerk away. 

“W-wait!” You gasp, hands wiggling against the binders. “I-I...uhm—“

“Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before, Rabbit.” He thinks it’s a joke. It is a bit silly considering the circumstances—yet here you are. Bent over and telling Boba Fett you're a kriffing virgin.  

Your shamed silence and the heated flush that follows answers his question with crystalline clarity. 

“You’re serious.” 

“I’ve never been fucked, ok?”  Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a long exhale. “I just...never…”

Your piss-poor explanation tapers off into a gaping fissure of terse silence. Maker, you should just throw yourself into a trash compactor—  

“I can change that,” he offers, trailing his palm over the globe of your ass. “If you’d like.” 

You swallow. Maybe in a different version of reality you’d consider a better option, but fuck it. You’re already here. “O-ok.”

“As you wish, Rabbit,” Boba complies. If not for the helmet you’re sure you’d see a smile curl across his face. “Just know—I don’t do gentle.”

You would never expect him to. Whatever civilized temperament he holds in not saved for anything but hunting and aiming a blaster. You tense as your walls begin to stretch and accept the tip of his cock—alarm bells blare inside your head, terrified that it won’t fit. His hand smooths over your hip as he encourages you to relax, let him sink in the rest of the way. His fingers find your clit, rubbing jerky patterns into the nerves as your cunt flutters and stitches wider for him. The sharp outline of his hips touch your ass, a sharp hiss of breath crackling out of the vocoder as he finally bottoms out. 

You’re so achingly full. No amount of fingers thrust up inside your cunt could compare to what you feel in this exact moment. Simultaneously split open and burning with white hot ecstasy with each involuntary jerk from the man inside you. There’s a minuscule pinch and ache as he pulls his hips back, the drag of his cock catching against each ridge and fold as you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” Boba swears, sheathing himself back inside with a forceful thrust. You squeak and pull against the binders. “You take it well.” 

There’s not much time between your next inhale and his hands anchoring around your hips, before he sets the pace; harsh and unyielding. Just as he promised, there is no buildup, just the violent roll and abrasive push inside you.  

There’s no time to familiarize yourself with this newfound sensation, just a frightening buildup that seizes you by surprise. It begins in belly, spreading through your bloodstream like the most virile poison. With another, devastating, surge of his cock into your pussy, you’re cast into that gaping bit of burning pleasure. 

Your vision whites out, your body arching and stiffening as you cry out. The fact that you’re squeezed so, fucking tight around him, holds no hinderance to his pace. Just encourages him to go faster. There’s no mercy as he fucks you through orgasm, overworking those sensitive nerves and pushing them past your limit.

With a hiss of air the binders fall to the ground with a clatter; the noise barely heard in comparison to your stuttered cries and the obscene sounds of his cock burying itself into your cunt. Your shoulders burn as your hands slip beneath you, shaky and unsure of themselves, stabilizing yourself against the greedy pull of his hands.  

The rough callous of his palm sweeps up your back and forms a fist in your hair, urging your spine to arch as his thrusts take on a sharper rhythm.

Your core is a mess of knots, pulled tight and more pressurized than a airlock. Your nails scrabble against the metal flooring, your knees rubbed raw from the vicious momentum he’s achieving. Fuck—this should’ve been your favor from the very start.

Those burning nerves, flooded with acute overstimulation, throws your body off that haphazard edge of another scorching orgasm. One that drags it’s sharpened nails down the curve of your spine, all the way done to your toes. 

“Fuck—fuck you’re tight,” he snarls, his hands squeezing your hips with vicious strength. “Keep squeezing me like that, Rabbit—good girl.”

The top half of you buckles under the weight of ecstasy, weakened and unbothered by the new angle; his cock reaching deep. Your fluttering cunt and the high-pitched whines of his name are it takes for him to reach his end. 

He pulls out, ropes of his release landing over your ass in hot gushes. “Shit.”

Boba’s cock still jumps and twitches as he drags it over your ass, rubbing his cum into the skin until the last dribble of his release dips above your tailbone. Quicker than you’d have liked he pulls away. Not far; just seats himself to your right and pulls up his trousers with a sigh. Eventually you’re able to trick yourself into moving; curling yourself into a little quivering ball as the aftershocks of pleasure prickle beneath your skin. 

You were right. It did fill whatever grasping numbness inside your chest, but now you’re left to deal with it all over again. You’re glad your back is to him as lonesome tears trickle down your nose and into you mouth, filling it with the taste of salt and pain. 

“I didn’t kill her. If that makes a difference.” 

It’s muttered and hard to catch, but you hear it just the same as if he had yelled it into your ear with an amplifier. You crush that flicker of hope with an iron fist as it flutters inside your stomach. “But?”

“But your Empire made sure that she was.” 

It doesn’t make a difference. 

[somerandomstrayemo]

This is my story off of wattpad that I had just decided to put here, do not repost, if I see this story anywhere else I will ask you to take it down, thank you :)

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Prompt: Virgil lends their sweater to Remus. When Remus is home, he realizes he still has Virgil's sweater and finds Virgil's iPod. Out of curiosity, Remus looks through Virgil's music and finds a playlist titled with Remus's name..

Virgil sat comfortably on the couch, casually scrolling through Instagram (yes, FINALLY, something other than Tumblr-). He hadn't had much to do that day since Patton was out getting things for a movie night, Roman was writing the script for a new video, and Logan was out with Patton, probably just out and about to resupply on crofters since he was running low on them.

It was mid February, and due to the climate in Florida it was still quite cold to say the least. Though Virgil didn't mind the freezing temperature due to the fact he almost always wore his black and purple sweater, he seemed almost unfazed by the somewhat cold atmosphere.

Around the evening is when the anxious trait heard light shuffling behind him and he quickly spun around from his position on the couch, only to spot a  seemingly freezing Remus that previously planned on pouncing on him. "Remus? What are you doing here?" Virgil asked, as it wasn't very common for the dark sides to just come along particularly unannounced like that. "Oh the heater part thing in the air conditioner broke over on the dark side and Janus won't let me use his heat coil thingy, so I thought it'd be warmer here, and surprise surprise, it's FUCKING not~" Remus seemed to be speaking in an utterly annoyed an sarcastic tone. Virgil rolled his eyes and tucked away his ear buds, propping his arms up on the back of the couch. "Huh, that sucks now doesn't it" The emo said, still completely unfazed by the situation.

Remus looked Virgil up and down in complete shock. He wasn't shivering, and was acting as though everything was fine. The intrusive side then scoffed and crossed his arms, developing a somewhat snarky attitude towards the smaller side. "How the hell are you so okay with this, it's fucking freezing here! Are you immune or something?!" Remus wasn't very pleased. Virgil made it look so simple and easy to just ignore the cold, it was almost like the emo was taunting him. "Relax Remus, I just have a really thick sweater on. Here, if it makes you feel any better, would you like to borrow it?" Virgil tried to be kind to Remus, as he hated conflict between sides and wasn't one to want to get involved. In fact, Virgil did this willingly, he'd do anything just to see Remus smile just once. It was just a little temperature, how bad could it possibly be?

Remus stared at the emo like he was being taunted once more, but then eased up a bit, seeing there was no signs of mockery in his soft expression. Remus simply gave in, un-crossing his arms and giving a small nod, watching as Virgil then took off his sweater and handed it over.

Remus seemed so happy as he quickly grabbed the sweater and put it on. Though Remus was enjoying himself, this was a decision that Virgil very quickly regret as a cold draft of air hit him like a bus. God it was freezing, yet he plastered a smile on his face as not to let Remus worry. "Thanks emo, this thing really is warm!" Remus said in an almost happy tone. It was rare that Virgil ever saw Remus happy like this since he was mostly intrusive, so like any other side would, he took it all in while he still could. "You're welcome dude, I didn't want you dying from hypothermia, you looked like an angry ice cube." The emo smirked, using his little remark to distract himself from the cold atmosphere. Remus laughed, something Virgil just loved to see, thank god his pale foundation was covering his slightly red face. Though Remus could clearly see how satisfied Virgil was by the decision, and leaned forward, placing and gentle kiss on the freezing emo's face, causing the anxious trait to tense up. "I have to go now Virge, and seriously, thanks for the sweater, I promise I'll give it back" Remus stated happily as he then quickly sunk out. Who's to say he probably snuck out while Janus was distracted, he didn't even give Virgil a chance to speak before he left.

After about a week had past, Virgil had ended up borrowing one of Patton's sweaters, as morality had plenty, so yeah it wasn't his usual style, but at least he was fairly warm. After all, only a few hours after Remus left the week before was when the light sides soon discovered that their air conditioning had broke as well. Back with the dark sides however, Janus had been trying to get Remus to confess on where he had gotten that sweater all week, but as time went on, he had eventually given up. Around this time, Remus was in his room playing around with his mace, he honestly had no intention on giving Virgil his sweater back, as he loved it like his own, but he knew the sad truth was that he had to give it up sooner or later.

As the intrusive side swung hos mace one last time, A small object fell out of the pocket of Virgil's sweater. Remus stopped all he was doing and set his mace aside, picking up the object only to discover it was a dark purple iPod with Virgil's name on it. Being curious, Remus conjured some headphones and plugged them into it, starting to look through his playlists he had saved:

"P!ATD? Of course he would"

"Huh, I..guess.. Billie Eilish makes sense..?"

"ugh, and I think Lofi music would be for his panic attacks, I still wouldn't listen to that"

"AVIVA, again, of course he would."

"MCR, yep, That's Virgil alright, it's sad he only has like 2 songs in this playlist"

Remus went on and on over the playlists, until he came across one that caught his eye, 'reminds me of Remus'. No way the anxious trait really had a playlist dedicated to him, right? Remus clicked the playlist and immediately saw a song that captured his main personality, the one that he used around Virgil:

'Green' by cavetown

Remus had closed the iPod immediately and sighed, he realized the only reason Virgil gave up his sweater was because he cared for Remus, and you know what, that wasn't what Remus had thought at all, he simply thought the emo pitied him, nothing more. Turns out the emo really did like him back after all.

Remus acted quickly, playing a recording of him messing around in his room and locked the door so he could sneak out unnoticed. Once he'd done that he quickly sunk out, hoping Virgil was in his room, and to his relief, he was. Virgil was laying peacefully in his bed, curled up under his blankets, and the room completely silent apart from his very light snoring which Remus had found adorable. Virgil slept in often as he barely got any sleep once the sun set. The intrusive aspect guessed that he fell asleep around 4am today, and he only needed an hour of sleep, but it seemed as though he decided to sleep in the one day Remus decided to confront him.

Instead of waking the emo, Remus had decided to be very quiet and get in bed next to him. If Virgil truly loved Remus, then surely he wouldn't mind.

It had only been a few hours before Virgil woke up, a strong and warm embrace wrapped around his small figure. It had only took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone, quickly turning to look up at who had broken into his room; "Remus.." The younger gently whispered, causing Remus to flutter his eyes open and smile to the small anxious trait in his arms.

Virgil had to admit, he was loving every second of this, he simply looked up at Remus, frozen in silence. He had so many questions; why was he here? How long had he been there? And most importantly, did he even want to be this close to someone like himself. As Virgil's mind trailed off, he felt a pair of lips capture his as he felt his waist was being strattled. The emo didn't resist nor comply, he simply screwed his eyes shut, a few small tears falling from them. Oh how he dreamed of this, how he wanted nothing but to be loved like this.. He'd been longing for someone to love him back...

The kiss lingered for a moment before being broken, Remus placing a hand against the emo's cheek. It was firm, yet so gentle and loving. The intrusive side then used his thumb to wipe away any tears Virgil had, and gave a comforting smile "why didn't you tell me sooner Virgil" he asked kindly, a tone that Virgil rarely ever got to hear. "I was scared.. You'd reject me.." He spoke with pure honesty, and slight guilt for not telling sooner, after all he was the embodiment of fear and anxiety. Though nevertheless, who could stay upset at a face like Virgil's?

Remus chuckled as he sat up, scooping up the smaller trait and placing him in his lap and peppering his face with kisses. "it's okay now love, you don't need to hide it from me anymore, I've got you" Remus sighed out, reassuring Virgil that he had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. A beautiful moment of silence quickly followed those words, and Virgil almost immediately fell asleep in Remus's arms after that. He hadn't felt this loved and relaxed in god knows how long since he was always careful and on edge. It was a wonderful feeling, so great that it put him to sleep. Remus simply chuckled once more, laying his new lover back down as he took his place beside the younger trait, wrapping his arms around Virgil as he then too, drifted off to sleep.

Words: 1694

Sanity: 100%, this was beautiful

My sleep schedule: it's 1am and I have school, so idk, you tell me- :/

[deviatedwinter]

Not what I imagined

(Matt Taylor x Reader)

!! My Gif

Summary: Reader is freezing in the mines looking for Matt

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: a few swears, just overall grim circumstances but if you're a fan of Until Dawn you're used to it ;)

Slightly inspired by @untildawnwrites-blog !

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The screeching of metal brought you back to your senses.

You were clinging to a fallen fire tower that was slowly being swallowed by a dark ravine. Your  legs were folded underneath you as your boots rested on the decrepit railing, your hands gripping the deck. 

Just moments earlier you were with your friends Matt and Emily using the radio, trying to call for help. There was a psycho on the mountain who wanted to harm you and your friends. He had already gotten to Josh.. 

Shortly after a ranger received your cries, the tower fell.

You had been on the outside when you were startled by movement below. Something fast and strong had severed the tower's cables.

When the tower fell, it was as if it was falling on top of you. You clung to the building as the darkness of the ravine was thrown towards you.

Now, clinging to the rusted metal, you prayed that your friends were safe. Emily had been on the other side of the tower, so hopefully she must've jumped onto the snowy banks of the ravine before the tower totally sank.

Matt.

You cried out his name, hoping he was alright and hoping he could help you.

You heard a cough, and then some curses above you.

You then caught a glimpse of his violet jacket as he called your name out into the darkness.

"I-im here!" You cried, starting to feel heat emmenating from the small flames that licked the tower's interior.

"H-hold on, I'm coming!" You heard him grunt as the tower began to slowly creak.

You fought the urge to look down, knowing the drop was far. Instead, you tried to steady your breathing, the warm air from the flames mixing in with the frigid mountain draft.

Finally, you heard Matt above you.

"I'll try to get to you, just hold on!" He explained. You could just barely see his face above you once you craned your neck.

"Matt! Be careful!" You warned, not wanting his fate to be the same as yours.

A sickening creak sent your stomach spiraling in dread, but it was quickly interrupted when you saw a flash of movement above you.

A white sleeve, covered in grime followed by a beckoning hand awaited you.

"Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

Eagerly, you straightened out your legs to reach up and grab his hand.

That was your mistake.

At the sudden movement and shifting of weight, the railing you had rested upon gave way. A scream ripped from your throat, and suddenly Matt was growing smaller and smaller, and the cold wind bit at your skin. Above the sound of the air rushing past, you could've sworn you heard your name being cried out.

This was it. This is how you die.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to be met with hard stone, a sickening crack.

But instead, you felt the stone for a split second before being enveloped by icy liquid. It invaded your lungs, the bitter coldness stabbing at you like thousands of needles. Finally, you managed to swim upwards, your body expelling the water inside your lungs with a retch.

You took a few moments to take in your situation. You were in a river at the very bottom of the ravine, it being mostly dark except for the flaming tower far above and the slivers of moonlight. The current was slow and there were several stalagmites poking through the water's surface. You were relieved you hadn't landed on any of them.

Water was still in your ears, your hearing mostly muffled. You once again could've sworn you could hear your name being called out. 

Quickly, you regained most of your senses before trudging to shore, the shrill creaking of the tower above you loud enough to cut through your suppressed hearing. As you climbed onto the cold bank, your body trembled from the severe cold. Pain also shot up your legs and spine, your muscles sore from the impact of the fall.  The freezing water had clung to you like plastic wrap, and crystals slowly began to form on your clothing. With chilly hands, your patted your ears as you tilted your head, your hearing coming back with a pop. 

You yelped as a loud crash was heard behind you, sending a spray of freezing water onto your already soaked body.

The tower had fallen into the shallow water, causing waves to lap at the bank. There was a hiss as flames were meeting their demise at the contact of water.

You needed to find warmth. 

But alas, any surviving flames were in the middle of the river and in the process of being snuffed out. 

Behind you was a mineshaft, and to your right were sluices and a large decrepit water wheel. At least other people had been here before, maybe there was a way out.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slowly made your way into the shaft, your eyelashes begainning to feel heavier as the water droplets trapped in them froze. You shakily slid your hand over your back pocket, suprised to feel the outline of your phone, but immediately your hopes were dashed, remembering how long you were in the water. Would it still even work? 

You pulled it out anyway, your numbed finger pressing the power button for any signs of life.

Your heart lept when your lockscreen showed up, thank god for your waterproof phone case. 

shakily you turned on the flashlight, its small beam making the trek in the tunnel easier. You began feeling the effects of the cold, your clothes feeling like they were made of mesh as your skin was nipped by the chill. 

You watched your breathe come out in clouds, your lips feeling chapped as your toes and digits became numb. You had to find warmth. You had to find Matt.

You whimpered, hoping your friend was okay. You hadn't seen him at the bottom of the ravine, could he have jumped off onto a ledge? 

"Matt?" You called out to the air, your voice dripping with fear. Your hope began to fade, and despair settled in. It wasn't fair, you wanted him to know how you felt, how much you cared for him. But as far as you knew, he could be dead, and this could be your last night on Earth. 

It felt like you had been walking for hours. Your body ached, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. However, the shaft appeared to slowly rise at an incline, could you be getting closer to the surface?

Your steps had turned clumsy, your mind foggy as you tried to navigate the underground systems. You had no doubt that you were succombing to hypothermia, it would only be a matter of time before you stumbled off a ledge or passed out completely. You could've sworn that you heard screeches in the distance, but you blamed it on your deterriorating mind, and maybe bats. 

You found yourself at a cavern, mining equipment strewn about as if the miners would come back  any minute, if you didn't take in account the rust and rotting wood. 

Your body was tired, you just wanted to curl up and hopefully find warmth that way. So that's what you did. 

You lowered yourself on the hard ground next to a few decaying crates, your body shivering as you brought your legs to your chest. The ice that had formed on your clothing was splintering and falling away from your movement, another reminder on how totally frozen you were. You were engulfed in darkness once you shut off your phone. Sleep beckoned you to its peaceful grasp, and you eagerly fell into it. 

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Matt made his way down a dark mineshaft, the lantern in his hand giving in some warmth in the bitter night. At every turn, he meekly called out for his lost friends, especially one of them.

The person he was head over heels over, that he promised himself wouldn't get hurt under his watch, was down here somewhere, and most likely dead. The person who he had planned to confess his feelings to by the warm fire, or under the stars while gazing at the mountains. 

He wasn't good enough.

That's all he could think about as he traversed the spindling corridors, his heart sinking with every step. He was right there, he could have done something. 

Right after the teenager had witnessed his friend fall into the darkness, he leapt to a nearby platform to avoid being brought down with the tower. He had laid on his chest, peering over into the abyss and crying out their name, his heart breaking with the silence that answered him back.

But he had swallowed the tears. He had to be tough, there was no sense in him dying as well, although a part of him felt like it.  He had found a lantern and was now trying to find a way out. Finally, after some time, he wandered into an opening, several crates and equipment lying dormant. 

His eyes scanned the cavern before they landed on a mass in the shadows near the crates. Slowly, he crept forward and he jolted as the lantern's golden light fell upon your sleeping form. 

"Oh shit!" He cursed before calling your name, quickly kneeling beside you. Thats when he noticed the ice caked onto your clothes, and how your hair had been frozen stiff. 

He gently shook you, his hands warm and slowly he felt some of the ice underneath his touch begin to melt.

Slowly, your sleepy eyes opened and met his frantic ones, relief washing over them at the sight of you awakening.

"Matt..?" you whispered, your voice a hollow rasp of what it usual was. 

"You're alive.." he breathed, still in shock but relief washing over him in waves

"How the fuck are you still alive..?" he asked softly with bewilderment, taking note of your coldness and quickly shedding his letter jacket.

"Water..I fell in..water.." Was all that you could muster as Matt helped you peel your shaking arms out of your soaked coat, replacing it with his dry one.  His body heat that was absorbed by the wool warmed you, your gaze falling onto him.

"What about you..? You're gonna be cold.." 

He gave you one of his gentle smiles before helping you up.

"I'll be fine, I still got this denim jacket and my sweater. Don't worry about me." 

The familiar pain shot up your spine as you stood, your posture faltering before a pair of arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. 

"Can you walk?" He asked gently, surprised by your fragile state.

"It hurts.." You whimpered, hating that he had to see you this way. But the pain, the cold, it was all eating at your effort to stay strong.

Matt felt his heart once again snap in two, his eyes taking on the puppy dog appearance that you'd grow accustomed to. 

You yelped slightly as he picked you up, his arms looping under your knees as he held you bridal style. 

"Matt-" 

"It's fine, I got you. I saw a light further down the shaft, we're almost out I think. Can you hold this for me? it might keep you warm." He removed an arm from underneath your back to grab the lantern, gently allowing your hand to wrap around its handle. Once you were situated, he got up with hardly a grunt. Even after all the night's terror, he was still strong. 

As he carried you down the shaft, you listened to his breathing, his body heat and the heat from the lamp slowly warming you up and clearing your mind. 

"I don't think there's just a maniac up here.." He said aloud, as if he was talking to himself rather than you in particular.

Your mind went back to the strange shape moving underneath the fire tower before it fell, to the shrieks you had heard echoing in the mine.

"Yeah..theres some..thing.." You replied weakly, fear starting to grip you.

Matt quickly tried to lighten the mood, a small smile returning to his face.

"Yknow, this isn't entirely what I imagined carrying you bridal style would look like." 

Your gaze turned towards his face, the yellow light of the lantern showing you the scratch on his cheek along with the dirt that clung to his skin. His cheeks were flushed in the light. 

"What exactly... did you imagine?" 

He hesitated before answering, another smile twitching at his lips.

"You'd be wearing white, maybe I'm in a tux, flowers and rice being rained on us."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as well, them becoming warm despite your body's condition.

"When we survive this, I think that can still be...attainable." 

His joyful smile and reply was cut short by a shriek from behind, the color draining from both of your faces.

"Matt..?" You breathed out, fear gripping you.

His jaw clenched, the cogs in his mind spinning before he ran behind a wall of planks. He quickly set you down and turned the dial on the lantern to dim its light.

Both of you stood still as you heard something scampering on stone behind you. Matt held you close, his breath stalled as the creature screeched, the frail boards the only thing separating you and the monster. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw it. A gaunt, white creature crawled on the wall effortlessly, its limbs scuttling the surface like a spider. It shrieked once more before scampering to another area of the mines.

You slowly let out a breath, and so did Matt, the two of you sharing the same terrified and confused glance. Neither of you cared about what that thing was, you only cared about getting the fuck out of there. 

This time, Matt picked you up once more with haste, your hand barely scooping up the lantern before he stood and ran down the shaft.

You spotted light ahead peaking through some boards, and so did he.

You allowed him to set you down once more, this time standing on your own with the lantern as he backed up. You watched with shaky knees as he broke through the rotting wood with his shoulder, revealing a large outcrop with the lodge in the distance.

Holy fuck, you had wandered back to the lodge all the way from the tower...through the mines??

Matt held out his hand, and you gently took it as you both edged out onto the ledge, relief filling both you, the adrenaline coursing through your veins warming your bodies.

"Is it too soon the check up on your offer?" Matt breathed, his palms meeting his knees as he caught his breathe.

[burnedbyshoto]

Like Ice

todoroki shouto x fem!reader

word count: 2,900

warnings: smut ahah

a/n: remember: sex is not what we do to get rid of hypothermia! i changed the title because i hated it OOF LMAO

Shouto could not believe this was happening to him.

He was out in the middle of gods know where forest, with his summer hero costume on, and it was snowing. Shouto wasn’t quite sure how exactly he ended up getting paired off with you, given that Aizawa never paired the two of you up once you began dating. But he was holding your way too cold body to his warm body as he carried you through the snow.

They were informed that for their final training camp, they were going to be permitted to bring their hero costumes. No one daring to pass up that opportunity had brought their suitcase with their nearly perfected outfits. Everyone expected to be pushed to the brink of death, as no one dared to expect otherwise, but as they pulled off to the side of the road confusion hit Class 3-A. Aizawa listed off teams of two and one single team of three, which consisted of Mineta, Midoriya, and Bakugou. That was something Shouto was dying to hear about later! But by gender, everyone was back on the bus changing into their outfits. 

You had bound over to Shouto, after interning with the Rabbit Hero: Miruko, you had adopted the same style of bodysuit she wore. It was actually very practical for the warrior type of quirk you had, and it definitely was appealing to watch you wear. But it was July, and so you were wearing your summer costume.

Everyone had screamed the moment Mina and Momo had disappeared in a flash. No one knowing where they went, only that Aizawa had laughed and simply stated: “See you all in seventy-two hours!”

Shouto had gone to reach out for your hand, but the world went black and he was suddenly swallowing white powdery snow. The worst part was that he couldn’t find you. He knew immediately that if he wasn’t so used to these subzero degrees, as well as the natural heat given off his body, he would have frozen to death. But he couldn’t see you as he continued to torch the snowbank around you, desperately trying to find you.

Within minutes he had found you in the exact opposite direction of where he was expecting you. You had curled within yourself, trying to keep warm as you couldn’t push the heavy snow off your body in these conditions. The warp had made you dizzy, and when you finally didn’t feel like throwing up, the bitter cold prevented you from using your quirk without getting colder.

So you waited, trying to scream for Shouto as you heard his quirk going off.

When he found you, you found it hard to not fall asleep against his warm body.

“You… you can’t…” You whisper against his warm flesh. You were trying to tell your action-driven boyfriend to not warm you up too quickly or else you’d fall into shock.

“I know,” Shouto murmurs as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not even using my quirk, you’re that damn cold.”

You nod your head as Shouto stands up, “Stay awake okay? I don’t know what the fuck is the point of this is… but I will get us somewhere where I can warm you up better.”

So there Shouto was, blinded by the falling snow, talking to you to keep you awake. His eyes scanned the surrounding area in hopes of finding shelter when he saw it. 

A cave.

“Stay with me.” Shouto grunts as he takes off in the direction of the cave, hopeful that nothing was living in it.

Shouto sealed off the cave entrance with a block of ice, and he settled you against the floor, towards the end of the cave, and sighed as none of your skin looked like it was turning any horrific color. Pulling out the space heater emergency blanket he placed it on your body in hopes that while he got situated you would gradually warm up enough for him to come and give your body heat later.

Shouto lit up a few branches that were in the cave and allowed light to spread across the cave.

Returning his attention to your now shivering body, he quickly removed your soaked and cold costume. Your chattering teeth only intensified as he pressed his body against yours. “You’re… wet…!” You squeaked against Shouto, and Shouto cursed. His costume wasn’t as dry as he thought it was.

Leaving you under the blanket, Shouto removed his costume and settled back uncomfortably onto the hard floor. His warm torso pressed up against your side as he tried making sure you were flat against the ground. Shouto had no idea if you had hypothermia or not.

Eventually, your body stopped shivering, and your breathing stabilizing for the most part as you groan, turning your head towards Shouto with a groan. “Aizawa just tried to fucking kill me.” You joke as Shouto sighs in relief against your collarbone. The heat of his breath sending chills down your body. 

“I’m going to give him a damn piece of my mind later,” Shouto rolls his eyes as he places a kiss on your forehead. “You scared me…”

You coo as you shift your body slightly, a pained moan leaving your lips at your action. Shouto places a hand onto your shoulder and keeps you down, he instead wrapping you in the blanket and rolling on top of you. His forearms are planted besides your head, and you wink at his loving smile. 

“Kiss me, snowflake.” You tease as Shouto laughs softly. His face still going down to press your cold lips against his hotter ones.

A hum vibrates through the kiss as you don’t have the mental dexterity to keep yourself quiet. Shouto pulls away and you grin, your eyes fluttering open to see his own smiling face. “Wow, aren’t you modest.” You tease as your head gesture towards his naked torso. 

“I was saving your life.” Shouto rolls his eyes as he leans back down to nip gently at your earlobe, and a new heat begins to burn through your body.

Despite the cold temperature of your body, you push up off the ground and pull Shouto in by his neck to kiss him. His lips are pressed against yours in a heartbeat, and your fingers intertwine with the hair near the back of his neck. Shouto smiles into the kiss as you tug gently against the hair.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Shouto asks against your lips, and you nod your head, pulling away and trailing kisses down his neck. Sighing softly at the blazing heat of his body against the coldness of your face. 

“Like ice.” You whisper against his neck. Goosebumps flash against his neck and you giggle softly. “Don’t you have any shame? I nearly died from the cold, and you’re trying to seduce me!”

Shouto chuckles as he captures your lips with his, and you sigh contently. Your body enveloping in heat. Was it from the coldness of your body or the heat of the friction between the two of you? You couldn’t say, you didn’t know, but you craved it more.

Your legs shift to better support your laying posture, but the blanket gets in the way as you attempt to stable yourself. A groan is stuck in your throat as Shouto pulls away, his lips tinged red and he shakes his head.

“Stay still, you’re body is still adjusting to not dying.”

“Yeah, well, you also got me horny, so we need to find a way to compromise.” You sass back, grinning widely at his eye roll.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“A pain that you’re head over heels in love with!”

“Debatable.”

“You would fight Aizawa for me!”

“I would fight anyone for you.”

“See, you just proved my point!!”

“You’re being annoying, shut up.”

The pure joy on your face is not something Shouto can keep himself from smiling at as you press a kiss on his nose, “Make me--!”

His lips are back on yours, and your arms move to encircle around his neck. Soft groans move against your lips as Shouto shifts you back onto your back.

“You know, if I have sex with you right now, you’re not going to move. Got it?” Shouto warns against your lips, and you roll your eyes. 

“Nope!”

Shouto’s mouth opens to retort, but you saw that coming from kilometers away as your tongue slips into his mouth. Destroying anything that was going to come out. 

Even his tongue is heavenly hot against yours, and it takes everything in you not to roll over on top of him. Chills roll down your body as Shouto shifts his weight onto one forearm, the other moving to rest on top of your waist. Even though the blanket, his hand is blazing, and you moan out his name. 

Shouto groans in response as you move your hips against his hand.

Desperate for attention from him, you slowly lift up your leg and rub it softly against his. You pant as his lips leave yours as they press against your neck. Your chest arching off the ground as his lips continue traveling down your body. 

��Are you cold?” Shouto asks as he lips are centimeters away from your bra, and you shake your head. You were feeling quite heated after all. With help from Shouto, he strips off your bra and you feel dizzy. Although at this point you’re no longer sure if it’s from the cold or from him.

You gasp as your cold chest is met by his scorching mouth, and your head is thrown back in ecstasy from the touch. His teeth gently biting down onto your hardened nipples. You shake against his hold as he sucks on your breasts, before letting go with an echoing pop. 

“I’m going to take care of you...” Shouto promises you as he takes the blanket off of you. Your body was aching with the need for more, the complete desperation of having Shouto within you, and kissing you.

And then his lips were back on yours, no longer softly kissing you, but molding against yours with need, love, and past fear. His tongue soon dancing with yours as your fingers return to clutch his hair, your mewls escaping into his mouth as he smirks. 

Does hypothermia affect your cognitive skills? You don’t know, and you could care less as all you can think of is Shouto. All that matter is Shouto. You let out a panting yelp as his fingers press warmly against your panties. Panties that are soaked from both the cold and your heat.

His hands, calloused from handling the harsh elements of his quirk, run across your bare body. It takes everything within you not to sob as your tug harsher against his hair, 

“Baby...” You pant as he pulls away, “Please...”

“It seems you’re rather wet down there...” Shouto observes as he peers down, a smirk on his face. You inhale sharply as his fingers peel off the soaked garment.

“Yeah, cuz you were supposed to take them off!” You joke, unable to resist the jab at him.

“It’s just so boring not being able to take them off you without you being like this.” Shouto counters and the flush that explodes on your face is something etherial he loves.

You open your mouth to counter with something, anything. But his fingers slip into your heated sex and all that leaves your mouth is a moan of pleasure.

“What was that?” Shouto whispers as your squirm on his fingers, your harsh pants music to his ears.

“Fuck... ahh~oh my god...” Is all you can muster as his two fingers pump into you slowly, delicately, at a speed that makes you shudder against his body.

His mouth is back sucking onto your collarbone and it’s almost too much as the pressured heat of your pleasure is sitting heavily on your lower belly. “Sho... Shouto!” You gasp as your hips are quickly jutting against his fingers, and his other hand goes down to press quick, small, rough circles against your clit.

“You look so pretty fucking yourself against my fingers,” Shouto admits into your ear, and that’s all it takes for the pressure to come slamming out of you. Your orgasm around his fingers and a languid moan fills the cave as Shouto removes his fingers from within you, and you watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers.

Slowly.

Teasingly.

“You’re an asshole...” You mutter as you watch Shouto removing his strained underwear, and you groan at the sight of his hardened dick springing up.

The heat of your core quickly returning at the sight of him, and you licked your lips in anticipation as he lines up at your entrance, and he pushes you onto the floor again. “Do you want me?” Shouto asks.

The words hold two meanings, and you nod immediately as he smiles. Proceeding to coat his dick with your already dripping core you moan at the feeling. His eyes locked on yours as he grips your hips, and you don’t have time to ask if he was ready as his hips sink into yours.

The penetration alone makes you tremble as you cry out his name. Puffs of the hot air escape Shouto’s mouth as he is still within you.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Shouto groans as he grips your thighs against him, and you nod your head. Your eyes squeezed closed at the feeling of having him all the way in you, his girth stretching you out completely. 

You can’t keep your hips from swiveling on him, and he hisses out your name as he begins thrusting slowly within you. The thrusts are constant, rhythmic, and toe-curling. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, a silent scream escapes your mouth as he continues to pound into you.

The blazing heat of your core making you sweat as his body shifts so that Shouto has his torso pressed against yours. It’s so hot now. 

The heat of your boyfriend, the heat of your sex, and the passion of your love have you scraping your nails against his back. Your hips meeting his at every thrust, every grunt he makes, every time he calls your name it sends you to a higher level.

You can’t seem to remember what it was like to be cold as you move up and down with every thrust. The closeness of it all, and the smell of sex is becoming too much. It’s too great.

“F-Faster--oh fuck, just like that-- please!” You beg against his neck. Shouto nods his head as he moves his slightly sweaty forehead against your collarbone, he raises your leg to rest on his hip, and his pounding intensifies on all aspects.

At this, new angle and speed, it’s easy for Shouto to find your g-spot, and at the loud scream you let out, he knows this as well. So he continues doing what he did initially and is pounding away at your g-spot. The overwhelming sensation of the particular area sets your skin on fire. His name a prayer as you chant it repetitively, screaming it on multiple occasions. It gets to the point where you’re no longer able to keep up with his thrusts and let him handle pleasing you. The pressure in your belly is overwhelming once again, and without meaning to, you orgasm again. Sweet yells escaping your lips as Shouto doesn’t stop.

Your body convulses under his, and Shouto’s own pace is hindered at the feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against him. Your sweet moan escaping your lips as Shouto trembles against you as he groans your name. He releases himself in you, as he finishes chasing both your orgasms. 

Shouto collapses to the side of you as pants of air is exchanged between the both of you. The two of you stare at each other, your eyes meeting his in love and lasting intimacy. His lips press against yours as he finally pulls out from within you. A delicate moan on both your tongues as he does so.

“Well...” You whisper, your voice is hoarse from the intensive screaming you had been doing. “We better warm-up and find out why we were dropped off in the middle of nowhere.”

Shouto chuckles as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You sure you’re ready?”

“I just had sex with my boyfriend in a cave after potentially having hypothermia, I’m ready for everything.”

bonus!

“So, I’ll be reviewing how all of you guys did in these different climates while aiding the civilians around you. There were cameras on you guys at all times, but we will be reviewing them together.” Aizawa says as all twenty-one of you are now back in the woods of your training camp to return to the intensive training.

Your eyes widen as you snap your head towards Shouto. “Aizawa-sensei!” You squeak as Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk about Shouto and my tape real quick?”

“How much you want to bet they fucked?” Kaminari ‘whispers’ to the class, but the burning ears of both you and your boyfriend creates anarchy as Aizawa walks away from the class.

Stupid horny teenagers.

[wifiwuxians]

Hypothermia

here we have the two things that came to mind

Nie Huaisang’s body hit the water. 

He had lost his footing walking by the river’s edge and had fallen right into its cold current, not cold enough to be frozen but well on its way. The harsh gasp he let out upon coming into contact with the water had alerted his traveling companions. 

Not two seconds after he’d fallen in, a second body threw itself after him.

Golden robes floated in the water as firm arms wrapped themselves around Nie Huaisang, who felt like he was going into shock from the water’s temperature. He’d never been one to dip in cold springs.

“Don’t struggle, don’t struggle, I’ve got you.”

Jin Guangyao’s voice was soft and reassuring, even as he was speaking over the sound of rushing water. 

Nie Huaisang then realized he was gripping Jin Guangyao by the shoulders, trying to pull him under. 

I want you to drown. 

He flailed and struggled, but Jin Guangyao remained afloat as he brought him over to shore, where Lan Xichen awaited them anxiously. 

My brother should’ve been the one to rescue me.

Jin Guangyao was utterly unharmed. He hoisted Nie Huaisang out of the water and onto the grass, and only climbed out after him once he made sure Lan Xichen was tending to him. 

Nie Huaisang felt burning fury course through him when he saw Jin Guangyao looming over him, looking genuinely concerned. Not a single muscle on his face gave away anything other than worry- not even his eyes appeared to be smiling. 

In fact, with the droplets that clung to his eyelashes, he looked like he was crying. 

“San-ge is...” Nie Huaisang paused to cough, “too kind...”

I miss when this was true. 

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao did not even seem to suspect that Nie Huaisang had tried to drown him on purpose. “I’ll always look after you.”

Nie Huaisang closed his eyes and fought the urge to cry, to give up on everything and go back to living the lovingly crafted lie they’d all been living before.

I miss you.

-

here’s the second 

Jin Guangyao sobbed over the empty grave with all his might. His small frame shook violently and his eyes burned from how many tears they’d shed.

‘Nie Mingjue, beloved son, brother, lover and friend.’

It was his best performance yet. Good enough to get his father to awkwardly shuffle over to him. 

“Come now, son, you’re making a spectacle. I know he was your, ah, partner, but,” Jin Guangshan spoke as if he’d swallowed cyanide.

Jin Guangyao sniffled and dried his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. He rose to his feet and bowed his head.

“You’re right, father, I mustn’t make it about me. It’s simply that,” his voice began to tremble with the threat of fresh tears, “I don’t know how I’ll go on... All our savings went to Huaisang’s tuition, and you know I’ve always refused your money, and oh, now I’ll need to sell the house...”

Jin Guangshan’s expression soured further. Jin Guangyao knew it was because he couldn’t deny that his son had never asked him for a single coin.

“Well, ah, see, about that. The deceased’s family and I have come to an agreement.” Jin Guangshan crammed his hands into his pockets. “We’ve decided it would only be right to aid you during your time of need.”

Jin Guangyao sniffled again and looked up at his father with awestruck eyes, as if he were looking at a god.

“A sizable amount, of course. Should last you until you’re able to find your feet again,” Jin Guangshan sniffled as well, but not from crying; moreso from effort, as if he were exerting himself by being charitable. “Pay me back in your own time.”

“Oh, father, thank you, thank you! I am forever in your debt!” Jin Guangyao bowed again and again, and when he caught sight of the remainder of Nie Mingjue’s family, he called out to them with the same enthusiasm. “Thank you so much!”

The Nie clan remained silent at his display, but Nie Huaisang subtly angled his fan towards a small black car parked at the entrance to the cemetery. Jin Guangyao adjusted his tie and sighed.

“Forgive me, but I must begin to sort things out right away. Shall we meet tomorrow for lunch to work out details?” He gave his father that hopeful, sparkling gaze again.

“Of course, of course. Go on,” Jin Guangshan sniffled once more. 

With one final bow, Jin Guangyao rushed off to the cemetery’s entrance, where he slid into the little black car’s back seat and immediately shed his disguise.

“Like a charm,” he murmured, crossing his legs as he typed in a reminder for the next day in his calendar.

“I still feel guilty for deceiving them,” Nie Mingjue sighed gruffly beside him. “Though I can’t say I’ll miss them very much.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay your family back in full,” Jin Guangyao grinned and flopped himself into Nie Mingjue’s lap. “A-Liu, be an angel and get us out of here!”

The car leisurely drove away from the cemetery just as Nie Mingjue began to laugh.

“I’ll admit, me dying of hypothermia is fucking hilarious.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Hypothermia (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Tommy

Word Count: 909

Inspired By: the snowstorm yesterday :)

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: LISTEN this is pretty dark. It wasn't the original idea I had, but this is where it went, and there was no stopping it. And it's dark. But I kinda like it, idk. It's macabre (that's the right word) so be warned!!!! Also wanna preface this and say ya gurl is good mentally lol. Usually with writing like this I'm not feeling too great, but I am today! It probably just won't seem like it if you read it! Anyways, feedback is always appreciated, but I understand if you don't read 💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

Your fingers black, dead, hanging by a thread from the palms of your hands. Your lips blue, purple, gruesome, envious of the bruises under your eyes. Nesting on your eyelashes, flakes of every size and shape, nursing off the warmth of your blood. Tears stuck to the sides of your cheeks, running their cold hands across your skin, so thin, so breakable, promising you everything would be okay in the end. Your exposed arms, legs, body shaking, shivering, but welcoming the wind that enveloped you so tenderly. With the softest touch, the sharpest bite, it kissed you up and down, making vows to keep you safe, to make it all worth it, to care about you like nothing else could. Words like those were empty, howling in your ears, rustling the heavy trees with the weight of itself, but there was so little to cling to, you would have believed anything. Part of you stopped doubting it altogether, buying into this, burying yourself six feet under, digging with your own dead hands.

Swirling, twirling, your bare feet sinking in the snow one step at a time, crunching, pounding, screaming. You couldn't feel yourself anymore. No more begging skin, crying, yearning to be sliced open. It wasn't the vulnerability, but the aftercare. The dripping red, the white bandages, the very act of being so kind, so caring to something, someone, so undeserving. The childlike touch, scared, hesitant, even with your own skin. No more wasting, eroding, no more hunger. That empty feeling, the growling, burning, stinging in the back of your mind, the want to be hollow. Like nothing else. The upper hand, but to what? To who? A sick game you played against yourself where there were no winners, no losers, only dying. Slowly, but not sweetly. There was nothing sweet about starving. No more decaying. The side of your skull pressing, throbbing, suffocating. Your own mind became the enemy, the cause of your downfall. Pleading, praying, for it to stop. People weren't supposed to want to hurt themselves, not like this, not this violently.

But there was no way to stop this itch.

Not without the cold.

You didn't like it at first. It was uncontrollable, nipping, biting, sinking it's teeth too far too quickly. Hungry, like you. Angry. So goddamn angry. Fuming, panting, crying out of rage. Your skin prickling, vibrating, craving the warmth of the inside. It left you panting, struggling for air. Tachypnea. It put an impossible weight atop your bones, laughing, mocking, wanting to see you plummet. Crushed. Frightening. Too much. You escaped, running, seeking out the nearest source of warmth, the nearest set of arms. It scared him. The cold, that chill, was too far set, took the last ounce of control. A drug of choice. A confusion, a haze, something to blur the lines, to make facing the day a little easier. You promised him, no more, but the stars saw something else. Slipping from the bed you visited again, someone who'd become an old friend. She would learn, to calm, to take freely, but carefully. The chattering of your teeth, threatening to crack, to break, to burst. At first, just the ends. Then, your whole fingerprint, until it chewed you up and spit you out. Frostbite.

Not all at once. She was patient, needy, friendless. You were the only one who shared your skin to her, exposing every inch of yourself, giving yourself to her as if she were God. The threat of the sun poking out from the rooftops, she'd urge you back to your place. You couldn't be caught, not like this. Rotting. There were changes. Subtle. Gradual. Your summer skin was gone, ripped away just when he needed it the most. The red under your nails gone, the ache in your hips dulled, the heartbeat in your head slowing. Things were looking up, he thought. He hoped. Small times he wished for, bouts of joy, of happiness, no more sinking in the bedsheets, choking on the all the blue screams that lived inside you. Maybe this was one of these times, his favorite times. But he didn't realize, when the weather froze, and the snowflakes fell, was when it got even worse. . . .

Tommy found you out there, frozen, dressed in nothing but those thin pajamas, a serene look on your face. Peaceful. Eyes closed, listening to the wind howl, watching the sheer force of mother nature, the ruthlessness of her blizzard cutting you right down the middle, taking everything from you because that's what she thought she deserved. Entitled. Unrecognizable. Unreadable. He'd never been so angry. At her, for hunting you down at your most vulnerable, for promising so much, for being that final escape. At himself, for not noticing, for thinking things were getting better. Naive, foolish, a fucking idiot. At you, for caving in, for hugging her with her claws, for kissing her icy cheeks, instead of going to him when you needed help, like he'd begged for countless times before.

He was too late, though.

You were preserved in the ice, in the clouds, your words carried by the same wind that took your voice in the first place. You were always looking for escapes, ways out. There was a comfort in this one, beneath the fear, beneath the snow, there had to be something that made this your finale. He went looking for it every time the temperature dipped below freezing.

[nev3rfound]

waiting to unpause : s.r

brief summary: everyone has a soul mate. some just take a bit longer to find theirs than most. 

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, just another idea I had in work lmao warnings: mention of blood, some swearing.

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions 

Even before everything in his life changed, Steve knew of soulmates. He witnessed people he grew up with walking hand in hand with theirs whilst he trailed behind Bucky. He would watch Bucky go from one girl to the next, claiming each of them was potentially the one. Steve knew none of them ever were but went along with it for Bucky’s sake.

Part of him always wished he would find his. He knew the signs of a soul mate. You would feel their pain. You could see what had hurt them, a mark, a cut or a bruise would appear on your body. The slightest of injuries would occur to most, but never to Steve.

“It’s official, I’m broken, Buck.” Steve would sigh as Bucky walked him to his front door, hanging his arm around his best friends shoulders.

Bucky shook his head whenever Steve tried to deny his chance of happiness. “All you gotta do is find a girl who looks like she’s dying, can’t be too hard.” Bucky joked, trying to catch a smile on Steve’s face. Sometimes it would work, other times the weight of loneliness became too intense and he shrugged it off, shutting his door behind him.

When Steve went to the war and met Peggy, he thought that was it. Inside he wanted it to be her, the loving woman who was so powerful and seemingly fearless. Who wouldn’t want her?

But when he glanced down to see a cut on her wrist, he never felt that happen. He didn’t have a mark across his skin like hers. Steve flicked his skin multiple times and watched redness burn, but as he would glance to Peggy she remained still. There wasn’t anything on her.

Looking ahead as he crossed the ocean he sighed, realising his options. “I’ve got to, Peggy.” Steve spoke with a heavy heart through the radio, unaware of the tears forming in Peggy’s eyes as she sat alongside Howard. “There’s nothing left for me. No family, no friends, no soulmate.” He sighed lightly as he neared the ice. “Take care, Peg.”

Closing his eyes, he hit the ice and felt everything drain. All Steve felt was the cold bury underneath his skin as he drifted off, never to open his eyes again.

*

When you were born, you were freezing. It didn’t matter what the Doctors did or tried, you couldn’t warm up. Within the first few hours of you being born, you nearly died due to the lack of warmth in your body. Your Mother cried, not understanding why this was happening to you.

If only they knew why.

For the first ten years of your life, you were kept wrapped up. You were forever cold, never able to feel truly warm. The risk of hypothermia was always a constant in your life.

Even in the midst of summer, you remained in layers; a scarf around your neck whilst everyone else wore vest tops and sweated. You wished you weren’t different, you wished you could be normal.

At twenty, you woke up in a hot sweat. You looked around your bedroom in case it was on fire, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You rushed out of bed and went straight to your bathroom where you saw beads of sweat. Actual beads of sweat running from your hairline. You laughed and you cried as you didn’t shiver for the first time in your entire life.

You called for your parents, none of you understood, but you were relieved to feel warmth at long last. For once, you felt normal.

If only that sense of relief lasted longer than a year.

You would forever wake up with bruises and cuts lining your skin. Whoever your soulmate was, they sure as hell didn’t live an easy life.

Once the marks started, your parents explained to you what it meant. How everyone in the world has someone they can be with. You listened as they tended to the newest wound, a bullet scrape as they wiped away the pain as tears formed in your eyes.

“My soulmate is fucking suicidal aren’t they?” You cried, a laugh escaping your lips mid sob as your parents exchanged a worried glance, fearing to agree with you.

Over the next few years, you grew to hate your soulmate. They were never calm or without some form of injury. Twice you woke up with a black eye causing your friend to jump out of her skin when you walked into the kitchen.

“I’ve had enough.” She sighed loudly before typing something into her phone as you sat with a bag of frozen peas over your eye. “We’re getting tattoos.”

You simply blinked out of your good eye. “A tattoo?” You spoke quietly, watching as she nodded in response.

“Obviously your soul mate can feel the pain, and they’ll get the outline of the tattoo as well. Who knows, pick something unique you’ll find them.” She suggests and you sit, contemplating the idea as you finish breakfast feeling the peas defrosting over your bruised skin.

Leaving the tattoo parlour, you looked down at your upper arm. It was a stem of lavender and a snowflake settling alongside the side. You smiled at the design, pleased as you walked home.

You only managed to get halfway when you saw the news reports. Everyone began to run in all directions as fear ignited in the crowds. “What’s happening?!” You yelled to your friend who gripped your hand tightly as she pulled you inside of a coffee shop.

“It’s happening again, another invasion.” Her voice dripped in fear as her eyes widened at the sights outside. She held you close, feeling your clothes begin to dampen as blood-stained your top and jeans. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” She stammered, looking down to see you unconscious in her arms.

After the battle of New York, you decided to find somewhere quieter to live. You couldn’t leave the city, it was your home.

You ended up in an old apartment block. It was heavily dated, but the rent was within budget, unlike the majority of places you found. You could get comfortable, despite the chipped paint that you would find flakes of on your floor every day or the neighbour you never met.

One of your neighbours, you met simply by chance. You were walking out, about to go for a drink with an old friend when she caught you off guard. She introduced herself.

“Sorry, I’m Sharon.” She held out her hand, a small scar across her index finger.

You began to notice the small marks more and more. Part of it was paranoia, the other was mere curiosity. “Y/n. And I’m sorry for staring.”

The two of you became close friends. With Sharon’s long disjointed hours, you would find time whenever you could. It became a routine of yours as she mentioned her neighbour, the one you’ve heard across the creaking floorboards but have yet to meet in person.

It was only when there was an intense heatwave in New York that Sharon asked about your soul mate. You couldn’t bear to be kept in layers, so you walked around in your bra and shorts.

You could feel Sharon’s eyes widening as she saw the scars covering your skin. “Gotta blame good ol’ soulmate.” You would joke, knowing humour is the only way to cover the pain of it all.

Sharon sat down with you on the small balcony, designed clearly for a single person alone. You sat and spoke for hours about the reality of having someone out there destined for you.

“I’m at a point where I think it’s bullshit.” You tell her as you sip your drink. “I was born with hypothermia, lived the first twenty years of my life as an icicle and now I’m forever being battered.” You shake your head, glancing over to see something change in Sharon’s expression. “You alright over there?” You ask with a smile.

Sharon snaps out of her realisation with a curt nod. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.” She tells you, listening as you carry on but in her head, all she’s thinking is how she can get you and him in the same place at the same time.

It took months for her to get you both to be in at the same time. Sharon learnt neither of you were easy people to pin down. She anticipated it with Steve, but there was still so much of you that remained a mystery. 

When her Aunt Peg died, she told her to make sure Steve found his soul mate. It sounded like a daunting task, but finding someone covered in scars from battles they’d never been in couldn't be too hard, right?

“Y/n, you in?” Sharon knocked on your door loudly, knowing Steve would be in, listening to his old music. “Y/n, I really need your help. I’ve been locked out again.” She sighs loudly, hoping to hear his door open.

Just like that, Steve walks out of his apartment. He stands tall, his eyes slightly bloodshot as he forces a small smile. “Hey Sharon, you alright?” He asks as he stands by his door, crossing his arms. 

Sharon nods. “Yeah, I got locked out.” She laughs uneasily, continuing to knock on your door. “Y/n has my spare, I hope she’s in.” 

Steve doesn’t reply, he stands unsure what do to. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Steve replies and turns around, only stopping when he feels a light pain spread across his right shin.

“-shit sorry!” Your voice sounds loudly through your door, and suddenly Steve isn’t so desperate to go back into his apartment. 

Opening your front door, you rub your right shin as you stand in front of Sharon, holding up her key. “What’d you do this time?” She laughs lightly, looking down. 

You roll your eyes. “I just tripped over my shoes. Hit my shin once again.” You tell her with a small smile before glancing over her shoulder, seeing a stranger stood to observe. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met?” You call out, stepping forward toward the broad man. 

Hesitating, Steve watches your smile falter as you pass Sharon. 

Steve glances to Sharon who nods, giving him an encouraging smile as he steps closer toward you, shaking your hand. He focuses on your face, noticing a scar above your left temple. It’s just a coincidence, it must be. 

“I’m Steve.” He introduces himself, his hand still in yours as you nervously laugh before pulling away. 

“Y/n.” You reply, stuck in a moment as you stare into his eyes. 

Lifting your arm up, you run your fingers through your hair and Steve’s eyes wander to the pastel tattoo on your inner upper arm. He tries to encourage his heart to not plummet, but he’s caught staring by Sharon. 

“Anyway, I’ll drop the keys back to you, Y/n?” She calls out, knowing you can’t hear her as you smile to Steve, feeling a sense of comfort cross your body as you stand in front of him. 

Closing her front door, Sharon smiles to herself knowing she would’ve made her Aunt Peg proud. She finally helped Steve find his soul mate, and prove there is someone for everyone. 

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 9/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,604 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: ...you all knew going into this it was slow burn, yeah? ....right??

Chapter 9 - In Which Closeness is a Matter of Perspective

“Lyddy, when I said I would help you with the art show, I meant things like… carrying equipment. Or getting props. Maybe picking up extra film.” Holidae subtly tried to adjust the position of her foot, pins and needles already crawling along her skin. “Being a model is not on that list.”

Lydia walked over, kicking Holidae’s foot back into place, “You are helping. Hold still, you keep twitching and get all blurry.”

Infinitely thankful that they were quite alone in the cemetery that afternoon, Holidae muttered under breath, trying her best to hold the poses as Lydia commanded them. She was wrapped in several layers of sheer black organza, designed to mimic a sort of mourning gown with a bit of wedding charm thrown in for flavor. The result was surprisingly effective, but did nothing to stave off the cold autumn weather, and Holidae could already feel her extremities freezing over. She did promise Lydia she would help her a photo shoot, and she learned a valuable lesson about not trusting the small photographer as far as she could throw her.

“I think my fingers are frozen. They’re blue,” Holidae leaned against the nearby headstone for support.

“So are your lips, now hush.” Lydia maneuvered herself around the other girl, the camera shutter firing rapidly. “Lean back like you’re just overwhelmed with grief.”

“I’m overwhelmed with something,” Holidae tried to do as she was told, dipping her body backwards as far as she could. “This good?”

“More.” Another series of clicks.

Holidae wobbled, catching herself on the headstone, “I don’t bend that much.”

“Try,” Lydia came over and tried to balance her friend, who promptly caught her funny bone on the granite grave marker.

“Fuck you, you try!” Holidae hissed in pain, rubbing her elbow furiously. “Or you best pay a chiropractor.”

Lydia went back to her equipment, fiddling around with some different lenses, and giving Holidae a much needed break before they tried again. This wasn’t the first time she had roped her friend into posing for her photos, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last despite protests from the model. No matter what Lydia would try and get her to do, or how she would dress her up, Holidae would just go along with it. It was like having a doll to dress-up and torture in creative ways.

The only request Holidae ever made was that her face never be in full view, and Lydia always respected her wish. Whether it be a large hat brim, or in today’s case a veil, Holidae was kept away from curious eyes. The truth of the matter was Holidae was embarrassed of her looks, and always had been. Self-esteem was a rough, bumpy road to traverse; and there were good and bad days.

It was a touchy subject, and Lydia never pushed it.

Lydia tapped her fingernails on her camera bag, trying to think of a solution to the posing problem. After a few minutes, she let out an ah-ha, getting up and brushing some leaves off of her skirt. In one quick breath, she spoke her ghostly best friend’s name three times in a row, summoning him outside of the house for a change.

Beetlejuice looked happier than he’d been in a while, smiling ear to ear, and picking up the small girl with a twirl, “Lyds! We’re in a graveyard! What’s the special occasion? Someone die? Someone needing to die? Picking out a good plot? Don’t get one by a tree or the roots will get all gnarly and stick into your casket.”

Laughing as he set her down, she shook her head, “No, I need a favor, but nothing that major.”

He stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, looking like a noir film detective, “Anything for you, babes.”

“I need you to bend Holidae over,” Lydia said pointing over to the woman desperately trying to warm herself up.

BJ did a double take so hard there was an audible crack of his neck, “…do what now?”

“Balance issues. If you go over there and help, I can get the pose I want and you won’t show up in the picture. It’ll look super cool, trust me. Just go over and she’ll explain what I want.” Lydia waved him away, unconcerned with her phrasing.

There was a moment of hesitation on Beetlejuice’s part; not really sure if this whole thing was a setup in some way that would get him banished forever, or something worse. Well, if Lydia wanted him to be a helpful little demon, who was he to argue with such an opportunity.

Humming to himself, he flourished his stroll over to Holidae with a spin, “Oh, what have we here? Getting all dressed up just for me, Holly-hock? I just adore the shade of blue on your skin.”

Holidae tried to straighten herself up, covering the more see-through parts of the draping with her arms, “W-what are you doing o-out h-here? Fuck it’s cold.”

Beej pulled her tight against him, “Body heat is the best solution of hypothermia, right?”

“Not when you’re an ice cube!” She shivered, torn between accepting his offer and freezing to death right then and there.

“Hey! Less flirting, more posing!” Lydia barked at the two of them. “Save that stuff for indoors, it’s gross. He’s there to hold you up so you don’t bash your head open on the rock.”

“Lydia, you say one more word and I’m throwing your camera off the bridge.” Holidae pried herself out of his arms, readjusting him so that he would support her back. “If you drop me, you’re dead.”

Beej snickered, giving her flesh a hard pinch, “Already dead, baby.”

“Smartass.” Holidae grit her teeth, but bent back with her arms splayed our behind her, “And I am fully aware that you’re getting a good view of my cleavage, so don’t even start with me.”

“I am getting Lyds the best birthday gift this year,” Beetlejuice made a very obvious show of studying Holidae’s chest.

Over the next hour, Lydia would move her two companions in different ways, getting the most out of the fact BJ wouldn’t show up in the film. It saved a lot of money on expensive photo editing programs; but it was also just a fun way to spend the afternoon together in a new environment. When things would get too serious, Beetlejuice would make some face at Holidae to get her laughing, ruining the next few shots Lydia took until they could compose themselves. Or, at least Lydia was claiming they were ruined.

She wasn’t about to tell them the truth: those candid shots were not being deleted off her camera.

During one of their breaks, Holidae sat herself down on a blanket Lydia had spread out her camera equipment on to keep it from getting dirty, holding her knees to her chest in efforts to keep warm. Without warning, something was dropped onto her head, mussing her hair as she pulled it down. It was a dirty, ratty grey coat. Stained and stitched together in odd places, carrying the heavy scent of tobacco and musty earth.

Strangely enough, it was warmer than she thought it would be, and she wrapped it around her body as best she could, “You might want to wash this once in a while. Maybe just spot clean.”

Beetlejuice flopped down next to her, digging a pack of smokes from the coat pocket, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back. Ungrateful.”

She shook her head, burying herself deeper into the oversized clothing, “No no, I want it. I was just offering a suggestion. Thank you for not letting me freeze, I mean it. Honest.”

He took a long drag, the smoke hanging in the air due to the weather, “Eh, dying is what it is. Done it twice, not that exciting.”

Holidae looked around at the tombstones surrounding them, “Do you think these people would have the same opinion? What if they died doing something exciting?”

“I really don’t feel like digging them up and asking,” He shrugged, holding the cigarette between his teeth. “So what’s Lydia gonna do with all these photos anyway? Seems weird.”

“She keeps telling me she has a theme, but doesn’t want to jinx it with discussion and negative thoughts. I swear, she takes after her stepmother more than she wants to admit.” She picked at the blades of grass by her feet, “I just put up the pictures when they’re done.”

“Well, since she can’t have me as a model, at least she has something decent to work with.” He flipped the edge of the coat up, peeking at her sheer dress. “You’re not as beautiful and sexy as I am, but then again, nobody is.”

Holidae scooted backwards, tucking the coat back tight around her, “Hey, you’ll let the heat out! And good on you for self-confidence, but calling yourself sexy all the time is weird.”

Beetlejuice grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her back toward him, “Are you saying I’m not sexy?”

She was getting tangled in the coat, looking like an unhappy caterpillar, “No, I said that calling yourself sexy is weird. I would really appreciate you listening when I talk to you, Juice. I don’t just say things to hear myself prattle on.”

With a truly maniacal laugh, Beetlejuice jumped up, picking up Holidae in a bridal-style carry, and spun her around with a flourish. “Youuuuu think I’m sexy. You think I’m seeeexy~”

He set her back on her feet, leaving her to balance herself after all the spinning, and ran over to find Lydia.

“Lyds! Lyds, listen listen listen~ you’re friend said I’m sexy. Now you have to take back all those times you said I was only referring to myself as a sexual being to hide the fact that I have a lack of positive self esteem from a childhood borne of neglect. HA! Wait. Why are you running from me? Lydia!”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

[reidandweep]

The Frozen Lake

Daenerys Targaryen x Reader (female)

A/N- This was requested by @path-of-fire. Prompt: Daenerys and the Reader are lovers and the Reader joins Jon Snow at the Battle on the Frozen lake. Presumed dead, it comes as a shock to the Khaleesi, when her lover appears in Winterfell.

Word Count- 3252 words

Warning- Blood, presumed death, kissing, angst, fluff, and all that jazz.

“You don’t have to go with him?”

“I know. But I am choosing to do this. For you my Queen.”

Daenerys rolls her eyes at Y/N’s reply. A small smile gracing her face.  The pair watched as Jon and his men prepared the boats, ready to go beyond the wall.

Turning towards her Khaleesi, Y/N gently grabbed her face. Feeling the worry roll off of her in waves, Y/N leaned in to kiss Daenerys. Her lips moved across her lovers, as Daenerys’ arms encircled the woman’s waist. Pulling her as close as possible.

“Are they always like this?”

Jorah laughed at Jon’s comment.

Walking to stand next to the young man, he clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“That woman has travelled farther and wider for Daenerys than even I have. Than anyone has. They always get a little more affectionate before she goes to fight.”

Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I’ve come to guess it’s some form of good luck or stay safe.”

Pulling her lips away from her Khaleesi, Y/N smiled.

“I’ll be fine. I always come back don’t I?”

Daenerys didn’t laugh.

She squeezed her lover’s waist.

“The stakes are higher this time Y/N. The people need you to come back. I need you to come back.”

“And I will come back.”

Taking a glance at the boats, Y/N could see that they were almost ready to board. Giving her Queen one last smile, she released her grip around her waist. Heading towards Jon and his men. Y/N threw her bag into the boat, sitting across from Jon and next to Gendry.  She watched Daenerys as the boat was pushed into the water. Their gaze never breaking until she and the men were a speck in the sea.

They rowed and rowed and rowed.

Y/N watched as the man steered the oars across the water.

“You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?” Y/N stated towards the Baratheon bastard next to her.

Gendry laughed.

“More than you know.”

Y/N kept mostly to herself. These men all knew each other. She was an outsider to them. She may be with the Khaleesi, but right now she only had Jorah, surrounded by boats overflowing with testosterone.

“How long have you been with the Mother of Dragons?”

Raising her head at the voice, she looked at the man next to Jon Snow.  His hair and beard unruly, but they were as bright as the fire spit from the Khaleesi’s dragons.

“We met when she gained control of the Dothraki after Khal Drogo’s departure. I was made her maid in waiting.”

The man smirked.

“Ah. So, you were fucking her whilst she was with the Dothraki king?”

Leaning forward in her seat, Y/N’s eyes pierced into Tormund’s. Like daggers made of dragon glass.

His smirk fell.

“Unlike you, horny cunt, I have control. I would never have disrespected the Khal in any way. Not that it is any of you fucker’s business. But we were not together, until long after the death of Khal Drogo.”

Leaning back, placing her hands on her knees, Y/N licked her lips.

“I have worked my way from maid in waiting, to warrior, to commander-in-chief. I command all armies under the reign of the Khaleesi. I command the Dothraki, the Unsullied, the Iron Islands, The Westerlands, The Vale, and so much more. And if I wanted to, I could have command of you. You’ve pledged support to the Khaleesi and you are a part of the army of the North. I could order you to jump overboard right now. And you would have to.”

Gendry began to laugh at the woman’s words, and at the fear across Tormund’s face.

He continued to row.

Jon could not help but smile also.

A smirk once again settled on her face.

“But I won’t.”

Gendry ceased his laughter, disappointed taking over his features.

Y/N looked to Jon, smiling at the man’s reaction.

With silence falling upon the four once more they continued their journey.

They spent hours rowing. Days even before they got to their desired location.  Once they had arrived the group had accumulated more men. Beric Dondarrion, The Hound, and other members of the Brotherhood. All ready to face the whites.

The group walked for miles.

“We need to rest. Stop for a short while.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Jon’s words.

“Were beyond the wall. If we rest, we die.”

Jon grew agitated.

“Yeah. Of hyperthermia. We are stopping. That’s final.”

Of course, Y/N’s prediction was right. As once the group ceased moving, the whites emerged.

They had rowed. They had walked. And now they had run.

Narrowly escaping, Jon had ordered Gendry to run back to the Eastwatch. They needed Daenerys to know what they found. To know they were in danger.

They had successfully killed and caught one white. But now they were surrounded; swarmed by hundreds. With the breaking of the ice the only thing separating few whites from themselves.

Standing between Jon and Clegane, Y/N watched as a single white walked towards them, dragging his sword along the ice.

“Pick up your fucking sword, you cunt.” She shouted.

The men all turned to her, bewilderment across all their features.

She looked back in confusion.

“What? The sound goes right through me.”

As more whites began to approach, the men and woman took their stance; ready to fight.

As quick as lightning, the whites began to attack. Swinging her sword, she sliced through as many as she could. Trying to not get over powered. Throwing punches, kicks, and anything she could to kill as many as possible. But they were overpowered. For every member of their group, there was hundreds of whites. And not all of them had the Lord of Light lighting their swords on fire. They were greatly outnumbered.

Pushing her sword through the chest of a white, Y/N turned to the sound of Tormund screaming. Racing towards him as he was being buried by the undead creatures, much like Jorah, Y/N pulled her dagger out of its sheath. Stabbing those closest to Tormund with one hand, whilst using her sword to skewer many more surrounding them. Her actions gave enough time for Tormund to gain his footing. The pair standing back to back, decapitating those that came their way.

There was still too many.

Tormund could see that Jon and the others had climbed onto the raised rock in the middle of the frozen lake.

Turning around, he grabbed Y/N’s hand.

“Come on Commando, the Dragon Queen will kill me if you die by my side.”

Running with Tormund, Y/N continued to swing her sword.

“It’s Commander not commando, you fire child!”

Tormund’s boisterous laugh rips through the cold air.

“I know!”

The successfully arrived at the rock.

Standing next to Jon, they could all see that there was no chance of them winning.

Not until the piercing screech of a dragon was heard.

Out of nowhere, Viserion, Drogon and Rhaegal appeared through the sky. Daenerys instructing her dragons to burn the whites. Trying her hardest to save Jon, his men, and her love. The men watched in astonishment as fire flooded the ground below them. Y/N smiled at the Khaleesi’s abrupt appearance. She was always there when needed.

Landing one of Drogon near the group, Daenerys watched as Y/N helped the men climb on to Rhaegal. Viserion flying high in the sky, flames still pouring out the dragon’s mouth; drowning the whites. As Jon was about to climb onto Rhaegal, a white appears out of nowhere. Before it can reach the King of the North, Y/N raises her sword to block the attack. Pushing the white back as much as she could.  Until her vision catches that of the Night King.

Staring straight into her soul, she watches as the frozen man walks through the fire. He walked through the fire. He walked through the fire. He walked thr-

“Dany go now! GO NOW!”

Daenerys turned at the sound of her love’s panicked voice. Aiming her own gaze at where she was looking.

As Y/N continued to push whites back, Jon ran to help. Slaying those that she could not see.

Before Daenery’s could act on the woman’s words, fear struck her heart, as she watched the Night King pierce his spear through Viserion. The dragon’s body hurtling towards the frozen water. Blood falling through the sky like torrential rain.

Y/N’s body froze at the sight.

“Go.” She whispered.

Her voice grew louder.

“GO! GO! GO!”

Jon repeated the woman’s words. The pair turned to run towards the Khaleesi and her dragon.

Just before either could reach the group, a pair of whites appeared out of nowhere, hurtling into Jon. The force of their bodies causing the ice beneath them to break.

Y/N could do nothing as the ice below her began to crack, as so did the majority of which surrounded her. With the force of the stampeding whites hurtling her way, the ice below her feet split. With her last few moments above the water, Y/N caught the Khaleesi’s gaze. “Sōvegon!” (“Fly!”)

She screamed.

As she fell into the freeing depth below, Drogon and Rhaegel lifted towards the sky and away from the Frozen lake. Heading back to the Eastwatch.

Daenerys’ stared down at the broken ice. Her body just as frozen. Shock coursing through her system in waves. Her heart and mind wept, but her body did not.

Under the ice, Y/N tried to calm herself. She could already feel her lungs start to lose air. Her body drifting lower and lower into the water. She watched as Jon swam back to the surface, pulling his body back through the hole in the ice. Her own body refused to co-operate. Exhaustion and hypothermia already taking over. She had accepted her fate. For her death would be honourable. Dying to protect her Khaleesi. Her Mother of Dragons. Her Daenerys.

As her body sank lower and lower, she closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness.

Her whole body ached. Her head pounded as though rocks had been smashed onto her skull.

Wait.

She had a headache. Y/N was alive.

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked to clear her vision. Carefully scouring the room in which she laid, it felt familiar. Y/N quickly turned her head to the sound of a door opening and closing. Watching as a young man entered the room. He was dressed in northern clothing. A dark black cape, with light brown trimming sat across his shoulders. His matte black hair laying softly on his head.

Y/N had not realised she was lying in a bed until his arrival. Pushing herself to sit upwards, the man’s head rose at the unexpected noise. It seemed he had not realised she was awake.

“I’m sorry m’lady. I did not know you had awoken.”

She stared at the man. Her mind filled with questions.

“Who are you?”

The young man shuffled towards her, a tray of food and a glass of ale in his hands. He placed them onto the bed, taking a step away, he folded his hands in front of his body.

“My name is Podrick, m’lady.”

For some reason, her body told her to trust this man.

“Pull up a chair Podrick because I have a lot of questions and, you are going to answer them. No scoot on over here. Do you want some ale, not a big fan, to be completely honest with you?”

Podrick chuckled at the woman’s brash behaviour. Grabbing the empty chair, near the window adjacent to the bed, Podrick sat near the woman. As Y/N scoffed down the bread before her, she took a sip of the ale, passing the cup to Podrick to drink straight after.

Wiping the food from her mouth, Y/N wasn’t caring to be lady like. She was starving.

The pair sat in silence as Y/N ate the rest of the food. Drinking the last of the ale offered back by Podrick.

“Thank you, Pod.”

“You’re welcome m’lady.”

“Call me Y/N. I’m no rich woman.”

She smiled at the squire.

Pulling the blanket closer to her, she sat up straighter, ready to ask the questions she needed answering.

“How did I end up here?”

Podrick licked his lips as he fiddled with his hands.

“Were not certain. Lady Sansa was called to the ground a few days ago. The guards had found your body at the gates, unconscious but breathing. Lady Sansa rushed you into the chambers where you were kept warm and on rest.”

She nodded her head.

“The last thing I remember was falling into the ice, and then the face of a man. As blue as the cold, but he sounded like a Northener. I can’t remember anything after that.”

“How did you fall in the ice m’lady? I mean Y/N?”

Y/N looked towards Podrick. Her face turning sour.

“I was battling the Night King and his whites.”

Shock took over Podrick’s features.

“With Jon Snow and his men?”

The woman slowly nodded her head.

“He fell through the ice as well. I would be surprised if he is still alive. I am surprised I am.” She laughed.

Her laughter grew quieter as Podrick’s head began to shake. The look on his face turned her stomach queasy.

“Jon Snow is alive.”

Confusion fell over Y/N.

“How do you know that?”

Podrick gulped, fiddling with his hands once more, he answered Y/N’s question.

“He arrived earlier today with the Mother of Dragon’s.”

Y/N stared at Podrick as the words left his mouth.

Daenerys was here. She was in the castle.

Shuffling the cover’s off of her legs, Y/N sprung from the bed. Happy to see that she was in some form of clothing that covered her. She would question who dressed her later. But now she needed to get to her Khaleesi.

Seeing the woman’s frustration, Podrick pointed towards the table.

He turned around to give her privacy, keeping his eyes closed as she changed.

“Lady Sansa and Lady Arya left you some items on the table. You seemed similar in stature to Lady Arya. There should be some clothes, a cloak, and a sword. Lady Arya said you looked like a fighter.”

As Podrick was speaking, Y/N quickly got dressed, impressed at how the garments fit her perfectly.

At the sound of her sword being sheathed, Podrick turned around. Stunned at the sight before him. She looked ethereal. She looked powerful.

Y/N tied her hair in an intricate braid. Putting her hands to her sides, she looked at the squire.

“Lady Arya was right. I am a fighter.”

Podrick and Y/N smiled at the woman’s words.

“Now Pod, can you show me where the Khaleesi will be?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

He escorted her towards the door, closing it behind them.

The pair twist and turned down the corridors until they approach a large, heavy-set steel door.

Muffled voices could be heard as they approached.

“The Khaleesi is very important to you?” asked Podrick.

“Yes, and I would hope I am important to her as well.”

They stopped at the doors. The voices on the other side had become increasingly louder. She could hear loud chattering and disgruntled voices.

“Why is that?” Podrick questioned.

Y/N smiled, gesturing him to open the doors.

As the doors creaked open she spoke.

“Well, I am her wife.”

Ignoring the shocked appearance of Podrick she strolled into the hall, Podrick not far behind her.

The noise was still very loud. So loud they had not even heard the doors open and close.

She could hear the voice of a women/

“What do dragons eat anyway?”

Another replied.

“Whatever they want.”

Ah. There was her Daenerys.

Rolling her eyes, she tried to push through the crowds of lords; to no avail.

She looked at Podrick. Pulling out her sword, she laid the tip on the ground.

“Follow me and cover your ears, Pod. This sound will go right through you.”

He did as she instructed.

Y/N began to scrape the sword across the stone floor.

The arguing of the Lords ceased, only to be replaced by their groans of pain. For all covered their ears at the piercing noise, moving out of the way of its direction. Y/N’s path was now clear as she walked through the group of men, her sword still trailing behind her. The lords stepping out of the way, watching as she walked into the centre of the room; with Podrick close on her tale. Once she had arrived to the centre, she pulled her sword in front of her; ceasing the noise.

Silence embedded the room. Jon and the Khaleesi could not believe their eyes.

Y/N pointed at Jon. A smirk on her face.

“Told you the sound goes right through you.”

All eyes fell to the Khaleesi at the sound of her standing from her chair; the item toppling to the floor.

The pair stared at one another.

Daenerys slowly walked around the table, standing a few feet away from Y/N.

“How did you survive? Jon said he saw you drown?”

Y/N laughed at the Khaleesi’s words.

“I did. But some blue Northern bloke saved me.”

Jon knew she spoke of his uncle Benjen. For he had saved Jon as well. Y/N turned her gaze and body to Sansa. Kneeling down quickly, she arose soon after.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa for providing me warmth, shelter, food, and clothes. For not turning me away in my hour of need.”

Whilst Sansa held a grudge against Daenerys, she could not help a small smile appear at Y/N’s gratitude.

Daenerys watched the exchange.

Quickly looking towards Podrick, with the man still standing close behind her, she smiled.

“Thank you, Pod. You have been amazing help. I have made a friend for life in you.”

Podrick could not help but blush at her words. Moving towards the side, Podrick smiled back at the woman.

Finally turning back towards her queen, Y/N stepped forwards.

A serious expression took over Y/N’s face.

“I am sorry to have worried you. I should not have left Dragonstone. I should have stayed with you.”

Daenerys shook her head, stepping closer as well.

“No. You fulfilled your role as Commander of the Targaryen armies. And you fulfilled your promise of coming back to me.”

Y/N smiled.

“I always come back, don’t I?”

Daenerys rolled her eyes.

“Oh hush.”

Daenerys slammed her lips onto Y/N’s. Their last kiss being all those months ago, when she had sailed to fight the whites. Now she was back, in Daenerys’ arms, read to fight them once more.

The pair broke apart at the sound of the hollers of the lords.

Stepping away from the Khaleesi, Y/N turned towards the room, unsheathing her sword as a warning. Her glare piercing through many of them men. The room quietened once more. Turning back to her queen, she put away her sword.

The Stark siblings could not help but smile at the woman’s actions. Whilst Arya and Sansa held resentment towards the Queen, they could not help but admire the ferociousness of her partner. Jon was happy to see the woman alive. For he knew she would be an important asset towards the oncoming battle.

Winking at the Khaleesi, Y/N bowed towards Jon and Sansa, moving to stand by Podrick. He elbowed her side, making the woman laugh.

Daenerys smiled at the interaction. Moving back towards her seat, she sat down. The Khaleesi addressed the room.

“Time to prepare for war.”

A/N- I hope you enjoyed it @path-of-fire If anyone has anymore requests feel free to send. 

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Life at The Ancestral Manor”

Summary: Griffin wanted to share her future with Valtor but in agreeing to give him her life she also agreed to give it to the way things happen in his home of tradition that his mothers are making sure will be upheld. Can she hope that relationship will be allowed to grow and develop when she needs to put her everything into surviving each day they try to make her something that she’s not?

Mentions of death, murder, self-mutilation, arson, cults, coma, physical and emotional abuse, parental abuse, sex, sex toys, not consented to stop of birth control, alcohol abuse, cooking deer meat in detail (which was oddly disgusting to me so...) and strong language. Also, there are mentions of Bloom x Darkar and Bloom's portrayal isn't very flattering although it is just a reimagined version of the events in canon (plus, a few details that weren't there).

I had the mighty need to see Griffin and Valtor living with the Ancestral Witches for some reason the other day and I set out to write it. Well, this is what came of it. A lot of super fucked up stuff because it is the Ancestral Witches. Also, it is super long again because, of course, it is.

"That was delicious, Griffin," Valtor praised as he wiped his mouth with his napkin after he was done with his French toast.

Griffin smiled at him gently as she was careful not to let any venom seep out of her and poison him. "I'm glad you liked it." At least he appreciated all of her efforts. She was an early bird but that didn't make her love the fact that she had to rush to the kitchen and get started on breakfast instead of curling up into Valtor's side and greeting him with a kiss when he woke up. Of course, she didn't have to when there were people she could fall back on to do it for her but that meant never being allowed in the kitchen again and she'd fought too hard to earn her own agency of choice to let that happen.

"It certainly exceeds a number of other meals I've had," Belladonna said, her voice smooth like the surface of ice under your fingertips and just as cold, killing the compliment before it could even turn into such.

Griffin forced the smile to keep stretching her facial muscles when her mother-in-law's golden eyes found hers despite the discomfort that caused her. That was as much as she could hope to get from the woman who killed animals in cold blood for fun and had taught Valtor to do it, too. Or rather it was all she hoped there would be to her condescension.

"Rather simple, but we all have to resign to the limitations when you have to do it all yourself," Belladonna continued, making Griffin let the breath she was holding out of her nose as slowly and inconspicuously as she let her own pride slip out of her hands and shatter on the floor without even a sound to mourn its pitiful end. She couldn't make a scene at breakfast. It would just ruin her whole day when they made it their mission to make it hell. "I don't understand why you insist on doing it when the help is right here to do it for you but it is your choice and we all respect that," Belladonna kept stuffing ice cubes in her heart to make it freeze over like her own and have water flowing in her veins instead of blood. Even all the tea in the world couldn't warm her now and it was just Valtor's warm presence at her side that kept her from dying in the embrace of the hypothermia that was her mother-in-law's weapon of choice.

"I enjoy it, Mother Belladonna," Griffin said, her voice cutting lines in the thin ice separating her from the freezing water below that she was skating on. She could let her righteous anger sharpen her as much as she wanted as she tried to cling on to everything she loved and not let it sink in the cold indifference that was being forced on her but there was no escape from her frozen prison when Belladonna was taking away all of her sources of joy with ease as the fight was on her territory.

She couldn't help but catch Lysslis' smile of belittlement when it was designed to draw her attention to her and get in her head where it would start taking apart who she was to make space for who they wanted her to be. She'd need all that luck Zarathustra had wished her when she and Ediltrude had learned the three witches were to be her mothers-in-law. Having to force herself to cook every day because she would lose her kitchen privileges otherwise was draining every spark of happiness she was getting from the activity already but she wouldn't let them win. It had barely been half a year after she and Valtor had gotten married in the dead of winter and she still had more fight in her even if the heat of summer was not helping when she was home from school and trapped in their killer company.

"Simplicity is trending right now so if anything, Griffin is just staying up-to date, mother," Valtor took her side–quite literally as they were sitting opposite of his mothers at the long table in the dining room–and she would kiss him if she could. Currently though, she couldn't even catch his hand under the tablecloth since his mothers were watching them restlessly like the stars never stopped looking over all of the planets and they would see it instantly which would just pose a problem to the two of them as the three old hags didn't approve of witnessing displays of affection.

They didn't approve of affection in general and had only taken her as a daughter-in-law after DNA tests that had confirmed a child of hers and Valtor's would have an excellent genetic makeup making her nauseous in the process as they'd erased her humanity with one quick swipe over her being. The tests and the fact that she had golden eyes like all the other women of the Ancestral Manor. She'd literally been picked for her body and it had felt like she'd entered medieval times instead of her new life as Valtor's bride. But if anything, it had only stated loudly how much she loved him to go through all of that and be with him. Even his mothers had looked impressed by her determination and hadn't even allowed themselves to insinuate she was a gold-digger.

"Of course, she is," Tharma said, her voice crackling like static like it always did. She always felt like she was about to explode and Griffin was pretty sure that it was like that because that was exactly what was happening. The woman–Griffin would only truly believe any one of them was human when she saw their corpses since none of them seemed to have aged for the past twenty-five years which might have just traumatized Valtor more with the promise of their curse hanging over his head for an undetermined amount of time–didn't even have the proverbial short fuse and could self-detonate on the spot if it weren't for her sisters to keep her collected with their icy gazes and creeping terror. "That is what has kept this family afloat for centuries and every member needs to keep to it." Meaning that they would throw her out the moment she couldn't catch up with their impossible standards.

"Yes, mother," Valtor said, the response automatic at this point but that didn't seem to upset any of his mothers. It seemed to please them rather–nothing better than turning your child into a robot keeping to your every command–and win Valtor and her the opportunity to focus on each other for the time being. "What are you doing today?" Valtor asked, pulling her away from the dreadful reality of their presence and into what was left of her own life, of their life.

He always cared and stopped to ask how she was doing even when his mothers had already piled two hundred other more pressing things on his shoulders. Although, in their eyes everything was more pressing than love and it was a joke when that included "the family reputation" when they didn't even have a definition of family. And if they did, it was distorted by all the shards of cold that were the only remains of their souls.

"Ediltrude and Zarathustra are coming over so... trying to stay sober would be a good start," she said, doing her damnedest to keep her eyes on him and not on the warped reflections of them that his mothers' gazes were when they shared the same eye color but the emotions that came through in the gold were vastly different.

She hated herself for slipping into the anxiousness their presence loaded her with like she was nothing more than yet another weapon they could yield to hurt him like they'd done their whole life by turning what he loved against him and making him hate it. They would interfere anyway so she had to make the most of it and focus on him. Him and what the day had to offer once she managed to free herself from the net of their scrutiny.

"You know how hard it is to refuse Ediltrude to drink with her." Valtor and Ediltrude had hit it off that first Christmas and she'd never gotten to meet his mothers at the appointed Christmas dinner which had given her one last holiday free of their presence but there'd been retribution from them towards Valtor that had kept him from seeing her as well. "Even when it's eleven a.m." That wasn't going to be her saving grace either and she could only hope for a miracle to keep the alcohol away from her and Ediltrude away from it.

"I'm sorry, dear," or a curse, "but you're going to have to reschedule," Lysslis grabbed at the chance to ruin her plans so viciously that it was bleeding toxic glue on her to get her stuck in the place they wanted her, in their own garden of misery they'd personally grown just for her in some sort of sick gift that did everything for them and nothing for her. Nothing good that was. "Today will not be possible," Lysslis said and Griffin was surprised she'd given her the opportunity to speak a few sentences before she'd let her own tongue slither out. But of course, that way it was Griffin's words that ripped into her when she'd allowed herself to believe she could have something her way in the home from hell.

"I thought you didn't have any urgent work today, Mother Lysslis," Griffin let herself play dumb when she'd double checked with their personal assistant. Mandragora was an oversized pest that completely deserved her name when she started screeching the moment someone who wasn't her bosses poked her the wrong way–or any way, really–but she wouldn't allow herself to lie to her if it concerned her and her mothers-in-law's dealings did since they insisted on holding all their meetings at the mansion as if offices didn't exist. But apparently they weren't too old to retire but were too old to work outside the mansion.

"Exactly," Belladonna said and Griffin could only hate herself for how helpless she was against the way her blood froze at a single word from the woman. "There will be nothing to distract us from the presence of your mismatched friends," she said and Griffin couldn't even draw in all the breath she needed when the ice needles of Belladonna's gaze on her would poke holes in her lungs if she allowed them to expand past their normal movements. "I will never understand how someone with your poise and grace can stand to be around people who are so... unrefined."

The trap clicked closed, holding both her heart and her tongue and threatening to pluck them out if she dared let them run free but she couldn't just keep sitting obediently like a dog while Belladonna threw insults of her friends in her face like they were treats she'd deserved for good behavior. She had to stand up for herself and her friendship.

"That's okay," she let the honey drip from her lips sweet like a topping they'd all hopefully choke on to go with her steely gaze that would've cut through anyone else but only had the ice of Belladonna's biting back into it in a warning that was more a red flag rather than a courtesy even if her rage was already burning white hot and Griffin hadn't even started. "You're busy figuring out so many other things. We've got this one covered for you, Mother Belladonna," Griffin said, looking right into the molten abyss that her mother-in-law's eyes were as if it wasn't absolutely suicidal and wouldn't doom her to a terribly agonizing death. But she needed to let her know just what she meant with that.

Belladonna had just sisters and a son she'd done her best to break and mold according to her own vision while Griffin had the twins who were her sisters in everything but blood and her husband she loved enough to accept even as he came packaged with three sociopaths because that was what love was. But of course, there was no way for Belladonna to know that when all her friends were fake and the best she could hope for after her own husband's death–or murder–were the business partners who only stayed in contact with her out of obligation. She was sure no one would stick around which just posed the question how genuine any sisterhood between her mothers-in-law was. And they could all hear it echoing loudly around them even if Belladonna would love to crush it under a block of ice just like she'd handle her.

"Speaking of meetings," Lysslis saved her–not before Belladonna made it clear that had Griffin been anyone else other than Valtor's wife, she would've stuffed her in the fridge and served her in small pieces at her annual reception celebrating the foundation of the family business year after year so the guests would be infected with her agony for life even if they wouldn't know it–although they definitely weren't speaking of meetings but rather of a killing match at this point but Griffin wasn't quick to relax before she learned the price of the little miracle she'd let her have. "I will have you inviting your mother to come shopping with us next Saturday," she was quick to inform her what suffering she'd traded her current predicament for and her tone was so casual as she knew she'd set it up perfectly to make Griffin sacrifice what little time she actually got to spend with Valtor in the name of an activity she hated even when she was with her friends. Of course, she'd pick Saturday even when they could go shopping literally any other day of the week.

"Of course, Mother Lysslis," she agreed so readily that it made her sick of her own pretense. Or rather the lack of such when she knew she didn't have any other choice but to leave herself at Lysslis' hands now since Belladonna was still mad at her and Tharma was normally angry on a good day and neither of them would hold back Lysslis' wrath was Griffin to unleash it. All she had left was to hope she'd manage to stand her ground while going around stores that were far off from the plane of existence of a high school teacher since they'd let up a bit on trying to dictate her choice of clothes after the preventive measures she'd taken in regards to that. "If I may ask who "us" includes so that my invitation will be the most accurate version of itself?" Griffin prodded carefully even when she knew that kind of sneakiness would never work with Lysslis.

"The three of us, you and your mother, of course," Lysslis said, the metallic rays of her mind piercing through Griffin's heart easily when it was so softened by the hope she'd let fill it that she'd only have to stand straight under the burden of Lysslis' cunning and manipulations.

Great. It was bad enough when she was being buried under all the insecurities Lysslis managed to dig out without even damaging her manicured nails in any way to get her to bend to her will. Having all three of them against her when they made her head spin with how fast they had her in and out of different outfits was a battle she wasn't sure she'd be able to win even with her mother by her side.

History was more Valtor's area of expertise but she could find herself in need of turning to it and making it repeat. They'd left her alone the previous time when she'd set the wardrobe on fire–all the clothes they'd bought that afternoon had been lost by the time Mike had arrived with his firemen and she'd only mourned the money that had been wasted instead of going towards something productive–and they hadn't tried to order her around directly after that. They'd instead taken a stealthier approach, mostly leaving Lysslis to handle her by fishing out her fears with her teeth hidden behind the warpaint that her blood red lipstick was.

She used them to decorate her attitude of supremacy while she decorated Griffin however she wanted to when the shadows she'd grown in her mind were twisting and turning it as they tried to snap it in half and Griffin was too busy trying to free herself from them to have any energy left to spare on keeping Lysslis out of her head as well. There was no way she could handle all three of them when they sank their claws in her and tried to rip her apart to stuff the pieces of her in whatever clothes they deemed appropriate. So another arson might be due. Even if the only reason Tharma hadn't slapped her for endangering the mansion had been that Valtor had stepped in front of her and gotten slapped himself.

Despite their constant verbal abuse and mind games, they'd never allowed themselves physical violence before that. And after it, too, as Tharma had spent the next week suspended in her room and the glaring empty space on Belladonna's right had somehow only reinforced the idea that she was an all-powerful monster not to be messed with. The lack of reaction on Valtor's part towards the bruise forming on his cheek had been what had made her break down in their bedroom, though, and lament her choice until he'd picked her up and carried her to the bed where he'd told her to never stop defending her agency when it wasn't her that was hurting him. It had never been. And she'd worn his fierce love of her like her armor against Lysslis' attempts to convince her that it was all her fault.

It had worked that time. She could only hope it would work again even if that left her heart too malleable and easy to manipulate.

"It would be nice to spend some time with her," Lysslis said and Griffin would have been afraid of how easily the lie dripped from her lips if she weren't used to it. In fact, assuming that everything that came out of her mouth was a lie was the best way to deal with Lysslis and avoid falling for her traps. It might have been unfair if it weren't true ninety-nine percent of the time and the fact that even Tharma and Belladonna were mindful of her and double checked her story when she'd done something on her own just confirmed that. "We haven't seen good old Emalyn in so long," Lysslis shook her head as if in regret. And perhaps it was.

Perhaps it was regret that they had to socialize with a lowly middle class retired nursery teacher. Emalyn was everything that they weren't and knowing Griffin carried her genes was only looked over because the DNA tests overrode it in importance by proving that those were the perfect genes to combine with Valtor's and somehow that made Griffin's genetic makeup desirable all of a sudden.

And to call her mother old as if they weren't ancient even though they didn't look the part? That was an insult Griffin would never swallow if her mom hadn't warned her not to get into fights with her mothers-in-law on her behalf after they'd made a remark about taking all the expenses on the wedding since, apparently, Emalyn and that dead husband of hers were no good to even pay for their daughter's wedding–which had been far bigger and much more expensive than Griffin had ever wanted it to be but she'd had no say on the matter as they'd insisted that a new marriage in the family had to be a public affair–and Griffin had been ready to rip they heads off. Emalyn had stopped her, though, and reminded her that it would only hurt herself and Valtor and her mom could never want that for them which had proven that she was the only mother either of them had despite allegedly having four.

Griffin mirrored that smile Lysslis gave guests when she wanted them to know that all that they were was met with contempt. She'd learned how to reflect it even if some of the effect was lost when she could never hope to have been capable of pulling it off without seeing it first. "I'm sure she shares the sentiment." She most certainly did considering the depth of the resentment thriving in the shade of the words.

"Now that that's settled," Tharma stepped in and drew her attention away from where Lysslis looked proud that Griffin had picked something up from her instead of being offended, "we can talk about dinner."

"Is there anything special you would like for dinner, Mother Tharma?" Griffin asked, her stomach trying to do a somersault that would send all of the food she'd just ingested back up her throat to make space for whatever Tharma would want of her now but Griffin held it back. She couldn't let them now she got sick whenever they made their requests that ranged from mildly offensive through awful to horrendous. Especially when she was sure they suspected. She couldn't give them the confirmation herself.

"Valtor will have some good news for us tonight so I thought we should celebrate," Tharma said and Griffin did her best not to clutch at her fork since she was pretty sure she would snap it in half even if it was solid stainless steel. Which was exactly the same reason that she didn't try to catch Valtor's hand to help him drain off some of the pressure Tharma had just piled on his shoulders if there hadn't been enough of that already. "And a special occasion calls for a special meal, doesn't it?" Tharma asked as if they were kindergartners whose brains hadn't developed enough yet to make a simple connection if it weren't pointed out to them. And also to let the dread set deep inside Griffin's body when she'd most certainly have her cooking some animal they had caught.

"You know that Argulus is our best client so you need to be at the top of your game," Belladonna reminded Valtor as if he hadn't been working at the company ever since he'd turned eighteen. By now he would have most certainly learned that even if his mind weren't as sharp as the diamonds they were selling but she just had to nag as if Valtor hadn't renegotiated contract terms with Argulus before. They were practically friends and even if loyalties weren't really a thing in their business, she was sure that Argulus would at least try to resolve any potential issue before going elsewhere for his precious diamonds.

"Yes, mother," Valtor agreed, his tone snappy when his patience was starting to give way under their distrust in him even after they'd stolen his youth and replaced it with preparations to become the head of the business and he'd been doing the job for years. "I always am." Valtor seemed to have had the exact same thought and she wanted to smile at them sharing a mind but that would be misplaced and would most certainly get stained by his mothers' intolerance of their happiness if they saw it. And they would.

"Hardly true half of the time," Lysslis was quick to cut off his unexpected bout of confidence like it was a flower she'd decided to pluck off for decoration of her table. Except she didn't like flowers and it had been completely unnecessary, not to mention far heavier a crime when it was her own son she'd hurt. But of course, she only cared about that in a backwards fashion where she was prouder when the damage she'd done was bigger.

Griffin had to do something since she couldn't watch him like that. He already looked like a sunflower that had withered prematurely and she needed to stop them before they could do more damage. Even if it meant drawing their attention to herself.

"I can cook his favorite-"

"Roast leg of venison," Tharma interrupted her before she could even suggest that she did something her husband would enjoy even if the dinner was supposed to celebrate his success and the order was clear in the tone that allowed no objections. Not that she could have any–as much as she hated to admit it–since they certainly knew their game better than she did. She wouldn't be caught dead going near the stuff if they weren't making her. "Sliced venison tongue salad as an appetizer and venison liver crème caramel for dessert will complete the menu to perfection," Tharma said, looking at her like she expected her to throw up on the spot. Which, frankly, sounded like an appealing option.

"Yes, of course, Mother Tharma," Griffin agreed as she did her best to hold in her disgust–especially when it came to the dessert idea–but she might have started turning green since Tharma looked pleased. Though, that might have been how quickly she'd relented when she knew she didn't have an alternative. She rarely had any other option but to do as they wished. As if they were giving her the occasional treat for being such a well-trained lapdog and if the cooking adventures that awaited her hadn't made her sick already, then that thought was certainly helping.

"Valtor, don't forget there's also a delivery coming in today," Tharma turned to him, a look of warning striking him to remind him it was all very secretive and had to remain that way. Which was why the deliveries were made directly to Valtor's office and personally to him instead of to the house where either the personnel or a random guest could get their hands on the forbidden knowledge of what was in Tharma's box. Well, the deliveries were for all the three witches.

"Don't worry, mother, your products are in good hands," Valtor allowed himself the indiscretion which to Griffin was amusing but Tharma didn't seem to appreciate the threat of having the insides of her words exposed even if it was too late for that. Valtor had already told Griffin it was their ozone cosmetics that were proving to be the fountain of their youth. That and the countless souls they chewed on slowly year after year and consumed the energy of everyone around them to sustain themselves. The perfect crime indeed. "Have I ever forgotten before?" Valtor asked and she had to catch his hand to let him know she was proud of his continuing bravery after they chewed into him every time he displayed it. She couldn't care less that they'd notice. Let them see.

"Of course not, Valtor," Tharma seemed to agree which meant that there was more. "You'd never fail to listen when I remind you." There it was. And of course, she'd steal everything he deserved the credit for. They weren't just energy vampires. They sucked out entire lives and they'd been doing that to Valtor under the guise of raising him ever since he'd been born.

"Go now," Belladonna urged, her gaze cutting into the space between the two of them to indicate that she was in a rush to separate them. Heaven forbid they actually got to enjoy any of their time together when they weren't locked in their own bedroom.

"Yes, mother," Valtor didn't try to protest since it would only get them both snowed in under an avalanche of critiques and he wanted to save them from that. "Have a nice day," he barely spared at his mothers before turning to her. "Goodbye, Griffin," he said as he made sure to catch her gaze and let her know how much he loved her since saying it out loud would only draw the dirt of their disapproval to it. "Make the best of the day," he said since he knew very well that she much preferred to be at work instead of stuck at home with his mothers all day–he'd been through that hell and knew it even better than she did–and kissed her cheek, his lips letting so much tenderness soak into her skin even though the contact was brief.

"Have a nice day yourself," Griffin wished as she squeezed his hand. She knew how much he overworked himself when she was the one massaging all the stress out of his stiff muscles every evening while his mothers were resting all their burden on his shoulders.

"Well, now it will be," Valtor squeezed back to let her know he'd gotten the message. "Even if it doesn't want to," he said before letting go.

Griffin smiled at the optimism that needed just a ray of encouragement to come out from under the years of trauma and bad experiences his so called family had buried it under and completely on purpose at that. But they hadn't managed to smother it in all the cold they'd given him instead of oxygen. It was still there and she was ready to shine on it with all of her love to see it grow and reach for the cosmos since it was strong enough to do that. Especially with her faith in him to support it.

"You should start on dinner, Griffin," Belladonna said, her cold breath making the surface of Griffin's eyes freeze over to keep the sight of Valtor's retreating back out of them and it sent chills down her spine.

"Of course, Mother Belladonna," Griffin agreed and quickly slipped out of her chair and towards the kitchen. She didn't have to object when she was perfectly content with finally being out of their sight as their eyes were like molten lava just waiting to erupt and swallow her to bury her in a cage of obsidian. Even the nightmare waiting for her in the kitchen was a better option than that.

Once in the kitchen–that was suspiciously empty even though there was always personnel in there but, of course, they wouldn't let her have any help when they'd set out to torture her–Griffin made it her first order of business to pull a deer leg out of one of the freezers. They should have probably been kept in a different space altogether considering there were a lot of them–and all were full of hunting game–but her mothers-in-law liked to keep their trophies nearby. And in this particular instance it made her job easier since she only had to get the meat to the table where she could leave it to thaw while she looked for recipes.

She was no expert on cooking meat and the one time she'd cooked deer meat, all three old hags had complained it was overcooked and stiff. She could ask them on how she was supposed to cook what they wanted but after the humiliating experience of having them lecturing her about it the previous time even though they hadn't cooked a thing in their lives and the kitchen was her territory but they'd still trumped her when they knew how well cooked venison was supposed to look and taste, she would sooner die than let them coach her again. Which would still happen if she didn't pull the three-course dinner off so she needed to do her research. Fortunately, that was when the internet came to her rescue.

Of course, they'd give her tasks that would send all of her day to hell. The total time she'd need for all the dishes if she decided to cook them separately was about nine hours which would still leave it ready in time for dinner but would make her unwilling to set foot in the kitchen ever again which would mean that they'd won. So multitasking it was.

That would have been much easier if she was actually acquainted with cooking any of those dishes and also didn't prefer to cut out their tongues and cook them instead of the deer tongues she was left with even though they still made for a better company than her mothers-in-law. Not to mention that the leg she'd gotten was too big for the recipe she'd found and she needed to switch it with a smaller one. At least the kitchen was well stocked so she had the ramekins she needed for the crème caramel. Products and utensils were not the problem, really. No, what was the problem was that it was all set up against her.

The crème caramel was the cherry on top truly since they knew desserts were her pride and specialty and were doing their best to turn that against her. Succeeding, too, unlike her who wasn't even given the chance to come out of that fight victorious since, apparently, the liver for the crème should have been soaked in milk from the previous evening. They were setting her up for failure and she was starting to lose it long before she'd made it to any of the actual cooking.

She considered calling her mom but that would definitely fall under procrastinating. Especially when she went on a long rant about how unfair all of it was even though she'd known it would be like that when she'd said "I do" to Valtor. Besides, there was enough time to call her after she was done with that cooking disaster to proceed to the shopping disaster that was showing on the horizon like an antipode to the sunrise she loved dearly.

She had to call the twins to tell them not to come and, hopefully, convince them to stay on the phone with her and keep her company while she cooked even if distractions could prove to be counterproductive. It was the only way for her to handle what was supposed to be one of her favorite activities and she could only count on their love for her to override the fact that she was going to wake them up at least an hour earlier before they would get up now that it was summer vacation. But she needed them to keep her sane like they'd done when her father had died.

Griffin shook her head to make the horrifying memories drop out of it and shatter against the floor as she called Zarathustra. It was the lesser evil since she was probably awake but still doing her best to catch a wink of sleep anyway and could spare Ediltrude the early awakening and Griffin her sister's wrath for the aforementioned crime.

She held her breath as the phone rang and it was yet another reminder that her dear mothers-in-law were killing her but she pushed the thought down to suffocate instead of her. The universe seemed merciful at least in that regard as Zarathustra picked up and even though the call ended up waking Ediltrude, they both agreed to stay on the phone with her and talk since their meeting was so rudely canceled.

"They really denied us access to the sacred ground?" Zarathustra asked, her disbelief far too real considering she knew how the three witches operated but that just made Griffin love her more and be that much more grateful that her friends were so genuine and never made her wonder whether they truly liked her or were just faking it. She could count on them to take up any problem with her they had to her and it was the most comforting thought at the moment. "That is so disgustingly privileged." Zarathustra scoffed and Griffin could practically hear the disdain forming curses in her head over the speaker phone.

"Believe me, I know," Griffin huffed. "This is my home, too, and I should be able to invite my closest people here," she said, still somewhat surprised that she could think of the mansion as home when she hated so much about it. But it was Valtor's home, the only home he'd ever known, and he'd told her that her presence made it livelier when there were more plants around and the aroma of oregano tea and cookies was luring towards the kitchen. She wanted to be where he was and be his home, and have him be hers, too. "But no, our friendship will sully their décor, I suppose," Griffin said, nearly grateful for the rage over their treatment of her relationships as it would help her get through the meat. Quite literally since she needed to make holes in the leg for the garlic cloves.

"Griff, they're just trying not to go broke since they'll need to restock their liquor cabinet after me and trust me, that shit is expensive as hell," Ediltrude joked, trying to brighten her mood since she could most certainly feel the energy vibrating and brewing inside her even through the phone.

It was enough to scald a normal person but there was no one who fit the description around since her friends were on the other end of the line–and also disaster personified so they were safe on all accounts–the personnel was gone and her mothers-in-law were ancient demons Valtor's father had somehow managed to summon from hell. Most certainly by mistake or ignorance. Nobody would want to be married to a monster like any one of them as Lysslis' husband had proven as he'd filed for divorce just a week after the wedding.

"They're the ones who are way too much expenses on my life," Griffin said as she impaled the meat with the knife. No point in stalling. She had to get to it if she didn't want to be kitchen bound all day like some modern version of Cinderella. Only it was the evil mother-in-law and her sisters against her. Not that that made the fight any easier for her. Quite the opposite, in fact, and all she had left to do was stab the meat with her outrage like she'd completely lost her mind to it. She probably looked like a psychopath so, again, good thing that no one was around. She was pretty sure her mothers-in-law would leap at the chance to have her drugged on her prescribed meds if she gave them a reason to think she needed a psychiatrist.

"Are you sure you should talk like that while in their kitchen?" Zarathustra asked and made her want to scream since she knew how fierce both of the twins were. If they were scared of the witches, then she had to be, too. And she was, but she really didn't appreciate being reminded of that when she had to share living quarters with them. It left her feeling like fish out of water in her own home. Especially when she knew they were well aware of her hatred of them and returned it but still tolerated her when she was the wife they'd needed to buy their son anyway.

"It's my kitchen, Zara," she did her best to cushion her voice as she snapped. It wasn't her friend's fault. No one was at fault except for Belladonna and her sisters. "After Valtor and I got married, we got ownership of the mansion, remember?" Griffin said, trying to convince herself more than anything else.

The mansion could be hers on paper but it still bowed to them completely and so did she when she was more a part of the interior rather than a human being with her own mind and right to making choices. She wouldn't truly be the Mistress of the Ancestral Manor until they were gone even if Belladonna had officially passed the title down to her and despite herself, she wanted to be. She wanted to be if that meant that they would be free of them. Maybe then she could even have a child when she was free of the terror of what they would do with it. Perhaps even a girl and not the obligatory boy to continue the family lineage and find himself a housewife to take care of the precious mansion passed down from generation to generation and binding every next one in its old-fashioned and offensive traditions. Once they were gone, she could set her own rules. If she'd manage to outlive them and the stress they were burying her under as it was far more than six feet on top of her at this point and it'd barely been half a year since the wedding.

"I hate to break it to you, sister, but you're still under their reign," Ediltrude said as she'd sensed her thoughts and was trying to keep her grounded which was not just useful but necessary considering the fight that awaited her but right now it felt good to be in a fantasy. In a world she'd made up where she could have a daughter with beautiful golden eyes that were just that. Beautiful eyes and not a sign that she bore the makings of a Mistress of the Ancestral Manor, a wife. She would be the heiress and own the place. She would be the one who could bring the change the mansion needed and drag it out of the past to forge her own future, one that wouldn't be owned by a breathless, soulless house and the old witches it had made.

"Yes, that was a clause in the contract," Griffin said to grasp at tangible things and the legalities of their deal were the most palpable thing she could think of when they left her with the presence of her mothers-in-law which would last for heaven knew how long. Though, hell would probably be more in place in that sentence. "We have to take care of them until death finally manages to pry life out of their claws." There were chills running through her that weren't coming from the cold meat in her hands when she wasn't sure if even death was stronger than her enemies. And that was a very disturbing thought considering it had taken her father away when he'd always been the most secure heart in her life. "So for the next 30-40 years." Or so she hoped. She could just pray it wouldn't be more even if she weren't religious. She'd never been, and her encounter with her now mothers-in-law had only solidified that position.

"Aren't they, like, ancient?" Ediltrude asked, the pages of her magazine rustling when she probably used it to demonstrate her confusion in a grand, dramatic gesture. And here Griffin had sworn to be careful not to end up with another drama queen as a friend after Ediltrude and Hagen–and herself, too, but that did not go into the current train of thought–only to find herself married to one.

"Yeah. They can't be under seventy at this point even if their magical cosmetics take off twenty years," Zarathustra joined her sister and Griffin was grateful that they were doing their best to provide some comfort but she knew it wasn't up to them when the three witches were in the picture and the cosmetics weren't the only magic at play there. Good diet–despite their passion for hunting, they were careful with the cholesterol that could prove to be the one gun to end them if they didn't control it which, of course, they did very closely–and eating souls were giving splendid results so far. Well, splendid for them.

"Oh, they are," Griffin said, her knife almost flying out of her hand at her own theatrics. "They are seventy-three. At least Belladonna is and I'm still not quite sure whether they're triplets or not." They never disclosed anything personal but that had come out during the transfer of the mansion to the only result of terrifying her all the more when she'd learned she'd been far off in her guess of the woman's age. "But I'm not really sure they're mortal," Griffin confessed and it was so much scarier to hear the thought out loud even if it had been plaguing her mind since she'd learned their age.

Really, they didn't look older than fifty despite their white hair that Griffin could think of at least two purposes for. One, make them look like apparitions to increase the natural terror they awoke in whoever was standing in front of them and two, clash with their painted faces and nails and their designer clothes to tell you they were of age but still had far more class and beauty than you could ever dream of. And it worked on both accounts leaving you with the need to scream but you had to mute yourself somehow because that would just give them more life power and would hand victory to them.

Ediltrude laughed. "Come on, Griffin. The women may be vicious witches – I mean, reindeer meat? Who even eats that nowadays? And knowing that they caught it themselves... Oh, wow, okay." Griffin heard her moving in the armchair she was sitting in, the leather one that definitely did not fit with the rest of the interior of their living room but they both loved and she knew why when she'd found herself dozing off in it more than once since it was that comfortable. "I am starting to see your point," Ediltrude said in that voice that was slightly slowed down from her normal speed of speaking when her mind was racing. "How the fuck are they still hunting at that age?" she asked when she finally did the math that threw you for a loop when it ended in an infinity symbol that stood for their eternal life.

"I'm telling you," Griffin sighed. "They're not human," she said, any thought of stabbing them with the knife she was holding dying out when she wasn't sure she wanted to murder her own hope that they would be the ones to die some day. She wouldn't be able to handle the result of her experiment and the consequences of it. Even if they didn't do anything to her for the attempt on their lives. They would've already done it with the knowledge that it hadn't been an attempt at all when they weren't mortal.

"Well, Lysslis did have a violent reaction to Ediltrude's cat," Zarathustra said as she tried to prove to her that there was fear in her mothers-in-law, too. And it would have worked if the reason for that hadn't been that the cat had snatched a photo album out of Lysslis' bedroom. The way she'd looked around had suggested she was hiding it from her sisters and Griffin supposed that was because it was full of old pictures.

Lysslis wasn't the sentimental type even if she managed to look the part but she certainly was one to keep dirt on her sisters which made Griffin suspect that the album was old and contained evidence from their youth. Evidence that could support the rumors that the three of them had made their way into the manor with deception by having gold injected in their irises which had left them blind and in need of lenses that replaced their lost sight by sending electrical impulses to the brain with the coded visual information.

She wouldn't have trouble believing it at all. She'd seen their ambition taking lives–literally–and was sure that it went as far as mutilating themselves as well. Everything for the metaphorical crown.

That, of course, did not help convince her that they were people and only did the opposite instead even if it brought them down a little on account of them not having all the characteristics of a Mistress of the Ancestral Manor but that hardly mattered when they'd proved that they were the most fearsome women to ever have that title. And Lysslis was cold-blooded enough to keep proof of their monstrosities against her sisters, though that did hint that she was afraid of them. But on the other hand, who wouldn't be? Even monsters could fear other monsters. Especially when they were the same as them.

"Though, they were looking at the snakes like they were moving belts," Zarathustra said like they'd shared the same inner musings when Griffin knew that hadn't been the case. The twins had insisted that it wasn't possible when she'd told them what claims were going around when it came to her mothers-in-law.

"Hush, my babies are still traumatized," Ediltrude scolded which wasn't unexpected since she'd forbidden the topic after she'd had both snakes wrapped around her like they were trying to suffocate her which hadn't really been their intention and had hidden their heads under her hands. They'd gotten scared when they'd felt the thoughts the three old hags would've loved to make true and that only Griffin and the twins had been standing in the way of. As if Ediltrude would ever let anyone hurt her snakes. She would sooner kill than let anyone lay a hand on them or on her sister and that was one thing Griffin could always guarantee no matter who Ediltrude was facing.

"She's cuddling the snakes, isn't she?" Griffin asked as she already had a mental image that she was sure was absolutely precise. It was the other typical characteristic of that leather armchair as it was the usual place where the snakes liked to lounge. Especially if Ediltrude was there–or Zarathustra or Griffin, really–and they could climb all over her.

"Yep. I have a completely insane sister," Zarathustra said and Griffin could see her shaking her head at the sight of Ediltrude cooing at the snakes and stroking them. It was an odd image but one that Griffin was used to by now and had found herself replicating even if she hadn't liked Ediltrude's very idea of pets when she'd had to room with them from the get-go in their college dorm. They'd grown on her, though, and she'd found herself happy to feel them slithering over her the first time the twins had visited the mansion and Ediltrude had thought it appropriate to bring them with her to cheer Griffin up. It had even worked as the snakes had seemed like absolute angels compared to the three she now lived with when she knew the ones curling into her wouldn't hurt her.

"Oh, shut up, Miss I'll-just-go-and-join-a-cult," Ediltrude threw at her sister and almost made Griffin rub at her temples before she remembered she'd just been touching the deer meat and that was definitely ill-advised. She couldn't help the impulse when a fight between the twins was brewing, though, and them focusing on each other was definitely the first and only sign of that as their squabbles only needed so much to kick into motion.

"We agreed to never bring that up again," Zarathustra screeched angrily and Griffin could imagine the way her whole body was moving forward, ready for a fight. Something both twins were always prepared for which made for an explosive atmosphere. Something she'd gotten her fair share of when they'd been roommates. "It was a mistake, okay? You of all people should know enough about that," Zarathustra kept it up and Ediltrude would bite the bait and start harping on, too, in a second and she would lose them to their argument. She had to do something.

"Come on, you two, break it off!" Griffin cried out and it was more desperate rather than authoritative but that was all she could manage at the present time. "I need you to keep me company through this hell of a day, not send each other to hell," she said when she knew that would get them back to her. They were good friends even if they crossed the line sometimes with their teases that went from mischievous straight to cruel faster than a rally car accelerated.

She was picking up Valtor's car figures of speech which was just another thing they would prod into if they knew so she had to be careful not to give herself away.

"Sorry, Griffin," both twins chimed in at the same time which she was sure left them glaring at each other but they kept to the truce she'd called and she was grateful to have their support when there was not much of anything else keeping her focused and stopping her from melting into a puddle of self-pity under the judgment of her mothers-in-law's golden eyes that she could see in her mind perfectly now that they'd taken the time to so helpfully engrave it there.

Dinner took about all day despite her decision to work on the dishes parallel to each other and she ate lunch in the kitchen like she was their servant but that was not correct. She was more of a slave, really, and she was getting tempted to start looking into ways to get away with poisoning them, the only thing that was stopping her being that that wasn't her. Her parents hadn't raised a murderess and she wouldn't let her alleged new mothers make her something that she wasn't, make her like them.

There were rumors that Belladonna had killed her husband for cheating on her which Griffin knew weren't true as much as she hated admitting it. Belladonna certainly wouldn't have tolerated cheating despite how cold and uninviting she was–which was fair enough since that didn't give anyone a pass for cheating–but that was a problem she would have resolved before it had even become such and far more delicately, for certain. A little bromine in his drinks every day and there was nothing to worry about which might have been just the perfect solution from another point of view as well but that was none of Griffin's business and she really didn't need, nor want to go there.

No, what had most certainly seen the three sisters–she was sure Lysslis and Tharma were in on it and might have even helped–committing murder had been the fact that they'd wanted to raise Valtor a certain way and getting rid of his father had been necessary to make sure he wouldn't interfere with that. Which had probably also been the reason behind Valtor's grandmother "falling" off the balcony in the light of day. If they hadn't posed a threat on Belladonna's plans for Valtor's upbringing they probably would've still been alive–her husband at least–and following her agenda just like everyone else was.

Remembering she was one hundred percent certified living with murderesses was not helping her relax when the exhaustion was flaming in her muscles so she dragged herself over to the library to pick a good book to crash on the couch in there with. It was the one place that she adored in the mansion–other than her and Valtor's bedroom–even if Lysslis was often there herself.

There were so many books gracing the shelves with their elegance and knowledge or countless worlds waiting to be explored and it was the richest room in the mansion. It was a dream come true to have a library that size and Griffin took all the chances she got to enjoy it.

She found a book of poetry that seemed to predate even her mothers-in-law–and that was magical in a whole another way as it was proof that they hadn't been there from the start so maybe they wouldn't make it to the end either–and curled up in its embrace. The words were caressing her tenderly–especially when she imagined them in the context of her and Valtor's love–and managed to unwrap some of the day's tension from around her to let her get more comfortable. Almost to the point where she'd fall asleep but that thought was ran over by the sound of Valtor's car pulling over at the driveway.

She laid the book down on the table carefully, letting herself lose the page as all that mattered was finding her way out of the room as soon as possible, and ran down the stairs to greet him. They usually didn't let her do that when they held her hostage in the living room and watched her like she was the wild game they were hunting that day. They didn't want her going out in the rain–concerned about how any potential illnesses would reflect on her ability to bear children, no doubt–but it rained so often over the mansion that she was starting to hate it when she couldn't do any gardening even if it'd used to be a relaxing sound to read a good book to while sipping tea which, really, made perfect sense as a lot of things weren't at all as enjoyable as they'd used to be.

She got the upper hand that evening as she rushed to the door before they could block her way as they came from the study. It was supposed to be Valtor's nowadays but they had no qualms about coming and going as they pleased and rummaging through the documents. They'd even spoiled the surprise when he'd reserved a quiet villa at the seaside for them since they hadn't been able to spoil the vacation itself. At least not to the point to which they'd wanted to.

Sarah stepped out of her way and rather enthusiastically, too, instead of with fear like she avoided the old witches that still acted like they were her bosses when she was officially working for her and Valtor now. It could also have something to do with the fact that she was getting starry eyed at the sight of her and Valtor together as she seemed genuinely happy about them–though, that could be because they treated her as a human and not just as the help–and even congratulated them on their happiness every time she found the occasion.

Griffin opened the door and was met with a bouquet of white gently greeting her eyes as if Valtor had known she would be the one to meet him this time. It must have been some powerful intuitive cue since that was a rarity and he couldn't have predicted it any other way.

"For the woman of my heart," Valtor said as he grinned at her and handed her the gardenias.

She could feel their sweet scent reaching her even when her fingers hadn't even caressed the blossoms yet. It wafted through the air to encapsulate her in itself and entered her brain to pull forward memories of all the previous times he'd brought her flowers–not just gardenias–that were just as exquisite as the bouquet itself.

Griffin took the flowers from him and stepped away to let him in. "Kept safe and sound," she noted as she felt the plastic container that was undoubtedly full of water under her fingers. It was like a small plastic vase hidden under the bouquet wrap to keep the flowers fresh.

"Vanessa knows what she's doing," Valtor said as he took off his coat and let Sarah put it away.

"She certainly does." Unlike that daughter of hers. "And you do, too," Griffin praised as deserved. He'd learned her tastes–though, Vanessa probably knew just as well and would have had him covered anyway–and knew just how to make her day which she really appreciated after the day she'd had. "Come here, man of my heart," she said as she pulled him towards herself, careful not to damage the flowers after he'd found the time in his busy schedule to get them for her.

Her lips were on his and his body pressed into her finally felt like she'd come home after she'd been kept on edge all day like only his mothers could do to her when they shook her sense of self to the very core and made her doubt everything she was and knew. Everything except Valtor and her love for him. That always came out victorious regardless of what schemes they were running–and they'd done their best to separate them by pushing various ghosts of the past in their way until they'd realized that their futures were entangled together and there was no one who could do anything about it–and she trusted she could draw strength from it any time.

Valtor did, too, as he let himself sink into the kiss and pull her deeper in as well when their tongues were dancing together like they sometimes did in the privacy of their bedroom where it was just the two of them in the universe and the rhythm of the music that wrapped around them to keep the happiness of those moments safe and protected. His hands were on her waist and holding her close to him like he always did. It was the most reassuring thing to know he wanted her with him always. Especially when she wanted the same.

She wanted to be with him, for as long as the stars would shine on them when they climbed on the roof at night to watch them. She knew their love would be endless like the string of words of the countless books in the mansion's library was. The two of them had a long road ahead that nothing could block even when they were bound to returning to the manor no matter how far they'd managed to get during their latest car ride but it still felt like home when she was with him.

"Somehow that didn't sound too sincere," Valtor murmured when they parted even if the words weren't supported by the ecstatic beating of his heart under her palm. "I might need more convincing," he cupped her cheek, the softness of the touch begging to have more added to it and she couldn't refuse even if she'd wanted to. And she could never get mad at him just because he was looking for excuses to draw her into another kiss even if he didn't need them when she would give him all the love and all the tenderness he wanted. It was something she wanted to do with her life and nothing could make her doubt that no matter how many slippery slopes she had to climb to get to him.

Griffin leaned in again but she'd barely felt his lips against hers when Belladonna's voice made for a crack between them and shoved an entire replica of Antarctica in it forcing her to pull as far away from the cold as possible which left space between her and Valtor as well.

"If you're going to have sex tonight, at least do keep it down," she said, her voice even like it was gliding on a solid foundation of ice and not their private and intimate experiences but that couldn't phase Griffin anymore. "You make more noise than a gathering at the patio," Belladonna added her finishing touch of humiliation, the burning gold of her eyes scorching at Griffin's skin when she looked at her to let her know that one was directed exclusively towards her.

"I guess it's time to use that ball gag you bought for me," Griffin said as she turned her head towards Valtor but let her gaze seep towards her mother-in-law out of the corner of her eye. Hopefully, she'd drown in the lack of shame in it.

It had felt like she'd been engulfed in flames the first time she'd gotten reprimanded about her loudness by her witches-in-law which had coincidentally been about the wedding night since she and Valtor hadn't even gotten a proper honeymoon on pretext that it wasn't the season for holidays–as if there weren't a ton of places where it'd been sizzling hot at the time–and the manor needed to get acquainted with its new Mistress which wouldn't have been a problem if they'd let her move in before the wedding but they'd insisted that that wasn't possible since she wasn't an official part of the family yet. She'd felt like a criminal caught red-handed and it had left such a profound acrid taste in her mouth that she hadn't been able to eat until they'd forced her to because she needed to stay healthy.

She'd been throwing up most of the first week of her married life and had thrashed in bed in the midst of her nightmares–not just because of the severe meddling in their private affairs, but also because of the control they were trying to exercise over every aspect of her life while giving the illusion they were passing everything in her hands only to overwhelm her more with the care for the household and make her beg for their help–instead of sleeping serenely in Valtor's embrace. They'd both ended up sleep deprived and exhausted in the middle of the work week and she'd sworn she'd never let them get to her head like that again. She'd play their game if that was what they wanted and she was going to win it.

"It would seem so," Valtor said, his arm snaking around her waist to keep her close when that gave him not just courage, but safety. Quite literally since he'd admitted to her that they hadn't allowed themselves to be as cruel to him after they'd learned she was a part of the picture as they'd been before that. Probably because they didn't want her to know about the monstrosities they'd committed against him before that and she hated to think of his suffering so she didn't when she knew he didn't want to talk about it either. She would gladly listen if he wanted to talk, though. So far he hadn't but she was there for him if and when he decided to share. "If we can't soundproof the bedroom," Valtor noted and it was a clear accusation or at least retaliation despite how casually it was thrown out there. They'd raised him in their image, after all, and deserved their own venom spat in their faces so that it would leave his system and free him of itself when it could never be useful for anything except paralyzing him in its drops like an insect caught in amber.

"The mansion needs to remain authentic, Valtor," Lysslis said, her words far closer to a hiss than she normally allowed them to get. But it was no wonder considering how touchy a subject change was when applied to the manor.

Lysslis–and her sisters, too–were hellbent on keeping the house as it was which she was sure had nothing to do with the fact that all of the previous owners had only done the necessary construction work to preserve the visage of the building and had avoided altering it in any way. They were just using the pretext of that to keep the manor the soulless home that it was and keep all of its inhabitants trapped in that paradox. It was just their hunger for control and power masked as care which was their trademark but that didn't make it any less grotesque.

"And it would be much easier to put up with the noise if it were an occasional occurrence but you two insist on fucking like rabbits," Tharma said, not missing a chance to stab at their active sex life to kill it.

She seemed to have difficulty getting over that time she'd walked in on them having sex in Valtor's office but it was her own damn fault for not knocking and barging in like she owned the place when she never had, all the decisions she'd ever made for the company falling over it through the channel of Belladonna's temporary reign while Valtor still hadn't been of age. She'd been absolutely scandalized and Griffin suspected that it had something to do with the fact that Valtor would forfeit work to have carnal fun which just added to Tharma's incomprehension, she was sure, since the woman was the only one of the three sisters who had never been married, and she'd been furious that they'd put her in a position in which she didn't have the upper hand when she was so hopelessly lost.

"We've raised you to be a lion, Valtor," Belladonna said and Griffin was surprised by the precision of the comparison when Valtor was the alleged king of the world but it was the lionesses that had made him who knew how to hunt and set the rules of the game. He was nothing but an oversized kitten on a leash in his mother's lap. "The least you can do is make sure the company and the family name get their next heir if you insist on imitating street cats," Belladonna didn't let the opportunity to express her own disdain with their priorities slip through her fingers that could be nothing short of ice cold when that was what her heart was.

"Thank you, Sarah," Griffin took the time to show her gratefulness for having her flowers removed from the scene–especially when she saw how quick Sarah was to make her escape and it was completely understandable that she didn't want to get caught in the upcoming storm–because she was sure they wouldn't handle the intensity of the argument that was about to plow into them. And even if they could, she didn't want to stain them with the ugliness of her reality when they were meant to brighten the bedroom with their beauty and weave a fantasy of another life around her with their sweet scent. "Contraceptives do tend to prevent pregnancy," she said as she turned her gaze on Belladonna now that the bouquet wasn't threatened with withering away under her fierce attacks towards every part of Griffin's life when she tried to bend it to her will.

"Perhaps you should rethink taking them," Belladonna said and the wording was all wrong when it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order at best and a threat at worst and Griffin had learned enough by now to know that it didn't matter which option it was as she had to be scared of both and of the way one would inevitably turn into the other if she let it.

"Perhaps you should rethink whatever horrid idea just started forming in your head." She could practically hear the thoughts in Belladonna's mind moving slowly but surely like an iceberg waiting to sink her tiny boat when it broke it in pieces upon collision. "If you switch out my pills and get me pregnant without my consent, I swear to you you won't see even the outside of this house ever again and I won't give a single fuck about the goddamn contract," Griffin spat out, clutching tightly at Valtor as all she had left to do was pray that she'd made herself clear enough, pray that she'd scared the monsters because she didn't know of another weak place of theirs that she could hit and it would be the end of her if she'd failed.

"Well, if that child has your character, it will at least be worth the wait," Belladonna said, letting her know she'd won the fight and she could breathe freely. For now. Hopefully, even until she herself decided to go through giving birth. "Not so much if it's like Valtor who never dared stand up to us."

She looked at him as if her words weren't piercing deep enough and she needed to hammer them in his heart through his eyes so that she could break them, too, and make him unable to see anything beautiful in the world ever again. She was just being a fucking bitch now since she knew damn well they'd abused him into obedience every time he'd tried to exhibit something else and Griffin would gladly remind her that but Valtor's grip tightening on her waist stopped her.

"Argulus and I did strike the deal, mother," Valtor said, his voice firm as if his eyes weren't trying to bleed tears when Belladonna's words had cut deep into his soul. He still cared about her approval which was masochistic and practically suicidal when he would never get anything but freezing water on his enthusiasm about any activity of his that just made it sizzle out and the steam carried away a part of his soul with it. It was painful to watch the best proof that Belladonna did not love him, did not know what love was at all, since she could see what she was doing to him and there was no reaction from her.

Not a normal one at least since she observed him like he was an experiment and she was waiting to see how long he'd need to crack under the crushing lack of praise from her.

Now that she was married to him, Griffin was a guinea pig, too, serving as a test subject to see how much you could break someone by torturing the love of their life, the only thing holding her in place was Valtor's arm around her when she knew she was his support just like he was hers. She could help with his burden and he could help with hers when they chose to carry them together and didn't do it because they were forced to.

"Excellent," Tharma said, the word like a whiplash echoing around them when it was so out of place. "Then all of your wife's work won't have to go to the garbage," she said, making Griffin nauseous even though she was used to the irresponsible waste of resources that the manor was a home to.

She had absolutely no doubt that they would've thrown out the dinner they had her cooking all day in the case of failure to punish both Valtor and her and then would've nagged at them about the meat they'd had to sacrifice when hunt was becoming harder throughout the years. Yet, they always came back proud of the murders that never dwindled in number just like they only used their old age when it was in their interest.

"He and his wife will be coming to dinner tomorrow evening," Valtor ignored the remark when it couldn't possibly ruin his mood more than it had already been but his words made Griffin's head snap towards him.

"Valtor, Faragonda and Hagen are coming tomorrow," she reminded gently as she didn't mean to scold him even if she felt near tears herself. There was no way she'd be allowed to have her "unrefined" friends over when there was a semi-business dinner going on and so instead of having people she loved over she would have to stand the company of another rich-and-proud-of-it couple in her home which she was used to by now as there was someone over for dinner at least twice a week but in this particular instance she was even less thrilled about the company.

"I'm sorry, Griffin," Valtor said as he looked at her, the ice of his eyes begging for her forgiveness which she would've granted far easier if she weren't struck in place by the lightning bolt that the realization that her gardenias were an apology and not a romantic gesture was. "You know Argulus insists on sealing the deal with a dinner and they'll be out of town for the next two weeks."

Of course, they would be. Bloom was probably flying to cloud nine at the idea of another expensive vacation. Or rather was carried there by Argulus who was a slave to her every whim which was the least he could do after taking her away from her family and changing her until she wasn't herself anymore. Though, it was arguable how much you could be changed without your own agreement and that had left Vanessa and Mike blaming themselves for not giving her a better life, for not giving her the life that Marion and Oritel would have sponsored had they been alive to raise their own daughter.

Griffin was sure they were turning in their graves thanks to the spoiled brat Bloom had become after she'd met Argulus who'd revealed her origins to her and had made her pursue the family fortune until she'd finally taken her claim over it just a month after the two had gotten married which was a bit of a coincidence too suspicious to be one to everyone with half a brain but, unfortunately, one half of Bloom's had been full of her newly found funds and the other one of her husband so that hadn't registered. And while that was a good enough excuse in that particular instance, it did nothing to justify the fact she'd stopped visiting Daphne at the hospital and had left Mike and Vanessa help her fight through the coma she'd been sent in by a reckless motorcyclist that had hit her on her way out of Argulus' office after a fight with him about her sister.

Griffin couldn't believe that was the same girl she'd held in her arms when she'd still been a teenager herself but Marion had trusted her enough to let her hold her baby. The future had seemed so bright before the coordinated attack meant to take out the entire family that had left the two girls orphans instead but at least they'd found their way to a loving home only for Bloom to turn away from that because of that vulture that her husband was.

The only thing that had Griffin keeping her mouth shut was that she'd only met Valtor through his connection to Argulus and her connection to Bloom. That and the fact that she didn't want to upset Mike and Vanessa who would inevitably hear Bloom's complaints were Griffin to say anything which left her begrudgingly accepting that she had to go through that dinner the next evening. Really, the only worst thing would have been having to stand Diaspro and all of her greatness now that she was doing whatever she wanted with all of Erendor and Samara's fortune after Bloom left Sky and he was led right back into the trap of Diaspro's arms around his neck.

"This can't wait," Valtor said, his voice quiet but it was the apologetic tone that pricked her all over like it was trying to see where she'd bleed from first. He was terrified of her reaction when the memories of his mothers' outbursts were playing in his mind and she hated the fact that she'd given him a reason to make the connection when she herself had quite the temper and enough pettiness to go for revenge instead of resolving the conflict.

"You'll just have to cancel your appointment, honey," Lysslis said, staining yet another pet name with her venom. She knew damn well Griffin would never be able to stand Valtor calling her any of the ones she'd used. And she'd used them all. She'd made sure there wasn't something special that only he would call her and he'd have to resort to her name which everyone else used as well. Lysslis thought she could diminish their bond like that but her name would always sound differently coming from Valtor's mouth when all of his love for her was woven in it. None of his mothers could ever sully that.

"We'll have to plan the menu so the help can get to it right away tomorrow morning," Tharma said to remind her that her cooking was good enough for her common-folk friends and even the three Mistresses of the Ancestral Manor were resigning to it to fulfill her wishes but her meals weren't refined enough for their high society guests. And after she'd spent all day cooking their requested dinner. It was crossing the line which would mean something if there were any lines for the three of them.

"Let me play you something, Griffin," Valtor caught her hand and held all of her anger as if it was his doing and his responsibility. His eyes were begging her forgiveness and she couldn't take that away from him when they'd already taken everything from both of them. It wasn't his fault her plans were abolished yet again. She'd known that business always came first even when he didn't want it to and he just wanted to make things right for her which she appreciated but didn't want to burden the notes with his guilt which would undoubtedly warp the melody.

"I would love to hear anything you have for me," Griffin made sure to emphasize the last word and was happy to see it reached his heart and he read into it, his shoulders falling out of the stiff embrace of the stress that had been wrapped around them to leave him able to play the piano with all of his skill and that was an ocean she could float in forever.

They headed towards the living room, still entangled as they were when they pushed past his mothers who, surprisingly, did not try to object but followed them there. Of course, they wouldn't let them have a private moment anywhere outside their own bedroom even when they had to plan the dinner the following evening.

Belladonna looked at her as she was settling down next to her sisters to tell her what she'd heard many times echoing in her head after the woman's gaze shouted it inside her brain. You chose to be the next wife of the Ancestral Manor.

But she hadn't. She'd only ever wanted to be Valtor's hence why she was next to him on the bench in front of the piano even if she had no business there since business had nothing to do with their relationship much to her mothers-in-law's chagrin. And if letting the manor and the three witches that controlled it claim as much of her time as they could get their claws into was the only way to spend the rest of her life with him, then she was ready to pay the price. Because she didn't even want to try to imagine a life without him. She could do it, she knew. But it wouldn't be real. It wouldn't be a life. Just existence.

She laid her head down on Valtor's shoulder knowing that he wouldn't mind. And nobody was asking his mothers, the sounds of the piano shutting them up when even they didn't allow themselves to interrupt art when it was engraved all over the manor and was practically a part of it. And their love was the purest form of art as they kept weaving it together despite all the sharpness in its way as the melody proved when it filled the emptiness of the mansion around them and drowned out any scorn coming from his mothers to let them grow together despite all attempts of his mothers to turn them into something they weren't. They were in love and that was their home.

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Three

i’m posting all i have so far all in one go and i keep forgetting to tag them,, send help

Prophecy Masterlist

wc; 1281

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been bobbing the waves of the isolated seas, but judging by how darkness was looming once again, you guessed a couple of days. You thanked the stars above that the waters had taken pity on you and remained calm, but something deep in your gut told you that it wouldn't last for much longer.

The night was becoming bitter too, even in these summer months. The thin, raggedy clothes you wore (stolen, obviously) didn't offer much in terms of warmth or comfort.

You sigh deeply, throwing your head back to look up at the blanket of stars above you. You'd never taken much notice of how truly beautiful the night sky was, being full of fear on the streets as you attempted to sleep, but still on high alert for trouble. At least now the only thing you could do was gaze up at the natural twinkling lights. You wondered what lurked up there, high above the clouds. You knew that the gods weren't physical beings, but you often imagined them up there, throwing lavish, divine parties that you and the other thief children could only dream of.

The stars glittered softly overhead, almost as if they were guiding you in a specific direction. In fact, it truly did seem like they were encouraging you to follow them. Intrigued, you pick up the oars and push the boat forwards, not taking your eyes off the string of natural lights above you. You could swear they had merged into a pattern, into an arrow specifically. You shook it off, blaming your blurred vision on the combination of exhaustion, hunger and possibly hypothermia.

You'd been following the stars for what seemed like an eternity, the slight burn in your arms becoming too painful to endure for much longer. Your neck cracks loudly as you finally rip your gaze away from the sky to survey the ocean around you. You had failed to notice how choppy and rough the water had gotten as you were rowing, and it was splashing violently against the sides of the poor little rowboat. Spraying up into your face, it begins to slowly soak your clothes and you find yourself regretting the whole ordeal. A single loaf of bread was not worth dying at sea. You had never expected much to come of your life as a thief, but dying at sea was the worst. If you'd died on the streets, at least somebody would have found you. Unfortunately the deep waves were not as sympathetic.

As if the waves could sense your growing panic, they hurled themselves at you, rocking the strong little rowboat and throwing you about inside it. You'd become quite attached to the little boat, even finding yourself making conversation as you floated along. Of course, you knew it was an inanimate object, but deep down you knew this ordinary boat was the catalyst of your destiny. In truth, you had no idea that the tiny bay was there in the first place, let alone an abandoned, yet perfectly maintained boat was waiting patiently, just for you.

The rolling waves slap hard against the wood of the boat, ricocheting so loudly through your eardrums you almost miss the crack of thunder engulfing the heavens above your head.

"Shit" you curse to yourself. Of course you had to go and jinx your own luck.

You quickly pull the oars back by your feet, knowing that they'll probably snap from the force of the sea and that's really something you could do without. Gripping the edges of the boat, you cling on for dear life as the storm begins to truly rage. You clamp your small, cold hands onto the boat as hard as you possibly can, your knuckles getting paler as they only grow colder. The peaks of the brutal waves lick against your fingers, inviting you to join them in the expanse of ocean. You were frozen, from both fear and the bitterness of the storm.

A shadow to your left, cast by the moonlight, catches your attention, and you wished you hadn't noticed. A giant wave, larger than you could possibly comprehend, was barreling towards you at lightening speed.

"Oh fuck!" you panic. "Fuckfuckfuck-"

It smashes into you, knocking the wind out of your lungs and enveloping your entire body in water. Miraculously, you manage to keep hold of the boat. Desperate to have something to protect yourself, there's no chance in hell you're letting go so easily. As you resurface, you tug the rowboat as close to your body as you can get it, using it to pop your head above water. Matted and dripping wet, your hair clings to your crimson cheeks and bruised neck like seaweed, equally dangerous too; as seaweed can tangle your legs and plunge you into the deep, the tangled heap on your head almost fully blocks your vision, meaning that you don't see the second, looming wave.

This wave, greater in height and packing more punch than the first, batters you once more into the saltwater. Apathetic, it throws you around in the water like a dog with a bone, thrashing you from side to side with absolute ease. Even with your eyes screwed shut, momentary flashes of light and pounding in your ears tell you the storm in the sky is not letting up a single bit. You flail your arms about in front of you, trying desparately to locate the rowboat. You'd come to rely on the little boat so much, at this point it was your only friend, your only hope of survival. And you knew how sad it was that your only friend was literally a bunch of nailed wood, but with that boat you could go anywhere. Without it you could go only down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor and be forgotten about forever.

Spluttering, you surface again, frantically searching for your wooden companion. The more and more you panic, the blurrier your vision becomes. Whether it be due to tears or the merciless elements currently ruining your life, you have no idea. With a gasp, you spot the boat floating, eerily calm, a few feet ahead of you. You force your exhausted, aching body to swim towards it, not getting very far before the situation gets so, so much worse.

It begins with the rowboat bobbing along peacefully, and then you realise you are not getting closer to the boat; the boat is getting closer to you. Your eyes widen in shock and you whip around to escape your only chance of hope confined in a small wooden frame from hitting you in the face.

Moments later, a blunt force cracks into the back of your skull, sending you under the waves for a final time. You knew immediately that the boat had rammed against your head, and yet, even as your vision was blackening you were losing consciousness, the fact the boat had betrayed you, almost tore your heart in two.

Destiny has no mercy. Destiny takes no pity on the suffering. The sufferers suffer, and the privileged revel in their priviliege. People are born, they live, then they die. For some, that is their destiny. For others, their destiny is greater. For few, their destiny is written in the stars. For One, their destiny is hand-crafted by the divine themselves. Much like destiny, the divine have no mercy. As the privileged, they can only revel in the suffering they cause to the sufferers. Some may say that is the destiny of the privileged. But for One, whose destiny is made by the privileged, will both suffer, and cause suffering.

Chapter Four