#and he can’t even speak and mason is just begging and pleading for him to hold on that they’re going to save him

[impossible-rat-babies]

we love a good character death fic where they get to comfort the other before they die but also we love a good character death fic where that doesn’t happen

#me taking a painful thing and making it worse like #owen talks #edit: just thinkin bout pollux bleeding out on the floor #and the puddle getting steadily bigger and bigger #mason being unable to do anything to stop it #or when he finally reaches Pollux he’s just pressing his fingers against the wound to stop any of the bleeding #and it doesn’t matter that it’s Pollux’s special blood #Mason’s just so overwhelmed by how pollux is choking and gurgling bc he’s drowning in his own blood #and he can’t even speak and mason is just begging and pleading for him to hold on that they’re going to save him #his hands and sleeves soaked in blood #anyway yeah there we go #me shoving as much sensory info as I can into this fic like this bad boy can hold so much pain

[hazzoranstories]

Damon Salvatore x Reader One Shot | Katerina’s Sabotage Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Includes: Violence, murder, harsh language, childbirth, and blood

________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Italicized is when characters are speaking in Bulgarian

*Bulgaria; 1490*

Katerina's screams filled the room once more as her mother encouraged her to keep going and get this child out of her. All the Petrova's were panicking, rumbling in Bulgarian until they heard a baby's cry join her mother's pants. 14-year-old Y/N grinned at her sister, who had sweat glistening her face. The younger Petrova hugged her sister who's breathing began to mellow down.

"It's a girl," their mother announced and held up the newborn in her arms.

"A girl?" Both sisters questioned, and their mother nodded.

"Please, mother . . . . let me see her," Katerina begged and held out her hand for her child.

"Woman, don't! What are you doing?" Their father cut in, and the three women snapped their heads around. Mrs. Petrova quickly stood up and gave the baby to the man.

"Let Katerina hold her at least once . . . . just once . . . . at least once," Y/N pleaded to her father, feeling bad for her older sister.

"Forget it . . . . you have disgraced this family!" her father then ran out with the buddle of blankets in his arms.

"Father, please! No, father, no! No!" Katerina screeched and tried to get up, but Y/N held her back.

"No, Katerina. It's better for her! It's better for her!" her mother yelled, and Katerina clung onto Y/N's blood-covered dress.

"No, mother, please," the young girl sobbed.

"Let her go . . . . let her go, Katerina," Y/N whispered to her sister.

"Please, Y/N . . . ."

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Hospital; Present Day*

Caroline was passed out in her bed with the humming of the tv show she was watching in the background. She then woke up with a groan and rubbed her heavy eyes. She turned around and gasped to see someone standing over her bed. "Elena?" she panicked, and Y/N tilted her to examine the blonde girl. She was so tired that the ancestor of her friend looked like her.

"Hi, Caroline," Y/N muttered, and Caroline sighed, covering her eyes in exhaustion.

"What are you doing here?" the Forbes asked with a sigh.

"My name is Y/N . . . ." Y/N walked closer to Caroline's bed, who suddenly tensed. "I was hoping you could give the Salvatore brothers a message for me," the Pierce snarled.

"What are you talking about? What message? Why do you look so much like Elena?" Caroline groaned, still thinking it was Elena and she was going insane.

"Game on," Y/N whispered before shoving a pillow into Caroline's face. The blonde screamed and began struggling under Y/N grasp on her. She tried desperately to get the pillow off her face so she could breathe but end up hitting her hand on the side of the bed. That was her last action before her body went limp. Y/N removed the pillow and looked down at the deceased girl. She shook her head at the stupidness of the people in this town and strutted out of the hospital.

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Mystic Falls Carnival; Present Day*

As another ding rang from the bell near the arm wrestling competition, Damon chuckled as Stefan walked away from Mason Lockwood after he had just tried to beat him. "You didn't put in any effort at all," Damon commented.

"Yeah, actually, I did," Stefan whispered, and the older Salvatore raised an eyebrow.

"Come with me," the two brothers walked to a more secluded spot. "Is he-"

"No, no, no. It wasn't that kind of strength, but it was more than human if that makes sense," Stefan explained, and Damon groaned.

"What is up with that family? If they're not vampires, then what the hell are they?" Damon hissed.

"Ooh. Uh, maybe they're, uh, ninja turtles," a feminine voice came from behind them. Damon whipped around, and Stefan looked around his brother to see the younger Pierce sister.

"You're not funny," Damon spat at her, and she pouted.

"Or, no, zombies. Werewolves," she added and smiled mischievously.

"No comedic timing at all," the vampire barked, and Y/N huffed.

"Well, I'm working on it. But have you seen my dear friend Caroline? I'm looking for her," the Pierce asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Since when do you know Caroline? Let alone be all buddy-buddy," Damon sniggered, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Look, I know you're bitter, Damon, because I snapped your neck but get over yourself. I don't love you anymore. So just shut up and point the way to Caroline. I need to make sure she drinks human blood," she replied, and both Salvatore's eyes popped out of their sockets.

"What?" Stefan hissed, and the Pierce glanced at them.

"Did you not know? I visited barbie in the hospital. She did not want to die," with Y/N rolling her eyes, she walked away with both Salvatores trying to stop her. Y/N searched for Caroline but eventually got too bored and uninterested to care. So instead, she played some carnival games.

She was in the middle of ring tose when she heard loud gasping coming from the carnival's outskirts. She glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde girl that is Caroline Forbes. The Pierce smirked and handed the vendor her cash before stuttering over to Caroline.

"Hey, friend, it's been too long!" Y/N exclaimed, and Caroline whipped around.

"Wha-what did you do to me?" she teenager cried.

"I turned you," Y/N said, and Caroline looked even more freaked out. "Okay, well, technically, you have to drink blood to turn, but that'll be easy. But! Based on the fact that I can't hear your heart! Oh, Caroline! You did it! I'm so proud of you!" the vampire jumped up and down.

"What am I?" Caroline sobbed.

"Here. Let me show you. Come on," Y/N latched onto the Forbes's hand and forced her to a picnic table where a man sat. Caroline grunted from hearing the blood being pumped through the man's body. The girls then noticed his nose was bleeding, and Y/N sneered.

"Can I help you two?" The man asked, and Y/N walked up to him.

"Don't scream and don't move a muscle," she compelled, and the man froze in place, his eyes wide. Y/N turned around and nudged Caroline. "Go on, blondie."

"No, no, I can't-" Y/N cut her off with a groan.

"Fine. I have to show you everything, I guess," the Pierce complained and went back to the man. She tilted his head to the side and, without hesitation, sunk her teeth into his neck. He didn't make a sound or even fidget. Y/N pulled away, and in seconds of Caroline seeing the blood, she jumped and began her feeding.

Less than five minutes had passed before the man died of blood loss and both Caroline and Y/N were full. Y/N was pleased while Caroline was crying her eyes to death. Damon then walked up to the two other vampires as Y/N dragged her thumb along the blood on her lip.

"He's dead. I killed him," Caroline sobbed. Damon gazed at Y/N with depressed eyes, but she showed no sign of emotion.

"We," Y/N corrected. Damon continued to stare at his past girlfriend, and she held up three fingers and mouth, "three down. Two to go." She winked at him.

It was a matter of time before the man was completely drained, and Y/N was getting ready to bury him. She was finishing up when Stefan and Elena arrived.

"Y/N! Y/N stop!" Stefan yelled.

"Oh, give it a rest, Stefan! Her switch is turned off. Do you really think she's going to listen!" Damon snapped, and Y/N stopped feeding for a minute. She knew she disappointed everyone by turning off her emotions and that everyone hated her now, but she would never imagine Damon giving up on her. He would hate her along with the others but would never lose all hope. That's not who he was. Or at least, who she remembered him as.

A nerve clicked. Y/N stood up slowly. Hopped off the picnic table. Ground her teeth together as tightly as she could without it being noticeable. And walked away without a single word. The man's blood still surrounding her mouth.

~:*:~

She couldn't stop her desperate sobbing and choking on cries. She also wanted to stand and head to a hotel, but she remained sitting alone in the woods. She was disgusted with herself. She killed an innocent girl for sport, turned her into a monster, and forced her to feed. She ruined this girl's life. Every other event in and outside the tomb was a blur except for the bad parts. She killed a teenage boy and a man. For what reason? She didn't know what. The worst part about being washed over with a tsunami of feelings was the ones she had for Damon.

He watched her do all those things! He watched her become a monster! She turned him into a demon and left him alone to figure it out. She ruined the time they had together. And she ruined their entire relationship. It was like a constant stabbing in her lifeless heart, and she couldn't stand it.

Through her screams of terror, she heard commotion going on where she and Caroline fed. With a stumble, she stood up and walked out of the woods. What she saw made her cry even more. A Bennett witch, no doubt, was glaring at Damon, who was holding his head in pain with a line of fire creeping up on him.

"Stop!" the Pierce screeched once the flames licked his black pants. Elena, who was for some reason still there, looked up from warning Bonnie. She saw Y/N run towards them with tears streaming down her face and held in a puzzled look.

"Please! Please stop! You're going to kill him! Please!" Y/N shouted to the witch, who never lost focus. Damon continued to thrash, which made Y/N sprint up to Bonnie and tackle her. She lost concentration and hit her head on the concrete, causing a groan to escape her lips. The fire immediately went out, and everyone looked over to Damon, who was struggling to get up.

"Damon," Y/N whispered and hurled herself off Bonnie to go to her lover. The Pierce went down to the ground and put Damon's face in her hands, trying to make him look at her. She kept muttering his name until his shocked eyes met hers. She let out a sob before crushing her lips onto his.

"Damon. Damon, I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Please, Damon," she pleaded, but Damon was too flustered to reply. "Say something. Damon, say something."

Once the Salvatore came back down to Earth, he saw the sparkle in Y/N eyes return even if it was covered with tears. "God, I missed you," he mumbled and reconnected their kiss. Y/N broke it and smiled, the tears still making waves down her cheeks. She placed her forehead against his and couldn't stop crying till the next morning.

A/N: This is the end of the mini-series cause I kinda lost motivation

#tvd #tvd imagine #tvd one shot #tvd fanfic #tvd fanfiction #one shot #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries fanfic #the vampire diaries fanfiction #damon #salvatore #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore one shot #damon salvatore fanfic #damon salvatore fanfiction #katherine #pierce #katherine pierce

[zordonmlw7]

Plaguetober Day 2 - Protect 🛡

The dim glow of the campfire illuminated Sir Alfharis as he tried to warm himself in the cool fall night.  He’d cloak himself in his cape, but it was currently being used by one little girl curled up, leaning against him. 

“Run!”

His voice still haunted him.  Memories of how the two got here flashed in his mind briefly. He wasn’t ready to relive them. He figured he should at least think of a plan of what to do with her.  

He glanced at her face. It was peaceful. Was she truly at peace? He found that hard to imagine.  But if peace was still a hope for her, he begged with every ounce of his being that she could find it.

SNAP.

His train of thought interrupted, he instantly went on high alert.  Not another threat.  Not today. Had they not suffered enough? Was a lifetime a pain condensed to a single arc of the sun not ENOUGH?

Alfharis unclasped his cape and stood slowly, not wanting to disturb the girl’s sleep.  He unsheathed his blade and took on a defensive stance.  It was probably safer to run, but he was exhausted. His sword wavered in his unsteady hands.  He’d sooner die protecting her sleep than risk waking her up to find another thing wanting her dead.  

The creature that threatened them soon grew close enough for its eyes to shine in the dark. Alfharis recognized them immediately.  He had fought them many a time before. Never alone, though.  Always with his band.  

Thoughts of his compatriots brought him to tears. Captain Gawain.  Lady Primrose.  Sir Peter.  His name stung the most, tugging at his fast beating heart.  

The beast stepped forward.  It was definitely a big one.  Perhaps the goodbyes he had bid his siblings-in-arms when he left the ransacked village was premature.  Faced with an opponent this menacing, it was apparent that he would be joining them soon enough.

Still… there was her.  She deserved a better fate than dinner for an ungrateful beast.  He charged the beast, trying to plunge his blade into its chest.  He managed to penetrate its thick pelt, but was knocked by a powerful swipe from its claws before he could even break bone.

Alfharis knew he couldn’t let the creature notice her.  He immediately slashed at its flanks from the floor.  The beast let out a low growl and tried to bite his thigh.  Though pinched by the pressure, his armor protected him from having his flesh torn. With what might he could muster, he jerked his leg out of the beast’s mouth and rolled a bit away from the campfire. 

Again trying to keep the creature’s focus on him, he slashed at its tail, near the base.  He must have got a good shot in, because the creature let out a wretched yell.  The tail swiped at him in retaliation, but the creature was clearly in too much pain from the wound to do any real damage. 

Alfharis took the opportunity to raise himself onto a knee and then slashed at the tail again, this time closer to its end. This managed to successfully provoke the creature, as it finally turned around to face him properly.

“Good luck, kid.” Alfharis thought before bolting into the darkness.  He frantically looked behind him, hoping that his plan had succeeded and the creature was following him, away from the campfire and the young girl it was meant to protect.  Two glimmering eyes, harder to make out in the darkness, followed him.  

As he ran, he tripped over a root.  The ensuing tumble robbed him of his last wind.  

“Darn…” he thought.  He had hoped to put up more of a fight for his grand finale.  But in this state, he could barely move.  He was too sore.  All he could hope for now was for the creature to quickly finish him off by biting his neck like an efficient predator.  They were not exactly creatures of efficiency though.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  They had a reputation across the continent as vicious killers who made a bloodbath of their victims.  They adored playing with their dinner.  But maybe Alfharis would get a miracle.

And a miracle he received.

From the darkness, a burst of flames blasted the creature.  Though the flames gave off little light, they burned bright enough for Alfharis to make out a masked figure.  It seemed to be holding an apparatus.  After the first burst of flames faded, he heard a foot step forward followed by the sight of a second burst of flames.  The creature fell to the ground and the masked figure continued to bathe it in fire with its apparatus.

Alfharis let out a long sigh of relief.  He heard the figure swiftly shift its stance in response. 

“Thank you…” Alfharis spoke slowly.  Truly, he had no way of knowing if the masked figure meant to save him.  Nevertheless, he felt it was safer than letting the figure think him a threat.

The figure stood quietly before finally speaking.  “Do you need help?” It had a soft voice that seemed to echo a bit.  It reverberated like when one speaks into a mason jar.  

“Admittedly, I do,” he responded earnestly.  

He heard the rustle of footsteps and shuffling and managed to find the figure’s hand, reaching for him in the dark.  With its help, he was pulled up to his feet.

“I’m looking for someone,” the creature informed him.

“I… see?” Alfharis said.  It seemed his gratitude was being cashed out immediately.

“A little girl.  Have you seen one?”

“I… have.” Alfharis worried about what the figure’s intentions were for the girl, but also feared the consequences of lying to someone holding an apparatus capable of shooting fire. “Why do you seek her?”

“She is my daughter,” the figure said.

Daughter? He had thought the girl was the only survivor of the raid.  Well… not counting Alfharis himself.  Perhaps some had managed to escape?

“Where is she?” the figure asked.

“She’s just over here.” Alfharis led the figure to the campfire where the little girl continued to sleep, despite all the noises made during the battle.  Even now, he hesitated to wake her, but if this was truly her mother, then she deserved to be reunited with her.

As the two walked into the ring of light created by the dying fire, he was able to make out more of the figure.  The creature wore a black suit which, when coupled with its mask, covered every inch of skin.  What stood out however, was the figure’s brilliant cornblue hair sticking out from the back of its mask.  As Alfharis mused over the unusual color, the figure removed its mask, revealing more unusual features: periwinkle skin, spiked ears, and glassy eyes with dark blue sclera lacking any iris or pupils.  

“A fae?” Alfharis said aloud.

“A changeling,” it corrected him.  “Just like her.”

Alfharis looked back at the girl.  Black hair. Dull ears. Olive skin.  She certainly looked nothing like the changeling in the black suit before him.

“We changelings do not raise our young.  We leave them among the mortals to be raised by parents whose children died in the womb.  Normally, it would not be time to collect her.  However, without her caretakers, she would surely die.  So, I must take her back with me to the realm of the fae.”

“What awaits her in the realm of the fae?”

“She will be my plaything, as all my children are. Admittedly, I’m not sure how exciting she will be to play with when she is still not ripe.  However, she may surprise me! We shall have to see.”

“A… plaything? She’s a child.  Do you truly see her as only a toy?” With those words, Alfharis began to reach for his sword.

“Well not only a toy.  Sometimes, I like my children enough to stay friends with them even after moving on to a new child to play with.  After all, those who I don’t befriend usually try to kill me.  It’s the only way to inherit in the faerie court, you see. And so, I usually have to kill them first.  If another opportunistic offspring doesn’t beat me to it.  The blood game can be its own kind of fun, after all! 

But it is so dreadfully peaceful at the moment.  I could not bare it any longer.  It’s why I don’t just wait to see if she manages to survive on her own a bit before fetching her.  Or just have another kid and wait for it to grow up.  After all, they only take 28 years to ripen.”

Alfharis did not know what to do with any of this information.  All he knew was he could not allow this young girl to fall into the changeling’s hands.

“Please… she’s only a child.  You cannot subject her to that,” he pleaded.

“Really now? Are you trying to ransom a child off to a fae?” The changeling rolled its eyes before digging in its pockets and pulling out a sack of coins that she tossed at Alfharis. “Here.  This should be enough human gold to appease you.” 

Alfharis eyed the pouch with suspicion.  But upon inspection, it contained 12 gold pieces.  That would be enough to keep Alfharis set for years, if not the rest of his life.

“I cannot accept this,” he said.

“More? Ugh, you humans are stingy.  I can’t imagine you would have gotten more from selling her, but nevertheless…” The changeling pulled out another sack before Alfharis stopped her.

“No.  I cannot accept this because you cannot take her.  She just lost the only family she ever knew.  The home she grew up in.  An entire village of culture and tradition.  She deserves a chance to mourn the life she knew before being thrust into one of entertaining an immortal and risking being killed by a sibling looking to claim their inheritance.”

“You mortals are so dramatic. Look, if you thought the carnage at that village was tough, just wait until you see me when I’m bored.  Don’t you wonder why immortals reproduce? It’s not because we’re worried about the death of our species.  We are so well established, we could never have another child again, and I’m sure we’d still outlive existence itself.  The reason we reproduce is to witness the amusement that is life! Now.  I am returning home with a companion.  Hand her over.”

“...A companion you say? That is all you seek?”

“Yes! Have you humans changed language again so much so that you don’t understand me?”

“Does the companion need to be her?”

“Huh? An interesting question.  No, not really. An animal certainly won’t do, though.  I tried them eons ago and they stop being interesting after only a few weeks.  I need an intelligent creature.  Which I’m hoping she’ll grow into soon enough.”

Alfharis got on one knee. “May you take me in her stead,” he said.

“Oh? Fascinating.  You are aware that a mortal who chooses to reside in the fae realm is condemned to it forever, right?”

“Please.  I have nothing left in this world.” He once again thought of Sir Peter, who sacrificed himself to the onslaught of raiders so that Alfharis and the girl could escape. “Saving her… her whole village, really.  It should be my last mission.  And even if I failed the rest… If I can protect her, then perhaps our efforts won’t have been for nothing.”

“Yes, yes… So you are fine being my plaything?” It clasped his face with its gloved hand.

“Yes… I ask just one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I will not leave her side without a guarantee of her safety.”

“Well that much is easy!” the changeling exclaimed.  Crouching over her, it patted her head, causing her to shimmer slightly, all without disturbing her sleep. “A charm! It will protect her from all bodily harm.”

That easy? Could the fae have blessed the villagers, preventing this tragedy? Were his compatriots slain for nothing? Alfharis refused to dwell on this line of thought.  Alfharis took from his satchel a quill and parchment and left a note for the girl telling her of an inn she could stay at.  If she showed the owners the crest on his helmet, which he proceeded to remove and place over the note, he was sure they would let her stay. He stuffed the satchel with the packs of gold given to him by the changeling and with that, his preparations were complete.

“Alright, I’m ready.” And with his signal, the changeling led him away, to the world of the fae.

#plaguetober #plaguetober2021 #bruh i was expecting this to be shorter than my day 1 entry #i didn't even know if I would be able to make my 1k goal #i somehow hit 2k words in this one #HOW #probably because I put filler in accidentally #oh well #shut up zordon

[m-is-for-mungo]

👀 for Lily from Mason’s perspective!

I actually wrote a little about this a few days ago!

Mason feels all kinds of ways about Lily when she first gets to Nuka World.

SLIGHT NSFW CONTENT FROM HERE ON (you have been warned)

So it’s gonna be Yuuto (my General) and Lily going through the Gauntlet in tandem, and they tag team to bring down Colter. Mason isn’t too impressed cause he’s seen Colter take down challenger after challenger, but he is on the edge of his seat when he witnesses Lily rip out the controls for Colter’s HUD, leaving him effectively blind.

He is actually impressed by the time the dust settles, but notices Yuuto is running their show, seeing as Lily is like MacCready and a hired merc.

He gets ANGRY when they’re first properly introduced. Yuuto and Gage are doing the meeting of the bosses, and Lily is trailing close behind Yuuto. Once Yuuto and Mason have their back and forth, she turns to speak to Gage, and they’re interrupted by Lily pinning Mason (that LOVELY commission I had Drovenna do) cause he took her ignoring him as a sign of her not paying attention and tried to steal her sachet of caps off her belt. He tries to yank his arm back, and can’t make it budge, and Lily digs her knife in a little to make a silent point that yes it’s sharp and yes she will use it. But no matter how much rage is pulsing through him, god damn it if he can’t help that his pants are TIGHT and he storms off after they leave to fix that predicament.

They quite frankly hate each other the first bit. Lily gets stationed in the Amphitheater because Yuuto sees the Pack as the problem crew (jokes on her when the Disciples turn). Mason actively ignores her presence, and is furious she’s practically baby sitting him and his gang. She doesn’t leave his side by his throne, just leaning against the wall in silence, chain smoking and drinking heavily. He’s convinced she’s gunning for his spot, and then...

One day, Lily starts getting harassed by some of the Pack. Sneering at her that they don’t need a watch dog, they’re surprised Mason hasn’t made her his bitch after that little stunt she pulled in front of everyone, how she’s asking for her death and then one of them decides to challenge her. Mason just quietly watches, intrigued by her not even batting an eye at these guys, one of which is easily a foot taller than her.

He can’t explain the heat in his chest. He’s never felt this, and it’s like an itch he can’t scratch. He realizes he’s holding his breathe as she just silently walks towards the fighting cage and sets her gear to the side (her hat, mask, and jacket). He has pretty much lost interest in the daily fights in the cage, but he can’t lie that his eyes aren’t glued to her. She can’t be serious, right?

And oh boy, his body turns into a furnace as she methodically makes each guy tap out, even picking one up and slamming him to the ground. Good god when she wipes the sweat matted hair from her forehead, and then looks at Mason, their eyes locking, and she just grabs her stuff and bows towards him, a sarcastic curtesy, before leaving the Amphitheater for the night. He wants to follow her, ever part of him is screaming that she is meant to be his. And he realizes then, he may do whatever she asks just to have her.

Eventually... Yuuto demands the bosses help her and Lily take the parks back. You want a park, you have to get your hands dirty. He tries to cage her, pulling his rank as Alpha and people don’t get to say no to him. He definitely ended up with a black eye over that one. With his pride wounded, he tries again, this time tries to make her jealous by opening inviting various female Pack members to his private quarters, but he can’t even be satisfied by them anymore. It’s too hollow. It isn’t her flowing green hair in his hands, it isn’t her mismatched eyes admiring his form, it just... isn’t her.

But, they get separated together in Safari Adventure and have to retreat to the treehouse for a night.

The start of Mason’s desire is watching Lily intently while she’s sniping the Gatorclaws that she can see. The way she holds her breath with each pull of the trigger, her rifle is an extension of her... the dried blood from the initial assault, watching her charge towards death and winning, dodging wildly swinging claws, she even dodged one attack and swung up onto the beast’s back and loaded its head with her desert eagle. He tried his best to be macho and watch her back, but she ended up saving him. So surely... she doesn’t fully hate him?

When it starts pouring down rain and Lily no longer has the visibility to shoot, she undoes her gear and sets up a little nest in the treehouse. She tries to sleep, but she can feel Mason’s eyes burning holes in her figure, and frustrated, walks out into the rain to lean against the balcony, viewing all of Nuka World. Mason can’t take it anymore, seeing her dripping wet, her hair slowly loosing the mud and blood and her vibrant green starts nearly glowing under the moonlight. Her clothes are clinging to her, and his breath is labored as his eyes travel from her head, down her back and lingering on her ass. He HAS to have her. He believes he may truly die if he can’t, and these feelings of needing someone has his mind reeling. He doesn’t just need her for sex, he needs her for everything.

And so... he does the opposite of what he’s tried. He comes up behind her, placing his hands on the railing, caging her once more.... but sighs into her hair. “Kitten..” he purrs into her ear. “Please. I NEED you. I ain’t ever needed anyone but the thought of being here with anyone else...”

She shivers, a completely involuntary action. She wants him but can’t... or can she..? She lightly leans back onto his chest and the sigh that leaves her chest... The pure warmth and comfort that his presence gives is nothing compared to actually being pressed against him. She snaps back to reality and shakes herself out of it and snakes her way to face him. She couldn’t hide the fire lit in her eyes but she gritted out “Oh, the Al-pha~ is begging for once? You have plenty of women prowling your quarters, I’m not a substitute.” She accentuated Alpha, it almost sounded like a purr to his ears. He gripped the railing, the wood protesting the vice grip he had on it. God damn this woman.

The rain had slowly washed away his face paint, and Lily couldn’t take her eyes off his bare face. Her will to deny him was steadily shattering, and then... he slowly lowered himself to his knees, gently pressing his forehead to her exposed stomach. The rain droplets that had settled on her navel did little to cool him, and he nuzzled his nose on the soft skin. “Lily...” he whispered, the hot puff of air causing another shiver. “They aren’t you. No one... no one can give me what I need. I know you hate me but god I need you like I need to fight, to breathe, to live.” He slowly brought his hands around the small of her back and started trailing light kisses along her stomach. He could feel his ears and cheeks burning with a crimson blush, and tried to push that to the back of his mind. He had his mate, he just needed to convince her of the same.

She tried to resist. Let the record know that god she tried to resist. But the last glance at him... knelt before her, his paint gone revealing the most handsome face she had ever seen, god she could stay here memorizing every freckle, mole and scar... his eyes glittered in the moonlight, highlighting that for once, these soft words were genuine. His hair was no longer perfectly coiffed, the loose tendrils hanging over his forehead dripped with the soft rain. She almost felt like it was a foreign act, as she gently reached and cupped his chin. “Mason...” her voice was soft, pleading, a delicate song in the dead of the night, but was the most beautiful word he had ever heard. His groin throbbed at the word, his name... “Say it again...” he murmured, scared that if he said it too loud, he’d wake from this dream.

“Maso-“ she was cut off from him scooping her up, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and tangling his hand in her hair, pausing just millimeters from her lips. “Tell me yes Kitten. I need to hear it.”

“Mason... yes. Yes yes yes.”

#lily black #mason fallout 4 #OC asks

[officialthiamlibrary]

Hi do you know any fics where one of them settles for just being friends because they think they have no chance? Thank you so much!

Oh yes. The Bittersweetness of unrequited love...

And I've thought it over as years passed by @grenadinepeach

Theo has tried to get over Liam so many times after he moved away to pursue his career as a singer, and just when he starts making progress, he can't help but think that new song sounds too familiar.

[TeenUp / 8.3k / complete]

Conflict of Interest by @grenadinepeach

Liam wants to get back together with Brett, who clearly doesn't deserve him, but Theo is so weak and so in love that he only wants to see Liam happy, which gets him stuck in a self-punishing plot to help Liam get him back.

[TeenUp / 9.4k / complete]

Pretending to not have feelings for you? Impossible by @laheysmythes

Liam convinces Theo to pretend to be his boyfriend for the weekend while he gets rid of a girl who has an obsessive crush on him, but things don't turn out quite as expected once feelings were thrown into the mix.

Suddenly Theo feels like he has been lit on fire and two days seem like an eternity in his personal brand new hell.

[TeenUp / 4.9k /complete]

Closer to paradise by @marauders-mess

He taste the lie on his lips and grimaces. He’s smarter than that.

Sometimes he wants to be able to fool himself easily.

[NR / 1k / complete]

(I don't think I can ever) learn how to love you right by @marauders-mess

“Can you use someone else’s heart to love?” Theo doesn’t recognize his own voice, a broken whisper pleading to whichever god who wants to listen for forgiveness.

[NR / 1.3k / complete]

When hearts collide by @psychopathic_nerd54

Theo is in love with Liam, has been for years. One day, when Liam comes home with Hayden, bearing a ring, Theo isn’t sure how to handle it.

[NR / 1k / complete]

His Favourite If Only by @glittercake

[Gen / 1.8k / complete]

Too Late by @li0nh34rt

"I never told you, but I was falling in love."

[Gen / 1.8k / complete]

Tragic Destiny by @osirismind

Theo is one of them. One of the nightwalkers. The ones that linger in the corners, waiting till the sun goes down. Because then they don't have to hide anymore. They can be their true selves. At night, they are the monsters that parents try to convince their kids that they don't exist. But everyone knows they are just lying to feel better. Lying because all of them know that the monsters under their beds are the same as the demons in their heads.

[Gen / 1.4k / complete]

Love Me Not by @sofia1926

Theo watches Liam’s mouth move as he speaks, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He wonders how many times he’s thought about kissing these pink pouty lips or even more when they redden every time Liam’s nervous and bites them, making the color on his lips match the one on his cheeks.

[TeenUp / 1.7k / complete]

People don't fall in love with Monsters by @tabbytabbytabby

Theo spent a long time working on keeping his walls up and not letting himself care about people. Enter Liam, who finds a way to push past Theo's walls and get him to care. The thing Theo comes to realize is that just because you love someone it doesn't mean they're going to love you back, no matter how much you want them to.

[TeenUp / 1.8k / complete]

Deceptive Redemption by @marauders-mess

Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why.

He just doesn't want those feelings nesting inside his chest anymore.

[NR / 1.6k / complete]

Candid by @snaeken

Theo's lockscreen on his phone is a picture of Liam. The thing Theo currently dreads more than anything is Liam finding out about it. So of course that's exactly what happens.

[Gen / 1.7k / complete]

Alone in the Darkness by @orphan_account

But now it was too late. He was dying, alone, in the darkness. He coughed again, feeling his body start to shut down. At least he’d given the boy he loved that much more time. His one regret was never having kissed him.

[TeenUp / 652 / complete]

It was too dark by @orphan_account

I forced myself not to stare at him and checked him for injuries. I quickly found the stab wound in his thigh that was bleeding profusely. I rushed to take off my jacket, wadded it up, and pressed it against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Theo hissed in pain and coughed again.

[TeenUp / 917 / complete]

Bury me till I confess (I can't get you out of my head) by @wingsoutforshin

"Change of plans," Mason says, patting him on the leg. "Now starting, Operation: find out who Theo's secretly in love with and use it as blackmail if he ever tries to go back to his old roots of murdering and manipulating people."

"This is a terrible idea."

Mason smiles. "You'll be fine. What's he gonna do? Kill you out of embarrassment?"

[Gen / 18.7k / complete]

I won't die for you (but maybe I'll stand beside you) by @iwritefanfictionsometimes

Liam is an idiot who can't keep his mouth shut and now his mother is expecting a boyfriend for Christmas.

[Mature / 14.4k / complete]

I need you like no other by @lunadelville

Liam was ready to be the bigger person. He loved Theo - he truly did, in all the aways his mother would talk about -, and wanted him to be happy, above everything else. Theo was it for him, he was the only person he wanted - today, tomorrow, forever -, but if Theo wanted someone else, he’d let him go. He’d just have to find a way to survive the pain, and everything would be fine.

In his most selfish days, Liam would wish that Theo would just leave Derek for him. He’d wish for Theo to see that Derek wasn’t the one for him, for him to realize that had much more to offer.

[TeenUp / 3.2k / complete]

Bloom for You by @gal

“What?” Theo interrupted. “Get rid of it?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but neither is dying.” And Parrish doesn’t mean to sound flippant. He is trying to be realistic, and he figures sympathy isn’t what Theo is looking for.

“No, it’s not ideal, but is it much better?”

[TeenUp / 2.7k / wip]

Finding love on the offroad tracks by @xtarmanderx

When Theo Raeken is injured before a major motocross competition, his twin Tara decides to step up to the plate. While their father is overseas looking for a new rider to take over for the event, Tara begs their mother to keep it from him and let her try and race in Theo’s place. Disguising herself as Theo, she takes up the racing circuit to keep the family name attached to the event. Enter Liam Dunbar, a professional biker from a different circuit that immediately can tell Tara isn’t who she claims to be. Theo pleads with Liam to keep their secret and he agrees: on one condition.

[Gen / 8k / wip]

You make me scream sometimes it's true (because I'm so in love with you) by @bluedog85

Go with Theo, Scott said. Make sure he doesn't kill anyone. Next time, Liam isn't going to listen to Scott.

[NR / 1.6k / complete]

If this is love please don't break me (I'm giving up so just catch me) by @underthegallowws

He doesn’t want to pry. Honestly, the idea that this is Liam’s personal journal does not come into his mind. It’s only when he opens it, looking at the first page of the werewolf scribbled notes, with the date at the top, that he understands he should not be reading it.

[TeenUp / 2.9k / complete]

#thiam #officialthiamlibrary #thiam fanfic #fic recs #rec lists #unrequited love #pining #mod: janna #otlansweredask

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Medicine - Jim x fem!reader // Part Three

Jim Mason deserved better.

Read Part One & Part Two here

This chapter is reeeeeeeeeeeally loosely inspired by Sign of the Times by Harry Styles.

Description: (Y/N) is woken up by a troubling call from Medina, causing Jim and her to knit each other much closer than ever before.

Warning: mention of substance abuse, overdose and hospital. Kinda steamy.

Word count: 1.6k

The erratic ringing of her phone pulled her out of her sleep at the dawn of the summer break on a warm night of June. When she picked up, the heavy sobs of Medina informed you of Jim's poor state, having overdosed during the night and nearly passing on the other side.

Muffling her own cries with her hands, she sheepishly woke her father up for a ride to the hospital while clutching her phones, dreading that his twin would call back for dark news. Oh how she hated herself. Why had she never reached out to him? Why had she never asked him what consumes him? Why had she never told him she enjoyed his presence next to her much more than a friend would.

Her best friend's name appeared on her screen and her wails intensified, her shaking fingers answering the call and expecting the worst. In a small whisper, she informed her that her twin had woken up after whimpering her name in between heavy sighs. Her father pulled up in front of the emergency door and (Y/N) sprinted out of the car, joining her Medina and following her through the halls.

When the door open and Jim's eyes fell upon the tortured features of the young girl, his fake smile dropped. Her eyes full of terror and tears fell in his and boy slowly sank in his hospital bed, making himself as small as possible while she stepped closer to him.

The dread gained him as well a the reality of the situation sunk in. A big tear escaped his own eye while she stood a foot away from him, concerned to even touch him in his fragile state. “I'm sorry” he mouthed, lost in her horrified eyes before he looked back at his sister. The twins never needed words, a stare sufficed and it fascinated the other girl. The blond stepped out of the room, taking the telepathic-like queue that Jim wanted to be alone with (Y/N).

It was just him and her. She gingerly crouched by his side, looking over at the cables monitoring him and IVs connecting him to different pouches she didn't know about. Just as if she her tears had clouded her vision too much to see his lips motion the words, he said whispered his apology again.

“(Y/N), I'm so sorry, he sobbed.

-Shh, I'm sorry too... I should have helped before it went out of hands”

His hand gently stroked her tears away as he tried to force himself to smile, thinking it might help soothe the pain she was burning with. Leaving burning goose bumps at every brushes against her skin, still cold from the outdoor, the girl grabbed onto the boy's palm and burried her cheek against it.

“It won't happen again, I promise, he bit his lip.

-I hope you know you can talk to me, Jimmy. I care about you so much, she nearly whispered, too lost in her fear that she nearly lost him.

-I do too, I promise, his heart skipped a bit and he swallowed thickly, gathering all of his courage to sit up some more. You want to know what was the worst part about you coming in?

- What was it, she asked, letting his hand guide her closer so she is nearly sitting on the bed, at eye level with him.

- How terrifying it was to realise that I might never be able to spend time with you”

As she gently sobbed, he pulled her even closer, pushing himself on the side to allow her to crawl in his arms. His fingertips drew random patterns against the fabric of the tee-shirt she wore as her pyjama top and her skin erupted in goose bumps, her body pushing closer to him in their desperate cuddle.

She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, she was gently serenaded by the beating of his heart and the soft snore that would escape his chest when he would fall asleep in the sand.

Where was his mother? Or his father? Only Medina was here for him? Her thought punched her heartbreak further as she looked up to his features, admiring the chocolate curls sticking to his forehead and, for an instant, she allowed herself to feel like they were in love. She wasn't anywhere close to it but just like she would pretend he would climb in her bed at night and consume her, she enjoyed pretending there was more than a pair of friends who deeply cared about one another.

As her body shifted against him, his grip tightened and, in a heavy gasp, Jim woke up, clutching onto her waist tighter and holding on for dear life. Tears spilled from his eyes in horror, his fingers refusing to unfurl against her skin.

She didn't mind. Her body didn't either. Shushing his cries away, she rubbed the moisture away just like he did for her before, reminding him that she was right here and that she was not letting from him. He threw another desperate look at her, his grip loosening gently. He was wide awake again and she could only keep on telling him she would lay right here until he got bored of her. (Y/N) did not fail to notice his hesitant eyes darting between her lips and her gaze.

“Run away with me” he breathed, intently staring at her lips and fixating on them. Only them. “Ditch this shithole and travel the world together” his lip got trapped between his lips, waiting for yours to part to speak. Absent-mindedly letting his digits explore your back, the other palm feeling bold enough to adventuring against the supple flesh of her thing, his fingers igniting a fire within herself. Butterflies are not even close enough to the overwhelming waves crashing around in her stomach.

“Only under two conditions” her breath got caught in her throat. Nervous was not even the right word to describe the buzzing in her chest. “One. Talk to me, please” a tear ran across her cheek while he nodded. “Two. Kiss me right now, I'm begging you” her words itched in her throat again while his eyes flicked up to hers, pleading for his touch.

Gently, he brushed his lips against her. He had never been shy with a girl before but she was no random girl. She was his girl and the horror of what transpired through the night reassured him that she really was his girl. Weeks of tension finally satiated as she leaned into his mouth, releasing a breath she was not aware she held in her chest.

His weight shifted so he partially moved to lay on top of her before he broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. Through her eyelashes, she made eye contact with him again and this time, he could not read the girl's broken glint in her gaze. Slowly, he twisted their bodies again so her frame could rest on top of his once again.

“Sorry, (Y/N)” he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She propped herself on her elbows, concerned in her eyes. “I mean, I can't even get it up right now” he scoffed before bursting in a full on laugh. Worry turned to confusion as she tried to understand his words. Before tears could well against her eyes, she tried to peel herself from him.

When his soft grip tightened on her hips, her confusion grew. “Are you regretting kissing me?” she voiced her concern while his musical laugh stopped. “I regret not doing it before, that's for sure” he pushed his dorkiest smiles on his lips in an attempt to comfort her. “I was talking about... You know” he blushed suddenly, realising that her second conditions served more as a confirmation than an invitation. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, still puzzle. “I can't get hard” he admitted, his eyes fleeing hers in embarrassment. “Like, I can't fuck you” he continued. He was just about to reformulate it again when she caught his drift, scoffing at his blunt explanation.

“Once you're out of here and we run away, it won't be a problem” her mind escaped her lips without her thinking it through and when he felt his body respond to her words, goose bumps trailed his skin with a soft groan. Jim's toned armed pushed her figure further up for him to lose his face against the delicate flesh of her neck. “Keep on talking to me like that and you might cure me, baby” his chest hummed while his lips went to assault her throat, blooming a bright purple mark on her.

She winced at the soft pain, her hips subconsciously rocking with a divine moan. The knocking on the door interrupted the burning embrace, pushing (Y/N) on her feet quickly. Medina stepped in the room, her eyes full of sleep, asking if she could share the couch with her best friend as the waiting room was highly uncomfortable. The couple nodded while the blonde collapsed on the sofa, gently being tucked in by her friend, waiting a few minutes before climbing back into Jim's arms.

She found his ocean eyes and he softly smiled down to her, his body earning the chance to cool down. His lips brushed her, this time more intensely, her mouth burning against his. A genuine smile pulled his lips as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, holding her body as close as physically possible. He promised himself he would not let go of her in case she was his medicine.

_________________________________________________

Taglist anyone?

@jetblackpayne​

#jim mason #jim mason x reader #tribes of palos verdes

[spookyfloof]

For the Taking (Ch. 3)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Summary: Nine-year-old Tara had nothing. She had no home, no family, and not a friend to speak of. She was nothing less than forsaken to the world. That’s when Isaac found her… (TW: blatant abuse of a minor)

Seven years had passed since Isaac had taken her in.

Seven years in the immortal man's care.

“You're like the father I wish I'd never had,” Tara mumbled behind a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She rolled a pea into her steak with the teeth of her fork.

Isaac smiled, a lone fang teasing over his bottom lip.

She knew he'd heard; he could hear a tear drop from across the mansion. He heard everything.

His eyes followed her every move, a cat watching its prey, patiently waiting for the moment to strike.

“So snarky,” he mused and placed his chin over his folded hands. His plate went untouched, as it did for every meal.

“You know, when you were younger, you practically worshiped me.”

Tara scoffed. “Yeah, well, it's pretty normal for kids to idolize their parents.”

“...and such an attitude” he thought, though the change in her was far from unexpected. He'd read plenty about what to expect at this stage in her life, and he was surprisingly lenient with her, took her backtalk without argument or punishment. Usually.

Tara wondered just how far she could push him, knowing full well the games he liked to play when his patience or boredom had reached its limit.

But half the fun was in the danger.

So she pushed a little more.

“When are you going to turn me?”

She shoved a piece of steak in her mouth and glared at him from under her lashes.

He arched an eyebrow and let his head loll sideways. He sighed as he thought.

“When you're older,” he said finally. “It seems a bit cruel to subject you to an eternity as a child.”

Tara tried not to choke on the mashed flesh sitting on her tongue and took a gulp of water from the otherwise ignored glass. Despite the flash of panic on her face, Isaac could see she was...laughing?

“That's rich!” she squeaked and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Since when do you have a conscience?”

A growl rumbled from within his chest, too low for her to hear, though even she, mere mortal as she was, could feel it through the table as she sliced off another piece of steak.

She looked up and found herself ensnared by his thorny gaze.

Before she could blink, his mouth had split into a grin.

“You're right,” he said, and with one hand leveled on the table, he shot up to his feet, bending just enough to avoid the chandelier above them.

She swallowed and stared at him as the light surrounded his head like a halo.

“I am feeling rather peckish,” he confessed. His voice was deep and lilting, a cello-like sound. A shadow blocked his face. “Why don't I turn you right now? Is that what you want?”

She knew that voice.

Tara's eyes were starting to burn from staring at him, but she didn't want to blink. She refused to even look away. She wouldn't let him win this time.

Her eyelids fluttered, begging her to close them for just a moment, not even a second, but she willed herself not to.

She'd lasted a while, but in time she gave in. She always did.

In the moment she blinked, her guardian was at her side, her head pulled away and her neck exposed. His pointed canines were posed to sink into her vulnerable flesh.

How long had it been since the last time?

He tried not to drink from her often, instead sating himself on the unwanted population of the city.

She supposed it was thanks to that she wasn't constantly marred with puncture wounds...even if they did heal quicker than her other injuries.

“Go on,” he urged with a cool breath that chilled her veins, “Say it.”

Isaac pressed his fangs to her skin, enough for her to feel it, but not enough to pierce through.

She swallowed, her body stiff and her breathing heavy. Every instinct in her screamed to fight him off, but she kept still while her fingers gripping the marble table turned white.

“Well?” The word made his tongue slip against her skin and she fought the urge to recoil.

She said softly, almost as if in regret, “No.”

He pulled away then, setting her upright, his hand massaging the nape of her neck.

“Hmm,” he hummed with half-lidded eyes that smirked even while his mouth was flat, “Shame.”

He returned to his seat, flicking his fallen napkin and setting it back on his lap.

“Finish your dinner,” he prompted and she poked at her food some more.

“Do you have something to say?”

“No.” She took a swig of water, gurgling something around the liquid.

Isaac's brow twitched, but his expression stayed the same. “What was that?”

She continued to sip at it, not wanting to put the cup down. “What was what?”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Darling, what did you say?”

The sweetness from his tongue was poisoned.

“I said 'we're out of coke'.”

He chuckled though there was no humor in his face.

“That's not what you said.”

“It doesn't matter.” She swiped at her bangs and fussed with the napkin in her lap, anything to avoid looking at him. He could hear her heart racing in her chest “I didn't say anything.”

He continued to watch her and she averted her gaze to the nearest window, catching her reflection in its glass. Her attempt at bravado wasn't even convincing to her.

Isaac sighed as he too turned to the glass and their eyes met.

“My dear. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I suspect those new friends of yours might have something to do with it.”

“No!” Tara all but screamed before correcting herself. You must never yell at Isaac.

“Leave them alone. They haven't done anything wrong.”

She remembered what happened to Olivia. And Emma. And Mason. What he'd done to them. All because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

Isaac's fingers drew spirals in the table as he pretended to ponder.

“Perhaps,” he granted and a breath of relief left her. He wouldn't touch her “dumb school friends”. Not tonight at least. “But, my little one, you poor thing, I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Tara's jaw clenched, but she'd known it was coming. Why couldn't she just keep quiet?

He dabbed at his mouth -- a performative gesture only -- and stood, pushing his chair in as he did, then grabbed her by the elbow. She jerked it away.

“I can walk myself,” she mumbled, throwing her napkin on her plate. “You don't have to drag me.”

“Come then,” he bid coolly and led her up the stairs where she trailed miserably behind.

He paused at the landing as though in thought, positioned almost squarely between their separate rooms, then continued to lead her toward his. He didn't bother to lock the door behind them.

Once inside, he pushed her to the master bathroom and pulled the shower curtain roughly to the side.

“We can do this with your clothes on or off,” Isaac told her simply.

“I want them on.”

“You'll get colder that way.”

“I don't care,” she insisted, a hint of venom seeping through her teeth as she stepped in, her arms crossed.

He sat on the nearby toilet, the lid down of course, and crossed his long legs, his hands folded neatly on his thigh, his back straight and tall as always.

“Turn the water on. Hot,” he instructed and she did without hesitation. She twisted the handle as far to the left as it would go.

She made sure to stand squarely under the stream of water, her forearms pressing into her rib-cage.

It wasn't long before the shield of her clothing was soaked through. Her socks were the first to succumb, then her tanktop, then finally her jeans.

When the water started to steam, Isaac watched fervently as her exposed skin flushed a healthy pink, her blood vessels dilating before his eyes. He could feel himself salivating.

Despite staring at the tile at her feet, she could see his icy blue eyes being consumed by unholy pupils.

She would defy him as long as she could. She would deny him the pleasure of her pain. Gone were the days she would plead and beg for his forgiveness, clinging to him in tears before the water even touched her skin.

The first time, he didn't mind as much as he thought he would. It made the whole spectacle more interesting.

When the water began to burn, she winced, the top of her head feeling the brunt of it. She was allowed to tilt her head so she wouldn't pass out, but she refused until she absolutely couldn't take it anymore. She barely even moved at all. But she felt her resolve fading fast.

“Fuck,” she muttered, “Fuuuuck.”

“What's the matter?” Issac asked, his face shifting expertly into one of concern despite her eyes squeezed shut. He could fool anyone.

“Nothing.”

But God did it hurt, and the fringes of her vision were closing in. If she passed out in here, so be it. If she cracked her head open, it would at least be something for him to feel guilty about, though she knew he’d never let that happen. 

If she were taking a proper shower, she would've followed her instincts and lept away by now. Instead she fidgeted like she had to pee, her body desperately urging her to get out from under the torrent.

“Just let me know, little one,” Isaac called to her, his lips bowed in that horrible smirk of his.

It burned worse than any stovetop or curling iron her wayward limbs have caught, it always did, but she rarely had more than first-degree burns to show for it. When she couldn't hold her body back from leaping out of the shower, she screamed.

“I can't!”

Then the handle twisted in the opposite direction, the water instantly beginning to cool.

Isaac blinked and looked away from the metal, his focus returned to his beloved prisoner.

She let herself relax in the temporary relief. Even as the temperature dropped far below normal comfort level, it was a welcome juxtaposition, for now. But she steeled herself for the icy cold that would overwhelm her.

He didn't like this part nearly as much, for her skin turned pale and blue, overall unappetizing compared to before, but it was all part of the process, he reminded himself.

The cold seized her muscles and stole her breath. Her clothing bought her only a few more precious seconds before it seeped into her pores and froze her bones. She shivered in place, bouncing only slightly on the balls of her feet. The cold was always harder to endure, her resolve having been weathered by the previous subjection.

She'd started counting the seconds of torture since a few years ago. How long she could last. The number had grown substantially since the first time, but it didn't truly matter. In the end, she would always surrender. She had to. There was no winning in this game. If she wanted, she could end it all with just a word and he'd take her into his arms and hold her close. But she couldn't bear the humiliation. She'd make him wait for it if she could do nothing else.

Tara couldn't pretend to be immune anymore and was bouncing freely, her fingers shoved securely under her armpits, anything to delay her surrender. Her nose and lips were numb. Her hair might as well have been a curtain of icicles.

And when she finally gave up, the water stopped, the silence now almost deafening by comparison. She continued to shiver as she stepped out. He'd been right about the clothes...

Isaac offered his hand, which she stared at before turning hard eyes on his perfect arrogant face, but took it all the same. He led her to the bedroom, then out into the hallway again. She said nothing despite her confusion, and then they were in her room. He didn't bother to flick on a light and she was too cold to care.

“Please let me take off my clothes,” she thought frantically. The first thing to go would be her socks.

When he allowed her, she ripped them off, her feet instantly grateful for the dry, room temperature carpet. Then she peeled the rest of her clothes off, down to her underwear.

Isaac stood watching her, his stance towering over her, his own arms crossed now. “Those too.”

“Isaac, please,” she said, but her plea offered no real resistance and with just a beat of silence between them, she was unhooking her bra and sliding off her panties.

He didn't care where she put them.

She stood in front of him, feet together, arms at her sides.

“Isn't that better, my little one?” he asked. Though she couldn't see his smile in the dark, she could hear it.

She felt him step closer and his arms encircle her shoulders, her face pressed to his firm chest.

She said nothing and did not return the embrace.

“Oh, come now, that wasn't so bad,” he said, drawing away and lifting her chin.

She kept quiet despite feeling his eyes so intensely affixed to hers. He licked his lips and sighed.

“I suppose I'll have to do this the hard way.”

A chill crept up her spine, or so she thought until she realized it was his finger.

“You still haven't learned your lesson. But I suppose it can't be helped. You're doing this to yourself, my dear,” he said sadly, a thumb drifting over her bottom lip.

Without warning, she was on the bed, on her back, her feet hanging over the side towards him. She heard his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his pants dragged down before she had time to register it. He nudged her feet apart and then his sex was buried inside hers, his pointed teeth simultaneously piercing her throat.

She screamed out -- more in surprise or pain, she wasn't sure -- and Isaac moaned in response.

“That's it. That's my good girl,” he murmured his praise, his drool leaking onto her fragile skin.

It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but he was sparing in his use of rape to punish her. Blood was the only thing that really got him going. Without it, sex had little appeal anymore.

But he did enjoy her screams. And the way they would dissolve into groans – of both pleasure and pain – and sighs and tears as he had his way with her. It was like a song, a beautifully melancholy song he could listen to over and over that always ended on the perfect chord: her absolute submission and a bursting desperation for even the smallest sliver of his love and comfort. The kind of thing she'd given so freely only a handful of years before.

If only he could make the results of these punishments last, he always thought, but he could never break her absolutely.

He did so love his Tara, utterly human and soft, her tumultuous spirit included. After all, he'd learned the dreadful boredom of obedience in his pets.

He would do anything to keep her this way.

–

The back of his hand hand touched her face, drifting down over the wound in her neck as she slept, bundled in her covers, her skin significantly warmer now than when he'd pulled her from the shower.

“My dear little one. My poor darling dove. You are perfect. Truly you are,” he confessed as he admired her languid heartbeat, his tender voice the same as when he'd lured her to him that fateful day.

He knelt down, brushed her hair from her face, and caressed his lips over her defenseless cheek. Then he left her, knowing she'd sleep for many more hours still, and set off to arrange her reward.

#vampires #short story #original fiction #my writing #tw child abuse #for the taking #is there gonna be a part 4? #probably not #this is really as far as I'd ever thought about going with this

[thirteenphoenixes-blog]

all the stars are closer --

the gun goes off and finn is choking on his own blood before even his knees give out. the fever races through him fast and he can feel it—the blood not the fever—filling his lungs, thick and not quite liquid as it drowns him. he sinks back against the wall, keeping one blood-covered hand lightly against his chest as he lets out a chuckle, thinking how ironic it is that the one moment he doesn’t want to die is the moment that he’s dying.

time shutters to a stop the moment finn’s heart should and instead of dying like he should (or maybe he does die, the details are starting to get muddled quite honestly), he wakes up with a jolt and a cough that’s far far too wet.

the floor is about as cold as death underneath him in this… place. it sits in dim orange light, as though there should be candles around, shadows flickering on the columns even though he can’t see single hints of a light source. he doesn’t know where the hell he is or what he’s doing here, but it feels weird.

his shirt is wet and so is his mouth and he can taste blood on his tongue, and he has the distant sense that he should be in a lot more pain, but even with the mess being made of his chest, he doesn’t feel anything other than a slight dull ache.

footsteps, slow and strolling, sound from off in the distance and finn’s bloodied hands drop from his chest as a man rounds the corner, locking eyes with finn at the same moment that finn locks eyes with him and finn feels his heart shudder to a stop (again, probably) before he races over.

“you idiot.” finn curses, grabbing at mase to tug him into a hug. knowing that if he’s debating his own slip off the mortal coil here, then mason is likely… he doesn’t say it, can’t bring himself to even think it if he’s honest. it’s not, it’s not, it’s not… his sense of danger kicks back in with a thump that has finn on edge as he drops the person and steps back, heterochromatic stare sweeping over them before he speaks again.

“… you’re not mason.”

the figure morphs before his eyes, features shifting and pulling and tugging at a rate faster than he can keep up with and settles on one that he can’t exactly say that he harbors anything but resentment for as eyes colder than winter settle on him and a grin upcurves pale lips. “perceptive creature aren’t you, boy? even in death, astounding you mortals are!”

mortal? the distinction makes finn uncomfortable because if this creature is not mortal, then what is it? instead, the thing wearing his brother’s face smiles pleasantly at him and peers close as finn frowns. “so i’m dead?” it hurts a lot more than he expects (and is ready for) to actually pose the question. he puts a hand to his chest again, still wet with blood.

“should be,” the creature remarks finally, pacing around finn in a tight circle, before sprawling over the arms of a plus loveseat with easy grace. “i… pulled some strings.”

what the fuck is going on and where is he? “strings,” finn echoes dully.

“strings.” they agree, sitting upright and resting their elbows on their knees and their chin on steepled fingers. “i’ve had my eye on you for a very long time you know. you and your family, including the ones that you call your family, are absolutely fascinating!”

finn can’t quite stop the noise of outrage that bubbles over from his throat. fascinating?

“fascinating enough that i’ve decided to grant your wish, all of your wishes in fact.”

“what wish?” finn feels dread starting to pool in his stomach as they grin another cheshire grin at him, his brother’s eyes narrowing with the expression.

“why your wish to stay together, of course!” the creature declares, throwing their hands up. “after all, it works in my favor too… you and your lovely little band of misfits get to entertain me for eternity.”

finn doesn’t bother stopping his snarl this time. “entertain yo—you’re fucking crazy if you think i’m gonna stick around and do anything of the sort.”

“audacious!” the creature trills. “i’ve never seen creatures so brazenly ready to go against the decrees of god.”

god? finn bites back his comments, narrowing his eyes, and scoffs. “i’ll go against anything that tries to steal my freedom.  i don’t care who or what you are.” he balls his hands into fists as the thing wearing his brother’s face laughs at him. finn can’t blame them. honestly, what the hell is he gonna do? get into a fist fight with—his stare darts back to creature in the chair and he presses his lips together tightly. that can’t be god, can’t be.

finn back tingles as his thoughts slide to badly buried memories that he shoves back down. “look, you can fucking forget keeping me around like i’m some kind of pet.”

“who said anything about a pet?” they volley back, apparently all too amused with him. “i said entertainment.” they laugh. “and you have no choice in the matter.”

finn glares. he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a choice. people have been taking away his choices for years and if they think they’re gonna start doing that shit in death too, well they can fuck off. besides, he’s already dead. what does he really have to lose at this point?

“i don’t want this.” finn growls at them.

(weren’t you not literally just panicking about being dead? some part of him questions. well, yes, finn replies to himself. he had been but that was then and becoming immortal was not the alternative to death that he’d been looking for.)

“you can take your immortality and shove it up your div—”

the god leans forward with bright wide eyes and all finn can think before the pain starts like someone tossing a lit match into gasoline is how they’re still wearing his brother’s fucking face.

amabel is not the last thing i want to see before i die…

his knees hit the ground as his mouth opens in a soundless scream of agony, finn curling into himself like that might ease the searing pain. it feels as though he’s sitting in the core of a goddamn star, or maybe more like he is a star--a dying one, collapsing in on himself to explode into fire and ashes and pain.

he writhes, scratching at the glow illuminating his veins (the fire, a part of him thinks, if he can just get it out).

the god’s laugh is nothing short of cruel. “did you think becoming a god was a painless affair, finn?”

“stop it,” finn huffs, vomit coppery and steaming enough to leave blisters on his tongue as a mixture of blood and molten gold pours from his lips. “i don’t want this—stop it, please.” he’s begging now, and his mouth aches.

the god is smiling pleasantly above him, “does it hurt?”

finn snaps his mouth shut, doesn’t reply—can’t, as the pain crests again, other than a scream (which he’s not gonna give this asshole the satisfaction of hearing).

“oh, you’re really gonna love this next part.”

the distant sound of fingers snapping makes finn wince. it doesn’t help there’s a steady ticking in the back of his mind like a time bomb on countdown.

“i’d get up, finn. you’re gonna want to see this.”

he doesn’t get up as much as he’s pushed up, breathing hard and shaky and blurry vision a mess.  there are two figures on the floor that finn thinks that maybe he’d recognise blind, just close enough to touch and he would, except he can’t—

he can’t

the panic that’s been running undercurrent takes hold, and finn wheezes a soft, pained, “no…”

the god smiles pleasantly. “granting your wish remember?” finn shakes his head with another wheeze, but the god continues, as calm and detached as though he were talking about the weather. “just had to wait. seems these two followed you very shortly. how sweet that you’re all so intertwined, more sweet that you get to stay that way. you should thank me.”

“don’t.” finn says hoarsely. “don’t please i’m begging you—“

on the ground nearby, his family are starting to stir. okeana wakes first, “the fuck… i’m pretty sure i was—” she doesn’t finish because her stare goes to mason, one hand reaching out to brush the hair from his face as the dark-haired man stirs, and then to finn.

their eyes meet.

“finn.” her voice carries that warning that finn knows means that he’s about to get a smack upside the head and a lecture and his eyes sting, with tears soon to overflow.

he drops her stare and tries again with the god, “let them go. i’ll do—” he hates the way that he hesitates, but he can’t help it. trading away his freedom is like — “i’ll do anything.”

the god ignores him and okeana snaps his name again. “finn, what is going on?”

“please.” finn pleads.

“finn?” mason’s voice sounds slurred as he slowly pulls himself up with a grunt. “can’t be, finn’s--” he stops himself, “i was… where are we?”

“the afterlife,” the god says cheerily. “well, technically.” they amend, smiling wide. “i’m granting your wishes. you two wanted to be together for eternity, didn’t you?”

“the fuck are you talking about,” okeana grumbles. “i don’t remember making any wish, besides aren’t we already dead? a little late to be mak—” her words up end in a hiss as she drops to the floor.

“okeana, what’s—” mason’s voice is frantic, but he doesn’t get to move before he drops too.

“then consider it a wish i made,” the god speaks over their evident pain. “your friend here already accepted.”

finn pushes against the invisible walls of his cage, but they hold steady, screaming. “LEAVE THEM ALONE.”

the god simply smiles at him. “aren’t you glad, little brother? you and your family can be together forever.” the creature’s taken his brother’s voice now and finn can damn near feel his sanity starting to fray at the edges.

“i’ll kill you.” finn snarls. “i’ll kill you and take my time doing it, make you regret ever putting your damn hands on me and my—”

“you never fail to put on a show do you, finn?” the god is still wearing that ever present smile. “always getting caught up in one thing or another, ever since we were kids. what a troublesome little brother you were back then.”

“don’t call me that, you’re not—”

“who’s to say i’m not.”

“ama wouldn’t,” finn whispers, even though he knows his brother would. to get back at finn, he would. “he’d stop this.”  

ama—the god (finn’s having a hard time differentiating now)—snorts, “would i?” it’s taunting him. “i hated you. you did nothing but hold me back, from the moment we were born. i’m still disappointed old woman georgia didn’t kill you when she had the chance.”

huh, hearing out loud what he’s been thinking for years hurts. the ache is dull though and the reedy crack of mason’s scream in the background is a pain much, much worse. “i’m begging you to stop this,” his voice finally gives out, “i-i can’t...”

“you already are.”

“stop it.” finn sobs, “st-stop hurting them, i’ll do anything. i’ll stop fighting it, i’ll—”

“you mortals… so arrogant.” the god chuckles. “what makes you think you have anything i want? better yet, what makes you think that i wouldn’t have simply taken it from you already?”

“then do that!” finn spits. “do that, and make it stop. please.”  

the god ignores him.

finn snarls and fights and screams, until he can’t, watches okeana and then mase go still. he prays they aren’t dead, realises exactly how stupid it is to say that when they’re… already dead. but does it anyway. does it anyway and swears with everything he’s got left that he’s going to kill the god wearing his brother’s face.

they stand, tilt their head in a mocking half-bow, and says, “seems my work here is done. shouldn’t be long before you all wake up.”

“i’ll—“

“you’ll do what, boy?” the god leers. “you’re several thousand years too young to be challenging me.”

finn glares. “i’ll do it anyway. you’re going to pay for this.” he spits, “don’t care if i have to spend the rest of this damned eternity, i’m going to make you pay.” the tick-tick-tick of time passes outside. outside where, finn doesn’t know or really care, too busy staring into the god’s back.  

outside, something insists.

finn snaps awake, on the ground in the mouth of some alley—the same alley, a part of him reminds. you never left to begin with.—blood in is mouth and chest itching like mad. dammit. 

#firebirbwrites #finn a. hobbes #au: god #idk where this came from #but i just #idk the process from human to god can't be an easy transition #like it just can't be #neither ofc is the path back #there's actually more to this #but i figured this was a good place to stop #aNYWAY #im in love with this au #like finn with enough firepower to generate a small sun #with a deep understanding for the flow and passage of time #like can tell you what time it is down to the second without a watch #but also with the trauma of all his alternate selves death #sIGN ME THE FUCK UP #GOOD SHIT #im here for this tRAGEDY THAT IS FINN WAKING UP FROM HIS OWN DEATH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT #or worse #mase and/or okeana's deaths #good shit yes

[lostinthemazecalledmyhead]

Part one   Part two  Part three   Part four   Part five   Part six    Part seven Part eight  part nine Part seven Don’t lose me

Previously An unfamiliar sound pulled me away from my thoughts. “What’s that?” My whisper sounded unsteady. Hook listened. “I think it’s coming from there.” He pointed at the compass. With a click I opened it and saw the needle quickly spinning around. “It works?” I asked. “We can find you your cure.” Hook squeezed my hand. I hadn’t noticed he was even holding it.

Rumbling and screaming traveled through the cracks from the deck to the cabin where we were. “What the bloody hell is going on out there?” Hook stood up and opened the door to go and have a look. On the other side of the door stood a man who knocked Hook over the head and then came for me. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I have my orders.” The man said before he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. “What are you doing? Whose orders?” I asked. The man stepped over Hook who was still lying on the floor. “Hook.” I pleaded as I sought his eyes. They stood confused and he soon enough was out of sight. It was already morning and the sun welcomed me with a warm glow. The crew was in a fight with men I didn’t recognize. All I could see was that we were on the winning hand. I guess that to them it was never about winning, but giving this man enough time to carry me out of here. But why me? “Mason!” I saw him plunging his sword through a man. He looked up at me and soon realized what was going on and came to my rescue. The man carrying me also realized that he didn’t have that much time left so he tried to make a run for it with me on his shoulder. He was about to step off the Jolly Roger when Alf Mason blocked his way. The man turned around hoping to find another way out, but instead found Hook. “It’s not nice of you to take a woman against her will. What happened to moral nowadays.” Of course Hook had to make a little joke out of all this. Probably his way of coping, won’t blame him for it. “Put the girl down.” I heard Alf Mason growl behind me. “I’d rather die.” The man said. “If you wish it.” Hook said and was ready to plunge his sword in the man. “No!” I yelled. Hook glanced at me as if I disturbed him while he was just about to plant a rose or something perfectly normal like that. “What?” “I beg you not to kill him.” I pleaded while Alf Mason’s strong hands wrapped around my waist and put me on the ground without any effort. “Why would you beg for someone like this?” Hook asked pointing his sword at the man. “Why would you kill him only because he was about to do something stupid. He didn’t.” “That was only because we stopped him. And besides we can’t let everyone who messes with us go. It would ruin our reputation, so to speak.” Hook was again ready to strike. “No!” I jumped in front of the man. Well you couldn’t exactly call it jumping since my legs aren’t working properly. “Put the sword away.” I ordered firmly. “We can’t let him go.” I saw it in Hook’s eyes. He didn’t want to kill him and do it my way. Still he couldn’t let anyone think he’s not a feared pirate. “Then we keep him.” I suggested. “He’s not a pet, Emily.” “Neither am I. Just say yes.” As a form of an answer he put away his sword and so did Alf Mason. “Mason could you please bring him to the cabin, I want to talk to him.” Alf Mason growled and pulled the man away towards the stairs. “What the hell are you thinking?” Hook asked when the man was out of sight. “You mean what the hell weren’t you thinking. I saved him, maybe he’ll tell me something.” I shrugged. “Still you can’t order around my crew like you’re the captain.” I raised my eyebrow. “What do you mean order? I just asked him as a friend. He didn’t have to do it, but that is what friends do. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the aspect.” “You’re a woman of many words. You know that?” Hook asked shaking his head. “Hey Hook. Could you please help me to the cabin?” I asked trying to hide a smile. Hook pulled my arm around his neck and helped me walk to the stairs. “So.. Are we now what? Friends? Since I’m helping you.” Hook asked teasing. “Friendship requires trust. And after the things you pulled it’s hard to trust you, but I say we might get there.” We entered the cabin where Alf Mason had tied the man onto a chair. I turned to Hook and whispered. “Could you please give me some time alone with him.” Hook raised his eyebrow. “I’m not letting you alone with him.” “It’s not like he can hurt me and you can put someone on the other side of the door just in case.” Hook ordered Alf Mason to follow him outside and he closed the door behind him. Now it was just me and the man whose name I still didn’t know. I sat down across him. “I’m Emily Donovan, but I guess you already knew that.” I introduced myself. The man stayed silent. “You told me you got orders when you took me. Who ordered you?” I asked. “Thank you for saving my life, but I’m just as much of a dead man if I tell you.” The man finally spoke. “I understand, but at least tell me your name so I know who I’m talking to.” Maybe he just needed some time to change his mind. “It’s Micah.” The man introduced himself. “I’m sorry you had to be tied up, Micah.” I apologized. He didn’t speak, so I decided to study him. No signs of nervousness, however he seemed to be sunken into thoughts. To me he doesn’t seem like the killer type. That leaves me to the question I’ve been asking myself the whole time now: why is he doing this? “How old is your kid?” It was just an idea that came to mind. If he’s not doing it because he wants to do it, then maybe he was forced in some way. And what could make us do anything? The love for our child. “She just passed her ninth birthday last week.” I could tell how proud he was by the glow on his face. “You have to take better care of yourself, Micah.” I advised him. Slowly I stood up and tried to walk towards his chair. “I got in an accident with my parents when I was 17 years old. I was the only one who survived.” I had untied him and sat back down in my seat. “I’m sorry.” I gave him a faint smile. “I might not have been as young as your little girl, but still, it broke me. I blamed myself for a whole year. And there are days that I still do. So please don’t make your girl go through the same things. I don’t know why you did what you did, but just being there for your girl would’ve been enough.” Micah looked away for a moment and bit his lip. He sighed. “This is me being there for her.” He said after a moment. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand. You being with her is being at home, where she is. With her.” I replied. “If I don’t do this she will never be home again!” Micah cried. “I’m sorry, but maybe I can help you.” “The only thing you can do to help is come with me to Pan.” He rubbed his eyes. Pan? “You know I can’t do that.” Pan as in Peter Pan? He’s the sworn enemy of Hook so I guess that kinda makes sense. “He threatened my little girl. Don’t you understand? He’ll take her to Neverland if I don’t get you to him.” “Do you know what he wants with me?” That question was burning on my lips for a while now. “Ehm. He said something about you being the key.” The key? That’s great. At least it would mean that he can’t kill me. Would Peter Pan even kill anyone? He’s just a cocky innocent boy. “You take me there and safe your girl.” I had decided. You could say he looked surprised. “Are you serious?” He asked careful. He didn’t want me to change my mind. “I can’t let him take your daughter to Neverland. She might never come back.” I explained. Oh boy, how many times I wished upon a star that Peter Pan would show up at my window and take me to Neverland.  “Just help me walk.” With my arm around his neck we walked to the door. Hook himself had been guarding the door and didn’t have a clue about what was happening. “I’m going with him.” I said. “You can’t.” “Peter Pan is behind all of this and he has Micah’s little girl and I can’t let Pan take her to Neverland.” I explained. “Now move.” “No. why would you do all this?” Hook really didn’t understand. “It’s called selflessness. Maybe you should look it up some time.” “It’s not safe for you. Pan might kill you.” “Pan? He’s just a boy and you’re the bad guy remember. Besides he said I was the key. So even if he was a bad guy he couldn’t hurt me.” Hook raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know what story you read, but Peter Pan is everything but an innocent boy.” He replied. “If you two are after the same thing, we’ll cross paths again. Just remember what I said about pirates and start acting like one.” I winked at him and with the support of Micah I passed him.

#peter pan imagine #captain hook imagine #peter pan #pan imagine #pan #killian jones #killian jones imagine #hook imagine #j.m. barrie #fairytale #ouat #ouat imagine

[blackholeofprocrastination]

So I came across these pics of Tom Hopper picking up sack of grains and boxes and stuff and I was imagining what if Dickon escaped to North/WF and Sansa gives him residence bc noone deserves to be burnt to death but obviously he has to take up an alias. He helps in restoration of WF. He totally falls in love w/ Sansa bc who wouldn't. She's the best. And he keeps calling her queen and highkey trying his best to make her smile or life easier for her etc. And he's muscled like a bull

Super buff Dickon throwing sacks of grain around Winterfell? You’re talking my language nonny! I’m fashionably late to the Dicksa party but here’s some silly ‘What if Dany Didn’t Barbecue Dickon’ AU fic for ya. (Ignores the shows current Stark Sister drama cuz…who’s got time for that nonsense?)

The Snow It Melts The Soonest When The Winds Begin To Sing

Winterfell has become a near constant raucous of shouts and sounds. 

Outside it’s walls, the Winter town is filled to bursting with smallfolk from every inch of the North, clambering to Winterfell for protection from the war and winter to come. Hovels and tents are thrown together alongside the existing thatch-roofed homes. Their camp is a lively one, men and women and children and livestock all huddled on top of one another. At night, their voices carry over the thick walls of the keep as they gather together, seeking warmth from meager peat fires.

For most within the keep, the flagging daylight hours are spent in the yard, the singing of steel upon steel ringing out as Brienne leads those who can hold a sword through their paces. Sometimes Arya is with them. She moves through the lines, quiet as a shadowcat, offering the occasional encouragements to soldiers and shepherd boys alike. 

More often Arya can be found in the smithy, perched on an anvil, watching the smiths with a queer almost forlorn sort of attentiveness.

She worries for Jon, Sansa suspects.

The first sledges bearing dragon glass had arrived two moon’s ago. Since then, the fires in the forge have been kept stoked at all hours, hammers falling in a steady rhythm, shooting off sparks as spears and swords and pikes are fashioned out of the peculiar black stone. Sansa prays it will be enough.

Inside of the keep it is no quieter. There are more mouths to feed than ever (and increasingly less with which to feed them). The kitchens are a flurry of wooden spoons scraping against great cauldrons of porridge and broth. Dough smacks against wide-planked wood tables. Roasts of what the huntsmen bring back from the Wolfswood crackle as they turn on great spits. 

What women who are not busy, armed with a spear or ladle, gather around the fire in the great hall, spinning and knitting wool, their heads bent close, their voices like a low hum of a beehive. Sansa watches them sometimes. It makes her heart ache, bringing to mind simpler afternoons spent sat close with Jeyne Poole, their noses buried in their stitching. 

There are days when the Lady of Winterfell wants to escape it all. Wants to hide away in the silence of the godswood (as Bran has done since Meera Reed rode out from their gates). 

Still, there are more days when she is grateful to be surrounded by the chaos and the noise. She had not thought to see this again. 

For so long, she had supposed Winterfell lost to her. Memories of direwolf banners draped along it’s walls, of the warmth from the fire in the Great Hall, of the courtyard just after a snowfall when the ground was fresh and new…they had been her comfort in those lonely years in the South. She dreamed of it. Prayed for it. Home.

It is a shadow of what it once was. There are too many ghosts that dwell here to be truly happy. She is grateful just the same.

Sansa is making her way to the Great Keep, having spent a tedious morning consulting with the head carpenter and mason on what is needed to restore the glass gardens, when a startling sound catches her attention near the granary.

At first she thinks it only the low murmur of men’s voices as they see to their work, but as she draws nearer she realizes it is something she scarcely believed she’d hear within these walls again. Singing.

“Afield, afield, afield, I be,When a maid did smile at me.‘Twas fair Jenny, the goatherd’s daughter,Sent to fetch a pail of water.”

Sansa used to pride herself on knowing all sorts of songs and stories. Not just the dark tales Old Nan would spin before sending them off to their beds or the songs her mother would sing when she brushed her hair. Sansa remembers how she used to plead with her father every time a singer or minstrel came to their gates, begging that they might stay just a sennight longer. Long enough that she might learn their songs by heart.

But this is song she does not know.

“My lady?” Podrick asks when she lingers too long at the granary door. Sansa offers the squire an absent smile.

“Would you see the steward receives the estimates for the glass, Podrick?”

“Right away, my lady.” Pod bows, taking the offered ledgers and scurrying towards the Great Keep.

Sansa watches him leave before pushing through doors. Several men are occupied moving sacks of barley and oats out of sledges and wagons into the granary. They are Southron men. Soldiers, some of them even knights.

She has no illusions to why they are here. They are meant to be a gift of goodwill from this dragon queen. And while Sansa knows the North will not be so easily bought (no matter what Jon might have promised), she is not in a position to refuse the additional hands and stores that came with the arrival of the Reach men to Winterfell.

She is startled when she sees their commander is among them. Dickon Tarly is a difficult man to miss. He is easily the tallest man in Winterfell (taller than Brienne even), as well as broad and comely. Striking. The sort of man one can’t help but notice.

His arrival at Winterfell has proved a disruption to her household. More than once, Sansa’s come across a serving girl neglecting her duty in favor of idling by the practice yard, pink cheeked and giggling while the Reach knights train. And though Sansa has given her share of stern warnings on the matter, that hasn’t stopped a few of the bolder ones from batting their lashes at the young lord while serving him supper in the Hall.

Once, Sansa might have also looked on him with admiration. But Sansa is not that girl anymore. She has known the ugliness of this world, seen it lurk behind pretty faces, and she wants no part of it.

“A plea, a plea I made with she,That she might linger there with me,She offered me a drink of water,Did Jenny fair, the goatherd’s daughter.”

She’s close enough to pick out his somewhat unpolished baritone amidst the singing. It is a pleasant sound. Warm and deep and cheerful.

Sansa watches him with curiosity. She knows he is now the lord of Horn Hill. His father was sentenced to dragon fire, a fate the young lordling is said to have barely escaped. And his elder brother, Jon’s Samwell, is a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, and unable to inherit his father’s seat. Yet for all that, here he is with his common fighting men, singing and shouldering sacks of barley alongside them and seemingly happy to do so.

Winter has come but you wouldn’t know it from inside the granary. It is stifling, much too close to the hot springs which heat the walls throughout the keep. Already the snow has melted in Sansa’s hair and the fur mantle that had barely kept the chill from creeping into her bones outside, now seems absurdly heavy. 

Many men have removed their cloaks and tunics, stripping to the waist. Sansa is long past being scandalized by such things. Still, something uneasy settles in her stomach as she watches Dickon Tarly heft another sack out of a wagon. Sweat slicks his skin, rivets leaving visible trails down the sharp lines of his chest and stomach.

Muscled like a bull.

That’s what she’d overheard one of the serving girls say when Sansa had caught them hovering near the practice yard. Sansa thinks she’s beginning to understand what the girl had meant now.

She feels even more uncomfortably warm than before. She should go. But before she can retreat back to the keep, she is noticed by one of the Reach knights.

“My lady!” he hails, pausing in his work to offer her a bow. The sentiment is echoed by the others, as dozens of eyes turn to her.

Sansa insides churn, as she cannot help but feel she has been caught doing something she should not. But that is foolish. This is her keep. She may go where she likes.

“Please!” she says. “I did not mean to interrupt your work. Carry on.”

She is relieved when another chorus of ‘my lady’ is murmured around the room and the men all return to their tasks…all but one.

“Lady Stark, is there anything you need?” Lord Tarly asks, crossing towards her. He has hastily pulled a tunic over his head, but the ties are undone revealing a stretch of collarbone that Sansa tries tries to keep her eyes from focusing on.

“No…no,” she stammers, feeling foolish. “I heard the singing and I…no.”

Silence stretches between them. She hopes that Lord Tarly will return to his work as the others have done, but he remains.

“That song,” she says, when she’s gathered enough wits and courage to speak again. “I’ve not heard it before.”

Color floods the lordling’s face, as he ducks his gaze away from her. Sansa is not the only one to be caught out, it seems.

“It’s from home.”

“Oh.”

“The smallfolk…they sing it when it’s time for the haymaking.”

There is a bashful smile on his face that leaves Sansa’s traitorous heart quickening in her chest.

“And what happens then?” she asks. “To your goatherd’s daughter?”

He is flushed to the tips of his ears now, Sansa notices with some amusement, and from the way he will no longer meet her eye, she suspects the answer must be something he deems too bawdy for a lady’s ears.

“I’m not sure I remember,” he mumbles, confirming Sansa’s suspicions.

“Pity,” she shakes her head in disappointment, fighting the sudden urge to smile. “I’m very fond of songs.”

He blinks, thrown for a moment. Good.

“If that is true, my lady, then perhaps…” he pauses, something uncertain and eager dancing in his eyes. “perhaps you would honor me with a song someday?”

She smiles for true now.

“Aye, my lord. Perhaps.”

#Anonymous #a dose of vitamin d #the lady of winterfell has caught the thirst y'all #dicks our for dicksa #dicksa #sansa x dickon #emmy writes #yeah i dig it #also...excuse the song...i am no dr. seuss...rhyming is hard #i have no idea what this is...just go with it #this is disappointingly PG...my apologies

[thirteenphoenixes-blog]

lucifer reborn as a god || finn one-shot

the dream starts as it always does.

with finn sitting in a dark room and voices drifting in from outside. “sister georgia,” his foster father, john something or other, drawls, with a touch of reverence that might’ve been funny to hear from a man that could probably lift both finn and his brother with one hand. “we have a problem child.”

finn’s stomach twists the way it always does at this part and he clenches his hands into fists because that feels better than the tears starting to burn in his eyes. never good enough, he’s never good enough.

“ah yes,” the old woman croaks back in a voice that sounded almost comically cliche, like an cranky grandma from one of the saturday cartoons and finn wants to laugh but it comes out a lot more like a hiccuping sob, “one of your sons?”

his father hmphs with enough disdain to make finn shiver, his voice grave as he rumbles back, “not anymore. er, well not right now.”

“i see. well, what would you like me to do.”

“i heard you cured the saint dennis boy, and if’n it’s not too much of a problem for ya. i’d like you to do the same with finnegan.”

“well, you know my fee.” the old woman chortles and finn imagines he can see her lips curling back from her teeth, “but i’d be willin’ to waive it for your boy.”

then the scene shifts and he’s sitting in a bathtub, the air far too damp and rank with what finn is pretty sure is death. he shivers in the water, breathing far too quick and face flushed underneath the one swinging bulb, “please let me go,” he pleads like he always does in this dream, “please… i promise i’ll study my bible readings every night and pray all day, i’ll learn it well enough that i can recite any verse, i swear. i’ll confess everything. i’ll do better, i promise, please.”

and like always the old crone’s voice snarling at him, is far too familiar now as it screams over his, okeana’s, “demon expel yourself from this boy, reveal yourself in the light of god.” a voice echoes in latin but finn’s not listening to that, too busy trying not to choke on holy water as they shove his head under. when they pull him back up, he’s wheezing and mase is standing across the room in the spot where ama always is.

“m-mase,” he begs, even as okeana drones on over his head,

“all-powerful god, pardon this unworthy sinner. arm me with constant faith and power—your holy strength.”

“mason, p-please. i know we’ve fought but i—“

the royal blue eyes that meet his are filled with hate and he winces, but implores the second person standing beside his brother now, nat. “n-nat come on, please, stop this.”

but dark eyes meet his unflinchingly and instead, a mit-covered hand is pressing the crucifix to his chest, steam rising into the air and curling around his throat before it becomes a snake hissing latin in his ear, and he prays aloud in the tongue he’s been speaking since his birth, begging god for a forgiveness that he doesn’t think he deserves and hands pin his arms down someone is screaming and finn’s not sure if it’s him or the old woman, and then the burning in his spine starts and the water in the tub catches fire and finn can’t breathe for the smoke or see and his parents and rachel are screaming at him for not saving them, ama is screaming at him for being such a failure and the cacophony of noise swirls around his head until he’s dizzy and crying and crying and crying and crying

and then he’s awake, the scream dying in throat as his eyes open to the dark bedroom. his back tingles and his chest is tight, throat aching, and he’s—he’s, a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead and a hand runs through his hair. “darlin,” charlie’s accent is always thicker when he’s sleepy like this, and ordinarily finn would love it but right now it’s killing him, because it reminds him of that foster “y’alright?”

“nightmare,” he wheezes, curling into charlie and clutching him tighter, “hurts.” his head is far too scattered to say much else and he can still hear the snake hissing in his ears. “hurts.” he repeats.

“you’re safe now, sweetheart. go on back to sleep, i got you.”

and truthfully finn doesn’t believe that for a second, but he’s willing to lie to himself, just this once.

#finn a. hobbes #yikes for religious content #bc this is uh a Bad exorcism #like #it shouldn't have happened #but it did #and yeah #firebirbwrites #ship: finnlie