#plague is not just red and meat or blood or something.

[bhaal-baby]

Just a bit of Astarionx GN! Dark Urge angst. Hope you enjoy!

Sleep refused to take you. 

You tossed, and you turned, counting backward from one hundred and back again, and still, you lay there, staring at an endless sky, exhausted and frustrated. You blamed the rock you’d accidentally placed your bedroll on for the night, or the slight chill in the air that caused your sore muscles to groan in protest, or Gale’s incessant snoring that you were going to have words about in the morning. But you knew in your heart that none of those things had anything to do with it. 

It probably had more to do with the fact that only a few nights ago, you nearly murdered the man you love. 

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw yourself waking up covered in blood and viscera. Dazed, confused, and most disturbingly, satisfied, the same way it had been with that poor bard back in the grove. Only this time, the blood on your hands would be even more precious. You imagined white hair, stained red, and a bloodied pale face, lifeless and still. You imagined the bravado with which he carried himself would fade away in death, his meticulously kept walls crumbling as your blade ripped through him. Would he look at you in hatred in those last moments, or would those crimson eyes be filled with only terror? 

He is so, so afraid. Of everyone, besides you, who he ought to fear most. 

You shuddered violently, blinking away the terrible thoughts that plagued you. Sighing, you stood up. If sleep wasn’t an option, you may as well take a walk to try and clear your head, and patrol the perimeter of your campsite, ensuring the safety of your traveling companions that had become so much like family. It was ironic, you thought, given that you were probably the biggest threat to their well-being as they slept peacefully by your side. You wondered not for the first time if it was selfishness that kept you traveling with them. Your companions were strong enough to stop the Absolute on their own. You knew that. They would all be safer without one who kills in their sleep and battles the dark thoughts that you do. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Astarion stood just a few feet behind you. One of these days, you swore you were going to put a bell around his neck. He was far too good at sneaking up on you. 

“I thought you were asleep.” replied nonchalantly. 

 “An attempt was made, but truthfully, I’m still getting used to sleeping at night.” He shrugged. “When I saw you sneaking out of bed, I thought I’d tag along and make sure you weren’t off to sate some of your more bloodthirsty desires.” 

His words sent your heart into your stomach. He must have noticed your gaze fall to the ground because he added. “Really, as long as your knife isn’t to my throat, I’m not too concerned.” 

You knew that was meant to soften the blow that he never meant to land. Still, it hurt to be reminded of what he thought you were capable of. Not that he was wrong. You couldn’t explain your murderous nights any better than he could, but a part of you wished he never had to see you like that, let alone nearly becoming one of your victims. He had been so kind to you the other night, even as you writhed against his bonds, desperate to make minced meat of his pretty face. He had told you then that he didn’t hate you for what you’d done, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw you differently because of it. 

You decided to change the subject. “I’m going for a quick walk. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

“Ah yes, a quick nighttime jaunt through shadow-cursed lands. Splendid idea. Do you think some of those wretched shadows will invite us to tea?” 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “We won’t stray far from camp.” You sighed. “I just need to clear my head.” 

Something that looked like concern flashed across his features. “Of course, I’ll join you. Maybe we’ll even sneak in a cuddle afterward.” 

His flirting rarely phased you anymore, though you were often unsure of his sincerity, even after the nights you’d spent together. You could tell that, to some extent, it was simply something he hid behind. He must have found it easier to be the charming man who could lure anyone with eyes into his bed than what he really was. You saw the hurt and the fear behind it all, even if he didn’t want you to. And after the other night, you knew with certainty that he was capable of so much kindness. Not many people would do what he did for you the night your urges almost took his life. 

He walked beside you silently for a while. You weren’t sure what to say to the man when thoughts of accidentally butchering him kept you awake. You plopped down on a fallen tree, motioning for him to join you. You could still see the faint glow of the dwindling campfire a ways away, but walking was doing nothing for your nerves. 

It was nice just sitting with him for a moment. Without words, without touch. Just being in his company lit something inside of you. He tilted his head towards the starless sky and you took the opportunity to look him over. He was beautiful, that was certain. In the moonlight, he looked like a statue, something carved by the most skilled hand.

“Something is on your mind,” Astarion observed, catching you staring.

You scoffed. “You mean besides our impossible task of saving the entire sword coast from the Dead Three? Or the tadpole burrowed in my brain waiting for an opportunity to turn me into a mindflayer?” 

Astarion leveled you with a knowing look. “Yes, besides the obvious. Now tell me what it is you’re stewing over in that pretty head of yours.” 

You didn’t know how to answer him, but he deserved something from you. “I just wanted to thank you. For the other night.” You stared at your boots, sighing deeply. You could feel your cheeks warming. The words didn’t do it justice, but you didn’t know how else to show him what his actions meant to you. 

He looked taken aback for a moment. “Oh. You needn’t thank me for that. It’s not as if I wanted to meet my grisly end at your hand anyway.” 

You caught his gaze, fighting the hurt that threatened to well up inside you. “But it was more than that.” You protested. “When you had me tied up, you could have killed me. You probably should have. You would all be safer that way.” 

Astarion’s easy expression morphed into one of shock. “I wouldn’t – I couldn’t.” He stumbled over his words, for once seeming unsure of how to react. He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said, you know. We’ll find a way to save you.” 

Your heart clenched at the look on his face. It was softer than usual, almost vulnerable. You fought the tears welling in your eyes. “But at what cost?” It was almost a whisper. “How many innocent lives will I take before then? What if I hurt you?” 

Astarion took your hand in his, and lifted it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the top of it. “I won’t let that happen.” 

The gesture sent a pang through you and the tears began to fall but he continued. “You are the first person I’ve ever truly cared for and I am not going to let this take you from me.” 

The sincerity of his words struck you. He meant that. He cared about you. Maybe as much as you cared about him. Maybe more, because if you truly cared about him that much you’d go far, far away so he could be safe. “Astarion, none of that will matter if I kill you. You can care all you want until my blade finds its way into your throat and then that’s it.” The words came out harsher than you wanted but you knew you were right. He wasn’t safe with you. 

“I am not afraid of you.” he said, reassuringly squeezing your hand. 

You jerked your hand away suddenly. You didn’t miss the way he flinched as you did so. The man had been through too much to die by the hand of the one he cares about most. “You should be.” 

 You stood up, turning to leave, when his hand shot out to grab your arm. You tried to shrug it off but he held tight. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” he hissed. His voice was harsh and almost angry but when you turned to look at him you could see the hurt in his eyes. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. But don’t you dare pretend that walking away from this is somehow for my benefit. I may not be entirely free yet, but for the first time in centuries I can make my own choices, and I’ll be damned if you take that away from me.”

You opened your mouth, stunned by the desperation on his face. You couldn’t find the words to say. You’d only wanted to protect him but instead, you’d hurt him by being self-righteous and overbearing. You had no right to tell this man, who’d known only slavery for centuries, what to do. “I– I’m sorry.” you choked out, taking a step towards him. “I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, unsure what to say. 

Astarion’s face softened, tugging you nearer to him. “Please,” he breathed, placing a hand under your chin and lifting your gaze to meet his. “Let me stand by you through this. We don’t even know if we’ll live through tomorrow with how things have been going. I don’t know what this is, or how it will end, but I know that I want to try.” 

You could only nod, else the sob that had been building escape your throat. 

Astarion looked at you and smiled, that charming smile that you were helpless to before leaning down and kissing you softly. It wasn’t like the other times you’d kissed, lustful and frantic, tasting your own blood in his mouth. It was gentle and lingering and spoke of a longing neither of you had the words for. 

When his lips left yours, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you tightly. “Now, how about that cuddle?” 

Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you prefer this Y/N style fic or if a third person gender neutral "Tav" would be better! I was really torn on which way to write this.

[rufflesandbows]

A Coat of Red

Aemond Targaryen X Reyne Reader

You've grown furious with Aemond's disinterest in you, unable to bear it any longer. It isn't too late to walk away but you're not one to back down from the challenge. Aemond will have you, whether he wants you or not.

Warnings: Toxic Relationship, degradation (from both sides), jealousy, non-con kiss, biting till blood drawn, bruising, manhandling, intercourse (p in v) Word count: 4300

There was such a great chasm between you and your husband. He was not unkind, but he was cold. Despite being his wife, you were treated no more differently than a maid servant. And you hated it. 

So often you were caught up just watching him from a distance. Only that of a master mason and unblemished marble could capture his likeness. He was a warrior as well as an intellectual and tore down his enemies with few words. And there was you, behind him, staring on in awe. Only for him to pass by you like you didn’t exist. 

Properly, you’d been raised to be demure and compliant through all things, but even the most pious of maidens had their limits.

After months and many attempts at trying to consummate the marriage, you were aching. Every fiber of your being wanting to grab him by his pretty hair and claim him in every way he was supposed to of claimed you. As far as you could tell, Aemond’s issue was that he hadn’t picked you. You were given to him as a beneficial union. Something you had walked into with stars in your eyes and fantasies in your head. Suppose he didn’t. After all, Targaryens desired their own blood, not that of First Men.

Maybe that should wound you but it only made you want him more. Make him and all the world see he was yours and no one else's. It was a plague on your mind. All the things you wanted to do to him, his rejection not cooling your temper but igniting it. Your daydreams growing more and more aggressive. 

Sitting in your room, you shared a lunch together. It didn’t happen often, and you suspected his mother strongly suggested he do so to try and spark a relationship. Though you were terribly distracted while you ate. Caught up in a particular fantasy of him being underneath you, not allowed to touch you as you touched him. Maybe you’d slap him, that sharp face of his. He’d restrain himself only once, but you’d do it again and he’d snap and he’d ravage you. Pin you down as he-

“Stop that.”

You perked, raising a brow. “Stop what?”

Aemond gave you the briefest glance. Agitation in his low brow. “Looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

Isn’t it lucky that a wife desires her husband, especially in a betrothed union? Isn’t it lucky to be desired at all? Who doesn’t want to be looked at with hunger? Struck with disbelief, you took your drink, chuckling bitterly as you sat back and sipped. “Wasn’t aware that I was.”

“Yes you were.”

You very nearly growled at him. Feeling extra salty, you shot back, “Would you like to know what I was thinking?” Aemond didn’t respond. “That I’d like to tie you to the bed and have my way with you.”

You could see both his brows rise high, but he kept picking at his plate, not looking at you. Your teeth ground together, glaring at the window. Could he give you a break? It was the first time you said something so callous to him! But no, just silence followed you. Dragging on for beats, you quietly fuming, when he quite suddenly asked, “You think you could overpower me enough to get me there?” 

His question surprised you. You thought a moment, knowing you couldn’t. But you wanted to be somewhat witty. “I’d be determined enough at this point.”

The audacity he had to smile at you, giving an amused little, “Hm.” as he went back to his picking.

“You think I’m being funny?”

He let out a long sigh, sitting back and relaxing. When that eye landed on you, the whip of desire that shot through was almost painful. “I think it would be funny to watch you try.”

The arousal, as always these days, mixed violently with your anger. You wanted to break him. Make him beg for you. Make him cry if that’s what it took to get your pleasure. His wicked smile grew in your silence. It seemed he enjoyed your suffering far more than he ever wanted to bed you. There was only so much you could do or say within the confines of a polite lady. You bowed your head submissively and shook it at your half eaten plate, muttering, “I hate you.” 

“Oh, don’t give up now. Where did all that ‘determination’ go?” Where did all this mocking come from? The man couldn’t afford to give you two sentences, but now he was alight with energy. Sitting forward, his gaze bore into you. Goading you. “I hope you have the ropes prepared. I imagine you’ll have to be quite nimble.”

With a sharp intake of breath, you snapped at him, “You know, most women don’t have to restrain their husbands to get properly fucked by them.”

He was still smiling, “Keep talking. It’s amusing to hear you plead for me to mount you like a whore soon to run out of coin.”

“You-!” You slammed your hands on the table as you rose to your feet. “How dare you talk to me that way!” Aemond gave a quiet laugh. “I am your wife and a noblewoman! I’ve served my duties diligently and afforded you every respect!”

Clutching your fists on the table, you fixed him with a scathing glare. “You know, I don’t need your seed to serve my duty.” The smile of his quickly faded, building your ego. “I only need a silver haired child of violet eyes. I wonder who else possesses such traits, who would have me with little resistance…”

The look in his eye was intense, tilting his head in a way that steepened his glower, all the humor gone from him. “I could have you killed for just speaking of such a thing.”

You wanted to laugh in his face. “It isn’t hard to imagine, is it? You bristle with offense when I look at you with desire. Your harlot of a brother however might even be grateful for my hungry gaze-”

Aemond took his stand, furious stare threatening to burn you where you stand. A grin started to grow on you, sharp and delighted. “Shall I whine to your mother yet again that you’ll not have me? You think she does not tire of these talks?” 

In a brisk turn, Aemond headed for the door. With all the shock of an innocent maiden, you asked, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. Merely slammed the door behind him. You dropped in your chair, pouting because you couldn’t even get a climax out of an argument. He couldn’t force you up against a wall? Couldn’t throw you down on the table? The bed? The floor? Something to show you could hold his interest for more than a few moments?

Glancing at the table of food, you’d lost your appetite entirely. Huffing miserably to yourself. You’d heard of Daemon Targaryen refusing his first wife and calling her his “bronze bitch”. Is that how Aemond saw you? A bitch, his red bitch? You growled in the empty room, giving a hard kick to the spare seat next to you, listening to it clatter on the floor with some satisfaction. 

You were a Reyne. The red lion with gold for claws and teeth. The wounds to your pride would not go unanswered. Why shouldn’t you just tie him up? No one would blame you in how stubborn he was being. Then again you could go with the empty threat of bearing Aegon’s bastards, as if he didn’t have plenty already. Finally, you could just get the marriage annulled. It wasn’t consummated after all.

Mulling over your options, you kept yourself hidden away until nightfall, concerned you’d not be able to conceal your anger from the court any longer and say something you'd regret. No sense of exhaustion overtook you in the long hours. You paced and prowled in your own room. A room that was right next to his, and you could know by the sound of his door when he retired. Too many times you heard it open and shut with no call for you to join him. Tonight was no different. 

You waited in the dark, waited for the sounds of his room to settle and a long drawn silence to follow. A thrill rushed through you the moment you decided you’d make your final confrontation. Your footsteps were feather-light, moving to the door and cracking it open. Peeking through the sliver, you spotted Aemond’s Kingsguard outside his door, back straight and gaze forward. You thought a moment of what you might say, and then gently moved out. 

So quietly you approached him, he startled when you announced with a “Sir?”

Gathering his whereabouts, he gave a small bow to you, “My lady?”

You appeared nervous to him, twiddling your fingers and speaking in hushed tones. “I know the hour is late, but I need only share a few words with him. Do you mind if I sneak in?” He raised his chin to you, throwing his guard up because it went against customs. You gave him a coy look, saying ever more softly, “I was thinking I might surprise him tonight.”

Instead of a blush and fluster, pity quickly fell over him. The knight dropped his eyes to the ground with a weak nod, and stepped aside. The look on him struck a terrible sour cord in you. Looking away to hide your bitterness. 

Softly you opened the door and slipped in, shutting it behind you as slowly as possible. The moonlight of the night seeped through his windows, the curtains he kept open to rise with the sun. You could see his form in the bed, unmoved. Eyes fixed on your prey, you slipped off your slippers and set them down, nearly giving a squeak at how ice cold the stone floors were. You moved through the room as if it had been yours. Not even your dress brushing the furniture because you’d envisioned this room over and over by the few glimpses you gotten of it. 

There was something enjoyable about sneaking up on someone unaware. Especially that someone being Aemond. Feeling just for a moment some control, some power over him. As you came up to his bed there was a pleasant ghostliness of the pale moon over him. The blankets having been tossed aside and exposed the white bedsheet, his own alabaster appearance blending in with the cream fabric of his nightclothes. The sight was near eerie.  

Gently, you placed your hands on the surprisingly plush bed, hiking up your dress and began to crawl onto it. Holding your breath as you moved closer and closer to him, until you were looming above him but not touching. Taking a moment, you appreciated him as you always did, from a distance. There was such a preternatural beauty about all the Valyrian line. You’d never seen him without his eyepatch but even without it, even with the long scar cutting through his lid truly his family line had been blessed by some forgotten gods, to lure in others, only to cut them down as surely none would measure up but their own blood. Your jaw clenched, your teeth aching with frustration.  

Gently, your fingertips touched his jaw, his skin hot under yours, and you tilted his face toward you. There had only been two kisses shared between you. On your wedding ceremony, brief and chaste, a show for the crowd and his family. As well the first night you tried approaching him weeks later to finally consummate the marriage, telling him with a fluster that you were ready. His lips had been stiff before Aemond gently but firmly pushed you back and claimed the hour was too late.

Your nails nearly began to dig into him remembering the painful sting of rejection. With practice you steadied yourself, and closed the distance. For the first time his lips were soft under yours. You savored the unaware moment, moving slowly as you mapped out every little curve with the sensitive skin of your lips. Kissing him in languid and plush presses. 

Aemond shifted only slightly beneath you, before he, to your surprise, kissed you back. It was lazy with sleep and that only made the movement of his kisses like silk, opened just a touch, just enough for you to taste the slightest hint of wine. Your hand eagerly moved back along his cheek, cupping his face and pressing harder for more. A quick moan came up his throat, shifting a little more and you pulled a leg over his waist, straddling him. Hunger was pouring from you. Taking him with both hands, grinding your hips along his, finally getting the pleasure of knowing the touch of his tongue. 

That was until he abruptly stopped. You pulled back only a moment to catch your breath and when you came back his lips were tightly shut and jaw set. Rejecting you yet again. 

There was a cutting slice of jealousy that burned through you. Had he been expecting someone else? Someone he could be soft and giving and tender with, while you were alone, cold and lonely every night? Looking at him in question, Aemond smiled, knowing he’d pissed you off.

As Aemond hadn’t pushed you off, you bitterly kissed his cheek, down along his jaw. There was a little huff of agitation from him, as if it was all so boring because it was you. You moved lower to his neck, taking your time at the sensitive area, breathing in his scent that was thick all around you. He didn’t fight it, but he didn’t touch you either.

That was until you found a particular spot on his neck that was nice and spacious. You opened your mouth and sank your teeth into the crux, biting hard. Aemond jolted with a grunt, both hands gripping your shoulders, trying to shove you off despite your solid latch. You let him get that one shove and loved the burn in your jaw as you kept tightly firm, the taste of copper, your teeth breaking in his flesh. Aemond squirmed and pushed again and you relented. With deep heavy breaths, you pulled back, glaring down at him. All you could see in the low light was a dark oval amidst all the paleness of his skin and silver hair. If another woman saw it, she would ask. And he would have to explain his wife put it there. That he was tied to you, claimed by you, he was yours and he always would be whether he wanted to be or not. 

Aemond looked up at you, and you couldn’t quite understand what you saw there. Stunned, that was for sure. But not angry. Aemond was frozen as he stared, his breath quick and his hands gripping your shoulders. Though the lid of his other eye was cracked open, it was pitch black with the shadows of the night. You heard of the sapphire eye, evidently he did not wear it always. 

The door of his room abruptly opened as the knight asked, “My Lord, is everything alright?”

You were staring one another down, furious as you were, awestruck as Aemond was. Easily he could tell the knight you assaulted the prince and have you tossed in the dungeons. A sly smile came to his lips, “Everything is well. You may go.”

The knight hesitated a moment before following his order. The second the door shut, Aemond curiously roamed your tense shoulders, touching your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. “You imagine yourself as a little beast now?” He chuckled, “A little red lioness?” 

Your hands ran up his chest, feeling his heart flutter under your palm, until your fingers pressed under the bite, seeing a small trickle of blood drip down. “I would have tied you to the bedframe, but I was having a difficult time convincing the guard to let me bring in the rope. Seems he thought I might kill you instead.” 

Aemond’s hands gripped either side of your head and forced you closer. His gaze was low, his lips loose. As he spoke his voice was a low rumble, “Kill me? In your deepest imagining perhaps.”

Your legs clenched, trembled on his sides your body was so eager to have his attention, his desire. “I’ve seen nothing from you to back that up. You’ve been cold, to be sure. Strength and skill?” You shrugged, “My presence has always been enough to send you fleeing.”

Aemond tilted his face closer to yours and you thought he might kiss you, but he was only toying. Pulling back as you nearly escaped his grip and closed the distance. “Are you calling me craven?” 

“I’m calling you weak.” 

Aemond tensed, his energy sparked into a blaze. Your world was flung, the mattress hitting your back and quickly Aemond was on top of you, his hand snatching your throat. A command to stay beneath him, but not choking. It was so damn satisfying to finally get to this point. His anger meant nothing compared to having him between your legs, bare with your dress having fallen to your waist. Something caught between a sigh and a whimper escaped you, tugging on his dangling shirt and wanting to see it removed. 

He grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it above your head, dropping closer to you, his loose braid dropping over his shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, dear wife.” You shuddered at him finally calling you as such, running your free hand up his exposed collar and neck, passing by the bite now hot to the touch. “Tell me why you came in here. Say you’re a whore. Admit you’re a desperate howling bitch that never shuts up.”

You gave a bewitching laughter, “Haven’t I done enough of that already? Why don’t you get it over with? You want to shut me up so badly, make your claim. It doesn’t even have to pleasurable. Not that I think you could make it pleasurable.”

Before Aemond could retort you grabbed him by the hair and forced him down to your mouth. Feeling his tongue ravenously fill you sent your mind reeling, moaning lewdly. You’d placed the bar, told him he was lacking, and now he was eager to meet it. So ironic given all your endless praises before. 

Aemond seemed to enjoy the roughness. He shoved off your arm and pinned your other wrist, pressing down, both with his hands and his kiss. His hips gave a harsh grind into yours. It surprised you how hard he was, his cock hot and clothed running along your awaiting cunt. You whimpered with delight, raising your hips to meet him, your chest fluttering with impending victory. 

Aemond broke the kiss, bloodthirsty determination in his gaze. “You think I can’t make it pleasurable? Well what if it hurt? What would you think of that?”

His hand had already dived down between the two of you, freeing himself from the confines of his thin trousers. You tensed, not out of fear but anticipation. Even your hips were wantonly rocking, eager to perform, eager to finally feel release. 

“It had better hurt, husband. I’d say it’s your duty to draw first blood, but I’ve already done so.” You could hear a soft growl low in his throat, and pushed more. “You taste better than fine meat.”

He chuckled darkly as he stroked himself. “You want to act like an animal, I’ll fuck you like one.” 

The strength of his hands stung as he flipped you onto your chest. Your face near buried before Aemond gripped your waist, yanking you back up on your hands and knees. His fingertips gripped you tight as he forced you down onto his cockhead, both of you giving a cry as you were sank down lower and lower. 

Your hands clutched the blankets, a stream of mewling whines leaving you on every breath. The feeling of being filled up to your throat, the stretch, the burn of it was so immensely satisfying that the pain was irrelevant. 

The glowing self praise of I won swelled your ego, triumph buzzing in your mind. 

As Aemond took a long moment to feel himself buried completely, feel you tightly clutching around him, you shifted your legs wider as if it might actually accommodate him more. The tip of him was nudging against a deep place that needed attention, demanded some movement. The way he bucked in response was exactly it. Your back went rigid and you gasped with the surge of pleasure up your body. 

Aemond tried again, and again, harder than the last. Your whole body was alight, mindlessly, noisily submitting to his thrusts. The entire bed began to groan with you as he began fucking you in earnest. Like that of an animal, like he promised. There was no tenderness or wonder of your comfort. He was beating against you with the ferocity he showed in everything he applied himself to, his fingers digging in so harshly you were sure they might bruise in the morning. A retribution for your bite to be sure, though if you had the opportunity you’d wear each little wound with pride. 

Everything in you was wound so tight. Clutching the blankets, clutching your teeth, your walls around him. Aemond was beating against a dam that had been overly flooded for far too long. All of the cracks finally starting to spill over. “Oh yes,” You slurred. “Yes, Aemond- please! Please, I need this so badly!”  

His breathless laughter sent shivers all over. “I know you do.” 

He placed a hand between your shoulders and shoved you down into the bed, feeling yourself open up wider, feel as if he reached deeper. You practically screamed into the blankets as finally everything burst within a blinding hot ecstasy. Your head taken into that pale moonlight even as he kept you pressed down.

Aemond continued on through it as you shook and shivered under him. The only reprieve you got was a single moment, as his thumbs opened your cheeks wide to see what he’d done to you. How wet you were, coating him, dripping down your thighs. A low moan rumbled through his chest at the sight, pressing flush once again. 

A flimsy little whimper came from you, every limb tingling and useless, stuck in its place as he started again. Your eyes rolled back, fluttering to a close as you pressed back into him, ready for him to build you up and break you free all over again. His pace quickly mounted back up to that bruising beating speed, feeling warm all over, feeling him trembling as he gripped you. 

He was close. So very close, and you didn’t want him thinking something clever and pulling out. You reached back and gripped his hand, pulling it up your side. “Aemond, come here. Come.”

Aemond fell forward, caging you and with him at your shoulder, you cupped his neck and forced him into a kiss. In long thrusts he moaned and whimpered against your mouth, his hips stuttering and heat flooded you, warmed deep in your core. 

Together you slowed, sharing one breath, staying in this entangled position with your eyes closed, feeling him all around you. 

It was soothing in a way. Finally being touched softly in the quiet of the night. What you would give to have it every night. It wasn’t that you wished to be so violent with him, it was only that he made you that way. This unruly dragon you’ve been bound to.

Feeling him slip away left you with a hollow feeling. You pressed your dizzy head down into the bed, hearing him right himself before sitting back with a sigh of relief.  

If there was something to be said, you didn’t know the words. So you caught your breath and slipped off the bed. Properly, you straightened your dress and hair, making your way toward the door. As you slipped on your slippers, you looked back at him one last time. Still the image of some unearthly creature under the moon. Now he was resting back against the headboard, brushing back the loose strands of his hair as he was still breathing hard. Ever the beauty. Maybe one day you could convince him to let you stay, let you both be tender with one another and you could appreciate him up close. But you wouldn’t test your luck just yet. This very night had been a steep gamble.

In the morning you were all kinds of cocky. Smiling through your routine as hopefully the Mother had blessed what was sure to be a rare union. You hoped so. You hoped to give birth to a proper prince or princess, solidifying to everyone else you were victorious.

When you left your room, you were surprised to hear Aemond’s voice in the atrium below. You followed down the steps and he was towering between a few other lords that seemed to be smiling out of fluster. 

To your shock, Aemond he was wearing a loose shirt. A black cotton that nearly hung off his shoulders. Heat flooded your cheeks and you covered your mouth with embarrassment. 

He had your bite out on display for all to see. Flaunting it like a badge of honor. On his pale skin it looked brutal. Bruised a deep violet oval, dark red scabs of the indents. You didn’t think you’d bitten him that hard. Then again, you had been mind numbingly livid at the time. As if sensing your shock, Aemond caught your gaze, and smiled with pure amusement.  

“Darling wife, won’t you come greet me this morning?” 

It would be too much to ask for a small amount of dignity? Though if he wanted to play dirty, you weren’t going to back down from the challenge.

I hope you enjoyed the read!

[i-am-a-scholar-of-magic]

Perilous Plagues: The “Fun” Weather Of The Boiling Isles

Among the many positives of “The Owl house” is its rich setting. Though many - including myself - might say we were not given enough detail about the Boiling Isles, there is no denying that the show’s setting is rich and fascinating. Why else would we want to know more?

One such example of hinted setting that is left largely to our imaginations is the weather of the Boiling Isles. Or, as Eda put it in “The Intruder,” more accurately called “plagues.” In the selfsame episode, Eda and King comment on four separate weather phenomena that make the Isles dangerous: boiling rain, “gorenadoes,” “shale hail,” and “painbows.” We only see one on-screen, but the names of the others allow some pretty fun guesswork. 

Boiling Rain - The only plague actively seen on-screen, boiling rain is just as its name suggests: it is liquid precipitation (presumably of clean water) that holds a scalding temperature. The times it is seen on screen demonstrate that it is known as a plague for a reason, able to cause considerable damage to clothing, infrastructure, and living things. It has been seen burning holes through Eda’s cloak in the distant past, causing burns on Luz, has been mentioned damaging stucco by Hooty, and was even seen bringing down a section of pier in Bonesborough. 

How the rain is boiling is never explained. Actual rain tends to be cold because of the chill of high altitudes, which the demon realm also possesses as seen with the snow on the Knee. Perhaps it is something to do with re-entering the aura of intense magic around the Boiling Isles and beyond? (As Eda encountered boiling rain as far as King’s island.) It is also noteworthy that a kind of “boiling” rain exists in real life, known as acid rain. This is caused by clouds mixing with air pollution in the atmosphere and binding to produce strong acids that can damage infrastructure, though it is never strong enough to hurt people which clearly distinguishes acid rain from boiling rains. 

Now on to those we can only guess at from their names. Here are my own theories and ideas:

Gorenadoes - Given that the word strongly resembles “tornado,” it can be inferred that this is some sort of wind funnel. Actual tornadoes can be incredibly focused and destructive along a narrow field as well as a wide area, such as digging furrows in the ground along their path, which gives me an idea about their destructive pattern and potential. 

In my mind, gorenadoes are tight wind funnels that touch down and then dig into the ground, dragging up stones, trees, and other large debris and trapping it in the funnel. This creates a devastating force like a giant meat grinder, shredding any animals it encounters to pulp and dying the funnel red with blood, hence the “gore” in gorenado. 

Shale Hail - Shale is a kind of sedimentary rock formed by compressed and pressurized mud or silt rich in organic matter. Hail, as many can attest, is precipitation of large chunks of ice that can cause widespread property damage. 

In my mind, shale hail is a follow-up to gorenadoes, much like the aftershock of an earthquake. A gorenado, during its rampage, hurls debris high into the air that will descend upon another part of the Isles, causing more death and destruction during or immediately after the gorenado. Further, in my mind, these particular plagues are very hard to predict as weather oracles have trouble determining where they will land. 

Painbows - Finally, King gives some actual, if vague, information about “painbows” in “The Intruder.” In his words, “it’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.” This is all he says, with no elaboration on how fast this occurs. The first thought may be that a single glance causes an immediate turn inside-out. But to me, an even more unsettling idea is that these presumably beautiful displays cause one to slowly turn inside out - skin inside and bones outside and all the organs on display - and that victims are transfixed by the sight of them and unable to look away despite the agony of it without exceptional strength of will. 

My brother also had an interesting idea for, perhaps, an old saying on the Isles about them: “It’s like the Titan is looking at the deepest parts of you and pulling them out.” My, how grim. Especially from him. 

Even a year after the series’s conclusion, it is beyond evident that the setting of the Boiling Isles, with all of the rich details that often act as a framework with more than enough space for us to fill in the gaps ourselves, continues to be a rich mine of creativity in worldbuilding. Who knows what else is waiting to be conceived of that patchwork of glorious setting?

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

[tryingtimi]

Old Times

Inspired by Disappearance of the Girl by PHILDEL while failing my poll dears. It’s at least still a Darmon piece, even if not the promised one. I’m on it tho. Also, first try of figuring out their dynamic, so no context.

BOOK I EXPLORATION | CHARACTER EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | WC: 1,640

The Crystal Palace always showed its true magnificence at dawn.

Thick, sparkling blanket of snow covered the infertile soil outside as if its freezing white wouldn’t have hidden rough blackness underneath. Flakes rarely fell so deep in the belly of the circling mountain range, and yet the snow never seemed to dwindle.

Darmon turned from the groove they used as a window. The dining room showered in the red-orange light that seeped into the space, the palace’s crystal walls reflecting and multiplying its brilliance. They couldn’t see the auroras this far from Atarq, still, their colors reached them at every dawn.

“Its power to chain you to the window could not die away with the years. I dare say it never will,” Zheva called from the end of the refectory table.

The Nordic shines of the sun bathed her sitting figure in its slowly disappearing light. Since the day she put her armor down, she preferred to wear shadow-colored long tunics made of warm and strong textile, embroidery decorating its full length in rich shades of red and gold. Such as it did today as well. Her midnight tunic had sewed-in golden leaves scattering around in a somehow organized way, broad red hems on the sleeves and neckline adding to the harmony of colors, while a same shaded wide belt tightly wrapped around her waist.

Darmon nodded, then hesitated for a second.

His mind has been plagued with that old prisoner’s words. Words of suspicion and secrets. He found himself growing somehow careful around her. A disturbingly foolish act on his part.

Darmon joined the servants bringing in their many servings feast as they walked to the table. One of them leaned over to pull out his seat, but he stopped them with a soft gesture of a hand. The servant bowed their head, then placed four plates before Darmon as he seated himself.

“Is there a special occasion I‘m not aware of?”

Various roasted meats and vegetables ruffled up his hunger, the scent of melted butter, rosemary, and thyme twirling into his nostrils. Beside them, beautifully shaped glass bottles contained the translucent alcohol beverage made of anise, its curving form ornamenting the deeply shaded grape and pistachio bowls secured with lemon-mint tarts.

All Darmon’s favorites.

Zheva smiled a little.

“Can’t an old woman be lonely at times?” She earned a glance from Darmon.

Zheva’s face had been painted with curious tenderness today. Her features bore age, and maturity, something Darmon had grown accustomed to through the years. Her sharp, narrow eyes carried authority and wiseness while they let some visible wrinkles build a nest beside them.

Yet, Darmon wouldn’t ever call her as simple as old.

“I just find it unusual, that is all,” he added eventually. There were times when he – shamefully – craved to dine with her, but they never did. Only during lunch, they shared their meals and company truly.

Zheva took a bite from vibrant pink meat, the crystals orienting the last rays of dawn at her as a reflector. Her focus never left her meal.

“You are right, there is an occasion you might not be aware of. Two, perhaps.” She cut another slice, something almost like blood glistening on her chopsticks. “Have I ever told you about my son?”

A piece of carrot stuck in Darmon’s mouth as he stopped chewing. Only for a second, but he did.

“No, I didn’t know you had children.”

“Child,” again, she smiled a little, “only him. Especially after I left his father… or he left us, I am not certain anymore. It doesn’t really matter, I barely remember him and my son didn’t need him to outgrow him. He was a rascal since his birth, but he’d also been loyal and valiant. One could always rely on him in times of need. Qiang, that was his name.”

The biting sensation of the anise liquor did not ease the dryness of Darmon’s throat. All the food tasted delicious, yet somehow still felt as if he was eating sand.

He never heard such affection in Zheva’s voice before, not once. He couldn’t even recall if he ever heard her talk about her past. A legendary warrior of the ages and a believer left with a crumbled faith. There was not a seed of questioning in Darmon for why she never mentioned any of it before. Still, he couldn’t deny his surprise. And something else; a stirring, unsettling shred of thought.

The seed of how little he knew about her truly.

“Sounds as if you two were close.” Why continuing the topic felt like dragging a limp leg, Darmon couldn’t say. His plate almost emptied, his stomach nearly full, but he picked up another, large meat slice nevertheless.

“Hardly. We shared a lot, but his innermost thoughts remained his in the end. I knew only a version of him, one he felt comfortable sharing with me.” Zheva gestured with her hand, and the chandeliers brightened above them. A moderately dim, purplish light conquered the hall. “Raising a child does not equal that you’ll know them best.”

A strange sensation scraped Darmon’s throat; a scoff. He didn’t felt this reaction since… well, a long time ago.

He packed another bite in his already full stomach.

“You two are very akin to never asking questions. Unlike him, however, your nature is curious, Darmon. That much, I know. So, why don’t you ask?”

Traveling rays of light fell under the horizon, and the end of dawn brought darkness to the mountain range and everything slumbering within. As the hall turned completely amethyst from the only remaining source of light, Darmon found himself frozen. He cut the meat in half on his plate, his chopsticks abandoned beside it. He stared at the food, then with slow realization in his chest, he turned to Zheva.

“I never expect to receive an answer, hence why bother.”

Deepening crow’s feet, gentle, dark eyes, and a pause of silence. Then, Zheva put a comforting hand on Darmon’s, and all the cold of the world evaporated into nothing.

“You are free to ask, and with that, you shall earn answers.”

It’s been such a long time. More than a thousand decades, perhaps, since he saw the difference between Zheva and his family. Darmon couldn’t even recall when was the last time he just thought of them, yet their impact still reached him. However, with them, the reason why he joined her in the first palace was reborn as well.

“Why telling me about him now?”

She did not pull her hand back.

“Because today is the day he left me. You see, he did not share my view on how things should be. He loathed the cause I represented, and therefore, he loathed me. Some thousand years before, on this very day, he abandoned his mother. On this very day, I lost my son.” She sounded utterly mournful as she looked into Darmon’s eyes. For the longest time, he even caught a glimpse of some kind of exhaustion and age in that dark gaze. Then, ever so lightly, Zheva squeezed his hand. “Then, on this same day, you joined me.”

Crystals sang under the wind that sneaked inside the place. It reached Darmon, crawling under his padded tunic, yet it could not make him cold. He glanced at the table again, drinking in the view of the delicately prepared food. Meats, spices, alcohol, and tarts. Favorites, with just enough sweetness. Thoughtfulness to please one.

Darmon realized there was a tradition he completely forgot through the years.

And with that, the words unspoken made his eyes sting. Those words Zheva didn’t need to speak aloud. She lost someone today, and still, he was the one she celebrated. When he joined her, when he was reborn. Today, they weren’t celebrating something mundane, but the birthday of her son.

Darmon reluctantly put his hand on hers.

“I could say so many things, I don’t know which to actually say,” he said quietly.

“There’s no need for such formalities. I am grateful you’re beside me. I know what we do is hard, and it is delightful to have someone around, especially when one has a tender heart. Speaking of, I’ve heard you frequently visited the chambers recently.”

Darmon froze upon hearing this. Of course, she would know about it, he wasn’t trying to sneak around. Yet, it still made him tense under her motherly touch.

“It’s admirable how you manage those creatures, I was certain you’ll be the best to take upon this task.”

However appealing the words sounded, he knew it wasn’t exclusively a compliment. Oh no, it wasn’t. Darmon did not break the eye contact, letting those dark irises devour his soul as they stared into them. He would almost say that they spread the darkness around them as the night deepened.

“You can trust me,” he uttered. Why that was the first thing that tiptoed onto his tongue, was a mystery to him as well. He could have thanked her, he could have said he had a plan. But he didn’t. He knew she would be aware of his lies if they were actually those.

Was he worrying about lying without knowing it?

He wasn’t sure anymore. Not when he stood trial under those unwavering eyes and that oh-so-longed motherly touch. Darmon felt shame washing over him as in his shuddering heart he found the tiniest speck of desperate alarm.

Zheva did not smile anymore, yet she leaned closer and breathed a kiss upon Darmon’s forehead.

“I know,” she whispered. “I do.”

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

and the rain tasted of blood and plague, amen

the cicadas haven’t finished their number yet when you pull me past the drawn curtains

coming to rest in a hallway that smells like stale cigarettes and shed skin

my teeth fondle a joke about sight-lines and alibis and body bags

my fingers reach for it like a favorite lighter, but still all by themselves

because i’m afraid to see your face shutter, a hand stilling on your waistband

(i’ve always been squeamish about seeing the knife coming)

you waited for questions, an escape route, a cattle prod

but i don’t think i could get my voice past the weight in the air if i wanted to

(cowards press against each other like suffocating magnets; we’ve talked about this)

so you clear your empty throat and drag us past the exit sign that’s been mouthing off since we got back here

pacing a half-covered loading dock while a rainstorm leers down at us

i watch the motion scrape rust off your lungs, a gear or twelve kicked back into place

your voice whirring to life while red slurry seeps around your flashing teeth

(what else could it be but rust)

questions glint on the surface of a shouting match neither of us want anything from

broken glass smiling innocently up from a bed of rock salt

you spin against the railing, slam your hands against dirt and old metal

and i swallow the urge to pitch you over it

(it’s only six feet he’ll survive you’ve always wanted to bounce his head off a parking lot)

nothing would come out of it but an assault charge

(but aren’t you dying to find out)

you make it ten minutes before the rain swallows the hard edges of your speech

the hum of your throat like a skipping record halfway down a stairwell

i could step forward, interject, offer supplication or anger or peace

but my heels sink further into the concrete like they are witnessing something holy

and you stride past my peripheral vision like you are fleeing something

(and i am eight years old)

and there is a pastor on a spotlit stage

the ground beneath me reeks of dust and guilt and there is fire in the shape of a man 

who glares at the room as if we collectively put the stakes in the bronze angel sobbing over our heads

and then there is whiskey and meat on my tongue

and i realize you pressed yourself into my skin while i was not in it

and i wait for you to pull away so that i might look you in the eye when i sink this ship properly

but there are already tears in your eyes when you peel off me

and i hadn’t finished rearranging my mouth to put them there yet

so i press all the lines out of my face and watch you scream yourself hoarse

waiting for the other shoe to drop, hands fisted in the soft skin of my forearms

and you continue to work yourself up to something

until an impossible bolt of lighting spilts the world under my fingernails

(a lightbulb blew in the hallway we left exposed on our way outside)

and certainty drops into my stomach like brick to well

(someone is, in fact, going to die on this balcony)

but the desperation sloughing off your footsteps doesn’t carry you into arms length

and suddenly you are quiet, sorrow slipping off your face like you can’t help it

and you apologize like it’s killing you

and the wind is still kicking rain into our exposed socks

(eyes hearts clothes pain spite skin)

and i have to wonder if it’s the blood or the alcohol talking

and the water just keeps coming down

sobbing like it has been party to an execution

but we both know neither of us have ever cried like that

like we could curdle milk with our salt-coated teeth

(probably not for lack of trying)

better to finger the rim of a bottle from a dissolving sack

to smile with the ease of dress-shirt buttons

to earn that kick in the teeth rather than forget it’s coming

so with venom in mind my mouth drops open

and is flooded with light, a sun clawing past the curtain of rain

a passing spotlight from the service road neither of us realized was back here

heart dropping out of my throat when the lumbering gaze finally slides past us

knocking dully against my lungs as the back of your head catches its breath

(i was never very good at reading the room)

and malice is hard to keep pinned to the back of a strangers head

(turn around so i can get this murder one charge back up to speed)

[dragonsbone]

Because I'm an old woman with terrible eyesight: do you have the write up of all the text in your gorgeous gifset?

hi love !! i can do that just for you <3

gif 1:

⟶ “father, smith, warrior, mother, maiden, crone, stranger…” the words foreign to lord edmure and the frey girl, but all too familiar to the king and queen of the north, whom each struggled to hide their smiles as they recalled their own wedding night.

⟶ when it was time for the feast, the lords and ladies of houses stark, frey, and tully rejoiced together in celebration. it hardly seems plausible they were at odds only weeks prior.

gif 2:

⟶ “you look pale, child,” catelyn spoke in a concerned hush.

“i’m afraid this much wine does not agree with me,” sarra answered, clearing her throat and averting her gaze.

her eyes landed on josana and catelyn smiled faintly, “the queen looks beautiful, does she not?”

sarra had a faraway look in her eyes, “she does.”

gif 3:

⟶ “if we were wed in winterfell, would you honor the bedding ceremony in the name of tradition?” josana asked her husband.

robb turned to meet her gaze, the mischief vanquished in his ice blue eyes. “i would beat a man bloody if they dared to try it.”

⟶ one of the frey boys approached her seat. “pardon me, your grace,” he began, his cheeks blushed as red as the wine. “these are for you, my queen. a token for a long and joyful marriage.” the boy gifted her a small bouquet of the flower, lily of the valley. the white, bell- shaped flower was common in the riverlands. not as beautiful as a rose, yet josana graciously accepted it.

⟶ out of the corner of her eye, josana caught a glimpse of catelyn. she watched the young lovers from afar, but she did not bore the pointed look upon her face she’d grown accustomed to in their presence. no, tonight she wore the faintest of smiles on her lips. perhaps it was the result of the wine for the change of her demeanor, or perhaps, for a sliver of hope, lady stark began to favor them after all this time.

⟶ odd, she thought. she knew the bone-chlling tune of the rains of castamere as if she wrote the melody herself. the bards played it often at casterly rock, but never here. a lannister song for a lannister queen, how fitting.

gif 4:

⟶ the tune of the rains of castamere plagued her mind. in a coat of gold or a coat of red. a lion still has claws. catelyn’s stare darted from lord walder, to josana, to robb, and back to roose, whom his own eyes remained fixed upon hers and his sleeve upon the table.

cautiously, catelyn raised a shaky hand to lift lord bolton’s silk sleeve. her old, fragile heart sank further at the sight of the iron rings.

⟶ “i feel i’ve been.. remiss in my duties. i’ve given you meat, wine, music, but i haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. my king has married and i owe his bride tribute. a toast to the queen in the north! a lioness in wolf pelts.”

gif 5:

⟶ in a blink of an eye, the glorious wedding had become a massacre. she saw the bodies of men who were breathing just moments ago, now nothing more than rotting corpses.

⟶ a pair of strong hands seized her from behind, pulling her away from the slaughter. josana thrashed violently in their grip, her hands frantic as they searched blindly to find something to pull or scratch. though every effort to free herself was in vain. they dodged every attack from the lioness. if only she had kept ssarra's blade at her side.

sarra. gods, where was she? please don’t be amongst the dead, josana prayed.

⟶ “robb, get up. get up and walk out! please, please! save yourself, save your wife! think of her and the babe. if not for me, think of them! live for them!”

“josana…” robb staggered on his feet. his bloody hands clung to josana’s arms, steadying himself. she felt his blood seep through her velvet gown, tainting her fair skin. “mother… grey wind…”

catelyn nodded, “yes, go to him! take josana and walk out of here!”

⟶ “the queen won't be harmed. this is after all the fruit of her labor.”

josana stiffened, her flushed cheeks now paler than the dead surrounding them. he knew. the secret she hoped to be buried with her was brought to light.

gif 6:

⟶ “the lannisters send their regards.” ord bolton words rang in the air before his knife pierced through her husband’s heart, and twisted.

josana held robb as his body fell limp in her arms. the tears burned as the ran down her cheeks. tiny droplets scattered across his face, though he did not flinch. he did not move at all, still as a statue in the crypts of winterfell. and now that’s where he would remain, buried and far out of her reach. josana wailed. she screamed and cried until her throat grew raw and hoarse.

⟶ she noticed the blade still lodged in robb’s heart. josana grabbed the knife and held the bitter steel to her throat. you wont take me nor my babe! before she could slice through her own flesh, the blade was wrenched from her throat, but the lioness refused to surrender. she wrestled for a last chance for control and firmly grasped onto it’s sharp edge. the pain soared through as it cut deep into her palm, the blood pouring down her arms. not before long, it slipped out of her hand.

⟶ lord bolton struck her hard across the cheek. the blow sends her falling, her head colliding with the ground. pain and darkness spread until then there is nothing else. the last thing she saw before she succumbed to the empty black was white petals turning red with her husband’s blood.

[corruptedroses]

— Embracing Desire

ask box open | commissions open | hit the tip jar | Patreon | masterlist Fandom —  Five Nights at Freddy's Pairing — Nightmare/OC Summary — When you want something so much, you'll do anything to get it back, anything Content Warnings — stalking, obsession, intimidation, master/pet dynamic, degradation, begging, submission, hair pulling, aftercare Word Count —  11,001 Author's note — commission work, one of my first works to come from my patreon <3 please enjoy

Deep within the state of Utah, deep within a city, ‘Nightmare’, as he was called, muttered away as he paged through documents at his desk, his dark, red eyes near glowing in the dark as he read through the incidents that had occured during their recent deal with the Aftons. The right hand of the Nightmarionne was used to being handed off his boss’s paperwork, used to being told to deal with it because he ‘just didn’t want to’, but yet as he read more and more, his temper only seemed to grow.

If there was one thing that pissed Nightmare off, it was when things refused to go his way. It seemed that people always found their own special way of fucking up or off, of leaving him a mess bigger than Mt Everest that he would always be the one in charge of cleaning up, one that usually involved more blood shed than it originally was going to be.

First it was the men that had fucked up a very important deal and had been sent back to them in so small of pieces he had originally thought it was minced meat. How he had fucked it up so badly that the Toys had decided to do that was a mystery, one that frankly he hadn’t even wanted to know when he had two very angry cunts yelling at him over the phone. Extra guns and whisky to smooth over the deal it had taken, ones which had to be dealt under the table least the head himself ended up finding out about the little mess that he had hid in the dumpster out back.

Then it had been Nightmarionne pissing off to go and skip around downtown with the other nightmares because they all wanted a very specific steak. Of course they had chosen this particular night to go to the club the Aftons owned, it was practically the hot spot of every gang and mafia in this god forsaken city went to, it was under the table, under the noses of the cops since no way would they be seen stepping into a kink club of all places. Not like the cops in this city would be able to afford it anyway given the price was so steep if you were a pig.

And now it had also been that the woman that he had been wrapping around his finger — a pretty dame she was — had disappeared from the entire face of the earth in one night. She plagued his mind like a bad dream, one that he didn’t want to forget, but yet his body craved those pretty doe eyes of his as she would call to him from the other side of that club, the music dim as her curves practically had spilled from that attempt of modest clothing. Such a bright little thing in a den of sin.

It was really strange seeing her for the first time in that club, not only had she stood out like a sore thumb since what woman who entered a kink club didn’t know what the wristband system was but she looked too bloody innocent too. She had originally shied away from his touches, cradling her drink in her hand, but her eyes had been another story.

The papers crinkled in his hands as he grunted out a sigh, his brow creasing into his ink black hair, letting his head lull forward as he allowed the thoughts to consume his very soul. “What a wicked woman…” A temptress, a seductress, she may have not known at the time but she had so easily sown seeds of desire within his heart, one that was as inky black as the night itself, one that wanted to steal and cage that little sunshine of a woman the first moment he had seen her, touched her.

No woman had made him crave her as much as she did. Most would run off when they realised the extent of how far he would take them, how much he would bend and break them if he was given the chance — yet she had stayed, yet she had looked at him with those doe eyes that almost seemed to be begging for more with each breath, with each flutter of those beautiful eyelashes that made him want to see her cry and beg for him, to make her makeup run and her voice go hoarse. He wanted and needed to do so many things to her, to see her be broken and built up again and again until she was nothing but perfection.

Letting his eyes glance towards the small calendar that sat on his desk, he clicked his tongue; she had attempted to disappear from his life nearly a month ago to this day. At first it was cute, at first he had thought that this was just some little act of defiance and she would come crawling back to him when she realised she needed him as much as he needed her, but that day had turned into a week, and that week had turned into this month. A month without his little pet, a month without his own form of release, it was driving him mad, making his own temper soar higher than he thought was possible.

He wanted nobody else, he needed her and her alone. As soon as she had touched him, as soon as he had touched her, he craved for nobody else, nobody else would be able to sate his awful desires like she had.

And he hated sharing. Those photos that hung near that calendar, the ones that the private detective had just dumped on his desk and left him with, they filled him with such a searing bout of rage every time he looked down at his pretty pet’s face as she smiled up at a man that most certainly wasn’t him. That smile was meant to be for him and him alone, he didn’t want to imagine the thought of sharing her with someone that couldn’t do the things he did, couldn’t do the things he could do.

No, he didn’t want any man to touch her, to look at her, to have a chance to see that smile that graced her face, to see how good she was when she was underneath someone, that pretty little face when she reached her high.

Standing up from his chair, his work was long forgotten, the correspondence between allies could wait, the recruitment could wait, the bookkeeping could wait, they were all secondary to what he wanted, to what he craved, to what he needed in that very moment. He could feel his mouth salivating at the thought of the sweat on her skin as he grabbed the folder filled with information, ripping it open like a bottle of water as he examined every piece of information, of every piece that he needed.

Amelia was going to see that there was nobody else that could treat her the way she wanted, move her the way she wanted, she was going to understand that she was not going to escape him so easily when she had already made him desire her more than he could ever think of doing before.

And in this city, he always got what he wanted no matter the cost. She was going to be his.

    “He has been looking 4 u.”

The phone screen cut through the darkness as clear as butter, Amelia squinting her eyes against the glare as she read each pixelated letter. It would really only be Chica who would be texting her in the middle of the night, not remembering that unlike her, Amelia had her own legal job, one which she had to wake up for in the morning in order to have a living wage to be able to keep living in her apartment. Chica was lucky that she lived with three men that were far more than happy to be able to provide for her as well as coddle to her every need, but she was just a woman.

One of which was finding it hard to go cold turkey.

Sighing as she placed her phone back onto its charging dock, the cheap flip phone gave a dull jingle before the screen on the front went dark, once more coating her room in darkness. Living in Utah, in the height of all the crime that went on in her sleepless city, it was bound to be time before she found herself in her own mess of trouble, trouble that seemed to be so insistent on finding her as much as she was against giving him up. She knew that the man had been looking for her since she disappeared from the face of the earth, blocking his number as she did so after the first three times she had tried to ring.

Clutching her pillow under her head, she mumbled softly as she pushed herself up, staring ahead in the darkness to the curtains that did little to block the city view, to block the twinkling skyline that greeted her vision every time she went to sleep and every time she woke, letting her knees curl up to her chest as she listened to the cars below. With so much on her mind, she was shocked that she had even found a lick of sleep during the night, especially so given her previous schedule that she struggled to recover from; leaving home in the early hours of the night, returning home in the early hours of the morning, it wasn’t something that you could just change at the drop of a hat, no, it was something that had embedded itself into her mind, into her routine, one that made the appeal of outside be more interesting than her soft and warm bed.

But yet her body craved for something hard and cold, able to feel the drag of that leather collar down her neck every time she sank in a deep breath. Of the nails that would rake down her flesh, teeth leaving imprints and marks against her skin. She could see them all in her mind, so much so that she couldn’t think of anything else, nothing else as she sighed. “Fuck.”

It had only been a month and yet the temptations plagued her mind like a siren’s song, one that no matter how much she plugged her ears and tried to drown out the noises it didn’t seem t want to go away. She had been warned that subspace was addictive, intoxicating, but yet she hadn’t imagined that she would be missing it this much, that her body would be craving for that next high even when with other people. It had only meant to be a one time thing, one that she would do and never look back on, but yet the man that had tempted her in — her master during those times — had taken her to such highs that she wasn’t sure how to come down every time, That euphoria, that release.

Slumping back against the headboard, Amelia pulled the pillow over her face.

She hadn’t really meant to get this far.

Her parents had always told her to find a sweet guy, one that could take care of her, be gentle with her, treat her like a queen, but yet her desires were screaming for the complete opposite of that man; instead of honey brown like the boy she was seeing, all she was able to imagine was piercing red, ones that seemed to stare right through her, through her soul, through her bones. Ones that haunted her dreams night after night as she stared into the fabric of her pillow, staring long and hard before she had to remove it for air.

Her phone beeped from where it sat in its dock, able to see the name that flashed upon the screen, dainty hands not even sparing a second more than they needed to as she grabbed the phone, flipping open the top to read the message. Now, she wasn’t the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, far from it, but yet her latest date made her heart bleed for the man he was in such a dangerous city, one in which shone as brightly as the sun as his smile did in the picture, the notable bags underneath his eyes clear as day with the flash on.

“I saw a few meteors, made me think of u.” And so hopelessly devoted to science. He was a dork in every sense of the word, a man that usually wouldn’t survive the hardships of the city if he hadn’t grown up here — he was far too sweet, far too kind compared to the guns and smoke that littered the street. Those traits made her consider that second date, or maybe it had been the fact that he had been so kind as to walk her home and more. Too sweet for this city, too sweet for this world.

Too sweet to commit to a relationship too, not yet.

The last thing she wanted to do was make him a sort of rebound, one which would only get his heart hurt while she was still hung up on some other guy. Could she even consider her relationship with the red eyed man as a romantic one? No, it was purely sexual, one filled on a need of control and to be controlled, it wasn’t anything beyond that. Even if she knew this her heart ached and groaned, muttering softly as she typed out her own message to send to the man on the other end of her small phone, each click of the keypad as she typed in each word keeping her as alert as the last, her mind slowly erasing the fog of sleep from her mind.

Something about how he should be sleeping was all that came to mind, not even bothering to double check her message before she sent it off, letting the phone flip close once more once it had notified her of the message being sent with the sounds of tweeting birds and whistles.

A low grumble filled the emptiness of noise, Amelia placing a hand over her stomach as she listened to her body growl and grumble — had she really forgotten to eat before sleeping? With so much on her mind, she probably had, letting out a low grumble in her throat as she tossed the sheets off and over her body, letting them fall into a bundle by her feet as she got up, letting her body stretch and crack and groan with protest as the warmth of her covers left her body, taking a few short steps towards her open door before she stopped, hearing the sounds of something softly tip and clatter.

She didn’t own a cat. Or a dog, or a canary.

She didn’t have a roommate, she had been renting a one bedroom apartment after all.

Neither of her neighbours would be up at this time, especially considering one was a night shift nurse.

What on earth was making that noise?

Amelia’s throat was beginning to close as her eyes darted around the apartment, her phone still in hand as she fumbled in the dark as she searched for an object, finally picking up something hard and cold in her palm. If her intruder had heard her fumbling, they made no attempt of investigating, hearing low haunting hums echoing down the hallway as they did whatever they were doing in the kitchen, Amelia’s hands beginning to shake as the tune weighed heavily on her heart.

No, it couldn’t be; she hadn’t even given her his address.

Her footfalls seemed louder in her ears, or maybe that had been her beating and rapid heart, as she slowly walked down the hallway, the low glow of her kitchen lights illuminating the space enough that she was able to see most of her kitchen as she approached, the marble counter top coming into view before her intruder did. His back was to her, various items of food from her fridge as well as a few things she knew she hadn’t bought lined up on the counter, sleeves rolled up and over toned forearms as he worked away preparing something that was just out of her sight line.

Even if it was mundane, even if he wasn’t doing anything that could be considered to be threatening, Amelia’s heart easily leapt into her throat as she took in the man. There were plenty of men in the city that had black hair, certainly plenty that had numerous scars on their hands, but yet as his head turned and eyes locked onto her own brown eyes with bright red hues, she could see the smirk that creeped across his face like a snake, the knife in his hand coming to a halt on the meat he was chopping.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” The voice from her fantasies echoed through the apartment, the man’s figure large but yet nimble as he turned himself to face her, leaning against the counter top as if he owned the place. “You were asleep for quite the time.”

How long had he been in her apartment? How long had he been using her stuff, cooking in her very kitchen while she was asleep?

Watching as his eyes flickered between her face and her hands, the smirk faltered slightly as his gaze met the object she held in her hand, the shoehorn that certainly wouldn’t do any damage to him. She didn’t have much in her room to defend herself with in the first place but the flat piece of metal certainly wasn’t something that one would even call a weapon, taking a step backwards as the male scoffed.

“I think you’d do more damage with a shoe than you could that,” the man started, his gaze finally settling on her face as Amelia bought the item in front of her, hands shaking as she pointed the more pointed end of the item towards the man, “besides,” he took a few steps forward, those steps being enough to close the gap between the two as he towered over her, staring into her soul, “come on, Amelia, you’re a smarter girl than that.” His voice was smooth, buttery in her ears with enough gruffness that made her knees weak every time she heard it, but they weren’t in a space where she could falter, she couldn’t allow herself to.

She didn’t dare respond to his taunt, keeping her choice of weapon between them as he tilted his head, his smirk only seeming to grow wider as she kept her silence, her hands shaking as she gripped the shoe horn just a bit tighter.

“Why are you here?” She could hear the waver in her voice, hear the way her voice trembled and shook under the pressure that was Nightmare’s presence, trembling like a feather, this time Amelia being the one to have her eyes flicker to and through, going between Nightmare’s face and the knife he held in his hand that seemed to be covered with something already, “I never gave you my address.”

What was she even saying? He didn’t abide by the law — she had met him in a place where drugs and guns were as easily bought as the weekly grocery shop, of course he had his ways of finding her, of course he would have his ways of being able to grasp her again, but yet she wanted to hear it from his mouth. Hear how and why he had come, hear his reasons as to his presence in her kitchen, her home, her life. The life she had tried to eject him from before she got too deep.

“Why won’t you go away?” Her words wavered once more as did her soul — it craved and cried out knowing the way he looked at her, knowing the way it wanted him, but yet as his hand came to wrap around the tip of the shoehorn, her entire body jolting with surprise as he wrenched it out of her hands easily with the help of the sweat on her palms, the warm wood of the knife he had been holding placed firmly within her grasp, her breath in her throat as she looked at the man, expecting him to do something more, maybe grab onto her tightly, maybe pull her hair, but all he did was step back, that smirk never seeming to fade.

“Perfect, now you actually look at least a bit intimidating, dove.”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or amusing her attempts at being threatening, but the knife now was in her ballpark, still warm with the touch of the man in front of her as he stared her down, his eyes almost seemed so overwhelmingly bright in the dimness of her kitchen. Like a wolf stalking his pray his presence was overwhelming, his hands shoving into the pockets on his tailored pants, sleeves rolled up to show the tattoos that decorated his dark skin, roses and other flowers stared at her yet she did not stare back.

“Why?” She swore her throat was about to close up, about to swallow her whole with the fear that swam through her veins, that swam through her mind as she took a few steps back, he only seemed to follow. She wanted to scream, to shout at him to leave him alone, but even if she thought about it, even if she craved to do so, it was like he knew that she wouldn’t, that she knew that she wouldn’t use the knife that sat in trembling hands as she stared him down.

She didn’t expect the feather light touches as he pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear, those red eyes still remaining so stone cold as he did so, yet his fingers lingered, tracing the outer shell of her ear as he chuckled, “because you’re mine.”

Mine, mine. He had called her his.

Those words echoed in her ears fast, hard, long as the knife suddenly felt far too heavy, far too hot as she tossed it onto the kitchen counter as she turned, her heart beating too hard, too fast as she tried to block out the feelings of warmth that the simple phrase had given her. She shouldn’t be feeling this, she shouldn’t be feeling like she wanted to jump into his arms and let him take her trouble away, she shouldn’t want any of this.

So why did she melt into his embrace when he looped his arms around her waist, hold her breath as he blew a hot breath of air across her ear? His fingers trailed down her sides through her night gown that clung to her curves, playing with the edges of the frills that decorated the bottom as he slowly pulled it upwards. If he were to look down now, he would notice that she was wearing no underwear, that she was already beginning to drip at the sound of his voice, the way his nails scraped against her clothes.

“If it’s money you’re worried about, then I can give you plenty.” Nightmare muttered, his lips grazing against her jawline as he spoke, “all you have to do is submit to me, crave me, drown in me.” And she wanted to do those things, she wanted to drown in him, she wanted to crave him so badly like the life essence his pain was, she wanted to submit, but the edge that teetered back and forth, her self control… Did she want to give it up?

Placing her hands on top of his wrists, she pressed down firmly against his wrists, feeling the way they flexed under her touch as he kept playing with the edge of her nightgown.

“Or,” he tutted right into her ear, his breath scorching against her skin, “you can say you don’t want this, you can tell me to leave right now.” A choice, but it was one that she knew he wasn’t interested in actually letting her have, one of his hands coming away from her waist to grasp her neck so lightly that it felt like his grip wasn’t even there. “All you have to do is say the word, princess.”

She could feel her heart now pounding in her ears, pounding in her chest, feeling the way his fingers danced along the vulnerable skin of her neck as he waited for her answer — it really was hard to make the decision when you could feel a familiar hardness pressing against your back, one which throbbed with heat that the nightgown might as well not have been there.

Licking her lips, she finally gave her answer, “Please… I need you.”

“Good pet.” Her mind was in a whirl, feeling the way his fingers grabbed at her jaw before hot, searing lips met her own, devouring her lips and commanding her body, feeling the way his arm gripped her waist with such a grip that she swore she was going to be broken in half. He never did anything with half an effort, he never treated her like a chore, the break in their kiss being only so he could twirl her around to face him before he devoured her lips once more.

A pomegranate from Hades’ hand, a hit that sent her high, Amelia felt the counter top’s edge push into her spine as he pushed her against it as he picked her up, forcing her legs to wrap around his hips as he pulled from her lips, “you were so naughty keeping away from me for so long,” he muttered through panted breaths, “too bad I don’t have my collar with me.” But it seemed he had another idea, his hand once more coming around her neck, pressing her down as her back met the cold top of the bench.

“But this works.” An act of possession, an act of being the one in control, it wasn’t like Nightmare needed it in the first place with the way he terrified her in all the best ways, with the way he was able to control her with just a few things. She could already feel the way his touch warmed her skin, setting it alight in all the right ways as his lips dusted along her juggler, feeling the way her skin prickled in response.

Like an ocean, ever flowing and so dark, he consumed her body, taking away her perception of the world as he fit into Amelia like a puzzle piece, but instead of one that slotted in nicely, one that would fit no matter the shape, the way he fit her was one that he had forced, one that he had crafted himself in order to make her what he wanted, to make her what her desires screamed at her to be. Oh how cruel could the world be, making the most dangerous men be the most thrilling, the most wanted, the most tempting. She wanted to fight the temptation, to push him out of her door and never see him again, but yet the way his hands fit against her form, touching her in the ways she liked without even trying.

And then he dug his nails in, a sharp inhale of a breath escaping Amelia’s throat at the feeling as he dragged those fingernails down, a blistering pain shooting up her spine that made her squeeze her eyes tight. “That hurt? Good.”

Pulling his body away and off of her, Amelia’s eyes shot open to stare at the man as he loosened his tie, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt as he watched her, almost seeming to be waiting for her — no, he was waiting for her. She was still covered in her nightgown, even if she knew from this angle he could see her uncovered cunt if he looked down, even if she knew that he didn’t care where he would take her.

To him, she was still way too over dressed.

In their moments of play back at the club, Nightmare had made it a habit to instil into her that before they could play that she should be stripped, on her knees, ready to please his every well, yet here she was, still dressed somewhat, laying against her counter top as she gasped for breath. That man had taken her oxygen, made her mind fuzzy, and yet her eyebrows pinched together as she stared at the man, waiting for him to make his own move.

“Hmph,” the man muttered after the woman hadn’t moved, his own red eyes narrowing a bit — was this an act of defiance or hesitance? She herself did not know the answer, but yet as his fingers once more began to play with the lace of her nightgown, his question was clear; ‘do you still want to play’? Another fake chance to back out, another false chance to shove him out of the door, yet she had already gone too far, she did not want to spend the rest of the night yearning for a touch that she couldn’t replicate, her mind screaming at her to not continue while her body said yes, sitting up as she slowly stripped of her nightgown.

That layer that kept her grounded, that layer that had kept her most vulnerable parts hidden from the man’s sight was shed away and tossed to the ground, watching the lace and silk flutter to the ground before she stood up, making sure that there were at least a few paces between her and the man. With that layer of protection gone, she swore that he could see the way her heart hammered against her chest, the way she was already dripping from conditioning that he had instilled into her soul, but yet he didn’t look happy.

“You’re still not kneeling.”

To kneel was to submit, to kneel was to allow him full control, to kneel was to let him fully back into her life, to let herself fall into those desires, to let him control her soul. As her heart hammered, as her legs shook, the last shreds of doubt finally disappeared from her mind as he took a step forward, as he approached her space, her air, the want to make him happy filling her mind as she finally decided to be the good little pet he wanted, to be the good little pet that he had whipped into shape.

The cold tile greeted her knees as she sat down, feeling the way her heels pressed against her ass as she settled back onto them and — for once — that smile seemed to be even wider than his usual. It haunted her to her very core, frightening her from the inside out — how was it that this man could be so calm, so collected and yet frighten her so easily? She wasn’t exactly complaining either, especially as he tilted her head up with one finger, that fear, that horror, it had drawn her in after all, kept her entranced, kept her yearning.

“Now isn’t this a pretty sight,” Nightmare muttered, his fingers tracing her jaw, “right there you belong.” Under him, obeying him, submitting to him, it was everything that the man wanted from her and more. It was what kept her heart pounding fast, it was right there she felt like she belonged.

Watching as the man stood up to his full height, he unbuckled his belt that looped around his waist, the bulge of his need being very prominent against the fabric of his pants as he dragged fingers against it, her eyes following each of his movements. “You know what you have to do.” If she wanted it, she’d have to work for it. As she had done many times before she found the fly of his zipper with her lips, gripping onto it with her teeth as she slowly pulled it down, careful to not catch her hair in the fly as she worked it down, noting that the man wasn’t wearing underwear as the smell of musk and sweat hit her nose, invading her senses in one go.

His fingers ran along her scalp, gently massaging the roots of her hair as she forced the pants down to mid thigh with her teeth, watching as his girth bobbed up and down for a short moment once it was free from its confines, the glistening skin of Nightmare’s cock shining in the low light as she admired its length. Had it gotten bigger or had she been misremembering his length? He always felt so large inside of her, splitting her in half, making her his little bitch, her eyes glistening over slightly as she looked up at Nightmare.

“May I?” The last time she had taken him without permission he had made sure her behind was black and blue, stinging to the point she hadn’t been able to sit for at least a week, and yet nothing had prepared for him practically shoving himself down her throat. Long and thick, her jaw always struggled to take him in every time she had him in her mouth, pleasing him like the good girl she was, but yet the way he had forced himself in, barely brushing the back of her throat, she couldn’t help but feel her eyes water as she choked.

“It’s like you never even left.” The man chuckled, each thrust of his hips making her choke and gag on him as he forced her back and forth, “A perfect cock sleeve, you can’t get enough.” Putting words into her already full mouth, putting them in her mind, Amelia’s hands shot up to rest on Nightmare’s waist as she barely had a chance to breathe, to fill her lungs, to prepare her already sore throat as he forced her head back and forth, like a flesh light as he used her for her self pleasure.

All those nights that she had spent at the club with him, all those nights that she had spent with him, indulging in desires that seemed out of reach, they swarmed in her head over and over — or maybe it was already the lack of oxygen that had begun to fuel her brain. His grip on hr hair tightened, almost pulling the hair from her roots as she yelped, drool escaping from the sides of her mouth at the feeling, the burn that ripped through her scalp. The burn, the pain, things that she was used to the man doing to her all mixing together into a sensation that she couldn’t describe with any sort of English language.

All she knew was that she loved it, loved the feeling as he choked her, pulled her hair, her head clearing as she was finally pulled out, spluttering and splattering for air as her lung screamed with each sharp inhale of breath.

“Good whore.” She knew that her eyes had already ran with tears, that there was drool covering her chin, but as he stroked his long fingers through her hair, muttering praises that had her melting, she couldn’t help but lean against his thigh, nuzzling it softly with each pat that came across her aching scalp. “Do you want a reward?”

Opening her mouth to speak, she felt his fingers stop the moment she did, her brain scrambling through her memories quickly in order to remind her that this was a question not to answer by words; if she answered with words like a human, then he would punish her, leaving her to nod, her tear coated lashes sticking together slightly as her hair bounced around her shoulders.

“Good girl.” Echoed once more, his voice hitting that urge inside of her mind that almost made her melt against his leg, using the hand he offered as he helped her up and onto the counter top he had been leaning against, letting him control her as he moved her, made her laid back, spread her legs apart, be the perfect little doll and pet as she half hung off the counter, only supported by Nightmare’s hips as he forced her feet to plant on his hips.

“Stay still and quiet, princess.” Fake warmth tinted those words, one that only seemed to run cold from his mouth as he spoke them as his fingers ran over the smooth skin of her stomach, over her chest and between her breasts, Amelia only able to feel and barely see his movements before his nails pressed themselves into the skin over her heart, harshly pulling down as she let out a hiss of pain. Scratches and slices, Nightmare never let her leave their sessions unless she was absolutely covered in them, that her skin was blue and red all over with crusting browns in a sick master piece.

He scratched down, down, over her stomach, over her hip bone, coming just over the spot that she needed him most, the place that clenched around nothing as his fingers danced just above her cunt, wishing desperately that he would just fuck her, take her, make her his. Yet, he didn’t, he scratched again, and again, and again, alternating the pressure between each downward stroke. “I bet you want to scream about this,” he breathed into Amelia’s ear, his fingernails going from the expanse of her abused stomach to her shoulders, sinking in as he pushed her down onto his warm, heavy cock, not entering her but yet applying just enough friction that shot pleasure up her spine, “but do filthy whores get to scream, especially when they’ve been seeing other men behind their man’s back?”

When had he— Amelia’s eyes shot open at his words, seeing the way his gaze locked onto her’s in a sickeningly entertained way, his fingers twisting in the flesh that when he finally pulled them back she could see the blood that decorated the pads of his fingers. When had he known about her little dates, her little flings? She hadn’t seen him nor heard from him in at least a month, how would he — no, he had spies everywhere, his men wandered the streets whenever they weren’t listening to his direct orders, of course he’d find out eventually, of course he’d know.

The sound of her phone ringing cut through the air, Nightmare’s head almost seeming to pivot completely around as he turned to face the noise. Amelia always made sure that everyone had their own unique ring tone, that she would be able to recognise them as soon as they rang, but that ringtone was her default one, the one that had been for everyone the day that she had gotten her phone.

It was star boy.

“Stay here.” Watching him retreat down the hallway, towards the noise, towards her room. She wanted to follow him, stop him from answering her phone, but yet gut told her no, told her to stay still and wait, he would come back after all.

It felt like an eternity before he did, her phone so tiny in his hand that she swore that it may as well have been a toy phone in his palm, the screen blinking on and off, the light of the screen cutting through the night. It was still ringing but it was silent, Nightmare staring at the name on the screen before scoffing, his red eyes narrowing at the name, “his name is Devon?”

“Leave him alone—.”

“Did I say you could speak?”

Words lost in her throat, Amelia’s eyes watered as she watched the man almost debate his own thoughts in his own head, finally tucking a thumb underneath the edge before flicking it open, handing the phone over to her. “Talk to him.”

What?

“Talk to him, get rid of him.” You’re mine seemed to dance on the edge his tongue, Amelia shakily reaching out to take the phone from his hands, his skin like molten lava as she brushed them for a moment, raising the phone to her ear as she uttered a soft hello.

“I’m surprised that you’re awake this late,” Devon’s voice was like honey on the other end, a clear smile echoing through his tone, “Did I wake you?”

“No, no you didn’t.” Nightmare’s fingers traced along her thighs, his face unreadable as Devon talked in her ear, his words seeming to blend together in her mind, Amelia couldn’t help but choke on her breath as she felt fingers graze against her dripping cunt, gathering up slick with such gentleness she knew that he had something planned in mind. Baited breaths as she listened to the man talk, she struggled to keep her breathing steady as he teased her, felt her, made her nerves tingle.

“Are you alright, you don’t sound that well?” How exactly was she meant to explain that there was another man on the other end of her body that was beginning to push his fingers inside of her, softly chuckling under his breath as she squirmed and wiggled about, struggling not to make a peep out of her mouth and into the phone. Maybe that’s what Nightmare wanted, to make her embarrassed, to make her moan into the phone and show that another man was pleasuring her, making her drip around his fingers, especially as his thumb ran about her lips.

“I’m fine—,” she had to stop to take a deep breath through her nose as Nightmare’s free hand grabbed at her ass, kneading the flesh, “just peachy.” Liar, a lying, filthy liar, one that couldn’t even admit that she was currently squeezing around just fingers like a filthy whore, squeezing them, wanting to draw them in deeper. Why was it that now, when devouring herself in her desires, was she suddenly so shy? “Listen, the date today was great but—“ Oh Christ would he stop pushing her buttons like this, “I don’t think we fit.”

“Fit? Did I do something wrong?” Even in her haze, two fingers massaging her inner walls, her heart broke at the way Devon’s voice became so weak, so fragile, she could imagine him under the starry night sky right now, tearing up with his own phone in hand, “Amelia, I really did hope to have another date.”

“I—.” She never got a chance to explain further, the phone ripped from her hand hard and fast as Nightmare took it from her, raising it to his own ear as his fingers curled, her back arching with a babble of words as he scratched right on a good spot.

“She has me now, don’t contact her again.” The phone clicked shut within his hold before being tossed somewhere, the sound of plastic skittering on tiles echoing through out the kitchen seeming almost like thunder before falling silent. Had he really just done that? Had he really just thrown her phone after telling a man that she wasn’t even with that she was taken?

It seemed those thoughts weren’t on his mind though, the man’s fingers working her open and deep that made her head lull back, her eyes squeezing shut as he played her like a instrument. She couldn’t hold back her noises anymore, soft gasps and whines escaping her throat, littered with Nightmare’s name, as she gripped the edge of the counter underneath her. If her eyes had been open, she would’ve seen the way Nightmare’s shoulders puffed up at the whimpering of his name, how his eyes glistened with something dark, prideful, especially as the way he came down to bite at one of her nipples, watching the way her back arched into his mouth.

Yet Amelia was only human, a human who was a whimpering, stuttering mess against a counter top, her natural lubricant spilling out from the sides of Nightmare’s fingers as the high she was chasing for reached her peek, legs trembling as she clamped down on Nightmare’s fingers. Getting yourself off was one thing, but having someone else who knew how to touch you, feel you, how to make you good? It was something else entirely, something that made her eyes roll back as she squirmed, each pump of his fingers sending shock waves up her spine.

“Please… please…” Amelia couldn’t help but pant, spreading her legs slightly wider; she wasn’t done, no, she knew that he hadn’t cummed yet, she knew that he was still hard and waiting, she was going to be a good little pet, one that made sure that he was empty by the time he was done with her.

Oh how she adored that smile that followed, a glint in his eyes lighting up his whole face as he finally pulled his fingers from her overstimulated cunt, feeling the way she clenched around nothing as he wiped his fingers off on her leg. “Good slut, you’re getting better every time we do this.” His hand branded her thigh as he brought it down, a sickening slap echoing through the room as pain shot through her skin, into her mind, but yet she was already far too gone to care.

A euphoria she needed to see again and again.

“Yeah, keep looking at me with that slutty face.” She could feel the head of his cock rub along her abused lips, feeling the way it gathered up lubricant as he teased her hole again and again, each time he passed by it he’d push it in ever so slightly, leave her wanting, begging. “I’m going to make sure you’re fucking ruined, princess.”

And he kept to his promise, the first thrust practically taking her breath away the moment he finally decided to stop teasing her. He was never and easy fit, he never was one that she could take without feeling some sort of discomfort at first, but feeling the way he forced her to fit him, feeling the way she was split open with such ease, such precision, she swore that he kissed her cervix with that first thrust. The pain she knew she was meant to be feeling, the pain that should of shot through her, it was nonexistent, her brain only able to register the feeling of feeling so full, feeling his hands all over her as he pulled himself out to the tip before plunging himself right back in.

“Taking me all the way in.” Nightmare grunted above her, one hand moving from her hip to her neck, his hand forming that collar tight feeling around her neck as he gripped it, his fingers tracing her pulse point as she could only feel the way he used her, abused her cunt with each harsh slap of his hips, each time he pushed in and let his tip kiss her inner most parts. Amelia wanted more though, she wanted him deeper, harder, faster, her whimpers and pleas escaping from her mouth that she swore that it wasn’t English anymore. She needed him, desired him, wanted him to consume her body, mind and soul, and as his lips fell onto hers, his heat overwhelming her senses, she couldn’t care less as she felt his teeth bite down on her lip a bit too hard, not did she care for the bitter taste that filled her mouth.

Her nails dug into the back of his shirt, holding him close as she scratched and gripped at his back, her legs trembling from where they sat firmly around his waist.

“Fuck me,” she was able to mutter against his lips, each word had to pronounce between each gasp, each moan, each plead for him to make her hurt, make her beg. He was so good to her, so rough, so demanding, his heat devoured her, his darkness corrupted her, she needed him beyond her control.

“Keep going, keep begging.” How was he able to keep his composure enough to sleep when his dick twitched with every whimper and whine she let out, how was he able to be so composed when he was fucking her beyond human control? All those thoughts disappeared as she felt his hand squeeze down on her neck, her brain beginning to panic as he pushed down on her pulse points. How deliciously cruel, choking her as she submitted under him, her hands coming to grip at his waist as her end quickly approached, her walls clamping down on him.

Her vision started to darken, her heartbeat rapidly beating in her ears, she thought she was going to pass out, she thought she was going to collapse with his cock still using her like a toy, the warmth in the pit of her being burning hotter and hotter, but yet as his hand let go of her neck on the height of her heat, the last of her consciousness, she lost control of herself, her body twitching and trembling as bliss took over her soul.

Was it heaven? Was it the angels that were going to take her from her sinful world? No, as quickly as she had left her body she came back, her vision clearing as she heaved and cried, her sweat slicked skin providing little resistance to the tears and drool that ran down her face. Trembling, unable to move, her entire body felt like jello as she felt a thumb — his thumb — gently massage the place over her heart, feeling the way it thundered against her ribs like a train.

“Shit, I’m going to have to make you do that more often.” His hips ground against her throbbing, abused cunt, feeling her body tingle as feeling returned, the ringing in her ears dying down as she watched Nightmare slowly pull out of her, a ring of white around the base of his cock that glistened as he began to soften, “didn’t know you could squirt like that, princess.”

Had she really squirted?

Blinking her eyes a few times as she was picked up, a thousand pins seemed to prick her skin every time she tried to move, every time she tried to twitch or speak, her breathing laboured and hard against Nightmare’s chest, sweat sticking to sweat as she heard a door open.

“You think you can stand?” How strange… his tone was oddly warm in her ear, his fingers running along her arms in soft strokes, “or do you want me to come in with you?” Stand, after that? He may as well have been trying to summon a demon, softly shaking her head no, her head still twirling before she felt tile against her back and legs, cracking open her eyes to watch as Nightmare reached for the shower handles. Outside of him being controlling, of being in that club, the lights of her shitty apartment bathroom shone a new light on his face, angles almost seeming to soften his face, his harden eyes seeming to only grow softer as he ran his hand under the water, adjusting it to his liking.

He looked tired, exhausted himself, the peek hours of the morning catching up to her as well as exhaustion weighed heavily on her mind, watching as the man stripped of his own clothes, patches of lightened skins becoming bare for the first time since she had met him. Amelia swore under her breath at the sight, the way they danced along his muscles, showing the years of pain, gun fights and possibly even knife fights that weighed on his shoulders. A master piece, one that told his own story, one that was surprisingly gentle as he hoisted Amelia back onto her feet, stabilising her with his body as they stepped into the stream.

“Can’t see shit without my glasses…” she could hear the man mutter above her, Amelia tilting her head just enough to watch as the man grabbed a bottle from her shelf, squinting to read the text on the side. “You really like this fruity shit?” His chest rumbled against her ear, feeling the way his hands began to work at her hair, wetting and lathering up the shampoo in her hair, the woman only able to sigh as she leaned more into his frame, noting how he was a lot more softer than he appeared in the dim lights of a club.

In fact… he just seemed different.

“Why?” Amelia’s voice came out in a croak as she spoke, brown eyes meeting red ones as she gathered enough strength in her arms to wrap them around his waist, “you could’ve just left.”

“And leave my pet to care for herself?” It almost seemed like a joke to the man with the way he scoffed through his nose, tilting her head back as he forced her under the stream of the shower, “knowing you, you would’ve slept where we fucked. You did that all the time in the club.” Her face burned as Nightmare jabbed each word with his tongue, glad that the water could mask her burning flush as she was pulled out enough to let the man lather her hair in conditioner, feeling as he dragged his fingers through her long locks, combed out all the knots and tangles that had gathered over the course of the day and their session before working on her scalp.

“So you’re just worried about me.”

“I’m worried about keeping my toys in good condition. Hold still.” His hands lathered themselves with lavender scented body wash before beginning to scrub at her back, feeling the way the muscles worked at all the knots and aches, melting them away under his palms as he scrubbed at her sweat soaked skin. It was nice having someone care for her, show her something more than just sex and leaving. If this was what being a pet was like then she didn’t want to leave, letting a deep breath out through her nose as she felt his hands cup at her breasts, working his way all over her body.

That was until he brushed over area between her breasts, a hiss escaping from her mouth as pain shot through her system. “That hurt.”

“I did draw blood.” Once more dragging her underneath the stream of water, washing away the suds and conditioner with his hands, not stopping until he was satisfied, until her skin was clear and shiny, as was her hair. His hands kept roaming her body, ridding her of the suds, but yet as she reached for the shampoo bottle herself, he could only blink as she squirted some on his hair.

“It’s peppermint scented.” Amelia’s hands began to work at the shampoo in his hair, the man leaning down so then she wasn’t overstretching her arms, letting his eyes close as she worked at his locks, his hair foaming up easily with her ministrations before he stood up straight, letting the suds wash from his hair and down the drain. “I’ve always wanted to touch your hair…”

“You could’ve asked.”

“Yeah, but you usually keep it tied back.” Her lips couldn’t help but quirk into a small smile at her own statement, watching the way he leaned into her hands as she began to massage in the conditioner, the peppermint mingling with the smell of gunpowder and, strangely enough, tea. Long locks flowed easily between her fingers, noting how the ends of them curled into twirls.

Yet as the man stood to his full height once the conditioner was out, she couldn’t help but stop him as he reached for the shower faucet, her hand unable to wrap around his wrist fully as she watched his fingers twitch, barely touching the tap, “I want to stay like this, just for a little bit.” Even as his brows shot up at her request, even as the water pounded down on their forms like a rainfall, his fingers retreated from the tap, letting his arms wrap around her waist as he pulled her close.

“As long as we don’t let the food I bought not go to waste.” And she was fine with that.

Together, they stood in that silence, the only sound shared between the two of them being the sound of water hitting the tile.

  “Where have you been?” Christ, they had been drinking, Nightmare could hear it in the way Genevieve hiccuped on the other end, “You said you would drive us homeeeee.”

“I promised you no such thing.” Nightmare had left Amelia’s bedroom to let her sleep yet he kept his voice down as to not draw attention from anyone above or below, his phone held tightly within his hand as he spoke, “It is currently five in the morning and you’re only thinking about getting home now?”

“The bars just shut, please Nathan, pick us up!” Her squawking was horrendous in her ear, Nightmare flinching as he pulled the speaker away enough to avoid her sobs as she began to throw her mini temper tantrum; she was always the most impatient drunk, wanting to drink first and think of ways to get home later, but yet he couldn’t help but sigh as he rubbed at his face, the images of the group stumbling around outside the bar he frequented. “Is that a yes?”

“No, call a taxi.” Taxis ran at this time, right? Of course they did, when drunks were stumbling out of bars and a danger on the road of course taxis would take the time to make sure they got home safely — for a fee, of course.

“Natha-!“ Click, his phone shut quickly as he silenced the woman’s cries, red eyes glaring at the object in the dark before raising them to look out the window, the skyline beginning to lighten as the sun rose over the horizon. It really was a beautiful sight, able to see the streets become populated as people began to busy themselves with getting to and from their work and home, able to count as cars filled the streets below. No wonder his princess had chosen to live up here even if the rent was shit.

It was a sight he’d want to wake up to each morning. High above the city, the people not knowing that he was watching their every move, their every action. It was frankly better than the mansion like home the Aftons had — they may have a yard where their kids were able to run around in, but did they have a view like this? Of course they didn’t.

Shoving his phone back into his trousers, he pressed his face against the window, letting the class cool his skin as he stared at the rising sun. Closing his eyes, he could feel the lack of sleep beginning to dawn on him, making his limbs seem heavier than they usually did. Many sleepless nights filled with work and frustration, of anger and annoyance, all of it released and it made him all the more loose as he sighed, pushing himself off the window as he turned on his heel.

Then his blasted phone rang again. He gripped it tight as he ripped it from his pocket, not even bothering to check who was calling him again as he spat into the phone, his voice filled with tired but yet deadly sounding venom in each syllable of every word.

“Genevieve, I swear that I will—.“

“Swear that you will what?” William Afton’s voice came through the phone, stopping Nightmare’s words in their tracks as he paused, taking in the sound, the tone, the voice, pulling the phone from his ear to check the caller ID before he pressed it back to his ear.

“Apologies, I didn’t see that it was you.”

“Oh it’s alright, Nightmare, exhaustion can make us rather cranky.” To anger a Afton was to evoke a cyclone, to anger William was to ensure death, Nightmare had seen it first had when he had formally worked for the head of the Afton’s, his tongue catching between his teeth as he let out a grunt of agreement. “I noticed that you weren’t with your friends last night, a shame really, I was hoping that we could talk.”

“I was preoccupied with other things.”

“Ah, yes, Amelia, her, she hasn’t been coming to the club lately, has she?” Another thing was he always knew what you were doing, no matter what. Every time that Nightmare talked with the man he swore he always was caught off guard, thrown through a loop, imagining the way the man was smiling in that god awful purple suit, most likely tapping the tip of a cigar as he talked on his phone.

“You don’t contact me unless it’s important.”

“Oh, I suppose I don’t.” Each word was carefully coiled, tipped with a sharp edge as they stabbed into Nightmare’s ears, hearing that forsaken song he hummed as he did god knows what on the other end, Nightmare’s gaze shifting from the window to the half open door of Amelia’s room, knowing that she was inside exhausted, tired, defenceless, “this is really in regards to your own attendance. You haven’t came in a while and your membership needs renewing.”

Snarky bastard. Sighing through his nose, Nightmare’s shoulders drooped slightly, pulling the phone away from his mouth to grumble for a moment before returning the speaker to its position, “Yes, I want to renew it.”

“And Amelia’s? She’s on the monthly payment currently.” Of course she was, she probably hadn’t expected to stick around as long as she had, become as invested as she had, become involved with him. She had probably been about to cancel it, shove it in the back of her drawer and never look at it again. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Nightmare sat down on the couch, letting his feet sink into the plush carpet sink between his toes.

“She’ll be on my discount if I pay for it, right?”

“Depends on if you do, Nathan.” Damned if he didn’t, damned if he don’t, sighing as he dragged a hand over his face, he debated on his choice; it would be hundreds of dollars off her membership if she went through him, even more if she went for the year. If she didn’t want it then there was no skin off his nose considering he had too much money for himself anyway. “Maybe I’ll mark it as a free use one—.”

“You fucking do that and I’ll pull funding right now.”

“Oh I’m just kidding, I knew it would get a rise out of you, you still want to pay for it?” Knowing the man, he probably hadn’t been kidding, but yet the idea of her being used by any man of woman in that club, seeing her bent over everything and being touched by hands that weren’t his sent a fire straight through his soul, one that burned higher and higher before dying down as he let himself settle, his face appearing almost like a void as he stared at his own dim reflection.

“Fine,” he muttered, the pause in the air so thick he may as well cut it with a knife, “charge my card for her membership and make it a yearly one.”

“Wonderful, pleasure doing business with you.” And like that, the man was gone, a low buzz echoing through his ears as the sun finally peeked over the top of the buildings in the distance, shining into his eyes as he pulled the phone away from his ear, finally shutting it for the last time that night. William Afton was an asshole, a manipulator, he had no heart. Nightmare had once seen himself like him, cruel and alone, but as he stared down at his phone, thinking about how his coworkers — no, friends — were probably missing his ass already when they would wake up with their hangovers, he couldn’t help but feel his heart shudder.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Standing up from his spot, Nightmare tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter, making sure to step over the remains of what had been Amelia’s phone — whilst also mentally noting to get her a new one — as he walked to the half open door, careful to not make a noise as he slipped inside, making sure that the sun would not dare make them stir. Vanilla almost seemed to invade his senses, the smell of the lotion he had massaged into his pet’s skin making him shudder, only growing more and more potent as he made his way to the bed, the small lump that was Amelia rising and falling with such calm that he couldn’t help but just stare.

“Amelia… how exactly did you get mixed up in our world?”

A sweetheart, someone that posed no threat to anyone but yet everyone posed a threat to her, her skin unblemished and scarred, her eyes soft and warm, she was everything that he wasn’t, especially as she slept with those pretty kiss bruised lips slightly parted. She allowed him to hurt her, to blemish her, to make her cry and beg and whine, but yet she still looked like an angel despite being beaten black and blue on her smaller body. Even her hand was tinier, dainty compared to his own as he took it into his hold, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles as he watched her sleep.

Was this how the Fazbears felt about their woman, weak and helpless to her pretty doe eyes? It was strange, strange to think he would fall down that rabbit hole, fall deep into that same devotion that they felt towards Chica, but yet as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her knuckles, watching as her lashes shadowed her cheeks, he couldn’t help but yearn for that devotion, that care.

He would keep his princess safe, no matter the cost; no one, other than him, would ever touch her as long as he breathed his breath.

[awellboiledicicle]

I feel like Fiona is both the matriarch of the family and the family apothecary.

Partially because she’s very smart, but also because she’s married to a man that’s going to get increasingly paranoid and in need of medical attention as his body becomes more and more complex. Her sons will need supportive care, supplements to keep them going until the parts are collected to graft them healthier bodies. Godrick’s bastards in stormveil will need similar care, though most of them are too weak to stand much grafting. Certainly it’s not as if Gostoc is going to work out the art of grafting, or he’d have both hands by now.

I imagine she’d have a well appointed laboratory, kept meticulously clean by a set of staff exempt from experimentation. Casks of wine lay inside a storeroom to the side, ready to be tapped and mixed with the stronger tasting medicine. Perfumers tools and tomes on their craft are laid out with care alongside flasks and burners--for the breathing trouble that plagues Godrick’s sons in the worst of the stormy months. Tinctures and poultices at the ready for sore muscles reinventing themselves, for deadening signals from regrowing nerves.

This is separated from the grafting lab, some secondary dining hall they had no use for. A lot of space to allow them both to work, and later for the Scions to aid their work on their brothers. Godrick had most say over that one, though he allowed Fiona’s smaller hands to get the finer details. To spread their son’s new nervous system through the body, to stitch blood supply to the bloodless limbs so no rejection could take place. Later this would simply be yet another room packed with corpses to look over, pieces and bits to pick out for her husband. Blood to water the flowers. Meat for the dogs. But today, when their lives there are new, it is clean save for tools and barrels of the wax and grease needed to make grafting take smoothly. Aprons hung along the wall, the operating table a repurposed dining table with a smooth finish not yet stained ruddy red. Open troughs sat at either end, awaiting the portions of flesh that disappointed. Sometimes these would fill for the dogs, sometimes the hawks. Sometimes the omen in his employ.

Most would look upon both places in fear and revulsion, but to Fiona they were chambers in which the greatest acts of love were performed. What more could a mother do for her son than strip a heart of the impure blood no longer enlivening it and gently place it within his rib cage? Gently fold the spires of bone back into place before enfolding them within something stronger, sturdier? The body of a troll is more useful when it courses with her bloodline, shielding his pale body within it’s hulking embrace. What more holy work, what more loving work, could they do? And when her sons eyes flutter open after long, exhausting, hours of grafting... when he smiles weakly and fills new lungs with air... how could she call it anything but a gift? Anything but a miracle? 

[kicks feet] I just am thinkin about details.

[outlaste-a]

@6ore, “hey… hey! you don’t need to be scared anymore.”

a spectre of the past, each child had already mourned the boy who lived, who returned from the cruel wilderness that swallowed his voice and took all feeling out of his expression. [a sacrificial lamb spat out by the woods after two months of cultivation, a tender composition of meat that's mere existence defied sense for the girls to finally feed off of.] javi had been one who survived when he shouldn't have. if one of them asked where he had been and what he had been doing that entire time, he wouldn't be able to produce an intelligible answer: it felt something like a dream, a series of movements and feeding that felt lightyears away from the present moment. going through the motions, unable to sense the grip of flesh at the behest his fingertips and the bones splintering between his teeth. seeing them was something like waking up, so how could he share that he felt more scared than ever, being back in their company? javi can still visualise the knife pressed deep into travis' throat, how they each salivated at the mere sight of blood, the trickle of red that cascaded down the long stretch of his neck. not nat, though. her alone could javi trust, not yet witnessing her succumb to the madness that had plagued them all. his hand fists against her jacket at a suspected attempt to leave, burying the cloth inside own terrified grasp.

please don't leave me, doe eyes plead. they speak noiselessly, an adjuration that appeals to her sensitivity: it was not her he was scared of, but the others. and perhaps just as much, being alone again, like those two months isolated, drinking muddy water off of the land. [if he were really thinking about their situation, and not still stuck navigating the dreamlike nether, javi would consider what had been a worse situation.] dread had crept under his skin, homed itself there, as though anticipating an awful something that was yet to announce itself.

[inuyashaloverforever]

Cursed Love

Johnson Family Home was considered a place that no townsmen wanted to neither go to nor interact with after the nannies that were sent there had never returned.  Many people started to spread rumors that perhaps the house had become haunted or even abandoned but the abandoned rumor was later put to rest once Augustus Johnson, May Johnson, and Alexander Johnson came to town to purchase food.  Many of the townspeople did wonder what had happened to the eldest child, Willow Johnson for no one has seen her in town. 

A gentleman by the name of Albert had asked Augustus once when the Johnson family had come to town but the answer he had gotten was “My sister has been unwell so she is unable to come outside anymore,” before he went on his way to school.

Back at the family house, was a figure that was unable to leave the house no matter what. In the attic of the family home, Willow was wrapped in a blue blanket and looked outside to watch what was going on outside.

“I miss the outside world,” Willow muttered to herself as she placed her pale right hand on the glass window. “Since this curse had befallen me, I am unable to leave this house during the day nor will my family allow me to really leave during the night time either.”

Willow stayed in the attic as she waited for her family to return and feed her the raw meat they would hopefully return for her to eat. Being unable to be with her family left emptiness that Willow never thought would have been possible with her vampirism curse.

Stuck at the age of 14 was not something that Willow thought would ever happen to her. She had always thought that her fair skin would also make her look as if she was lightly tanned with her hazel eyes and long, wavy blond hair. 

I feel so trapped in here. I want to be free of this curse, of this attic, of this life but the only way for me to get rid of the curse is to find that witch once more but I don’t know where she is. I just can’t accept what I’ve become and my family barely wants to look at me after what has happened, Willow’s thoughts plagued her mind on what has been going on in her life.

The attic door opened as Augustus walked in, holding a plate of raw meat. The blood began to slide on the plate and lightly dripping onto the floor. The scent of blood drifted over to Willow, causing her hazel eyes to turn crimson red with her bloodlust. 

“That scent…so intoxicating…must have…blood…” Willow’s hunger was apparent in her tone as she turned her eyes to look at her older brother and listen to his beating heart, pumping with his life blood.

Augustus, seeing the look in his sister’s eyes, quickly placed the food onto the floor and backed out of the room, closing the door as he did not want to be hypnotized into becoming his sister’s meal.

Willow’s gaze turned to the plate on the floor as she couldn’t fight the organ that she needed to use to help her hunger.  She got out of her blanketed cocoon and walked over to where the plate was left.  She got onto her knees and grasped the raw meat before she began to bite into it hungrily. Blood from the raw meat coated her hands in clothes as she consumed the meal.

Feeling the hunger fade for the time being, Willow looked down at her bloodstained clothes and frowned unhappily for she had messed up another pair of clothes she was given. She stood up and walked over to one of the chests within the attic and opened it to take out a change of clothes.

Although she was not allowed to leave the room for her family was afraid she’d turn on them and murder them like she had done to those nannies that watched her younger brother, they were kind enough to make sure the attic had a bathroom for her to clean up and do her business. 

Willow took her change of clothes which consist of a yellow sundress that reminded her of the sun that she can no longer bask underneath after this curse was placed on her. 

She turned on the lukewarm water and began to strip out of the white dress she had been wearing that had been destroyed by the bloodstains of her food she had just devoured and drained.  She took her washcloth and dipped it into the warm water as she ran the cloth over her body and face. It took her a few minutes to feel clean once again before she finally placed the yellow sundress on.

She grabbed a pail from the side and took the unclean water out of the basin. Carrying it out of the bathroom, she placed it near the door along with the plate where her meal had been, knowing someone would come to take it and get them cleaned or whatever they do now with the objects she use.

She returned to the bathroom to grab the dirty dress and placed it with the pail of dirty water with a frown.

“I wish I could leave this place and be free to go outside once again,” She mumbled as she walked over to the window and looked towards the forest.

As her gaze watched the change of time, she noticed a figure rush past her home, causing her to get a closer look to whoever that could be.

I wonder who that was, Willow thought as she turned her gaze towards the door to make sure no one had come in.

She nodded her head and slowly lifted the window sill to try to get a better glimpse of the outside world without the barrier. Her eyes widen as sky turned dark and the moon seemed to shine down on the woods nearby.

The night looks so welcoming and beautiful, just like how the day use to feel to me when I was allowed to go out and be free, Willow thought with a sad smile before she turned away from the view outside to sense that someone was outside the door.

“Are you finished with your…meal?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes mother, I’m done with the plate and there is a pail and dress that needs to be cleaned or taken away,” Willow responded, her mind wanting to see her mother at least look at her like she was more than some monster in her child’s body.

“I’ll send Victor, our new butler to retrieve everything,” May Johnson stated before she walked away from the door, tears in her eyes at having a monster use her beloved daughter’s voice as if she was still there.

Willow listened to her mother’s footsteps as they went further from her room and she sighed, knowing that no matter how much she wants her family to be around her once again or at least see she was still among them, they will only see her as a monster and nothing more.

She walked over to the chest to look at all her clothes and even a sack that was used for her to carry her clothes within whenever she had gone to spend the night at an inn or a family member. As she stared at the sack, she slowly took it out of the chest and filled it with a few clothes for her and placed it to the side before she closed the chest once more.

The scent of blood made her mouth water as she turned her crimson gaze over to the door as the new butler, Victor, opened the door and grabbed the items off the floor. Not realizing that if he took too long, he’ll lose his life from the monster inside the room.

“I wonder why they told me not to take too long to grab these items,” Victor mumbled to himself.

“It’s because of me,” Willow couldn’t help not to speak, causing Victor’s gaze to lock with her eyes.

Her crimson red eyes seemed to hypnotize Victor into coming further into the room.

“W-Who are you, young mis?” Victor asked, dazed as he couldn’t seem to look away from the strange girl’s eyes.

“I am Willow Johnson, the eldest child of the Johnson family,” Willow said in a dark seductive tone as she walked closer to her new prey.

“M-Madam Willow, I- I have no idea this was where you were,” Victor stuttered as the young female came closer to him.

Willow smiled softly, her small fangs flashing in the moonlight as she continued to hypnotized the butler who her family forgot to tell never to stay too long inside her home.

“W-What can I do for you?” Victor asked.

“I’d said feed me but I know my family will become upset if I do that so…take these items where they are supposed to go then let them know that Willow will always love them,” she answered as her words made the butler go into a trance-like state as he carried off her order. 

Willow watched him as he closed her door with the dress, pail and plate before she turned to look at the moonlight coming from the window.  She walked over to her sack and picked it up before she slipped out of the window to peer at the freedom below her.

“Soon, they’ll truly fear me,” Willow whispered as her body cracked and shrunk as she turned into a black bat. 

She flew with the sack in her tiny clawed feet as she screeched like a true bat.  She flew towards where the witch had first turned her to what she is, noticing in the far distance a mass of black fur and the howl of an animal.

She continued on her path to where she remembered the witch to be and landed in a tree above the last place she saw the witch as her body crackled and grew bigger once again until she was Willow once again.

“Where is that witch? Her scent seems to have distanced since the last I had been here,” Willow mumbled.

“She no longer resides in this area,” a deep voice answered, causing Willow to look behind her and down at a being with fur all over its body.

“What are you?” Willow asked as she hissed in anger, hearing that the cause of her suffering is not here.

“A werewolf,” the figure answered as its gaze went towards Willow.

A weird connection between the two formed as they continued to look at one another.

“The witch cursed me into this being,” the figure stated as it bared its teeth in anger.

Willow slowly got down from the tree and looked at the figured.

“So she had cursed more than just me then. Does your family see you as a monster as well?” Willow asked.

“Probably but I haven’t seen them since I was run out of my home by the townspeople,” the figure stated.

“My family distanced themselves from me, making me be separated from everything I knew and loved,” Willow mumbled.

The werewolf continued to gaze at the vampire and couldn’t help the feeling of finally finding a place to belong.

“I’m Blaze Wilson,” the werewolf introduced.

“Willow Johnson,” Willow said as she slowly grinned, her fangs glistening within the moonlight.

Blaze held out a pawed hand out to Willow, who slowly grabbed it as they walked together towards Blackforest.

“Hungry?” Blaze asked?

“Starving actually…” Willow mumbled.

Blaze smirked lightly and pointed at the people who were wandering around at night.

“Hunt with me?” Blaze asked.

Willow could smell and hear the heartbeats of the people as her eyes turned back to crimson red.

“Hunting sounds delicious,” Willow admitted before she rushed out of the forest and jumped onto a man, who looked to be in his early 20s as Blaze howled and rushed into the town and sank his teeth into a screaming older woman. 

Willow sank her fangs into the male’s neck as he screamed in terror and pain, as his blood was being drained from his body.

The townspeople screamed in fright as blood splatted onto the ground as men and women were torn apart by the werewolf or were drained of their blood from the female vampire.

“Run quickly to Holy Ground! Demons with no souls cannot touch Holy land!” a priest cried out from the church as the townspeople ran as fast as they could.

“Blaze, they’re running away and I’m not full yet,” Willow complained as she looked at the werewolf who was busy ripping flesh and bone off a male he had been eating.

He watched as their prey ran towards holy grounds before he finished part of his meal.

“They’re prey…they’ll run to holy ground except your family will not leave their home would they?” Blaze asked her.

Willow’s gaze widened as she licked some of the blood from her mouth and fangs.

“Maybe we’ll feast on them another day,” Willow mumbled, “Saving the best food for last.”

Blaze shook himself clean of the blood and human flesh that stuck to his fur.  He held out his hand towards Willow, who grabbed it as they chased the rest of the townsfolk until they stopped near holy ground. Blaze licked some blood off of Willow that she missed, causing Willow to blush and look at him.

Blaze winked at her as he turned his gaze at the church.

“Monsters! You will pay for those you have killed,” the priest bellowed from the church window.

“Let’s go, its almost daytime and I’m sure you cannot be out here any longer,” Blaze whispered tenderly as Willow nodded and they rushed together for Blaze’s den to live their lives plaguing the town and later on, being lovers.

[dxrknessembr8ced]

As Tessa continues running as fast as she can through the now darkened skies of the blood moon shinning above still proceeding to her destination but in a flash something came out from the darkness attacking the sorcerologist but she evades the attack and turns towards her attacker preparing to fight and defend herself.

" OUT OF MY WAY YO- "

But when she turn she has met with by far the more horrifying discovery.

" ...My gods. "

What the woman have met is the denizen of the makai realm, but it's no ordinary makai denizen. This creature she has heard stories about, ones that feed on humanity and their inner darkness for thousands of years, ones that wreak havoc upon the mortal realm just to plunge it into ever lasting darkness and all around despair. This grotesque cherub is known as a horror, parasitic demon beasts of the makai realm thought to be long gone and thought to be children stories, but they are real and have return for a second bite of human meat. The horror turned towards her and let out a nightmarish screeching roar.

' AARRRAAAAUUGHHH!!! '

The horror now hellbent on killing Tessa and every other human comes across dashing towards her preparing to slash and pummel the sorcerologist with extreme prejudice.

Tessa now in desperation fighting back and repelling against the nightmarish horror use her powerful magic to disintegrate and turn the makai beast into ash using her cape to perform a powerful chakra wave blasting the horror apart.

" BEGONE DENIZEN OF THE MAKAI REALM!! "

Upon finally killing the horror in front of her, she sweats profoundly as she couldn't nor can she ever believe what the sorcerologist have witnessed. The horrors being real and finally awaken into the mortal realm to eat and wreak havoc upon humanity spreading darkness wherever they go is nothing to just gloss over, she realized all the misery and all this death and tragedy are fueling their will and hunger just to arrive here. This means there are more of them, more of the horrors all around the world like a second plague it is now a race against time, she continues to pressed forward to find hsien-Ko before it is too late. When she continued onward more of the horrors showed up from the dark of the red moon attacking Tessa but managed to fend off against the hungry makai beasts in her way using her powerful magic but she has limits, she can't keep fighting on forever she evades most of them while fighting only some of the horrors, all while trying to push through her journey.

[iniquity-fr]

every time someone complains about how fungi or green things belong to other flights only and don’t fit plague somehow despite these being well known obvious canonical thematic aspects to plague flight i feel my braincells being sapped away

[fernthefanciful]

A princess is a creature of grace, poise, decorum. They are soft, gentle, patient. I, however, was none of those things, much to my parents’ despair.

 They only brought that upon themselves, of course. A firstborn daughter, a royal invitation to greet the new monarch not sent, and therefore an insult perceived by a powerful magical being. You know how the story goes. I was cursed and, in my story, there were no blessings to gentle it. No other wishes for my future, or what little she left of it. Just a creature of shadow and talon which appeared, damned the bright vision my parents had of my life, and vanished.

  My childhood was a moderately happy one, even with the dark cloud of the curse hanging forever in my periphery. My parents loved me. My sisters, when they were born, did the same. And I of course love them with all that I am. My parents hired tutors, made sure I learned what it meant to be a monarch, made sure I was prepared for a future of rule. They simply made sure my sister learned as well.

  “Just in case.” My father would say, his gaze flitting across the empty hallways as if something unseen was always listening, always watching.

  And when I got too restless, when the green of the forest and the blue of the lake called to me and I couldn’t help but give in to the need to run, to chase, they took me riding. We’d make trips, have picnics, run around on the heather-filled fields and watch the sky change her colour with the setting sun. For the longest time, we were as happy as we could be.

  My eighteenth birthday was a beautiful and clear full moon night. The air rife with the scents of fresh bread and roasted meats of the feast held in honour of my coming of age. Gentle and joyful music filled the ballroom as people danced and laughed all night.

In an empty hallway, as far away from people as I could get, I screamed and cried as my body tore itself apart. As the wildness that had always lived inside of me wanted out. The howl that tore from my newly changed throat was loud enough to wake the entire city.

  I should have been terrified. I should be lamenting the turn my life had taken, all the things I now no longer could do. I should have felt all of those things. But when I made my way out of the castle and into the forest, the ground soft underneath my paws, the silver moonlight a gentle caress on my fur, I couldn’t help but think that his curse tasted a lot like freedom.

  The wildness that had always lived inside of me, the parts that longed to shed the tight clothing and even tighter responsibilities of nobility, were torn from the inner shadow where I had hidden them and shoved into the light. The parts of me that wished to run, to hunt, to feast, finally had a chance to be free.

  Things changed after that.

  Now, people are wary, afraid. My parents try, they really do. To teach me to act normal, ladylike, human. It’s of no use. The wolf lurks under my skin, peering out of my eyes.

People whisper about how much of a waste it is, such a shame, that a curse has changed me so. They don’t see, they don’t understand. The wolf, the wildness, the hunger, has always been there. It is me, the deepest parts of my soul given physical form.

  Life goes on. My sister, perfect, composed, kind, steps into the limelight. Or is pushed, I should say. To placate those who question my place at Court. Meanwhile I am forced into the background. An animal in the shadows meant to be forgotten.

  My wolf balks at the idea of corsets, of rules, of restriction. Doesn’t understand the need for playing nice with nobles it doesn’t like. She’s a creature of instinct, simplicity, and therefore, so am I.

  I spend my days roaming the grounds, protecting what is mine. The people of the city avert their eyes as I go past. Whisper about curses and how they spread, about what it means for the Kingdom that their princess is now a different creature altogether.

My wolf claims the entirety kingdom as her territory and as I get older, I travel further. Checking in daily with the people on the far edges of the lands. The misfits and the outcasts. The ones with wisdom and magic who have been pushed towards the edges of the kingdom long before I was born. Hatred and fear pushed us all here, to the lands where the briar grows three men tall. Where the trees and the shadows move on their own and where the water of the lake is always smooth, no matter how fierce the storm.

I help where I can, chasing off the foxes for the farmers, climbing trees to hang fetches and talismans for protection, bringing food to those who need it most. Most time is spent drinking tea and discussing life with the old lady whom everyone calls ‘witch’. She teaches me all she knows. Things the tutors at the castle never knew to teach me. About the plants and trees that grow, the animals that roam deep within the forest. About life here, on the outskirts of society, and all the peoples and creatures that are part of it. Here, the people look me in the eye. They bow their heads in respect but never in fear. The bravest of the children ask to card their hands through my fur. The old woman laughingly gifts me a crown of twigs and burrs and rowanberries the colour of blood. Every time I’m in my human skin I wear that crown with pride.

  One day, deep within the forest at the edge of my territory, I meet her. The being who has brought all that was hidden within me to the front and then illuminated it. I shift back to human, standing before her, naked and open, but never vulnerable, thanks to her. I thank her for the gifts she has given me. For the freedom and power and strength. The look on her face when I name her fairy godmother is priceless.

  She smiles at me then, a flash of razor-sharp teeth. I bare my own fangs back at her. She asks me then, if I understand. How they are being treated. Those who do not fit in, those who are made of wildness and shadow and blood. How they are shunned because of what they are.

  She tells me this will change, once I am queen. When I tell her that I never will be, that my parents will never find a match for me, she simply laughs and tells me not to worry. After all, I have a fairy godmother now.

  She keeps close after that. Always watching, always near, but never interfering. Not unless I ask her to. So when war, inevitably, finds itself at our borders, I ask for her aid. I stand in the middle of the bloodied battlefield, staring at the incoming forces. The wolf in me is itching underneath my skin. She wishes to hunt, to kill, to feel flesh rip underneath her claws, blood filling her mouth as she tears them apart. So I call out to my fairy godmother, asking if she would join me for a hunt, before I shed my skin along with my humanity and charge forward.

  The battle is brutal and short. The enemy army is better trained, but not against the army of outcasts led by myself and my fairy godmother. Their swords and shields quickly fall against our teeth, claws and magic.

Afterwards, I greet my father on the battlefield. Bare and covered in blood. There is fear in his eyes, yes, but also respect. And, for the first time, trust.

  Things change once again. I am brought back into the castle, but nothing is the same. I spend most of my time in the forests, still, but I also find myself fighting. Training with weapons other than tooth and claw. Weathered old men, tutors, hired by my father to teach me all they know. I learn how much I don’t know, how much there is still to learn. I earn my scars, even if they never stay for long. I earn their respect, even if it is hard won. I am no longer alone, some of my people from the outskirts join me and never leave their princess’ side.

  It doesn’t take long before suitors come from all over the world, wishing to marry one of my sisters. Singing praises about the small kingdom that could so quickly put an end to war. That could tame monsters and wild things. Silly men, none of us were tamed, we simply chose to fight.

  My parents and sisters work hard to get the most advantageous matches. To make sure that both the kingdom and my sisters will continue to grow and prosper. Bargains are struck, feasts are had. One by one my sisters move away, happy with their chosen husbands. All of them are visited by a giant wolf at least once. They know to treat my sisters well, or one night feel the sharp tips of my fangs against their throat.

  Years later I am gifted another crown. It is a beautiful thing. Delicate golden flowers and bright shining gems. It feels uncomfortable to me the way all pretty things do. “It might not suit you,” my father tells me, “but you have earned it.”

“As you have earned your rest.” I tell him.

“You will be wonderful, my Queen.”

  Rumors start spreading, about the Wolfqueen, the Wild One, sitting upon a blood-red throne. About the Kingdom of monsters where beasts, fae and man live free. About the Queen with the Iron Heart, who turns away all who wish to court her, and kills all who dare more.

  It’s not that I do not want someone at my side. I do. I wish for the love that my parents share. That my sisters eventually found with their husbands. But all those who come for my hand, those who finally dare when I have no more free sisters left, come for just that. My hand but not my heart. They are all poised and polished. Perfect little princes who look towards the wealth of the castle but away from the wildness within me. They are afraid to meet my wolf’s cold, assessing gaze.

  Some even try to change me, to find the human underneath the wolf. They only try once.

  For years, I rule alone. Through another war, through a plague born of magic, through prosperity and abundance. My people always by my side but no one to claim my heart.

  But then, a commotion. A man, dressed in furs. No scars on his body, but plenty on his soul. His eyes glowing the same gold as mine in the gentle torchlight. A wildness in them that my wolf recognizes. A challenge that my wolf is eager to take, to rise up to.

  “Your Oracle told me to come here.” He tells me, “I asked for guidance, to find what my heart truly desires, and she sent me to you.”

  My fairy godmother steps up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I can’t see her, but I know she is smiling a smile of sharp pointed teeth. No doubt the oracle he speaks of.

  “My Queen,” he continues, bowing deep, his eyes never leaving mine, “I came looking for connection, for freedom. I believe I will find it with your time and your company. Will you grant me it?”

  “And what, my prince,” for if my fairy godmother sent him, he can only be that, “will you grant me in return?” I lean forward, eager, hungry.

  “Loyalty,” he steps forward, onto the dais, “companionship and understanding.” He leans over me for a single, challenging moment, before kneeling before me, baring his throat. “Perhaps in time even love. But for now, the thrill of a hunt. Of a chase.” He grins, baring sharp fangs. A breath, and a beautiful black-furred wolf sits in front of me.

Oh – the hunt is on. A thrill goes through me as I shift, ready to run, to chase him down and claim him for my own. For if one thing is certain, it is that I am a wild thing, a Queen, a hunter, but never, ever, prey.

(First posted on my website)

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Laito Dark [Epilogue]

ー The scene starts in the living room of the Sakamaki castle

Ayato: ーーYo, Kanato.

Kanato: ...What do you want, Ayato? Do you need something from me?

Ayato: Nah, I don’t really need anything, I was just wonderin’ if you had seen Laito ‘round.

Kanato: ...Laito? Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him in a while.

Ayato: I knew it.

Kanato: ...Knowing Laito, he probably went somewhere else because he wants to avoid this castle like the plague.

This castle is like a place of nightmares after all. I’m sure you’re aware as well?

Ayato: Guess so.

Kanato: ...Ayato?

Ayato: Kanato, you...Back then...

Kanato: ...

Ayato: What went on in your head?

Kanato: Why are you asking me that?

Ayato: In the end, we pretty much had him take the bullet for all of us.

Kanato: ...You’re right. We pretended not to see.

Ayato: ...

Kanato: There’s no way Laito would come here.

Ayato: Yeah...

Kanato: It’s a little odd to bring this back up now...

Ayato: It must be the lunar eclipse messin’ with us. For some reason, I can’t get it out of my head...

ー The scene shifts to the guest room at the Tsukinami manor

Laito: Haah~ I had a great night’s rest for the first time since forever...

While it was fun to travel from one place to another, we could never quite relax.

Well, that being said, this place doesn’t give off the best vibes either with those Wolves lurking in the shadows...

Yui: ...

Laito: ーー Meanwhile, you look as if you barely got a wink of sleep.

Yui: Y-Yeah. I was kind of scared...This place is still unfamiliar to me after all...

Laito: Even with me by your side?

Yui: ...

Laito: Geez...My Little Red Riding Hood is such a worrywart...~

*Creaak*

Yui: Hm? Laito-kun...What are you doing?

Laito: What do you mean? I’m resting my head on your lap. I figured I would enjoy the feeling of your plush thighs for a bit.

Yui: ...God...!

( He seems no different from usual... )

Laito: Haah, this is heaven. It’d be even better if you had a little more meat on your bones...But right now, this is plenty.

Yui: ...

Laito: Hey, Bitch-chan? You weren’t actually scared or anything, but worried, no?

Yui: Eh?

Laito: Since I said that I wouldn’t mind getting myself killed?

Yui: W-Well...

Laito: Nfu~ Seems like I’m spot on.

Yui: How could I not be worried?

Laito: Mmh. I see...But you know, consider this.

You are a human, I’m a Vampire. Different species. ...However, the two of us are connected through pure love...

Yui: Yeah...

Laito: Everything’s fine for now. We’re together. I can feel you next to me.

However...Just how long will that last?

Yui: ...Eh?

Laito: Now that I’ve come to know love, it has made me a scaredy cat.

When I consider that you are the only one...who can give me something I never got to experience before.

ーー I find myself thinking that perhaps it’d be easier on me to just destroy it sooner than later...

Yui: ...No way...

( To think he’s been feeling that way...I didn’t even consider that... )

( He believes that he never was loved by anyone in the past. )

( And in fear of losing this love...He’s become impulsive... )

( I wonder what I should say to him? )

( As a human, I know I can’t live forever... )

Laito: ...I’m sorry. I’m talking nonsense, aren’t I...?

Yui: No, that’s not true...

Laito: I see. Then...Kiss me. You initiate it...

Yui: Eh? R-Right now...?

*Rustle*

Laito: ーー Please? Come on...Nn.

*Smooch*

Yui: ...

Laito: ...What do you think?

Yui: ...

( Laito-kun is more scared of losing it more than ever before... )

( Could it be...Because he already went through the experience once? )

( With Cordelia...Although in her case, it was nothing but fake love... )

( ...I don’t know. What should I do? )

I can’t give you an answer right away...

Laito: Right. Well, it only makes sense...

Yui: I’m sorry...

Laito: It’s fine. More importantly, Bitch-chan, smile...Okay?

Yui: Eh...? Why...?

Laito: ーー Smile.

Yui: ...

( He’s kind of scary... )

S-Sure...

Laito: Exactly. You should just stay like that...

Yui: ( Laito-kun... )

( It’s as if he’s forcibly tricking his own mind. To believe that he...will never lose me... )

( However, I can’t promise that I can stay by his side forever. I mean, that’s simply impossible for a human after all... )

Laito: Say...Bitch-chan, kiss me one more time?

Yui: Sure...

Laito: Nn...You’re so nice when obedient.

Knowing that I’m having you bent to my will, sends shivers up my spine...

Fufufu...I’ve gotten kind of thirsty for your blood...

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...!!

*Thud*

Laito: The tables have been turned~ Now it’s my time to attend to you.

Yui: L-Laito-kun, but...

Laito: You’re conscious about the Wolves lurking in the background? No need to worry then...

Let’s make them envious...Nn...! Nn...Nn.

Yui: Nn!!

Laito: Nn...Nn...

Yui: ...

Laito: Haah, does it hurt? I wonder if it’s because I put in a little more force...

and plunged them in deeper than usual...?

Yui: Haah...

( He seems upset for some reason... )

Laito: But, thanks to that...Take a look. The Wolves are looking our way with a greedy look in their eyes...

Yui: Nn...No...

Laito: Let’s show off even more...By doing so...They might just come and gang up on you...

Yui: Stop...!

Laito: Fufufu...I’m just kidding~ Do you really think I’d allow that...?

ー Carla walks up to them

Carla: ...

Laito: ...Hm?

Yui: ...Uu...!?

Laito: Nfu~ ...I wonder if you showed up after being lured in by her scent as well...?

Nn...! Nn, nn...

Carla: ...

Yui: Ah...ah...

( Even though...Carla-san’s watching...! )

Laito: ...Haah...What do you say? Do you also want to suck her blood now?

Carla: ...

Laito: Oh, you don’t? Then what did you come here for? She’s mine.

Every nook and cranny of her body...Down to the very last strand of hair...all belongs to me...

Carla: ...I want to hear your answer regarding what we discussed the other day.

Yui: Ah...

Laito: The other day? What are you talking about?

Carla: ーー Do not play dumb.

Laito: Nfu~ But didn’t I give you my answer already back then? I’ll do it.

Yui: ...!

Carla: ...

Laito: However, don’t get the wrong idea now. I’ll go kill him out of my own free will.

I had planned to do so all along, even without you forcing me.

You two just gave me an additional reason.

Carla: Very well.

Laito: I’m glad. In that case...Leave. I don’t want you interrupting our private time together.

Carla: ...Hmph.

Yui: ( Laito-kun...So that wasn’t a lie after all... )

( Laito-kun is seriously thinking of taking Karlheinz-san’s life... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Dark 10 ] [ Maniac Prologue ] ->

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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

Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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

The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of ​​not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of ​​running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

[zalrb]

Bonkai Preview

Kai heard the twelfth strike of the bell and suddenly found himself out of the pitch darkness into a restaurant, his body still smoking from the intense heat of the depths of hell. It took him a minute to realize what he was seeing.

"Hey," he said to a passing waiter. "Where am I?"

"Mystic Falls. The Grill."

Kai's breath hitched and he felt himself start to smile. He tried to curb his excitement --- it was possible that this was all a trick, an illusion. Sometimes Cade bored of outright torture and chose to pick memories to alter and defile instead, transforming beloved remembrances into horrific scenarios to torment his subjects.

The memory Kai had of the Mystic Grill involved drinking from a certain witch for the first time. He took her right there on the bar while she begged, pleaded, whimpered for him to bite her, to taste her, consume her --- Kai hadn't known true satiation until that day. He hadn't known the depths of gratification until that bite. When Cade had gotten a hold of that memory, he played it over and over again for years, except Kai had to watch while another took his place, drinking that woman's blood, pleasuring her body, inspiring her hunger, her spite, her raw emotion, over and over and over again on a never-ending repeat until Kai thought he was going to go mad with the sight of Damon and Bonnie together. 

Sure, on Earth he'd pictured them together before and it had triggered a rage so vengeful he’d tried to kill Damon with his bare hands but hell had been different, crueler somehow. Cade put Kai’s words in Damon's mouth, made this imaginary Bonnie moan and sigh and mewl the way she did with Kai with Damon too, and not having any kind of outlet to release the painful fury that burned him, Kai had been utterly wrecked. He couldn't take experiencing that again. But there was something different about the restaurant tonight. Cade was good, excellent, at illusion but this was too tactile to be fake.

"Is it too late to order food?" Kai asked urgently.

The waiter assured him that he had arrived just in time, that the kitchen was closing in an hour, and led him to a table where Kai gleefully ordered as much food as he possibly could. He knew that a beer - two beers - and a burger - three burgers - with some fries (soggy or not, time would tell) and a hot dog (why not a hot dog, he'd been in hell) would not satisfy the relentless yearning that plagued him for all the years he spent in Cade's, but he could not, he would not make any moves to see Bonnie until he knew this was real.

Kai's anxious energy compelled him to drum his fingers on the table and he decided to do something with his hands, opening a packet and dipping his finger in the ketchup, tasting it.

"It doesn't taste like anything..."

No. No. Quickly, he got up from his seat and walked purposefully over to another table where a couple were enjoying their meal. He took a bite of the man's burger and when he couldn't taste anything - not the meat, not the bun, not the ketchup or the cheese - he spat it out.

"Why can't I taste anything?"

            Kai threw the table to the side with a frustrated yell and the couple got up and ran out of the restaurant.

"Come on! Come on, come on!" He slapped his face, gripping his hair, desperate to find something, anything that meant his return was a true return.

He rushed over to the bar and picked up a knife, plunging the blade down into his hand. Nothing.

"I can't feel anything," he said. "I'm not here. I'm not alive."  

And if he wasn't alive, that meant -- Kai gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself from having the thought. It pushed through. Damn his mind! If he wasn’t alive that meant that he could be dragged back to hell before even seeing her. He was a fugitive of Cade’s world. Nothing was permanent. Nothing was certain. He could be denied her again. The probability incensed Kai, turning his vision red.

           “OK here’s that beer,” said the waiter, returning to the table.

           Unlucky.

Kai turned his rage over to the waiter. The idiot. He should've left with the couple. With a calmness contradictory to the turmoil within him, Kai took the knife out of his hand and pointed it to the waiter.

“Modus.”

The waiter sped forward as if being pulled and his throat made contact with the end of the blade, blood splattering onto Kai’s face, giving him a jolt.

"Well, at least I felt that."

He could kill. He had an outlet for his rage, for his denial of her. That meant there was hope for their reunion. He'd have to find her to be sure.