#none of the characters win in this chapter but I know at least I was the winner :')

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Two

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I hope the tags worked, I'm new to having a tag list!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous chapter: Chapter One

Next chapter: Chapter Three

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I’m in love with Ruggie, so I accidentally made half of this chapter about him. Oops.

—----------------------------------

You decided that the best course of action would be watching from afar. The hyenas were afraid of you, the king of the lions didn’t like you, and the wolves were wary of you. All in all, not the greatest situation.

You didn’t know what you expected. Did you really think they would all love you from day one? They were half-animals, after all. They had the instincts of wild animals, not domesticated pets.

Still, you were determined to make them like you. The hyenas would probably be easiest, once they warmed up to you. The wolves would probably get used to you eventually. The lions- well, that was a tricky situation. They all followed Leona, so you’d have to win him over before you could win over the entire pride, and that would not be easy.

You grabbed your journal and pen from your locker and walked to the savannah exhibit’s door. This time, you had brought a water bottle with you, prepared for the upcoming heat you would have to face. You had also bought binoculars from one of the vendors, knowing you would need it if you were going to keep some space between you and the halflings.

You entered the exhibit, wincing at the heat that hit your skin. You scanned the dry land for the hyenas and found them lounging around the watering hole, talking amongst themselves. You stepped behind a large rock and leaned over it, raising your binoculars to your eyes.

It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they seemed to laugh a lot. You really wished you knew what they were saying, but if you approached them, they would probably stop their conversation and focus on getting away from you.

Day 1

HYENAS

There are seven hyenas and they all seem to be close to each other, as they stick together in a group. Their conversations seem to be humorous, as they are often laughing. This could be from their hyena half, as hyenas are known for their “laugh”.

Each of the halflings are easily differentiated by their hyena ears and tail. They all seem to be around 5’5, but even the tallest ones do not hit 6 feet. 

They are relaxed until a female approaches them. In this case, all seven hyenas are male, so the problem starts when a female keeper tries to feed them or study them up close. They suddenly become extremely wary or even frightened and are very hesitant to come anywhere near a female keeper.

The best way to calm them down, I believe, is to show them that you are not aggressive like female hyena halflings are. It doesn’t get rid of their fear, but it definitely helps.

You peered through your binoculars and watched the six hyenas as they drank from the watering hole- most of them scooping water into their palms and drinking from their hands, while others put their head down to drink directly from the source.

Wait- six hyenas? Weren’t there seven?

You felt a hot breath on the back of your neck and you spun around, heartbeat skyrocketing. There, standing behind you, was the hyena halfling you had talked a little bit with when you were handing out breakfast.

He retreated to a safe distance and sat down, cross-legged, studying you curiously, a slight smile on his face as though he was proud that he had frightened you. Suddenly, you were all too aware of the claws on his fingers and the unnaturally sharp canines that shone in the sunlight when he flashed you a lazy smile.

“Shishishi,” he giggled, eyes locked on you, waiting for your reaction.

“You scared me, Ruggie!” you said, your heartbeat starting to go back to its normal pace.

His grin only widened. You noticed his eyes flickering from you to your notebook.

“Oh! Are you interested in my notebook?” you asked, holding it out to him.

Ruggie frowned, looking a little offended, “I can’t read.”

Oh. You felt your cheeks growing warm. Of course a halfling, who had spent his life in the wild and then captivity, wouldn’t know how to read. It was a miracle that any of them had picked up enough English to be able to speak it.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” you asked.

Ruggie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head at you. Finally, he shook his head. A little disappointed, you closed your notebook. “That’s alright. Did you want to talk?”

Ruggie shook his head once more and you felt yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure why he was still here if he wasn’t interested in talking. One of the other hyenas made a whooping sound and Ruggie responded with his own hyena noises, turning his attention to the other hyenas for a moment before he turned back to you.

You decided to try to get him to speak to you, “So, did you enjoy breakfast? You had three servings, after all.”

Finally, Ruggie nodded then, as an afterthought, added, “I like donuts better.”

“Donuts?” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Would you like it if I brought some?”

Ruggie’s eyes widened, “Donuts?”

“Yeah!” you said happily, “My boss said I could bring you guys anything, as long as I paid for it with my own money.”

He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, “Donuts!”

Ruggie called back to his friends with a series of whoops and other hyena noises and they responded back enthusiastically. You wished you could understand their language.

You turned back to your notebook.

It seems like hyena halflings like sweets or, at least this group likes donuts. One of them, the one named Ruggie, seems like he has warmed up to me a little. We talked a little, mostly about donuts, but I feel like he isn’t as scared of me as the others are.

Ruggie seemed to have had enough, because he stood up and, with a curious glance back at you, he ran off to join the others, kneeling by the watering hole to drink along with his peers.

You were a little disappointed by how short the conversation had lasted, but more than anything, you were excited that you had a conversation with a hyena halfling at all. Ruggie still seemed a little wary of you, but much more comfortable with your presence than earlier.

It was a step in the right direction.

You were not looking forward to seeing Leona, but you were already in the savannah exhibit and the lions weren’t too far off. The pride’s positions were the same as this morning’s, with Leona lounging on the large rock while the other lions sat and laid on the grass beneath him. The lions were either napping, grooming their hair, or just talking quietly amongst themselves.

The lions were not frightened by you and why would they be? They had a killer bite and claws on each hand. They regarded you lazily, as if you bored them a little.

“Hello, everyone!” you did your best to not sound as terrified as you felt. None of the lions stopped what they were doing for you, continuing their actions as if you weren’t even there.

You hadn’t even noticed at first that Leona was awake, until you glanced at the rock, hoping to get a reaction from him. 

He sat up on the rock, staring at you with an impassive expression. Despite his lack of a warm welcome, your heart soared. This was your chance!

“Hi there!” you said cheerfully.

He looked down his nose at you, clearly not impressed by your greeting.

“Did you have a good nap?” you asked.

Leona continued to stare at you, unimpressed with your attempts at earning his attention.

“So, I know your name is Leona, but would you like to know mine?” you asked hopefully.

Leona’s eyes turned to the right, as though he was making a decision. Finally, he spoke in that slow, rumbling voice of his, “Whatever, I don’t care. Go ahead”

You smiled up at him, pleased that you had gotten his permission, even though he wasn’t as interested as you had hoped, ��I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to officially meet you.”

Leona laid back down but didn’t close his eyes, watching you as you looked back at him.

“Did you eat your steak? I don’t want you to go hungry.”

Leona’s eyes widened a little, as though you had taken him by surprise. And maybe you had.

His gaze evaded yours as he responded to your question, “Yes, I ate it.”

“Oh good!” you smiled happily up at him.

Leona studied you closely, clearly unable to read you. Leona tilted his head and turned away from you, “Is that all you need?”

“I’ll write in my notebook, if you’d prefer me to do that.”

Leona grunted in response and closed his eyes.

DAY 1

LIONS

The lion halflings are not shy like the hyenas, but they are hesitant to talk to me. I feel as though, if I earn their king’s acceptance, I will be able to talk to them all. The king has started to talk to me, even if it was only a few words.

The lions are taller than the hyenas, most around 6 feet tall. They are easily differentiated by their lion ears and tail. There are 19 lions, with most being female, and only one cub.

Unsurprisingly, the lion halflings spend a good chunk of their time sleeping. I assume this is from the lion part of them.

“Did you want to read what I wrote?” you asked, sensing Leona’s eyes on you. Your eyes met his and he held your gaze for a few moments before growling, “I’m going to sleep.”

He flopped back down on the rock and closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming rhythmic almost right away.

You didn’t want to bother Leona when he was trying to fall asleep, so you sneaked away, sending an unrequited wave over your shoulder to the other lions. Maybe if you weren’t so determined to get out of the heat, you would have noticed the eyes boring into the back of your head.

The walk to the wolves’ exhibit was a long one. After all, you had to cross half the savannah before making it out into the back hallway meant for staff. Then, you had to push through the crowds to get to the wolf exhibit. At least the crowds weren’t too bad, since evening was on its way.

You were excited that the sun was falling. You’d be able to watch wolf halflings at their preferred time of day. After all, wolves hunted in the twilight hours.

You hoped that didn’t mean they’d see you as prey.

The exhibit door opened easily and you found yourself breathing the air in deeply. It took you a moment to discover just why you liked the wolves’ enclosure so much. Mountain air. Somehow, some way, the zoo had made the enclosure smell like the mountains. The air was even a little thinner here than it was on the pathways.

These wolf halflings must have been living in the mountains when they were brought to the zoo. The thought made your heart hurt a little. Were they offered a deal to live in captivity or were they captured and brought here by force? You didn’t like to think about it too much.

This wasn’t your battle to fight.

The keeper who fed the wolves their evening meal walked past you with full buckets. As she passed you, she gave you a word of advice, “You aren’t gonna find them all together like they are at mealtimes. They all split up, especially in the evening.”

You nodded, a little disappointed. That could make it harder to find them, much less study them. Plus, it’s not like you could look in several directions at once. This might be a little more complicated than you thought.

Or maybe it’ll be fine, you reassured yourself, trying to stay positive.

You reached a steep, downward slope and decided it was probably the best vantage point you would find. You found a nice place to sit down between a cluster of rocks and took out your binoculars. 

It took almost half an hour for you to see any movement. Down, at the base of the hill, one wolf halfling walked close to the barrier between the wolves and guests. He had his back hunched in a sort of prowl, and you realized that he was probably in hunt mode. 

Excited, you pulled out your notebook to make some notes.

Your pen froze above the paper when you heard a growl.

You slowly turned your head, and what you saw made your blood run cold. A buff wolf halfling with dark gray hair and pin-pricked ears had his lips drawn over his fangs in a snarl. He was growling so ferociously that flecks of spit flew in your direction. His yellow eyes dilated as he grew closer, back hunched as though he were ready to lunge for your throat at any moment. 

You gulped, forcing yourself to stay completely still. You were afraid, if you moved, you’d have your throat torn out before you could blink.

The wolf took one step closer, growled one last time, then lunged.

The halfling seemed to stop midair and, before you knew it, he was lying on his side in the dirt a few feet away. The cause of his sudden stop was made clear after a few terrified moments, when your eyes turned upwards.

The white-haired wolf halfling stood with his shoulder still out in front of him. You realized that he had shoulder-checked the older wolf during his attack. Shakily you smiled at him.

“Thank you so much!”

The dark-skinned halfling took a seat on one of the rocks surrounding you. You studied his features, everything from his white tail to his white ear tips. He, on the other hand, watched the older wolf warily.

The older wolf pushed himself to his feet, shaking the dirt from his clothes. His yellow eyes glared at you, but he limped off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. 

The white-haired halfling turned his attention back to you. You decided to offer your friendship to him.

“My name is (Y/n), what’s yours?”

He stared at you for a moment, before his rumbling voice said, “Jack.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jack,” you said, trying not to come across as too excited to be talking to him. You didn’t want to scare him away with your eagerness.

Jack continued to stare, his golden stare softening a little when he said, “Not safe.”

He didn’t seem to have a very good grasp on the English language, but that was understandable. It didn’t seem like the wolves were all too friendly toward humans.

“I have to stay,” you explained to Jack, hoping he would understand.

“Not safe,” Jack replied. He got up from his sitting position and crossed the distance between you in less than a second. You watched, trembling, as his one of his clawed hands took hold of the back of your shirt collar. 

You blinked owlishly as Jack began to carry you by the collar, stunned by his behavior and not wanting to tick him off by fighting. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to want to actually hurt you, but you didn’t want to push your luck.

After a long walk, Jack set you back down on your feet. He pointed one clawed finger behind you. “Not safe.”

You turned around and, to your surprise, you were met with the exhibit door. Comprehension dawned on you. He wanted to keep you safe.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you soothed, “I have to study-”

“Not safe,” Jack responded, voice even gruffer.

You tried to come up with the perfect solution. You had to soothe Jack but you also had to do your job.

“Well, you could protect me,” you suggested.

“Pro-tect?” Jack’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, keep me safe,” you replied. Jack took a while to think that one over. Finally, he nodded.

He followed you back to your spot like an obedient puppy, but refused to sit down, choosing instead to hover over you, eyes darting in all directions.

Day 1

WOLVES

Wolf halflings tend to be around 6 feet tall, distinguishable by their wolf ears and tails. There are 12 of them in this zoo, with 6 females and males each. 

Some of the wolf halflings are very aggressive, and this seems to amplify in the evening hours, possibly because these are their hunting hours. One wolf, however, acts in a protective manner towards me.

It is interesting to note the wolf halflings appear to be in hunting mode despite just being fed.

All of the halflings, save for one, have hair and fur in different shades of gray, while one has white hair and fur.

You didn’t see any other wolves for the next few hours and you eventually decided it was time to go home. Jack shadowed you on your way to the exhibit entrance. You waved goodbye, and he mimicked the action awkwardly.

Laughing a little, you went home for the day.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

[classypauli]

She’s the Man

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem Reader Summary: With the new university Y/N meets new opportunities, plays on the football team, meets new people, makes new friendships, and maybe finds something she didn’t think would find.... But being dressed as her brother can create little problems in the future. She’s the Man AU A/N: So this fic will be based on the movie She´s the Man, it won´t follow every step of the story, I had it in mind some time now and have been thinking about if it is a good idea or not but well, here goes nothing… Not forcing anyone to read this, idk just wanted to try something new. Warning: first time writing, bad grammar and punctuation in complex sentences, spelling errors, boring and awkward Word count: 5k I DON’T OWN THE MOVIE THIS STORY IS BASED ON OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS THAT ARE IN THERE. IT’S ONLY FICTION AND NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

Chapter 1

Y/N is sitting in her brother´s room, eyes wide open  „You can´t be serious! How am I supposed to do that?!“ she shouted at him. „I´ll be thankful to you till the end of my life.“ well, that won´t be for long if she decides to kill him right now. „Charlie-“

„Please Y/N you are my only hope, you know I´ve been wanting to go to this festival for so long, you know what it means to me, please.“ he puts his hands in a praying position, and now his puppy eyes are the only thing his sister can see. „Ew get away from me.“ she pushed him into the chest as he stumbled back.

Charlie, Y/N´s twin brother, wants her to impersonate him. Yeah, you heard it right, he wants his sister to go to his school and act like him this whole time that he will be on tour. He is in the band, their parents aren´t really happy about it, they say that music won´t get him anywhere and he should concentrate on the more important stuff. Y/N´s sad because she was always like if something makes you happy, that´s all that matters, right? But he isn´t giving up, he still hopes that he can convince them about being serious with music.

And don´t get her wrong, she´d do anything and everything for him, he is her brother, her twin, but this... She´s not so sure, it´s just too much, what if they find out? What if she isn´t good enough and mess up? What would their parents say? Oh God too much pressure on her shoulders and she didn´t even say yes.

But his sad and disappointed eyes are her last straw. „Gosh.... m'kay.“ Y/N whispered under her breath almost unnoticed. Charlie´s eyes lit up like Christmas lights and started running to his sister yelling „Thank you thank you thank you! I promise I´ll do anything for you!“ He almost suffocated her when they hugged. „Careful with your words and now get off I can´t breathe!“ he immediately pushed himself off and started his little winning dance.

She rolled her eyes at him „So how we are going to do that? I mean, I need to look exactly like you, act like you, talk like you, and EVEN SMELL like you? Well now I´m not so sure if I can do this I mean-“ she looked at him and scrunched up her nose. „Oh, you didn´t you f-“ he hit Y/N with the pillow in the head. She started laughing at her brother's offended face. „Just kidding stop being a baby.“

He stood up and started thinking „Well we look alike, like a lot, so there won´t be much work in the face-“ „What?!“ „-but you need to learn how to walk like me and dress like me. Stand up we are having our first lesson.“

They were practicing her walk, or more like his walk, and she got it pretty right. Clothes won´t be a big problem cause they wear uniforms and wearing baggy clothes is one of the most comfortable things for her. She doesn´t know how she will do it but for her brother, she needs to at least try.

A couple of days passed and now Y/N is sitting in the passenger seat, Charlie is behind the wheel. Sun is shining through the windows of their parent's car. She is wearing her school uniform and her leg is bouncing up and down in black uncomfortable shoes.

„Stop Y/N it will be okay-„ she turned to him „Well it´s easy for you to say! You aren´t the one dressed as me!“. Okay maybe she´s a little dramatic but she´s shitting her uniform pants right now, oh God please let this be over already.

Y/N didn´t even notice and they were already in front of the school. Students were walking back and forth, laughing and greeting each other after the holidays. The girl wasn´t a social kid growing up. I mean she doesn´t have a problem with talking to others, the problem is in the start of conversations. She can try as hard as she can but she never knows how to begin. Her mind suddenly stops working and becomes quiet. She´s not shy, at least she doesn´t think she is. For the longest time of her life, she thought that she was an introvert but as she was getting older she realized maybe she´s just a quiet extrovert. Y/N likes to listen to people more than talk to them. She likes to be by herself but also enjoys the company of the right people.

„Okay we are here, “ Charlie said „Just try to enjoy it, it will be fun“. Yeah, his twin is boiling with excitement.

They got out of the car, her brother went to get her bags from the back and she just stood there. Just like a kid for the first time going to school, doesn´t know what's waiting for them. She just realized that this is real and that what is she going to do is a crazy idea.

„Ch-Charlie I think I changed my mind I can´t do this-“

„Y/N STOP-“

Walking to her dorm room is the next thing, bags in hands trying to find her room. Finally, she sees the right numbers and she can´t wait to put these heavy bags in there. She unlocked the door and walked straight to the room.

„Oh hi!“ Y/N heard from the other side, looked up and her eyes met with the unknown boy.

„I´m Percy.“ he walked up to her and offered his hand „I´m guessing you are my roommate?“ He was a little taller than her and had long brown hair.

„Yeah, nice to meet you my name´s Y-Ch-Charlie, my name´s Charlie.“ she said as she shook his hand. Damn! She needs to concentrate more.

„Well Charlie pleasure to meet you“ he smiled „I´d like to sit and talk with you but I have to go now, you can put your clothes right there, and on the left side of the door is the bathroom, thankfully every room has one so not all students have to share the same one.“  Well, at least it would be easier for her to shower. Y/N thanked him as he walked away. With a sigh, she fell right into her new bed. She started unpacking and soon walked out of the dorm. She doesn´t know where is she going but she will find out. Silently cursed at her new roommate for rushing away even though he knew she was new. Y/N was in her world passing around the corner of the hallway until someone smashed into her.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry!”

The girl moved her gaze to the voice and there was a guy, he was taller than her and looked like he was in a rush, he was holding some clothes which were probably PE uniform.

“I didn’t mean to do it I swear I didn’t see y-“

“Hey it’s okay nothing happened but damn you are in quite a rush”. she laughed and he started to rub his neck.

“Yeah, I’m heading into football practice and I’m late again, oh God my coach is going to kill me, last time he said if this happens one more time he will kick me out of the team.” he kept rumbling but the only word Y/N could catch in his sentence was “football”.

“But hey at least you are okay, I’m glad nothing serious happened-“ she cut him off.

“Wait you play football?”

“Uhm yeah, doesn’t it look like it?”. He asked in a small voice as if he was sad about it. What? He definitely looks like someone who does some sport, he is big and tall with his big arms wide shoulders, and athletic legs.

“No I didn’t mean it like that-” he kept watching her with curious eyes “-I just used to play football too and yeah, I don’t even know why I react-“ his face lit up.

“You can go with me! We have enough space in our team!”

“Thank you but am not sure if-“

“No! Please! I’m not going to force you but you can at least come and look, please-“ he was giving her puppy eyes now “-if you come with me then the coach would forgive me maybe if I said I was bringing you-“

“So that’s what it is about!”

“No! Well- maybe- but it would be cool to have someone new on our team! And we are missing a midfielder because of his injury, so you could fill up his place”. Well maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea, she can at least try. Y/N looked up at him and nodded.

“YES! Come with me- wait my name’s Mason”

“Charlie” she introduced herself with her brother's name.

They shook hands and started to walk into a field.

„You are new here, right? I don´t think I saw you before.“-

Y/N was now standing inside the cafeteria, she was looking around for a spot when suddenly she saw Percy, he was sitting in one of the middle tables with some of his friends. Before she could do anything he looked up and saw her.

„Charlie!“ he waved his hand for her to come over to the table, his friends already looking at her. Well, there´s no way to go back now.

„Hey, I wanted you to introduce me to my friends.“ he said smiling „This is Hunter and Georgie.“ Y/N shook their hands and took a seat.

„Nice to meet you, Charlie, “ Hunter said, „so how´s the first day goin´?“

„Well I´m just warming myself in here but so far I don´t have any negative words.“

Georgie took a sip of something he had in his cup and looked at her „That´s good, if you have a problem with something just ask.“

Hunter laughed at Georgie „Yeah but I don´t recommend asking Georgie for help with a class, he is the one who should seek help with that.“

„I´m not!“ he said offended. Y/N could only laugh at their bickering. „Don´t mind them-“ Percy wanted to continue with his sentence but his eyes caught something more interesting. She followed his gaze until she was met with three girls who walked into the cafeteria. They sat opposite their table and were discussing something that Y/N´s ears couldn´t hear because of the loud noise of other students in the room. She knew that Percy knew them or at least one of them, she would be an idiot to not catch that stare he was giving them but she was fighting with inner thoughts if she should ask or not. Before she could even decide Hunter saw that and turned around to look.

„Oh, “ he said, and soon Georgie followed Hunter's action and started laughing. „you may wonder why is Percy stuck. “ he said to Y/N. „Well Charlie, the one girl in the middle is Jenna, and Percy here has been trying to get with her forever but with no answer “. Oh, so he was looking at her. Yeah no wonder, she caught Y/N´s attention pretty quickly. She was really attractive even from this far. „He tried everything.“ Georgie continued „from writing her letter and getting it into her locker, drawing her portrait and leaving it on the seat she used to sit at to ask her in person but nothing!“ he laughed and Percy punched him into his shoulder. „This is not funny! I don´t know what to do anymore!“.

„Have you thought about that maybe she didn´t see you in that way?“ Hunter asked as he turned back to him.

„Of course you idiot but at least she could give me a chance“ 

„Well, I don´t know I mean... it´s a little strange I can´t even remember if I have ever seen her with someone. There are lots of guys who wanted to get with her but she turned them down, maybe she doesn´t want a relationship now-“ Hunter still kept looking at him with a serious face „-Or maybe she just thinks you are a creep.“ Georgie said and started laughing again. Percy groaned and put his head in his hands. Y/N could only smile at this boy, he was hilarious.

They were sitting there and talking mostly about classes and professors in school. She learned that Percy is in an art club and loves to paint. That would answer the question of why he has so many paintings on the walls of his side of the room, Y/N must admit he is talented and has a unique style. Hunter and Georgie, the two boys she just met, were friendly, they always tried to keep her in a conversation and asked her questions about her last school, hobbies, and family. The girl may don´t know them for too long but she can already say that she feels comfortable with them.

Y/N was speed walking out of her last class, she had a long day and couldn´t wait for it to end. Tomorrow she´s going to have her first training and she wanted to get herself some sleep. She was thinking about things to do when suddenly her body crushed into someone. Yeah, again.  She heard a small ugh and the sound of books falling on the floor. Well only her luck. She picked herself up and looked at who was the other person. She didn’t know if her eyes were making some magic on her or not. She realized what happened and started picking up her books from the ground.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to!“

“No no, it was my fault.” Y/N looked at her and was met with big doe eyes. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening. In front of her was Jenna, the girl from the cafeteria, she was wearing a school uniform and stood shorter than Y/N, her dark brown eyes, which she couldn´t see a couple of minutes ago clearly, matched her long hair.

Suddenly the door from a principal’s office opened and he walked out. „What is-?“ he started but as he looked at the scene in front of him he smirked. „Getting to know the opposite sex, are we? Male-female dynamics. All that sexual tension. It's all part of the high school experience. So continue. Please. But keep it clean, though. OK. Abstinence is key. Abstinence is... the best way to not is to not... yes.“ he slowly took back steps and closed his door.

„Well“ Y/N sighed and looked and the other girl „That was awkward... is he always like this? Friendly?“ she asked her. Jenna softly laughed „Are you kidding? That´s him being rude“.

„Okey... ehm... I´ll continue with my way.“ She didn´t know why she was acting like this. „Here are your books.“ She handed her them and shot her apology for eyes „Sorry again I didn´t mean to.“

Jenna only looked up at her with wide eyes „It´s okay, nothing happened “ she smiled „Hope to see you again“.  Y/N quickly walked away leaving the other girl behind her. Damn, she needs to put herself together.

The next day Y/N felt a lot more relaxed, she spent almost all afternoon with Mason and she decided that he just become her favourite person. He was so kind. Keeping an eye on her and always asking if she needed anything. He was outgoing and even though her new friend was the polar opposite of her social life, Y/N couldn´t help but feel comfortable with Mason.

The whistle was heard from the football field and Y/N was trying to find her way of getting the ball into the net. God, she missed it so much. Her legs were running like there was no tomorrow, others got in her way to stop her but they never succeded, Y/N was too good. She knew that. In the past, when she used to play, she was one of the best, if not the best, in her team. She truly enjoyed it and now that she finally had the football ball on her foot there was no way to stop her. Y/N shot the ball into a net and it flew straight to the right top corner of the goal.

„What? Charlie! How are you this good man?“ Mason ran to her and grabbed her shoulders smiling. „And here you wanted to decline my offer!“

„Well I got a little lost.“ They started walking slowly to get their water as they got a quick pause from the coach.

Some people were sitting on the tribune but she didn´t mind. This wasn´t only a football field, there were a lot of sports grounds and right now there were a lot of athletes too. She scanned the chairs when suddenly she caught the girl. The same girl she saw for the first time in the cafeteria and the second time ran into. She had books on her knees and a bag beside her, her hair was waiving in soft wind. But there is no way that she came to look at the football training, right? She was waiting for someone, maybe her friend. But as she kept looking, their eyes met and Y/N quickly looked the other way. This was embarrassing. Luckily she was saved by the whistle and that made her jog her way to the coach.

At the end of her training coach called the girl on the side „Good job today Y/L/N, I would be glad if you come next practice.“ he said as he waited for her answer.

„Yes, you will see me, thank you for having me.“ He only nodded his head and walked away. Mason came to her side and was smiling widely „You impressed him today, I wouldn´t be surprised if he let you play in our next game.“ his eyebrows went up and down.

She was glad that she let herself be talked into this, Y/N hadn´t felt this alive since she could remember. It was for sure a good idea and couldn´t wait for the next practice. As she was walking back she shot one last glance at the tribune only to find the spot Jenna sat in empty.

Y/N was leaning on a table, they were waiting for their professor to start a class. She´s standing beside Percy, Hunter, and Georgie. They are talking about plans for the weekend. Y/N doesn´t really listen she just looks like she is listening.

She was thinking about her brother and how she would call him when her class was over. He already texted her, asking how it was going and if she had any troubles. She misses him, but she won´t tell him that of course, and how could she not, he is her twin, her other half.

The teacher walked to their group with a bucket in her hand. „Everyone, please take a slip and read off the name of your lab partner.“ Percy was the first one who grab the folded paper, he got Emma Myers. Emma was one of the group of girls they saw in the cafeteria. „Oh you are lucky, she´s cool.“ Georgie says and Hunter nods at his words.

Y/N unfolded her paper “Jenna Ortega” she says out loud and Jenna immediately looks at her with a smile. “You know each other?” Percy hissed at her. “No, not really” quickly turned away with a slight hint of red cheeks. “Switch up with me please” he went to grab the paper with the girl´s name on it. “I can’t! She already heard me, what would she think?” the girl grabbed her things and went to her new lab partner.

“Hi.. so you are my lab partner?” “Yeah,” she said smiling.

„I don´t think we introduced each other the other day.“ she was hitting on the day they both ran to each other. „No we didn´t, I´m Jenna.“ she grinned. „I´m Charlie.“ She almost forgot about her brother. Y/N felt Percy´s gaze but didn´t mind him. It´s not her fault that she got lucky to get her as a lab partner, right? It happened because of something she can´t control.

“You know ehm... the whole dissecting thing kind of freaks me out. So, think you may have to take the reins on this one.” she said slowly.

Jenna leaned into the table with her eyes still on the other girl.“Wow, no guy would ever admire that” Oh f- Y/N quickly realized her mistake. What is she even saying? “Shit, you are right” Her hands started to sweat but before the inner thoughts and anxiety could grow even more the brown-haired girl grabbed her hands. “No! It’s okay you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s cute”

Y/N moved her eyes from their hands and looked at her. God her doe eyes, they were beautiful, so innocent and pure. She lowered her gaze at her smiling lips and then her dimples, at that action Jenna smiled even wider. “So today we are going to-“ she quickly pushed her own hands away and looked at the professor acting like she wasn’t just drooling over her classmate. This will be long.

“So how it went?” Percy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The talk with Jenna, how it went? What were you talking about?” Y/N turned to him placing books on her table. They were in their dorm right now since their classes were over. “Nothing, just school work” Well she wasn’t lying. They were just talking. He was silent for a minute, looking out of the window.  “What are you thinking about?” the girl questioned him but his eyes were telling that his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Charlie I need you to do something for me” Well this doesn’t start well. “ Can you convince her to go out with me?” “Who?” He turned to her. 

“Jenna of course! It’s just I’ve been into her-“ yeah she had noticed “-for so long and this is like a perfect opportunity for me that she will finally say yes to me.” he sat on her bed and looked up at her. In this position, it seemed like he was giving her an ultimatum like there was no other answer than the one he wanted. And like dude, there may be a reason if she didn’t say yes to you yet. He keeps looking at her waiting for the girl's answer and to be honest, for some reason, she doesn’t really like the idea of him with Jenna together but on the other hand, she can’t just say no to him. Why is she always the one who needs to please someone's needs?

“Well, I’ll see what I can do”. Y/N nodded her head and Percy instantly got up.

“Thank you Char you are a lifesaver!” he smiled wide at her and went to his bed as she just stood there looking at the ground.

At night Y/N couldn´t sleep, she was thinking about what Percy said and she didn´t feel good about it. Because of something, it felt a little disrespectful towards Jenna, almost unfair. But she already agreed. She will just say something nice about him and see where it will go, she can´t influence Jenna´s decision after that and Percy can´t be mad at her if this doesn´t work.

She picked herself up and went to the bathroom, silently thanking God above that this wasn´t a public bathroom, and could shower without being scared that someone could see her. She doesn´t even know what she would say if someone finds out the twin´s secret. But she doesn´t want to think about that option.

A couple of days passed. The classes were good but the football practices were her favourite. Coach wants her to play in the upcoming game and she just can´t wait. Mason is her right hand and he is always supporting her, now when she doesn´t have her brother near, the boy is playing the role of her twin. Today she and Jenna have class again. They are talking a lot more. Y/N liked her, she was sweet and always smiling, she also found out that Jenna likes to listen to music and loves acting. She even recommended some of her favorite movies which Y/N didn´t see yet. They spend a lot of time together, besides being together in class, they also sometimes hang out in the cafeteria and walk together to classes, and sometimes she even sees Jenna watching her practice. Y/N doesn´t know how she found out about her being in the team but she isn´t even sure if the brown-eyed girl is sitting there every practice for her.

„What?“ Jenna was shocked „How come you have never seen that?“ they were talking about films, the movie Scream to be exact. They were sitting under the tree on some bench. Students were walking around chatting, birds were singing in the trees and the sun was shining through the holes of the leaves. Y/N was walking out of class when suddenly she saw the other girl. Jenna asked her if she wanted to grab coffee since they had some free time. So now they were sitting next to each other, talking about everything.

„I have heard about it but didn´t see that, don´t know why.“ Y/N shrugs her shoulders. Jenna only shook her head at the girl.

„That´s a mistake, it´s so cool, the actors, plot, cinematography, blood-“ she started to mumble about the movie when suddenly an amazing idea crossed her mind „we can watch it together sometime!“ she let out and looked at Y/N for an answer. She only kept her gaze on her if she heard it right. She wanted to say yes but there was something in her telling her that it would be unfair for Percy.

„Yeah sure, that would be awesome“ Y/N said smiling. Jenna shot her smile back.

„Okay, so this friday?“ she asked the other girl. Y/N looked at Jenna, she didn´t know this girl would be so fast, she thought they were just talking about the possibility, not that they were already making plans.

„Yes, I should be free.“

„Great, can you give me your phone?“ Y/N gave her phone to Jenna „Here, you better text me football player.“ she said smiling as she stood up from the bench and started to walk away. Y/N laughed softly.

„Of course.“ she whispered under her breath and kept staring at her back until she couldn´t see her anymore. She picked up her phone and looked at the new contact. Jenna xx.

It was already the end of the week Y/N was getting ready to hang out with Jenna, and she texted her about the details. They are going to watch the film in the other girl´s room since her roommate is going to a party. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Percy, she didn´t tell him about her going out. It´s not like she has to say it to him, right?

„Hey you planning to go somewhere?“ he asked.

„Uhm... yeah, some boys from the football team asked me about hanging out with them.“ she said. Y/N hated lying but what would he say if she told him she was hanging out with the girl he had a crush on? It´s not her fault that Jenna invited her, or is it?

„Oh okay, we are going to the party some students are throwing, wanted to ask you if you want to come but it´s good.“ he only smiled at her. She thanked him and he soon left the room. It was already time to go so she picked up some snacks she bought and left the dorm.

“So? Your rating?” Jenna turned to face the other girl. They just finished watching Scream and all Y/N can say, it got her. They were sitting on the small couch, snacks around them, she faced Jenna and only the light from the TV made her see her. The girl´s hair was loose on both sides of her face, she was not wearing any makeup and her bare face only made the girl’s heart skip a beat. It was refreshing seeing her like this and also Y/N felt proud because this meant that Jenna felt comfortable around her.

“It was pretty good, not bad not good.” Y/N acted unbothered.

“Oh yeah? That’s why you didn’t blink the whole movie?” she smirked at Y/N, she squinted her eyes at her “Be honest.”

“Okay! I enjoyed it so much and actually liked the plot, that’s what you wanted to hear?”

Jenna tilted her head “That’s what I thought. What can I say… I have a good taste.”

They kept silence between them, it wasn’t embarrassing or tense silence. It was comforting. They were looking at each other.

“Tell me about your family.” the brown-eyed girl said softly, holding gaze with the other girl.

“Well, I live with my parents and my twin sister” Jenna raised her eyebrows.

“You have a twin?” Y/N nodded at her question.

“What is she like?”

“Well…“ she didn’t know what to say, it felt weird talking about herself as if she was talking about someone else “She is cool, likes to keep things to herself most of the time, likes reading and writing poems…”

“She sounds interesting, you could introduce us to each other sometime.” she smirked at her.

“Yeah, I think she would like you”

“You think?” Jenna straightened her back “I’m amazing! Of course, she will!”

Y/N throws her head back with a laugh.

“How can you be so sure that you will meet her?”

“Oh believe me” Jenna smiled at Y/N “I know.”

Y/N felt the vibe of the room change. When she was with Jenna she almost forgot about everything and everybody, her brother, her parents, school, her and Percy´s deal, her impersonating her twin…

But only almost.

next chapter

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fem reader #jenna marie ortega #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #wednesday x you #scream #scream movie #scream 5 #scream 6 #scream vi #wednesday series #millers girl #cairo sweet #fanfic #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Black Wedding

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: FEET (sorry Fen!), complete worship, mind control, the incubus. Tummy bluge since apparently this is contensious now???

3.2k words

A/N: Some pov shifts.

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Priest are you there? Can you hear my voice? Do you hear my prayers? Are you out there? Forgive me priest For I have sinned (I know not what I do)" ~Black Wedding, In this Moment.

Sweating, tossing, turning. 

The demon, the manifestation of your inadequacy tormented you so often you’d come to be complacent in it, the ravaging of your body nearly a nightly part of your bedtime routine. You just wanted to feel safe in your own bed again. You wanted your husbands to stay the night, to protect you from the terrors, but how could you confess what was happening? 

When you wake up in a cold sweat, fear shivers down your spine as you dry heave and gasp for air, red daylight seeping in your curtains and bathing your clothed body in the image of blood, you are determined to change something. You can’t go on like this. You had Francisco now, you just needed to win back Pope. You were ovulating, now was your chance, all you needed was to have all their hearts.

*

Ben was a lot of fun. You and him did the most activities.

Before he became angry with you, Pope and you mostly spent time outside of sex in your studio. He liked to watch you paint, sipping wine with his eyes over the glass observing the strokes. It was quiet, peaceful, and calming.

Francisco, since your trip to the field was taking you more and more. He liked to take you out to the meadow, fucking on the blankets and putting flowers in each others hair. He let you put a flower crown on him, looking so pretty you had to reward him.

Will treated you like a princess. Will promised that first day that he’d help work out those pains in your back, and he was. He liked to massage you with his healing oils, making your body feel good and comfortable before he filled you up, stating that your comfort and health was important for conceiving.

But Ben, Ben was fun. Ben’s time was filled with laughter, adventure, and lots of sex. Today he took you out on a horse ride, much like Frankie, but there wasn’t a picnic. That wasn’t Ben’s style. What was Ben’s style was making the horse go ‘really fuck’n fast’. 

You felt like a princess, your handsome prince whisking you away to some far off land. Benny made you giddy, he made you feel wanted. When Pope and Francisco both wanted nothing to do with you, it was Ben and Will who made you feel seen, feel beautiful, feel desired for.

You watched Ben climb a tree, begging him to be careful but he swore up and down he was going to find you the best peach there was. Ben loved food.

“Please just watch your step!!” You shout after him, but then turn your attention to the open field. From the top of the hill, you could see the fields of gold you used to labour at. Watching the others work, all but tiny dots on the horizon, sometimes you felt bad, like you weren’t contributing to Delta… Will had reminded you that you were called to a higher purpose, for something more. The DNA of gods was constantly inside you, and you wondered if it was changing you in more ways than just the hopeful pregnancy. Maybe you were more than a saint. Maybe their seed was creating a goddess, a new mother- nonononononono that was heresy! You shove the idea out of your head like an intrusive thought, determined to keep your thoughts clear.

THIS was why the incubus was tormenting you! Your thoughts were impure, vile, evil, and so were you. Tears began to burn behind your eyes.

“Here!” Ben drops upside down, hanging by his knees on the tree branch, making you gasp. He’s holding a peach, which you happily take.

“Thank you.” You smile. He always knew how to make you smile. Ben himself was shining as bright as the sun today, a reflection of his good mood. He said he’d make sure there’d be perfect weather for your outing, and he delivered, not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Will made you put on a straw sunhat to protect your skin from its reys. He treated you so well. 

Ben makes a kissy face, and you oblige, rewarding him for finding you your snack. His mouth tasted sweet, only then do you realize he took a bite already and you can’t help but laugh adoringly. You take a bite of the peach as Ben still hung from the tree, swinging as he gripped the branch, and come to him again, sliding the bite into his mouth for him to eat. You can feel him smile, chewing the peach and you pepper his face with kisses. 

It wasn’t long before he was pulling you up onto the tree, helping you climb up and up. Everything was so beautiful where you sat. Ben kisses you deeper here.

“Fish ain’t the only one that can be romantic as shit.” He mutters against your mouth and you get the feeling he was jealous. Francisco must have told him what you did the last couple days with him, making love in the meadow and yes, it was romantic, but you didn’t expect Ben to be Francisco. All of them loved you in their own ways, with their own expressions.

“He certainly isn’t, my handsome husband.” You kiss back, sighing as he touches your thigh. There was no way to fuck up here, but Ben still brought you to orgasm with his fingers. He had told you not to wear panties.

He picks another peach, pulling his hard cock out as you kick your legs, smiling, your dress rustling in a breeze. You’d noticed the breeze picked up as Ben got turned on. You watch in aw as he fingers the peach open, eyes intently on you. He’s obscene, groaning as if he’s pleasuring himself until he creates a hole, and then…

“Eyes on my cock, peach.”

And god, are your eyes on his cock. Benny has the prettiest dick in your humble opinion. It was long and thick like they all were. Ben was cut, his manhood always throbbing and the prettiest golden color and a vein on the underside. You loved looking at it. Ben fucked himself with the peach, up and down on the shaft with the most levacious squelches coming out only to the harmonized by Ben’s moans and whimpers. His eyes closed, lost in pleasure and he jerked off.

“F-fuck…” Ben mumble, chest heaving as he rests against the trunk. “Fuck man, feels so fucking good.” His hip bucked, makin the branch you were on shake and you had to grab one above for stability but fuck, you couldn’t stop watching him. He was incredible, sculped body creating a divine figure in your midst and you were so blessed to be filled by him. His blue eyes flashed open only to roll back into his head, spurting cum all over his hand and the peach. You nearly came again from the sight and sound alone. You loved how he looked in orgasmic bliss, it didn’t matter who caused it, you, Francisco or Pope, you just wanted to see him when it happened.

You ate the cum stained peach directly from his hand.

*

You got the idea from Iris, really. Sitting on the counter of the kitchen, you were busy with some cross stitching you wanted to give to Francisco. It was a simple scene, nothing complex as your dormitory focused of useful skills like fieldwork, cooking, animal care. Still, you knew how to sew and although you’d asked, sometimes even begged Iris to let you help with housework, she didn’t trust you with much outside of cooking, which you were good at. You wished she didn’t treat you like a child. Still, you happily worked on the nature scenary for you husband, god of nature. How lucky you were. You noticed how much he liked smoking marijuana.

Reyansh was inside for a refreshment while working outside. He was creating a flower bed for you at Francisco’s request, and his neck was hurting so Iris rubbed his neck. Reynash sighed contently, his soft face smiling at the touch of who very clearly, you see now, was his lover.

 Iris was gentle for no one. She brushed off every attempt Jonah made to talk about anything none work related, and it hadn’t endeared her to you much. You didn’t think that bothered her, it didn’t seem she was too fond of you either. It wasn’t a rivalry and you didn’t have a problem with her. In fact, you liked her. She was beautiful, she made good food and she had been there when it was necessary, like having a panic attack. Even in the small things, she fed you well and had your safety in mind. Today, for example, she told you to put on sunscreen before you went outside to sunbathe while Rey built the flowerbed and doubled with babysitting you. That’s what you called it. Still, she didn’t talk to you, and didn’t seem like she wanted to be your friend.

You liked Reyansh a lot, he was kind, gentle, and thoughtful. Iris took care of Reyansh, and that made you happy. You liked seeing Reyansh smile, he had a nice smile. Iris never smiled unless it was at Reyansh and even then it seemed subdued. Jonah smirked at best, and that was usually mixed with an eye roll.

Pope had bad knees. He called it his stigmata, the physical manifestation of the sufering he bared for the people of Delta. He took the brunt of your sins and wasn’t that so good of him? You wondered if you could alleviate some of that pain, seeing as much of it was probably caused by the sins of your father.

“Rey?” You ask from your chair, watching him plant seeds for marigolds. You loved marigolds; they reminded you of Ben, all sunshine and gold.

He turns around over his should, a bright smile on his face. He seemed happier with plant or animals. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Will keeps his healing oils?”

Reyansh laughs and its brighter than the midday sun. He turns around, sitting his ass on the dirt and props himself up on his hands. “What are you planning?”

*

“SHHHHHHH” Reyansh shushes you, but he’s giggling himself.

You and him were breaking into Will’s room while he was out. Well, not so much breaking as Rey got the master key but still, naughty. You loved Will’s room, you wanted to stay here all the time. It was simple, but not uncomfortable. You both had to be careful, not digging too much into his things as to not get in trouble… but then you found them.

You took lavender, rose, peppermint and oregano. You knew a little about healing oils, but Will’s were special having been blessed by his hands. This had to help Pope’s aches… now, you must get an audience with Pope, and he was not pleased with you.

*

“I’m busy.” Pope called from his office, ignoring your plea’s to spend time with you. You missed him so, so much. You missed his intensity, the warmth in the gaze, the fire and passion in his eyes. You feel his love for you, his husbands, his community. Who else was to bare the pain he did for his people? He was good, so good.

“Pope, please?” Your voice cracks, leaning against the wood of his door. “Please just ten minutes?”

“I’ll be with you tonight with Francisco.” To breed you, but you didn’t just want to be fucked by him, you wanted to be loved.

“I want to spend time with you, please? I have a surprise. I just… I miss you.”

Silence… then the door unlocking. He stood in front of you, brown eyes ablaze with irritation but also curiosity.

Once securing his attention, you were able to get Pope to follow you to the room you had set up. In it, a chair and a bucket of steaming, sudsy water.

“Sit! Sit!” You beckon him to the chair, and although hesitant he sits down. You take your place where you belong, at the feet of your God.

Knelt before him and gazing up into his eyes, you untie his shoes and slide off his socks, pleasantly surprised by the lack of smell. He’d been inside all day. After rolling up his pants, you take his feet, one by one and lower them into the steaming water and watch in delight ashe closes his eyes, moaning and hanging his head back. He looked relaxed, actually, something you only see in post orgasmic bliss.

You don’t take your eyes off him, massaging into the arch of his foot and enjoying the look of pleasure on his face. You’d doused the water preemptively with lavender and rose oils and you were happy to see it working in calming him.

“Mmmmm” Pope moans, a hardening bulge between his spread legs and you smile at the effect you have on him, the evidence of the love he still held for you. You hoped this act of washing his feet and massaging the joints would prove your subservience to him, your devotion.

Leaning in, you kiss the ball of his foot first as he opens his eyes, firey and alight with lust and love for you, his Madonna, his wife, his goddess. Pope’s mouth pops open, slightly agape as his chest begins to heave, eroticism  clouding his face. Pope angls his foot, pressing his toes to your lips and you don’t hesitate to open, completely and fully in his control. You would debase yourself however he asked, just for him. He was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. You’d adored him your whole life, worshiping him in prayer halls for as long as you could remember. He’d been the light of your life, your God, and although you were 11 when Divine Mother announced Pope was not the savior, it didn’t matter to you. He was your savior, he was your everything, and oh, how blessed you were to be here.

You make your jaw slack, allowing him access of as much of your mouth as possible, laving your tongue out against the calloused skin. Reaching to the side, you grab the peppermint-oregano mix of healing oils and poured some on his leg. As you gagged on him, sucking on his toes, you rubbed down his legs. Pope groans in pleasure, taking out his erection to stroke himself to the wet sounds of  your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him, so desperate try to please him, to regain his favor so you can be impregnated by his seed, the seeds of his brothers. You wanted so desperately to be his Madonna again, his holy mother, his little flower, it didn’t matter what it took.

He could cut open your chest and carve your heart out if it meant he held the dying pulse in his hands.

“Get over here” He grunts, pulling his feet out of you mouth with a pop. You chase after him, worried you’d done something wrong, but Pope grabs your dress, yanking you  forward harshly and into a crash of a kiss. The action knocks over the warm bucket of water, but he didn’t care. Pushing you down and into the spilt water, Pope turns you over and climbs on top of you, rucking your wet skirt over your ass. He didn’t bother taking off your underwear simply pulling it aside in order to thrust directly into you.

You were wet, you were always so, so wet with him. Being in his presence had always left you soaked and needy when he didn’t give you what you wanted. Sometimes you found yourself going to Will for his mouth to give you what Pope wouldn’t. 

“My beautiful, sweet Madonna” He mutters, his bearded cheek scratching against yours. “Always so ready for me, such a good fucking girl.” His thrusts are harsh, your face sliding against the floor with the spilt water, your dripping hair splattered all about the tile. The smell was overwhelming and you realize Will’s oils were spilled, mixing into the water and stirred with the movement of your connected bodies.

Everything was so, so much from the smells of the oils to the stretch of his cock, the pounding, pounding, pounding in your womb.

It was the same pounding you felt that night when, for the first time in a long time, you were fucked and pleasured and devoured and worshipped by all four of your husbands.

You were raw, aching, sweating and throbbing; 3 men’s cum had flooded your womb and Will’s was soon to follow. It was good, so, so good. Your body, despite the exhaustion was floating on your soft bed. The group sex had happened in your room, which was a rarity but something that in this moment made you feel like home. This was special, this was different. Will’s grunts were loud, powerful, his strong and naked body forbaring before you where he knelt. Muscles flexing and shifting and moving, his sweaty form and dripping hair complimenting his presence, the size reflected in the bulge of your stomach in every inward thrust. He had to be this stunning if he were to distract you from the scene beside you.

Ben, Francisco and Santiago and spent and drained, were entangled next to you in a sweat and lust-fill affair of their own. Francisco was the center focus, his body worshiped and adored by Pope and Ben. It seemed like a tug of war, like Francisco was the rope in a tug of war. It was clear that Francisco was precious to both of them, but there was another air about it all. The fight for Francisco’s sweet kisses was just the battle ground. Francisco himself had gotten hard all over again, Ben’s hands jerking him of from where he lay, their two body’s and coloring a contrast of dark and light, hard and soft, and electric energy so, so close to Pope’s explosives. 

Pope would not be out done by the younger man. This was his community, he was the leader, he was son of the Divine Mother and he would not relinquish his most favored lover to a boy 8 years his junior. Ben had ambition, he had wants and visions of a future that Santiago would not acquiesce to and although Benjamin’s loyalty was strong, so was his jealousy.

Two could play at jealousy, and Francisco was his. Playing with Frankie’s balls, heavy but starting to tighten as his perfect body writhed to the sounds of the Madonna’s pleasure, Santiago gripped Ben’s locks and yanked him down. He took control of Frankie’s mouth, lips still swollen from their previous encounter evidence of who his lips belonged too. He sucked on him until the healing lip cracked open again. If Francisco bled, his blood was Pope’s. 

He hears you cry out in the way you only do when you’re coming, and Ben latches onto Francisco’s nipple, determined to make him cum again. Pope loved his brothers, loved them all, they were the center of his world, his everything, his rocks. He’d had all of them in every way imaginable, fucked into every hole at every angle but god, nothing compared to Frankie. Ben must’ve felt that too, the way he took care of him. Together, as a team, they gave Francisco his second orgasm.

Something was different today. Something changed.

They all slept in her bed that night.

WHAT DO WE THINK For The Wrong Way readers, did you catch the reference? it was small.

also last chapter i asked whose the worst and someone said jonah i just wanna talk LMFAOOOO but i laughed bc its OVERWHELMINGLY santi. like 80%

Poll of the day

who knocks up madonna? not who you WANT that'll be a new poll, but who you think does it. listing all potential options.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS and whyyyyy

If you are into c.ai, check out the Jonah ai on the masterlist

Also, hope you check out the playlist! if you like old music like me especially. lots of 60's-80's

apoligies to everyone whose been tagging me in tag games. i appiciate the tags a lot, im just like....... ahhhhhhh you know? life. i love yall for including me though! If you have discourd and wantto join a server for my works, dm me! as long as you are an active particpant in the fics you're welcome!

IF YOU LIKE CULT FICS READ THIS ONE BY @noxturnalpascal with cult leader joel!!!!! I havnt had the chance to read a full chapter by i read most of the first chapter and its soooo good.

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @mjnomaryjane @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa@mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5

If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

#rooms on fire #Triple frontier #dark triple frontier #benjamin miller #dark benjamin miller #william miller #dark william miller #santiago garcia #dark santiago garcia #Francisco morales #dark francisco morales #frankie morales #dark frankie morales #non con #dub con #yandere #yander triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #benjamin miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #william miller x reader #bisexual santiago garcia #bisexual francisco morales #bisexual benjamin miller #bisexual william miller #FishBen #triple frontier smut #Santiago Garcia smut #Francisco Morales smut #Frankie morales

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

Sogeking vs God Usopp: Usopp’s Dual Roles

So I’ve been doing some thinking about Usopp’s two titles on his wanted posters: Sogeking and God Usopp. Both of them are larger-than-life personas connected to Usopp, and inform the way that he’s viewed by the world at large. And after thinking about it some I think I’ve come to the conclusion that each title reflects something about Usopp, and I think we can track something about his move from one to the other, as well as speculate where he goes from here.

Part 1: Why did Luffy recruit Usopp?

I wanna start here by discussing something I’ve noticed about the way Luffy recruited Usopp onto the crew.

Firstly, I realized upon doing my reread of the manga that Luffy did not know about Usopp’s sniping ability until after he had already joined the crew.

This was incredible to me, because I had figured that, well, Luffy had witnessed Usopp’s almost supernaturally-good sniping skills and wanted him to join the crew on that basis, but nope. According to what Luffy actually saw during the Syrup Village Arc was Usopp, village boy, Yasopp’s son, protector of his friends, courageous hero, and, most importantly, liar. Or, in other words, storyteller.

So, my thesis about Luffy’s recruitment of Usopp is the following: Luffy wanted Usopp because he wanted a storyteller for his crew, and this is what Luffy initially envisioned his role to be until he saw how skilled he was as a sniper.

Here’s my proof:

When Luffy meets Usopp, he’s not actually all that impressed by him: he thinks he’s funny, but explicitly notes that he doesn’t want him to join the crew (Usopp said he’d be captain, but still). The turning point for Luffy’s opinion of Usopp happens here, when the Usopp pirates tell the straw hats about why Usopp tells Kaya stories:

Here, Usopp’s good qualities are tied directly to his lying, or to his storytelling, and wins Luffy over. This happens multiple times throughout the arc, with Luffy getting increasingly more impressed by Usopp, and many of these examples include Usopp lying or telling stories to either protect his friends or hide his great courage. Zoro and Nami also begin the admire and like him for similar reasons:

Again, none of this has anything to do with Usopp’s ability as a sniper. Luffy specifically likes Usopp’s courage and lying, and it’s these two qualities that lead him to want to add him to his crew. It is important to note too that a key role of Zoro’s in the final confrontation was removing items blocking Usopp’s shots: so he at least knew Usopp was a more than decent shot, and he is crucially the one to actually invite Usopp aboard the Merry. Luffy seems to treat it like it was forgone conclusion instead.

And it is the chapter after the leave Syrup Village with Usopp already on board that Luffy, after seeing him fire a cannon, awards him the role of sniper. Which means that he had not recruited him to be that person, he had recruited him based only what he had seen earlier: the courageous warrior who steps up to save his friends, and does so in many ways by telling stories. And that is the person Luffy initially wanted in the crew, and by happenstance ended up with a world class sniper to boot.

Interestingly enough, Luffy knew full well about Yasopp’s sniping skills, and was very impressed by them. Usopp, too, takes pride in being the son of a skilled sniper and great pirate, and much of his dreams focus on both of these goals as it’s what he admired the most in his father.

So, what does this mean? Here’s why this is important to establish:

1. The crew has already seen Usopp act as a brave warrior of the sea, and already knew he achieved his dream before even starting it

2. Luffy rated Usopp’s character and lying so highly that he not only befriended him, he wanted him for his crew

3. Usopp’s role as a sniper was not something Luffy saw as a core element of his personality/dream until after the fact. Meaning that Usopp also did not ever mention his sniping skills as being a large part of his identity.

Part 2. Sogeking the sniper

Now with that established, let’s talk about Sogeking.

Sogeking as a persona was born out of Usopp’s lies, out of his storytelling ability: he brought him into existence out of thin air, wearing the mask of the hero that he needed to be to save Robin.

The thing is, this hero is specifically and necessarily themed around Usopp’s sniping ability. It’s revealing of what Usopp considers to be his own best quality, which is his sniping skill. Therefore, Sogeking IS Usopp’s sniping ability in every sense: his confidence, his heroism, the things that he’s good at, all wrapped up into a person that Usopp constructed and meticulously maintains.

So, Sogeking exists at the overlap of both of Usopp’s roles on the crew: he was born out of a story that Usopp purposefully maintained and put effort into: everything from his costuming to his way of speaking to his backstory was constructed with intent and meaning. But he is maintained through Usopp’s insanely skilled sniping, which takes the story that Usopp initially constructed and turns it into fact, the Sniper King started out a lie but turned into a truth because Usopp is just that good at it. This reflects our introduction to Usopp too: as a storyteller first, a sniper second.

Sogeking also reflects something about Usopp’s power as a storyteller, which is autonomy. In creating Sogeking, Usopp created the narrative to which he was exposed to the world through his bounty poster and title. That is a name and narrative completely of his own devising, whilst everyone else got names & narratives driven by the world government. Usopp, in having the power to create his own public persona, chose to theme it around sniping, and thus deliberately placed his sniper role in a higher position than his storytelling/lying one. The role he shares with his father, rather than the one that is entirely his own.

Part 3: God Usopp the Storyteller

Now, let’s go to God Usopp.

This persona is the mirror image of Sogeking in so many ways. For one, God Usopp was born in the inverse style that Sogeking was: whilst Sogeking burst out of Usopp’s head fully formed, God Usopp was a gifted title, a persona that was bestowed upon him by others. Unlike with Sogeking, God Usopp was not an expression of Usopp’s autonomy, or of his ability to tell his own story. Instead, it is the opposite: God Usopp is when he lost control of the story, where others stepped in to control his narrative, to choose the kind of person he is going to be. And the persona they chose? God Usopp, a savior, a creator. A storyteller.

The general public, when faced with Usopp, again notice and admire what Luffy first noticed and admired: Usopp’s courage and ability to create something out of nothing. It is an enduring trend with Usopp, where the people around him hold his storytelling ability in the greatest esteem, while he believes that his sniping ability is the more important one by a long shot.

Furthermore, and more importantly, God Usopp is the inverse of Sogeking because while it’s the story that created Sogeking and the sniping that maintained it, it’s the sniping that created God Usopp and the storytelling that maintained it. Usopp was only able to get to helping Sugar’s victims in Dressrosa because of his sniping ability, before transitioning to lying (and claiming, well, Noland the Liar in a very on-the-nose comparison) and, eventually, falling into a completely out of control situation that causes the people to be freed and awarding him the title of God.

Of course, his sniping ability does return in a big way to complete the arc (and unlock his haki), but it is only effective because of the trauma inflicted on Sugar in the first place, the trauma that directly led to the birth of the title of God Usopp. And, as a consequence, the death of Sogeking, unless Usopp ever decides to break out the mask and take back control of the narrative. If that is even the narrative he wants anymore.

Part 4: What does it all mean?

So, we have Sogeking and God Usopp. Two sides of the same coin, both inverses of each other when it comes to Usopp’s dual roles on the crew: sniper and storyteller. Can the inherent tension between the two personas tell us anything about what comes next for Usopp?

Maybe. I think, based on how Usopp was recruited, and the slow transition from Sogeking to God Usopp, that we’re going to see a Usopp who leans much more into that element of himself. In other words, I think Usopp is going to embrace his role as a liar/storytelller to finally achieve his dream.

Because, the thing is, his sniping ability is already perfected. Has been, from the very beginning. On that, he didn’t need much training, and has since received a couple upgrades that instantly skyrocketed him to one of the best in the world. In a similar sense, his dream has also already been achieved: his is a brave warrior of the sea. If he wasn’t, ironically, he never would’ve been recruited by Luffy in the first place, nor would he have received Zoro and Nami’s initial approval.

I also want to bring Yasopp back into the discussion here. Usopp’s pride in his sniping ability is very much connected to the fact that he shares this skill with his father, and that is partly why he loves to highlight it as something he is proud of. Even though, as mentioned earlier, he did not seem to see it as a core part of his personality early on in the story.

I think, by embracing what makes him truly unique, and truly Usopp (his lying, his storytelling) he will unlock the final level of his power and finally come to realize that he had achieved his dream all along. He just needed the self confidence to realize it, and this confidence would come after accepting every part of himself, including the ones he might feel ashamed of.

After all, his storytelling and lying is what endear people to him, what made Luffy and Zoro and Nami initially be willing to risk their lives for a kid whom they had just met, just because he needed help. And, as evidenced by the God title, very much extends to others who’d be willing to follow’s Usopp’s direction, perhaps hinting at a potential to unlock a certain branch of haki that focuses on leadership and control…?

Regardless, I think that Usopp is due for a large power up of some sort, especially as they reach Elbaf, and, well, Elbaf IS Fable backwards, very much a type of story…

All this to say, Usopp’s role IS both storyteller and sniper and both of these things are as important as the other, and in order to achieve his full potential Usopp needs to acknowledge all his strengths and fully complete his journey to be a full fledged brave warrior of the sea

#one piece #op #usopp #monkey d. luffy #sogeking #god usopp #one piece meta #Usopp meta #op meta #speaks #Luffy #roronoa zoro #nami

[sailoryooons]

Carved | Four | jjk (m)

→ Summary: Hundreds of years after the Underworld wins the war, Vaesen - demon kind - rule the Realms. The Vanir - creatures of light and the Heavens - are hunted and enslaved by Vaesen. When the demon prince Jungkook is given one of the Carved - angels who have been stripped of their wings - he has no idea what to do with you. You, however, have plans you are determined to see through. Even if it means death in the end.

→ Pairing: demon!Jungkook x angel!female reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Type: Series

→ Genre: dystopian, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, angst

→ Pairing: 8,254

→ Warnings: Graphic depiction of violence and fighting, graphic depiction of death and gore, depictions of death (including, but not describing the death of a child and family members), semi-complex fight scenes, mentions of manipulation and power imbalance, reader purposefully seducing Jungkook to get what she wants, mentions of something similar to subspace and reader taking advance of Jungkook in a subspace like state mentally, explicit language, power imbalances and mentions of enslaved creatures, Jungkook and reader get a little violent with one another but like.. in a pleasure able way so here we go for the sexually explicit warnings, reader goading Jungkook, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, Jungkook kinda gets right too it, rough, slapping and biting, Jungkook being pretty rough and slamming reader around and shoving her into things, vulnerable mental states and manipulation, mild dirty talk tbh this sex scene is incredibly mild in terms of what I usually do, ummm I don't know guys it's a dark urban fantasy with weird shit, unedited should be a warning because I did a grammarly check and nothing else oops. ALSO PLS KEEP IN MIND THIS SEX SCENE IS BLAND BECAUSE OF THE SPECIFIC SCENARIO THEY ARE IN. I ASSURE YOU MUCH MORE DETAILED AND EXPLICIT SMUT IS IN THE FUTURE, BUT IT WASNT THE VIBE HERE

→ Main Masterlist: here

→ Series Masterlist: here

→ faq 

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE. Sorry this was so delayed. I was dealing with writers block pretty severely, work has been really crazy and demanding, I've been really tired and also my mentally manipulative ex-boyfriend decided to unalive himself so that was a weird week, I was trying to find new apartments and yeah this chapter has been re-written at least 5 times. Also I apologize I said fuck it we ball and this is absolutely only edited with a grammarly check. I will edit in full tomorrow but I do not have the brain capacity to do it right now, she is Tapped Out but I promised I would post this mf chapter tonight. Does any one have any theories as to what's going on yet teehee.

©2022 haliiimede. all rights reserved. Reposting and/or translating is not allowed, even if you credit the story. Works are only crossposted on AO3. Find my AO3 here.

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgement or representation of real life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. BTS is not BTS culturally, intellectually, physically or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

/��PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER /

Screams split the air. For a second, you hesitate, turning to the source of the chaos. It erupts beyond the door, startling several Vaesen inside of the room. You react first, shooting toward the door with Taehyung and Jungkook on your heels.

The sound that greets you is a symphony of shattering glass, surprised screams and varying degrees of carnage. A table flips in front of you as you enter the main ballroom. You sidestep it easily as it fractures against Taehyung, who hardly flinches before vanishing into the surging crowd of running and swarming Vaesen and Vanir.

With careful movements, you slid out of your heels, feet pressing against broken glass. It doesn’t bite or cut your skin – only real weapons can do that – but it’s uncomfortable as you take a defensive stance, aware how vulnerable you are in a tiny, sheer dress and no weapon.

Blood-slicked floors greet you. The screams of the Vaesen make your lips twitch upward slightly. Chaos has erupted in a tableau of overturned tables, shattered champagne glasses, pearl-draped demons hiding behind fractured, round tables, and a dark, wet hissing sound.

Whatever creatures have entered the room smell wrong, like honey gone sour or sweet cream curdled. Your eyes sweep the painting of chaos before you.

And then you see them.

Your heart stills for one painfully long second, stretched like skin pulled too tight over bone. They’re… seraphim but not.

The creatures have dark, pitted eyes with black veins rippling over sallow skin. They’re naked and feature no distinct gender, appearing stitched together. Their ribs are prominent and you’re unsure if it’s by design or emaciation. There are mismatched wings on their bodies, opening and closing uncontrollably at awkward intervals and angles like they don’t know how to use them - or maybe can’t.

A creature lets out a screech and cuts a vampire lord in half, blood spraying the wall like watercolor on canvas. There is a dozen of them, and they all have swords, crudely shaped but you can almost taste the adamas in the swords.

Fucking hells. They have swords of Heaven.

Jungkook appears at your side, dark eyes scanning the room as the Not-Seraphim spread throughout, cutting through screaming party goers who are unarmed beyond their own fangs and teeth. You can scent gore in the air and your blood hums: it smells like a killing pitch.

“Reaper.” Jungkook says the name like a command. The name is both yours and not yours. It is one of many names. One of many people you are. His voice slithers down your back, eliciting a shiver. He holds out a dagger. Reaper is the person Jungkook needs you to be. “Find my niece.”

You take the dagger and come alive. The hellstone throbs in your hand, metal carved from the deepest pits of the underworld and forged in hellfire. You tighten your grip and move forward.

One step and you’re in front of one of the Not Angels. It cocks it’s head and pauses, a series of clicks slipping through black, jagged teeth and a weeping mouth.  

A second step and death follows you.

Flesh burns. It singes your nose, something like spoiled flesh and rotten eggs. You can taste the sulfur as the creature wilts to the floor, body still twitching after decapitation. You bend over, snatching up the poorly made sword. It’s sharp enough, but the handle is crude and the blade is splotchy, mixed with many metals.

It hums in your hand, a pulse of power crawling through your palm and fingers like an electric current. You recognize the feel of adamas, a metal only found in Heaven realms deep in cloud-ringed mountains. For a moment your mind drifts, suspended between memory and imagination. You can almost see it: tangerine pink skies, the smell of orange blossoms, wind that is neither cold nor warm.

A creature lunges at you and the dream melts away. You duck under the blow, striking out with the dagger. It plunges to the hilt, a wet crack sounding as you puncture its ribcage. It screams and spittle flies. It doesn’t react to the knife, clawing toward you and opening a split maw of blood and black.

Cringing backward, you push with the dagger, shoving the creature away to provide space for the swing of your sword. The head severs, hitting the ground with a thud before rolling away. The body jerks, remaining vertical for a moment. Ripping your knife out, you send the lifeless body to the ground where it remains dead.

Interesting.

Another creature replaces the felled one, no weapon in hand but claws raking out at you. You shuffle backward, ducking away from the swiping talons. The creature flaps its wings once – the only one with functional wings, it seems – and surges forward, catching you off guard.

It knocks into you with the weight of a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs and you go down with the creature, it’s talons catching the flesh on your right bicep. You scream at the burn and fuck it burns. You look at where your skin burns black and wilted in three, jagged lines.

A blue-sparked flame catches your attention on the creature’s hands as it gnashes at you. You grab it around the throat, keeping razor teeth away from your face as drool and something else drips on your face. Your eyes zero in on the flame that comes and goes like it can’t control the heat on the tips of its fingers.

Hellfire, you realize.

Your mind expands, a searching radar for Jungkook. You sense him immediately, his mind like mist and rain tinged with hatred. His emotions are in turmoil, a churning storm of icy rain that bites into your thoughts and razor-sharp wind. There is a sense of no control, Jungkook’s churning storm ripping through his energies with something like feral-laced panic on the edges.

Jungkook, you call to him, feeding him your emotions as you shove back at the gnashing teeth of the creature pinning you down. He ignores you, his storm too volatile to sense you. You push harder, imagining that you’re brushing cool water down the bridge of your connection.

Jungkook flinches when he feels you. The storm pauses, like passing into the eye as the chaos settles around him. You use the opportunity to speak again. They can use Hellfire.

It takes a moment for him to respond. Understood.

Pulling away from the connection, you keep your minds tethered. The crackling energy and harsh storm stirs again when you pull from his mind, but it’s not as out of control as before, the thread between you an anchor as he refocuses on his own task.

Lightning crackles under your fingers as you shove with your hand, putting all your force into where you push back on the monster above you. The creature topples backward as you roll to your feet, movement fluid. Your dress is ripping near the throat, threatening to tear. You curse, begging the fabric to stay on a little longer.

You have no intention of fighting while spilling out of your dress.

Electricity charges in the room. Unchoked, you feel the thunder of your power looming on the horizon. Every time you call the lightning to you feels like a rush of adrenaline, the sparks dancing along every nerve of your body, lighting you up from the inside out.

This is your power. There is a moment where you consider letting it all go. You could supernova right where you stand, destroying everything within several miles. You know you have the capability – it's something you’ve dreamed of doing for years.

But it’s just a dream, and your dreams do not align with your goal.

Reigning in the urge to destroy destroy destroy, you instead focus the lightning on the creatures closest to you. The bolts let out a loud crack as you direct the energy to your targets. There is a flash and the smell of burnt skin and corpse, but you ignore it, pushing toward a forming group in the corner of the ballroom.

There is a concentration of fighting Vaesen, screaming and creatures near where you remember seeing Jungkook’s niece last. A body topples in front of you, and you step over it- later you will remember that it was a collared Vanir, naked and still tied to a chair on its leash.

You see Jihoon– he's covered in something black and slick, kicking out at one of the creatures. He has a single dagger in his hand, a retinue of guards dead at his feet, and you can hear the high-pitched scream of his daughter behind him. A single step in their direction is blocked by more creatures, hissing and clicking at you.

Jungkook appears at your side, covered in gore. His hands are black to the wrist, dripping in... something. You realize he’s fighting without a weapon.

“Are you ripping through them?”

“I gave you my knife,” he snaps. His mind brushes against yours, a torrent of chaos and loud noises and anger so hot you waver. You toss the dagger to him, spinning your new sword in your hand. “I think beheading them is the only thing that works.”

“Yeah, I discovered that thanks.”

A vampire gets turned to mist and splatter in front of you. You feel the hot blood hit your face. It smells metallic and like Synth from his last meal.

“Can you-”

You see it in his mind. The lightning that you can summon to destroy worlds. You nod once, summing the crackling energy inside of you.

A high-pitched scream interrupts you. Your eyes zero in on Kita, hiding under a table as her mother pulls the girl tight against her chest, baring her teeth. There's a red aura around her as she snaps her teeth at one of the creatures, a red arch of fire snapping out.

Fox fire.

Kita tries to imitate her mother, crying through barred teeth and a tiny flicker of flame humming around her. There are creatures closing in and you feel the snap of your power, targeting the creatures in a large area.

Power ripples in the room. You feel the urge to kill kill kill again. To destroy. To light the entire room up and burn it all down. You’ve done it before. You know the taste and smell of annihilation. You know the feeling of death brushing past you as he collects his dead.

The crack of a whip. A scream of agony. Blood in your mouth your hands your ears your neck, your arms-

You push away the desire to rebel. It burns bright, a hot coal ready to catch fire but you smother it. Pretend it isn’t there.

Rising up at the wrong time does nothing. Freeing yourself a long game. Giving in to your rage means failure, and you have failed and failed and failed and failed and -

The room flashes bright. Colors dance behind your eyes as you let go of the power. For a moment, everything is silent. The world is warped, the sulfur air charged with electricity. You feel the static tickle the nap of your neck, your arms, your mind.

You look around. There are no more creatures standing, black wisps of smoke curling toward a scorched ceiling. Dust motes float down. You stick out a hand, finger pointed as one lands on your finger. You realize it’s soot, the leftovers from the creatures you’ve thoroughly crisped.

Around the room, life – or what’s left of it – begins to stir. Glass crunches beneath feet and the sound of tables being righted sounds booming in the silence of destruction.

Jungkook and Ji-Hoon are on their knees, ducked under the table as they coax Kita and her mother from their hiding spot.

You assess the damage, eyes scanning the room and catching on golden collars. Diamonds resting on the hollow of still throats. Snapped gossamer wings under a broken body. A platinum leash tangled in a chair, its nymph counterpart missing her lower half.

There are more Vanir than Vaesen among the dead. Caught up in leashes and collars. Stuck in a brass birdcage. Shackled to a table. Your stomach turns but you don’t focus on the faces. Committing them to memory makes them mean something and nothing means anything to you.

“Reaper.” Jungkook’s voices radiates the space between you and the space unseen, echoing in your mind. You turn to look at him. He has a firm grip on Kita, the child pressed to his side as Ji-Hoon argues with his wife silently. “We are escorting them out.”

“We’re with you.” The oily voice makes you stiffen. You don’t have to turn to see Taehyung among the aftermath. You do see the kitsune lingering off to the side, his dark eyes flickering from the ashes to you. “Both of us.”

Jungkook bows his head. “They were concentrated around Ji-Hoon and none of his men remain. It’s safe to assume he’s a target. Reaper and Yoongi with Kita and Daiyu. Taehyung with us.”

Taehyung moves past you, no longer interested in teasing you. Jungkook presses close to his brother and you press Kita and Daiyu between you and Yoongi. The huli jing looks at you skeptically, holding her daughter’s hand fiercely. You don’t give it much thought, following Jungkook’s lead as he leads your group through a service entrance.

It smells like sulfur and rot. Damp air clings to your skin, forming a sticky second layer. You grimace. The clack of dress shoes is loud against the tile floors. The hall is too narrow for you to walk in groups, meant for only a few Vanir to come and go at a time. You move quickly in single file line, Yoongi at the front with Kita and Daiyu between you.

Jungkook’s mind waivers on the edge of yours. You can feel that he’s aware of you, as though he is turning over his should to see if you’re still there. You can’t see him from the back of the line, but he doesn’t severe the connection.

Probably don’t know how.

Servant corridors are long and complicated. When Jungkook approaches a split, he takes one hall over another confidently. You peek into his mind, seeing the flash of blueprints and memory of a layout on a screen.

You know the layout of the servant halls, you observe. Down your connection, you sense him flinching. You knew you would be attacked?

No. His voice is curt. His mind is a dark storm, words cutting through hissing rain. But we are always prepared. It’s not often that someone tries to assassinate us, but...

But what?

Focus on your task.

Your lips twitch and you feel him draw away from you a bit. But what? You wonder. He was hiding something and that just wouldn’t do. Cutting into his mind would be as easy as clipping the wings of a butterfly. But you leave Jungkook alone for now, following the dark hall, Taehyung and Jihoon’s hushed voices drifting toward you.

A small door in the hall, nearly invisible leads to a tunnel. You can still see flitting images and thoughts across Jungkook’s memory. He has no control to his thoughts, no way to block you out. He is unaware of the danger you present to his mind, laid open for the taking.

And yet you don’t.

The ground slopes beneath your feet. Your press your fingers on the wall, casting your senses. There’s damp, empty air on the other side of the wall and you can hear the hush of slow floating water. Above you, the ceiling vibrates. You’re in a tunnel in the sewers.

Your eyes drift to Jungkook. He was trained in escape routes in the building. And seemed to be one of the few Vaesen armed at the party.

Unarmed Vaesen. The thought leads you somewhere between pleasure and contempt. Only the creatures of the Underworlds could be so arrogant as to think they have nothing to fear. In a way, they don’t. Demons and their kind are the apex predators, the top of the food chain.

But even among themselves, enemies lurk.

The sheer stupidity is comforting – the knowledge that it comes at the expense of how little of a threat Vanir pose, is not.

A cool awareness brushes against the nape of your neck. You pause, the echoes of shoes and Kita sniffing silently ahead reverberating off the walls. Your instinct flickers and you turn your head a fraction, angling your ear toward the way you came.

Silence stretches and stretches. You frown, stretching out the net of your mind. It’s a strange feeling, opening that barrier and sense of other. It’s not a psychic ability as much as it is sensing energy, magic, and existence, something many Vanier and Vaesen alike can do.

At first, there is nothing but empty space. Ahead of you, your group pushes on. They don’t notice that you’ve stopped entirely, head cocked and tense.

Then you hear it – or at least perceive it. A soft hiss, the smell of death.

They’re here, you hiss down the tether between you and Jungkook. You feel his surprise and then his anger as you turn to face the back of the tunnel. Keep going and let me know when you’re out of the tunnel. If I light up in here, you’re going down too.

Good to know you care.

You scoff. I still have use for you, Dominus.

Something like irritation and resentment slithers down the connection from Jungkook. It makes you smirk, pleased at offering opposition. It’s been a long time since you could openly oppose someone the way you now can. It’s a risk, but it’s a calculated one.

Sometimes you must let the monster in to give it a sense of comfort. You remember the lesson. You think about the Vaesen who so easily move about the world without weapons.

Yes, letting Jungkook see parts of you is necessary. Dangerous, but ultimately worth it.

Shuffling, stilted movements echo toward you. Sliding your feet apart and bent slightly at the knee, you wait in a defensive stance. You leave the connection to Jungkook open. As you wait for the creatures to reach you, you periodically drift to observe Jungkook and the others. They’re making quick work rushing through a network of tunnels, moving faster now that there is a threat.

Lightning will do you no good in an enclosed space. While you won’t kill yourself, the walls of the tunnel are reinforced with metal rods and bracketing, a perfect conduit for electricity. With the running water crisscrossing in the sewer system just behind, you’re positive you’ll light up half of the underground network if you try it.

So you wait. Sword in your hand. Poised.

The first creature slides into your line of sight. The corridor is dark and without light, the shapes of the bent wings in a small space almost comical. They cannot move more than one at a time, a single file line of twisted limbs and rotten smell.

It sees you and pauses. There are soft clicks, the sounds bouncing back and forth. You frown, watching as they all stop moving, the clicks drifting between them at different intervals and cadences like… a language.

They’re speaking.

Whatever they are, they have some sort of intelligence. The humanoid shapes are all wrong, but you can vaguely sense something thrumming inside of them that is both like you and not. Your stomach flips at the implication that you can sense the creatures the way you sense Jungkook stopped at a fork in the tunnels, unsure of which way to go.

The clicking stops. You turn your attention away from Jungkook, narrowing that feed of awareness tied to him to the barest thread. For a moment, you and the first creature stare at one another. The next moment, it’s charging forward faster than you expect.

You duck as the creature slams into you. The breath leaves your lungs, feeling as though you’d been hit with the force of a thick wall, but you push up with your back as the creature topples over you, sending it sprawling. Your sword hand is fast, flicking in an arch to sever the head as the creature stumbles to regain balance.

The narrow space immediately becomes a problem. The next creature is on you, teeth snapping hungrily as you back up, stepping and slipping slightly on the ichor leaking from the dead body beneath your feet. There’s no room to swing your sword, so you’re forced to twitch the blade back and forth, parrying sharp stabs from your assailant.

Just like the creatures in the ballroom, these are uncoordinated. Their stabs aren’t fast enough, joints cracking and twisting awkwardly in lurching motions as they attack. Cutting through them is difficult in the lack of space. They press in on you, making you track backward to give yourself more room to fight. It’s not ideal – you’re leading them toward where Jungkook and the others have started moving again.

“Fuck,” you snarl, tasting foul ichor on your tongue as it sprays you from a sharp wound on the neck of one of them. It bellows and claws forward.

Summoning air in the tunnel you thrust a hand out, punching toward them with wind. It rips through the halls, whistling as the air rushes past you in violent torrents. It slams into creatures, propelling them backward.

While they’re crumpled and disorganized in a pile, you take ground back, advancing on them. They clamor over one another, shrieking and twitching their wings as they regain a sense of control. You summon wind again, ready to send another blast when a raw scream rips down your mental tether with Jungkook.

It’s violent and invasive, prying open your connection and funneling unfiltered pain and wrath into your own mind. Your vision goes white for a second as the emotional tidal wave of Jungkook overwhelms you, unexpected and uncontrolled.

A spark of blue is the only warning you get from one of the hellish creatures. You barely react in time, summoning wind again at a greater force. It screams toward you, quick enough to meet the blue flame of Hellfire as it fills the hallway.

Heat scorches against air. You scream in alarm. For a moment, you think your makeshift airwall won’t be enough to keep you from being turned to soot.

It holds, a steady wind current coming down the tunnel. Dust, dirt, and mice get picked up in your vacuum, spinning and slamming into the solid, opaque wall of air. You keep your energy focused on the wind as much as you can, Jungkook’s mental screaming almost too much of a distraction as you try and close the mental door between the two of you.

But Jungkook is untrained and the son of Sariel. His connection to you is strong and whatever he’s experiencing on the other side of the tunnel system is a deeper well than you knew he was capable of.

Gritting your teeth, you dig down into your well of power. It’s always there, a bottomless pit of energy and ability to use your gifts. Some witches call it magic. Faeries call it glamour. Angels call it grace and there is a spark of it there, tiny and imperfect, but enough for you to sustain the wind and shut the door on Jungkook just enough.

Snippets rush by you. They’re at the mouth of an entrance somewhere – almost out of the tunnel system. But they’re fighting – you sense more creatures and… others. Demons. Jungkook’s rage is a storm, battering down on your connection to him and exploding out of him as he fights.

Get out of the tunnels, you demand. Jungkook I need you to at least get out of the tunnels.

There is no acknowledgment that he’s heard you. There’s only screaming wind, the song of his fury, and heat building up on the other side of your wall. You smell molten metal and realize the creatures are going to bring everything down.

Jungkook, you scream at him. There is nothing on the other side, just anger threatening to swallow him whole. Jungkook!

Nothing.

Gritting your teeth, you shift a few steps back. You take a deep breath, feeling the heat on the other side of your air wall, and you shove hard through your mental tether. You feel Jungkook’s awareness, fire and rain. He feels you now.

Get out the fucking tunnel or I will kill all of you. This is your last warning.

And it is. Jungkook is useful. Using him is easier than the alternative, and having to come up with an additional plan after killing him while trying to escape the city is far too complicated, and near the realm of impossibility.

Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You feel the slick on your legs and your palms, the air over-warm. It continues to get hotter and hotter, kicking up several notches. Azure swims on the other side of the air you feed into your protect. It flares, growing stronger off the oxygen you provide it, but you have no other choice.

Silver drips from the ceiling. You look up, spotting liquified metal oozing through the earth’s ceiling.

Go. Jungkook’s voice is nearly a whisper. You realize you’re screaming with the force of the power you’re feeding into your wind. His words are like a release, a flip switching as you dive headfirst into the electric current of your lightning.

It’s an explosion. Heat and electricity meet in a caustic battle, the walls and floor rumbling as your lightning pulses from you more like a wave than bolts. You hear the crack, feel it vibrate your ears, and then there is only loud ringing as you stumble backward.

Dust, ash, and metal fill the air. You’ve brought down half the tunnel and you’re splayed on your ass.

Rolling over on your stomach, you try and push yourself to your feet. You slide in dirt and darkness. It’s difficult to breathe, the air filled with static and heated enough that your skin feels like you’re on fire. You manage to find footing and retreat towards where Jungkook and the others have gone.

Nothing follows you.

The high-pitched ringing does not leave you. A bit dizzy, you follow the thread of Jungkook’s existence, feeling the thread between you pull you toward him. His rage has turned to agony, and you know someone is dead, though you cannot discern who.

When you finally reach the surface, you understand.

There are masked Vaesen littered around an empty warehouse. You’re close to the Celadon River, the taste of salt in the air as it filters in from the sea. You cannot hear beyond the scream of your damaged ears, but the wind here is cool, coming in through a giant hole in the ceiling, freshly singed.

Similar creatures that hunted you into the halls lay in pieces. Jungkook stands expressionless, ringed by bodies. It seems the fight was centered on him, death laying quietly at his feet. Yoongi and Taehyung stand a few feet away, expressionless. Watching.

A single shaft of moonlight shines on Jungkook through the broken ceiling. It paints half of his face silver, his eye rimmed silver. The rest of his face in shadow. It’s an eerie picture, half of him light and dark, split between two worlds. A child slithers down your spine as your eyes drift away from the thunder in his expression to his feet, where his eyes are fixed and you see the source of his unending agony.

Jihoon and his family are no more.

-

Namjoon is the only other person at the apartment. You eye him warily as he stands in the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches the holoscreen. Images of the party flash on the screen. There are videos from security cameras, starlets filming the chaos while at the party, and media drones outside of the building as the police force descended on the scene.

Reporters stand in the carnage. There are still broken bodies of Vanir, stepped over as the reporters lead their filming drones through the rooms. You can see Vanir tied to leashes on chairs. Again, you don’t look at their faces.

After appearing from the tunnel to find Jihoon and his family dead, you were ushered home immediately. You went without negotiation, casting a single look at Jungkook. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, his expression flitting between exquisite pain and nothingness.

Sensing your presence, Namjoon turns his head a fraction to look at you. His eyes harden and his jaw flexes, onyx eyes not leaving you for a second. You remember your perceived place with him, casting your eyes to the screen to ignore the way he burns holes through you with just a look.

“Go away,” he grunts. “Your presence is bothersome.”

“I’m sorry, dominus.” You make your voice light and airy. “Why has master not come home with me?”

Calling Jungkook master burns your tongue. You make yourself look small, tucking your chin to your chest and curving your shoulders inward, like you’re bracing to be hit. You play with the hem of your shirt, which is too big like the rest of your clothes.

Namjoon scoffs, not buying it. “Because he has to deal with this fucking mess.”

“I should be with master- “

“Drop the act. Whatever you are, it isn’t Carved. If Jungkook wants to keep you and do whatever he wants with you, that’s fine.” You glance up at him. He stares you dead in the eye. “But I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. Stay in your lane, I’ll stay in mine.”

Namjoon leaves the room, the holoscreen casting blue light on the empty space. You listen to him go. He goes to his own room at the far end of the apartment and shuts the door loudly.

“Dick,” you mutter, entering the living room proper to look up at the screen.

The sound is muted, only showing the chaos. “Elide, volume on.”

“State access name,” the apartment system responds, voice cool and clear. You recite your name. “Unregistered user.”

You snarl. “Elide, volume on.”

“State access name.”

“Jungkook.”

“Voice recognition failure.”

“Just turn the fucking volume on!”

The elevator door opens behind you. You whirl on your heel, teeth bared in frustration. Jungkook walks through the door, barely sparing you a glance as he says, “Stop yelling at the technology. I didn’t program you into the system.”

“I noticed.” He walks into the kitchen, tapping the corner of a cabinet. It unlocks and pops open, revealing shelves of liquor. He removes a bottle and taps the cabinet shut. “Didn’t think you needed it.”

“Well if you’d like me to get bored and burn the apartment down, that is an option.”

“Be my guest. I have others.”

“Humble.”

Dark rage hums under the surface. Jungkook moves around his kitchen slowly. He places a glass delicately on the counter, pulling the cork from the bottle before pouring himself amber liquid. You sniff. Whiskey of some sort.

Jungkook is silent, but his mind is a torrent of emotions. Blood pounds beneath the surface, a beast begging to escape. You can almost taste the chaos within him and yet… he keeps it there. Sipping his drink and leaning on the counter as he looks at the floor.

“Namjoon thinks I should kill you,” Jungkook mentions.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yoongi does too.”

You shrug. “The way of the fox is unknown to me.”

Jungkook’s mind is wide open. You reach for it while he sips his whiskey. He doesn’t register as you brush against his thoughts, trying to sort through them. His mental is in chaos, thoughts racing through his head and flashes of his brother being cut down. Of Kita’s screaming.

“Do you know what those things were?”

You picture the creatures at the party. Their staggered steps, their rotting breath. “Something made, not born.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means I’ve seen a lot of creatures for the hundreds of years that I have been alive, but I’ve never seen whatever those were. Those things are not natural.”

“Most of what is in this world isn’t natural.”

“They are not natural to any plane. I felt…” You trail off and shrug your shoulders.

Navigating his mind while it’s in chaos is hard. You’re looking for the thread of conversation from earlier that night, trying to understand what Jungkook had been talking about when he trailed off about being prepared for assassination attempts. But it’s convoluted and murky.

Jungkook glances up at you. His face is a mask. You must admit you’re impressed by the way he looks calm and collected with the storm raging inside of him, threatening to crack the façade at any moment. “Felt what?”

“You didn’t feel them? Like the way you feel me?”

“Are you telling me you’re one of- “

“No,” you cut him off. “Not in the sense of they are me. But you couldn’t feel them like… dots on a radar. Little signatures of something?” He shakes his head. You hum for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air before you say, “Your untrained mind nearly got me killed.”

A ripple of anger goes through him and his thoughts become more confusing. You sense him boiling under the surface, a steady tremor building and building and building.

A frenzy. Jungkook is nearing a frenzy. If you could get him to fall into it…. you examine him. Coming down from a frenzy would put him in a state of compliance and exhaustion, making his mind open to sift through like forgotten paperwork.

You decide to incense him.

 “I mean it,” you snap when he doesn’t answer you. You square your shoulders and let your power drop into the room. “Your level of incompetence is worse than seraphim children. Total lack of discipline and an embarrassment to someone who was sired by Sariel.”

A flip switches.

Jungkook is pushing off the counter and moving toward you but you stand your ground, chin lifted, gaze cutting. His mask has slipped a fraction, lip curled. “What did you just say?”

“I said that your utter lack of control is insulting and beneath your station.”

“You are in no position to speak to me like that.”

You splay your hands. Jungkook heaves a few feet away from him. You see the wheels turning, sense his adrenaline shooting upward. You needle him further. “I think we both agreed that here, I’m in a position to do whatever I want.”

Jungkook is fast. He’s in front of you in moments, hand shooting out to grab you by the throat. You’re not surprised by the action as he slams you against a wall, sneering. But you are surprised by the giddy delight that shoots up your spine as his fingers close tightly around your base.

When he squeezes, it isn’t to cut off your air supply. You recognize the sign of dominance, the grip he has on a vulnerable part of you. It’s the most instinctual form of an alpha trying to regain the upper hand and you’re so delighted that you laugh.

“I own you,” Jungkook whispers. “Whether you want it, or whether I want to. I signed your papers. You are legally mine.”

You lift a leg and wrap it around Jungkook’s waist, tugging him toward you. He balks, hand going slack around your throat as your hips press against his. A wave of pleasure rolls through you but you focus on the way Jungkook stutters, pulling back from you.

“Yeah?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “You have the upper hand, dominus?” His fingers tighten but he doesn’t respond. You roll your hips into his, feeling the confidence from a moment ago slip through his fingers like sand. “What happened? I thought you owned me?”

“You are walking a dangerous line.”

“You’re doing nothing about it.”

“What do you want from me?” he grits out, teeth clenched. He’s shaking, loss of control so near.

“You own me?” you goad. “Then fucking use me, Jungkook. You’re two seconds from a fucking demonic frenzy and you don’t even have the sense to fall into it.”

“I don’t do that.”

You lean forward. He leans away but you crowd his space, eyes searching. You notice a mole just below his flush mouth, something you’ve never seen before. It’s soft. Endearing. You ignore the observation as your mouth brushes close to his, sharing breath.

“You’re afraid of your demon,” you purr. He says nothing, breathing heavily as he watches you, pupils dilated. “Weak.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then feed the demon, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hesitate. You watch him, his jaw working and his eyes staring at you. You see the moment he gives over control to the demon part of him, pupils turning into saucers as his hand grips your throat tight. He leans forward, pressing in on your space until you’re chest to chest and his mouth is at the shell of your ear.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, why didn’t you just ask?”

Your hands go to his biceps, digging your nails in. He hisses, fingers pressing into the sides of your neck to restrict your breathing. “I thought you owned me,” you taunt. “I’m allowed to ask?”

It’s the final push he needs.

A shift happens in Jungkook. Swiftly, he drops you and flips you, slamming you chest first into the wall. It knocks the wind from your lungs, making you gasp as he crushes himself against you, nosing your ear. His breath is hot, sending chills down your spine. You grin, knowing you’ve got him going in the right direction.

You press your ass backwards into him, feeling his semi-hard cock in his pants. In his state, it doesn’t even need to be you Jungkook is attracted to. His demon side is wild, hungry to do anything to destroy, to fuck, to kill.

Demon frenzies enhance lust and violence, like adding fuel to a fire. Jungkook’s flame is stoked, his agony over his family members and his frustration blinding him as he rips the back of your shirt open, your scares and flesh on display for him.

“You want to be fucked like I own you?” he asks, voice low. “Fine.”

It's nothing new, being fucked like you’re owned. But this is different – it feels different. When Jungkook’s hands brush up your spine, they’re not violent. They’re inquisitive. Callused. You shiver under his touch, eyes shutting as he pulls the fabric of the ruined shirt off you.

Your nipples are pressed to the wall, providing friction. You give into it, letting that blissful stimulation bloom inside of you as he nudges your head to the side with his nose.

“Spread your legs,” he demands. His voice is barely a whisper. You do. “Not so talkative now, are we?”

“Is my commentating part of fucking me like you own me, dominus?”

A loud rip splits the air. Jungkook tears through your sweats, warm hands seeking the flesh of your ass. He grips your cheeks firmly, massaging the flesh as he ruts against you slightly. You moan, surprisingly not for effect but at the way you feel.

Rare is the occasion in which someone made you feel good during sex. It isn’t what you’re after, but it’s a bonus, letting Jungkook slip his hand between your legs to brush his finger through your folds. You're not dripping for him, but you let out a breathy sound as pleasure unfurls low in your stomach when he does it.

Even out of control Jungkook shows restrain. Your fascinated, split between panting against the wall as Jungkook’s skill fingers circle your clenching hole, gathering your wetness to slip toward your clit, applying light pressure as he circles the bundle of nerves.

Jungkook dedicates time to getting you worked up. His breath is warm against your ear, low grunts shooting more arousal straight to your core. For the first time in years, you’re dripping for someone. You can feel the slick on Jungkook’s fingers, your pussy warm and swollen for him as he continues to play with you.

Taking control of Jungkook’s thoughts is far from your mind now. You're distracted, fists pressing into the wall as Jungkook slips a finger into your entrance. You gasp, the pad of his finger brushing against your front wall, massaging your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you swear, seeing stars.

It becomes clear Jungkook knows what he’s doing, fucking his finger into you. You can hear the wet-slap of his hand against your pussy, worked up for him now as his clothed cock presses into your ass cheek.

“Such a tight fucking pussy,” he mutters. He doesn't seem to be talking to you as much as himself. “Cock is never gonna fuckin’ fit in here. Hmm. Oh well.”

He pulls his finger from you. You let out an angry sound, eyes flying open to glare at him over your shoulder. He pops the finger in his mouth, momentarily dumbing you as you watch him suck the shine from his finger. He doesn’t look at you when he’s done, hand working to pop the button on his jeans and tug his cock out.

When you look down, you realize that Jungkook is right. He might not fit, and it sends a little thrill through you, watching the way his heavy cock bobs against his shirt, dabbing it with precum as Jungkook only pulls his pants down enough to fuck you.

You’ve spent years tirelessly bouncing on a variety of cock and diving between the legs of mistress after mistress. Sex is not a stranger to you. Sometimes you remember vaguely enjoying a thing or two. Sometimes even when you didn’t like it, your body at least orgasmed.

Being used is something familiar – but you’re not being used now. Even if Jungkook thinks you are. Even as he thumbs the precum from the dark tip of his cockhead to spread it down his thick shaft, Jungkook isn’t in control.

You remember that as Jungkook leisurely pumps himself before brushing the tip through your now sticky folds. You press your cheek against the wall, sighing as he teases you. It feels good. You reach out with your mind, brushing Jungkook’s sightly. His walls are down, vulnerable. Your sneer turns into a loud moan when Jungkook pushes into your pussy on the upstroke.

The stretch is painful, your stomach plummeting as Jungkook splits you open. The glide isn’t slow. His instincts take over and he immediately fucks into you hard and deep, slamming your hips into the wall with his full weight with every thrust.

Jungkook fucks the breath out of you. One hand presses your face into the wall, your cheekbones and jaw throbbing with the force of it. His other hand grabs your hips, holding you in position as he fucks himself into you hard.

Pain-laced pleasure shoots through you. The sounds that drip from your mouth isn’t for show. Your toes curl and your head swims at the way he takes control, fingers pressed into your flesh, cock pressing deep deep deep.

You lose yourself in the slap of flesh on flesh and curses. He spits insults at you, and you growl in response, biting one of his fingers that strays too close to your mouth. You taste blood, grinning as the salt and iron tinged with honey pulls on your tongue. He smacks your mouth, the stinging making you trill with high-pitched laughter.

“Crazy Carved bitch,” he slurs. “Is this what you fucking wanted? To be fucked like this?”

“Fuck me harder, Jungkook.”

He presses your skull harder into the wall. For a moment, you think it might crack under the pressure. But you don’t break, and Jungkook listens, driving into you at a pace that would break anyone else. Anything else. But it doesn’t break you and it feels good to know that it doesn’t. To feel the way your pussy flutters around him as he fucks you with abandon.

So many people have tried to break you. So many. Many have almost succeeded, and yet you prevail. You keep going. You survive. You move on. You wait. You win.

Your orgasm mounts. You feel it building inside of you like the same electricity that gathered in that small hall to destroy. It coils and coils and coils. You become short of breath, sucking in hair as you tremble under Jungkook’s weight. His mind is flayed open and raw for the taking but you wait. Not yet not yet not yet.

Jungkook picks up speed. You feel his pace get sloppy and the change in rhythm pushes you over the edge. You come around him with a scream, vision going white as you hold your breath. You feel your entire body seize up, thrashing under him. Jungkook presses you against the wall, trapping you and making you take it as he thrusts one – two – three more times before coming with a curse.

The pace slows. The sweaty tension between you begins to dissipate. You feel Jungkook pull himself out, cum immediately running down your legs. His energy is lower now and when you manage to catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder, he’s swaying on his feet, fucked out expression on his face. He’s flushed, tip of nose red.

Your legs are shaking and sticky. You take a step toward him feeling the slide of your thighs against one another, made slippery by cum. You hold out a hand and he stares at it, eyes wide, expression blank. He’s in the fall after a frenzy, somewhere dazed between thoughts in his head.

Tentatively, Jungkook takes your hand. You leave the torn clothes on the floor, you leave everything. Namjoon surely heard everything, but the Hellhound minds his business as you lead Jungkook to your room. The half demon, half angel is suddenly pliant for you. Soft at the edges. Mute.

You sit him on the bed and he stares at you. Unmoving. Unthinking.

Brushing your mind against his, you feel nothing but static. The buzz of his thoughts is unorganized and sleepy. You keep the connection open, stepping into the bathroom to wash the cum from your legs, the sweat from your back and the blood from your face. You had not even realized that he split your lip.

In your room, Jungkook doesn’t move. He is listless and calm, steady breathing letting you know that he hasn’t gone to sleep just yet, but that he’s not entirely present.

Slipping into clothes and back into the room, you stand in front of him, eyes flickering over his face. Jungkook looks at you but he’s not really there. A tiny part of you hesitates. Knows that to violate his mind has always been your greatest fear of yourself.

But life isn’t fair, and you have been a slave for hundreds of years. You have suffered and you will suffer again in the future. And though you see something in Jungkook that you recognize, you know that to spare him is to admit weakness.

Pain is inevitable. Pain is constant. Pain is power.

Jungkook knows nothing of these tenants. Knows nothing of the life his mother lived before him, her principles, her heritage.

Sympathy is something you cannot afford to give him. So you push into his mind, seizing his thoughts. He doesn’t put up a fight. He hardly knows what you’re doing as you begin sorting through what’s there.

Minds are unique to each person. Though some of your fallen companions had similarities in the way their memories and thoughts were laid out, everyone had something unique. Jungkook’s mind feels like a thunderstorm at night, soft with the threat of something more. Something melancholy plays there, a tune that is familiar, but you cannot place.

You sift through the night's events. You see things through his eyes. Feel the contempt for those around him. Feel the apathy for the Vanir leashed to chairs and in cages. Feel the unfettered spark of adoration when he sees Kita. Feel the love for his brother, though you had not sensed it upon meeting Jihoon.

And there is love there. Maybe not in the form that humans or texts perceive it. But you taste the sweetness of the affection, and you understand that there are positive emotions when Jungkook looks at his older brother, no matter how complicated.

You sift through to running through the tunnels. Jungkook feels glad that he prepared. They had been worried as of late – there were confirmed movements of the rebel group Libram in the city. Confirmations of assets destroyed and vanishing members of the local government.

This surprises you. You were not aware that the rebels were so familiar with the city yet. The thought of the free cities is so distant from you that it feels odd to conceptualize that there are members of their organization in Lythos.

You follow the thread of Jungkook’s conversation with you from earlier.

But we are always prepared. It’s not often that someone tries to assassinate us, but...

But Jungkook had known that there was a growing presence of Libram in the city. And Belial had tortured you repeatedly for information on Libram, looking for any connection to the rebellion. To Michael. To the last remaining seraphim across the worlds.

You take a sharp breath. Jungkook’s feelings regarding Libram were wary. Laced with uncertainty and fear. You follow those thoughts, flipping through his memories looking for more information. Four assassinations on government officials. The destruction of one of the Kim’s synth mines. Liquidation of accounts that belonged to Belial through unknown methods and hackers.

For as long as you had belonged to Faustus to fight, you had kept your head down. You focused on living. Small moves and counter moves. You had not been looking for any news of Libram or their existence in the city, and until now, you had thought there weren’t many in the city. Whispers of the potential but nothing like what you’re seeing in Jungkook’s thoughts.

Carefully, you extract your mind from his and sit on the bed. With him tired and swaying, you offer him a nudge to go to sleep. He lays backwards, dark lashes fluttering shut. You watch him for a while, thoughts ruminating on the new information.

Libram being in the city is a factor that you did not calculate. You chew on your lips as you think of your next move. One way to gather the information you need would be through your Vanir contacts. You have so few. But the best way to get good information is through your Vaesen contacts, which are even fewer.

You think about the twisted creatures that killed Jungkook’s family. They did seem like... angels and demons twisted together. Like the stitching together of things that didn’t belong. Half-demons, half-angels were rare to begin with. But it was like they were trying to make something else.

Belial’s question comes back to you about Lilins. The children of Lilith herself, born from her savage rape of the Heavens, but specifically, the archangels. Unique creatures, with the perfectbalance. Enough demon blood to hide the angelic blood, and enough angelic blood to hide the demon.

The flicker of familiarity you felt when fighting those creatures sends a sinking feeling to the pit of your stomach. You look at Jungkook, asleep. He looks gentle in his sleep, lines smoothed out on his face. Round and childlike.

In the morning, you’ll go back to pretending. But for now, you pull your knees to your chest, setting your chin on top of them as you consider the options before deciding that you need to follow the sick feeling that twists your gut.

Because if you’re suspicions are right... Libram made those creatures that killed Jungkook’s family tonight, targeting Belial and his children. It puts you in a dangerous position, but also a favorable one if Libram discovers your existence and grows curious about how useful you might be.

Yet none of it relieves you. Because if those creatures are what you think they are, there are seraphim in the world that are trying to bring Lilins back to the fight. Lilins, the creatures solely responsible for bringing the Heavens down.

-

D E F I N I T I O N S

Adamas - metal made from the Heavens, favorite in weapons used by angels and fae

Carved – angels who have had their wings surgically removed and sold for ownership. The possession of an angel’s wings gives the owner power over the angel’s grace, thereby giving them power over the angel.

Collared – a Vanir who is owned as a slave. They are often identifiable by the custom collars their masters put on their necks.

Dominus – term used by a slave to their male identifying master

Huli jing - Chinese fox spirit; similar to the Kitsune

Lilins - the offspring of the First Demon, Lilith, an the seraphim, most notably with the angels Uriel and Raphael. They are the perfect balance of Vanir and Vaesen and were used as spies during the war.

Seraph - a single angel, one of the seraphim

Seraphim - species of angels associated with Christian heaven, soldiers of God

Triumvirate – the three Lords who rule the Realms – figures of the Underworld

Vaesen – creatures associated with Underworld Realms such as demons, daevas, sorcerers, vampires, wraiths, and monster-like creatures

Vanir – creatures associated with Heaven Realms such as angels, faeries, witches, dragons, demigods and any heavenly-like being

-

I am no longer doing a tag list. After several attempts to get this tag list to work and Tumblr refusing to tag correct/process the post, I just took them off. I'm removing taglists for 2023 anyways because of how difficult tagging has become (incorrect usernames, Tumblr eating tags, copy and pasting not working).

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER 

#fic: carved #haliiimede writes #bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan boys #jeon jun #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jjk #demon!jungkook #dark romance #minors do not interact #minors dni #dead dove do not eat

[mlarayoukai]

Okay so the thing with turn base jrpgs mobile gachas is the gacha format isn't suitable for jrpgs. When you first download a gacha they're usually pseudo-generous and give you at least one super powerful character in the beginner gacha. They give you a lot of gacha currency when you first start playing so maybe you'll get lucky and pull another ussrs or a few usrs or whatever the game calls them. And more often than not, you don't actually play the game to level up your character you feed them shit to level them up. You early on you sweep through the game because you have level 50 characters fighting level 15 enemies. Dopamine to some, maybe. But I'm just tapping whatever move is the most powerful with no thoughts and it's boring. And then there's the other side of the gacha coin. You may not like the gameplay but you enjoy the story and characters! You've gotten a few chapters in! But you can't beat the chapter boss because you can't pull the banner characters and of course spending money is off the table. Or typically, you're forced to use the ugly ass character who you pulled who has the specific attack that stuns the enemy. In well designed turn based rpgs, none of these are problems. Well maybe the ugly character you're forced to use is. But sweeping the early game or getting stuck at a certain point isn't, you can easily look up what to do. I do think mobile games have there place, but turn based rpgs is the easy way out for devs. "is this about (name of gacha here)?" it's about all the boring ass games I've played, fgo, pokemon mastersex, cr kingdom, probably a few I'm completely forgetting exist. Yeah I know it's pay to win, I ain't fucking stupid, but it's still boring as hell to sweep through everything. Do you want me to peg you tonight

#rob.txt

[yukiyovelle]

Main Trio With A S/O That Loves Reading - A Little Too Much

★Warnings: None ★Characters: Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki ★Reader: Gender Neutral ★Synopsis: just read the title heh

Not happy.

At all.

I’m sorry.

But he’s not.

Having your face being sucked into a book 24/7 doesn’t let you leave with much attention for him.

He’s attention deprived put down the dang book and hug him.

Another reason that fuels his hatred for your love of books is because your behavior reminds him of Deku - like, a lot.

If he wasn’t deeply in love with you he would have tossed you into a garbage can, but he’s Bakugo so he’ll probably do that anyway.

But if it really mattered that much to you, he’d respect it.

And probably take his anger out on Midoriya instead.

I doubt he’ll surprise you with books as gifts, considering the fact that you have every known book in the universe written by every author ever.

But if you ever see a book you like, he’ll buy it for you, even if you already do have twenty different copies of the same book with different covers.

And no, he won’t let you pay for it yourself.

If you even try, he’ll start yelling and angrily threaten to murder the cashier’s entire family if they accept your payment instead of his.

“SHUT UP, I DON’T CARE IF ITS ILLEGAL, IF HE DOESN’T TAKE MY MONEY I’M TAKING HIS GODDAMN LIFE.”

He’ll hardly ever openly show his respect or liking for your hobby ever.

Which makes him the biggest effing hypocrite on the planet Earth.

BROSKI GOES TO BED EVERYDAY AT 8PM.

AND IS SUPER UPER DUPER ACADEMICALLY AND BATTLE SMART.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THIS MAN DOESN’T READ BOOKS FOR THE SAKE OF KNOWLEDGE.

AND DOESN’T ENJOY IT.

most of the time, at least.

OH YOU POOR POOR SOUL

Yes, dating Midoriya is great and all.

But Bakugo is about to make your life a living hell.

As if one nerd was bad enough for him, now theres two.

And the second one is arguably more annoying than the first.

At least Midoriya can hold a conversation - with your nose in a book at all times, its surprising that you’re in a relationship at all.

Midoriya doesn’t seem like the type to mind at all though.

You are to books, as he is to training.

He fully relates to your obsession with books, he’s obsessed too, just not as much as you are. You >>>> Training >>>>> Books

If you’re into writing as well, and you’re thinking of publishing, he’ll be right there by your side helping you. 

How are ogres different from trolls? He’ll research. When were bees domesticated? He knows. What is the weight and size of the average fictional fairy? research again

“Okay but does it really matter if you’ve been using the wrong tense over a couple chapters? Just tweak it a bit an-HEY NO DON’T DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN I’LL HELP YOU FIX IT.”

With him by your side, you’ll never make any stupid spelling mistakes.

But if you start reading too much and disregarding your studies, he takes it upon himself AS HIS DUTY AS YOUR BOYFRIEND TO KINDLY DRAG YOU AWAY FROM YOUR BOOKCASE

He appreciates your interests, but won’t let you fail school.

So don’t even think about it.

uh

I seriously doubt he sees the root of your interests at first.

He’s understand right away if it were textbooks for school - cause its educational.

But fantasy books and the like? I doubt he’d get it immediately.

Whether you like books or not he’d treat you the same either way.

He’s a mix of Bakugo and Todoroki.

He would never let you fail school.

And at the same time, buys you all the books you want.

With the money he took from Endeavor’s wallet.

“Huh? Oh don’t worry about the cost. Its not my money anyway.”

You’ll never need to worry about paying for your books again.

Besides, if his dad does find about him stealing the money he’ll emotionally guilt trip him into giving him allowance.

Its a win/win anyway!

You get a book and he gets to annoy his dad.

He loves seeing your eyes light up as you glimpse at your new book and watching your grin getting progressively wider.

His house is huge too, so I bet they have a library or at least a ridiculously large bookcase. Either way, he’d take you to his house and while he works on his homework, you skim through the books.

He loves those moments near you - even if you aren’t talking or touching, you’re just there, and thats all he needs.

Hiiiiii :> This is my first post on this blog, although I have been active on my other blog, which is a total train wreck of multiple fandoms. Heh.

Please feel free to interact about anything and send requests too :)) I’d really appreciate that. Have a lovely day or night, wherever you are <3

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki #bnha season six #bnha season 6 #my hero academia season six #my hero academia season 6 #mha season 6

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, blood/injury, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN • HERE COMES THE BRIDE (2k)

It's a beautiful venue, really, all decked out in gorgeous flowers leading you down the aisle to the love of your life. You had decided to go with a beach wedding, the outdoors a relaxing atmosphere and the beach, a fun aspect. At least, that's what you pitched to Yeonjun. Another reason was it's out in the open, therefore no closed doors. The only time you'd be inside a building would be before you left, getting ready elsewhere with Yeji and being picked up by Hyunjin.

Little did Yeonjun know you were never planning on making it there, escaping at the last minute in your wedding dress to a car rental one town over. Hyunjin helped put your things into the rental from his trunk, wishing you good luck with your new life. He'd snuck his information into your bag in case you needed someone, but you shredded the paper as soon as you found it. This was a fresh start, no one and nothing from your old life to bring you back to it or come back to you. Only memories and old wounds would haunt you now.

However, this was not the case. Your old life found a way to seep back in ways you never expected, ways you still fail to understand. So now you get into Hyunjin's car and tell him new instructions; you're going to the venue, determined to get this right. You weren't doing this again, letting him win and be his forever. No, you were going to get married and be happy and live and love again.

He's already standing at the end with his best man, a childhood friend you never really got to know. Sometimes you would wonder if he was ever so bad to him as he was to you, wishing you could take him away from all the pain. But you don't know him, and he could be just as bad. The seats lined up on either side of the aisle are empty for the most part, only a few people right at the front.

You recognize his brown, curly hair before anything else, your heart aching in your chest. As far as you know, you're the only one other than Yeonjun who knows what's going on. Chan must be here for the laughs, for Yeonjun to see him and know what you're missing because of him. Beside him is Jeongin, and as you pass him you notice a trickle of dark red running down his neck from his ear, but he doesn't say anything and you act like you don't notice. He avoids your eyes, but the way his jaw is clenched is telling.

Music plays loudly as you make your way to the front, stopping in front of Yeonjun. Yeji stands close to your side as your maid of honour, wearing a lovely silk lilac dress. She's more nervous than you it seems, a strange sense of calm washing over your body as you look directly into Yeonjun's eyes. Looking you up and down, he smirks, a glint in his eye, and you know he thinks he's already got this in the bag.

"Shall we begin?" The officiator walks forward.

"Ye-"

"No," you cut Yeonjun off. "There's someone missing."

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you, but you play innocent, looking down the aisle. Any minute now, he should be here. You know he'll be here. Another minute passes and you can tell Yeonjun is growing impatient, the mask of a loving partner slowly slipping as you make him wait. Your chest tightens when his hand raises, but he only rakes his fingers through his hair.

"Whoever it is clearly isn't showing up," he snaps suddenly, earning a strange look from Hyunjin. "I mean, we can wait a little longer, but we shouldn't hold off so long for one person. The sooner I can marry you, the better."

He clasps your hands together, smiling down at you.

"You're right," you smile back. "We should start."

The officiate begins, looking uncomfortably between you two. When Yeonjun says his vows, you pretend to be grateful, even forcing out a few tears. It's all bullshit, everything he says. You can't wait any longer.

"I won't marry you," you announce.

"What?" Yeonjun's nostrils flare and his eyes narrow further.

"You have caused me so much pain, and I'm done." You step back, creating some distance between you as you recite your vows. "I have lived the past year and a half in fear of you finding me, of you bringing me down. Now I'm back here, and I won't let that happen again. You might think I'm just a scared little girl, but what you don't realize is that everything you've done leading up to this has only pissed me off."

He tries to grab you when you back up more, but Chan is out of his seat in the blink of an eye. Trapped in his arms, Yeonjun thrashes, trying to get to you. Chan is stronger, grip tight around Yeonjun's upper torso and arms.

"Min, Jeongin, now!" You hope they remember what to do.

A familiar face runs down the aisle, taking Chan's place in holding Yeonjun back. Minho struggles to keep ahold of him at first, hands slipping as they switch positions. Before Yeonjun can advance on you, Chan's fist is flying, knocking Yeonjun backward into Minho's arms.

Jeongin's chin falls to his chest, eyes open just enough to see the whites. Dark red blood gushes from his nose at the same time you hear Yeonjun cry out, the same dark red spurting out of a hole in his neck. Another appears soon after, then again on the other side. The whole time he's crying out, Chan is at your side, looking you over.

"I'm okay," you say, holding his face. "I'm okay."

Placing a hand on his chest, you take a silver band from Yeji, and the world around you fades. It's just you and Chan, staring into each other's eyes as your hands find one another. You're about to slip the ring onto him, but he grabs your hand before you can.

"We need to do this right," he says, cupping your face.

"We don't have time-"

"Then we make time." He's brushing hair out of your face, eyes flickering down to your lips.

"This might not work," you whisper.

"It will, I know it will."

"How can you be so sure?" Your free hand holds his shoulder, scared to let go.

"Because Y/n." Chan smiles, wide and blinding. "Because I love you, so, so much. You created me, gave me life, and although I know you think I only love you because of that, it's not true. If there's one thing I can take away from Yeonjun, it's that I have the freedom to choose, and I choose you. And you should too."

Your vision blurs with tears as he takes both your hands in his.

"It's time, Y/n," he whispers. "Make your choice."

"I choose myself." And he smiles and nods, wiping your tears away right as they start to fall. "I choose to be free."

The silver band slips on perfectly, and all you can hear now is silence. No muffled yelling, no music, nothing. It's you and it's him and it's everything.

Until someone pulls you away, back into those dark rooms.

-

Darkness engulfs you, turning around in a slow circle until your eyes adjust and you recognize the light coming up at the edge of the room. Someone coughs behind you, a strangled, gurgling sound, and you're met with two bodies. One lies on the chair facing where you used to sit, head turned away in a messy puddle of red, and you know who it is. Lying on the ground face down is another man, the wire that used to connect you and Yeonjun stuck into his arm.

"Y/n," he croaks and you crouch down hesitantly. "Y/n."

He coughs again, and you realize there's no more water in the room when blood spatters out of his mouth and onto the floor. Carefully helping him onto his back, you gasp shakily at the sight of him. There's a large wound running down the length of his chest, white shirt turned a much darker shade, and the same colour covering the lower half of his face, dried around his nose and mouth. The wire is jammed into his arm, veins around it black.

"What did you do?" You place a hand on his cheek, tears threatening to spill over.

"He's gone," Jeongin chokes out. "He was using this to connect you, your souls, your very beings. If it was still in you when I ripped the wires out, it would have killed you too."

"But why did you connect yourself?"

"He needed something to keep him grounded, I think." Jeongin's eyes flutter for a moment, but he manages keeps them open. "If I didn't connect myself, he would have reached out and found something or someone else. This way-" His breath catches. "This way he's gone for good."

"But that's just this realm right?" You ask, desperation seeping into your words. "You were fine at the wedding. You'll be fine when I get out of here too, won't you?"

He shakes his head. "I was supposed to die a long time ago."

Tears finally fall, mixing with the blood by his head. His breathing is slow, eyes falling shut one last time, but a small smile graces his face.

"So, you and Chan?" He coughs. "Gonna make it through?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" You laugh and sob at the same time, crossing your legs and propping his head up gently into your lap. You brush your fingers through his hair with one hand, holding his face with the other. "I don't know what's going to happen now. I don't even know if he's gonna be there when I get out."

"He'll be there, I can still..." Jeongin takes a deep breath, voice rising in pitch. "Feel him. I can feel him."

Jeongin brings a shaky hand up to your own on his cheek and you hold back another sob. This kid who you couldn't save, this kid who deserved better than the life he was given, holding onto you in his final moments.

"Thank you for trying," he whispers. "Thank you."

"Jeongin?" A beat passes and he says nothing, the rise and fall of his chest coming to an end. "No, no Jeongin, no."

Your body hunches over him, cradling his head in your arms as you weep over his body, unmoving. All that fills the room are your sobs and the sound of you crying out to him, calling out his name and pleading the universe to bring him back. It takes a long time for you to finally detach from him, laying his head down with care. You can't leave him here, but you have no way to bring him with you either.

With a heavy heart, you start your way to the door, but stop when you catch a glimpse of Yeonjun's face as you pass the chairs. Approaching him, you take in the way his hair has fallen into his eyes and the wires dangling above him, marked with the blood of the boy on the ground. You note the way his eyes are half closed and the way one of his legs hangs off the chair. You don't know why you feel compelled to memorize every last detail of his face, but you do.

The same door you left through before is closed behind you, but when you open it this time there's no light. The path is dark, too dark, but you head down anyway. A strange dizziness washes over you hard, bringing you down to your knees. Someone catches you as you fall, but you're suddenly too drowsy to keep your eyes open, letting this feeling whisk you away.

-

Warm sun on your face, soft sheets entangle your legs. Your eyes are crusted shut, but you pry them open and stretch out in your bed. Slowly, you get up, head swimming. You wait for the feeling to go away, walking over to the window and opening the curtain. Below are bustling city streets, people with places to go filling the sidewalks. You rub your eyes, exiting your bedroom to start the kettle, sitting on the red chaise lounge as you wait for it to boil.

●

notes • i cried writing this lol. what do we think happened to chan?

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny @bloomingstay

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :- #skz #stray kids #non idol au #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz series #stray kids fanfic #bang chan series

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

41 - Past Becomes the Present

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character death, discussion of medical distress, references to previous trauma, imagery of blood and gore, breeding kink, smut, mentions of anal

Notes: Reference to a specific book originated event with Ramsay this chapter, so if you catch it, I am sorry in advance. It not don't worry everything is fine, I promise. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It wasn't so much disappointment, but more an exasperated feeling tiring him out. Hand running down his face, yourself biting down on your tongue to keep whatever it was that wanted to come out dismissively, still inside.

The last thing Jon wanted to do was bring you up to speed on everything immediately, but you dove right into things far to quick for him to catch up and force you to slow down. Getting to what he had uncovered, he struggled with now. Trying to fight between telling you the truth, and wanting you to just listen to him and rest instead. You both knew which one you'd rather have win out.

He had tried imploring you to rest, but by this point there had been little use in trying to dissuade you. You knew what he was planning, you knew he had done it while you were unconscious, but questions kept coming up and through what point you were trying to make separately. “How would he even know he could persuade her to do this in the first place? That feels like a huge risk.”

With what little was in front of you in the first place, Jon silently all but tossed more food on it with a pointed stare before he answered. “She hated my father, and he's betrayed you and my father before. With you and Robb gone, the timing never seemed better.” You had opened your mouth to speak but almost with a sternness did he gesture back to your plate to interrupt first. “Eat.”

He and Ghost both, lately. One wolf starts acting over protective and the other follows suit without failure.

You two were at least grateful that this part of the castle was on the quieter, less busy side then others. Since coming back to this place proper, any of what was used as the Starks normal living quarters seemed to be as minimally populated as Jon could have it, moreso then it used to be.

More a man of privacy then many Starks before him, Jon was. It also meant many weren't there to walk in and disturb when you both used the privacy to sort out the piling array of obstacles coming for you every which way. “Something still doesn't add up. Hating your father doesn't give her something in common with Littlefinger. He didn't hate the Starks anymore then the other people he manipulates.”

Eyes drifting to the side, squinting in thought you came up with the answer far slower then Jon had long since put the dots together. Voice low, and a bit on the air of tense himself. “He didn't need to have it in common, but he used it as a way to manipulate her against us.” Asking what that was, the answer took you back a slight bit. “My Uncle Brandon.”

“What does he-”

It was neither you nor him whose voice spoke out coming from the door frame. Theon walking in with a pointed look in your direction. “You weren't the only one with a secret Stark lover.” Brows narrowing just before your face fell a bit in a realization before shifting all together into a bit more of a grimace. A connection was asked and answered despite how little it sounded appealing. Taking a seat of his own, Theon continued, more towards Jon. “At least you have better taste then your Uncle did. No offence meant.”

Muttering rough and low into the mug up to his lips, “None taken.” The sounds of footsteps came down the hall and one more had intention of joining. Unbeknownst to them, rescuing you for now, from Jon swinging the conversation back to what you knew was on his mind the most in present thought. But this one was a safer bet amongst this company at the least.

Arya practically speaking through her first bites soon as she sat down, “Everything that's going on, and she risks it all for something that happened, what? Thirty years ago? Why not let it go, why risk betraying us over it?”

Raising your eyebrows with a slightly tilt of your head towards her, you spoke it more casually then gave away your thought process behind it. “You hold onto your anger long enough, it needs to eventually go somewhere.”

The younger wolfs face twisting in a similar fashion as the brother next to her, but with more of an open aggravation attached to her spoken words. “The other families haven't held it against us. Why should she get to blame us for something no one else does.” Her eyes an anger without something to latch it onto, Arya had let it fester into something irritated the entire day.

Once more Jon only muttering, barley a noticeable nod towards your once more not eating figure, as he did so. “I won't know until I question her, but it's not that simple. Getting over something you've spent a long time obsessing over.”

One lead to another and once more it felt as if the world was telling you that the coming winter was not the thing to focus on. The rest of the realm begged you to divert your focus to it's constant circle of backstabbing and scheming. It never stopped and it was the least important in what was to come, but it stood in your way. Telling you that you'd be a fool to prioritize winter over this and that.

The South were all were missing the point you and Jon were trying to do, that you were fighting towards the wrong ends. None of this will matter if you let it become the only importance. But it was still in front of you, and you couldn't just ignore it beacuse it should be secondary. Leaning forward, not quite looking at the others but as your arms crossed in front of you on the wooden surface, your mind felt distant.

“So, Roose Bolton betrays Robb, which leads to Barbery Dustin to betray you,” Hand vaguely gesturing in Jons direction, not even noting that you kept yourself out of it all. “If Littlefinger wants the North, he needs to get rid of one or both of us knowing we'd never trust him. And if you're right, if Sansa is with him, she'd be the only way to even get him here possibly unscathed. But still, he can't do anything when he's here. He has no actual ties to her.”

Arya piping up through bites, “What about if he marries her?”

Shaking your head, your face twisted in a doubt that was far too passing for the three of them to follow. And yet it was your next words which made that all the more confusing. “He can't. And even if it were possible, Sansa has nothing to claim.”

Flickering to their gazes now all on you, and matching in a narrow confusion, you hadn't yet realized that there was no reasonable way for any of them to have this knowledge. They all were immensely far from it's occurrence. And if you were to have spent more then a few moments considering it, you would have attempted to approach it with far more tact then none at all. Which was how it slipped out.

“The Faith will never annul a marriage between two highborns both found guilty of regicide. With Sansa on the run first, and now Tyrion? To split them up now would give the people the idea that Sansa had nothing to do with Jofferys murder. And the Faith would never concede to that.” It was only mid chewing did you notice the silence in the seconds that followed as awkward and stiff.

Looking over with a rough swallow, did it occur to you then of their uninformed positions. And that was information delivered in the worst possible manner. Theon looked around as uncharacteristically uncomfortable at the image as you had, but it was the matching wide eyed and entirely taken back expressions matching of Jon and Arya that clued you in. Lips parting just slightly enough as you whispered into the air, almost only to yourself, “Right. You three wouldn't have had any reason to know about that.”

Thankfully, Theon who was far more what you felt gave the same response you had hearing it for the first time. Much easier to divert your attention towards, and both wolves slowly looked from you, to the other and back again. “She married the Imp?”

Nodding, you inhaled with a hesitation in your eyes glazing over before it flashed out of existence in a flicker of flames in wind. Tilting your head slightly, you reached far beyond the realms of this life to gather information once learned both within the ruins of Harrenhal and the grieving halls of Riverrun. Considering, you were long since at war at that point, you were fairly certain the onslaught of horror and painful news hitting one after the other made learning of this with Robb a bit easier to swallow then it was for them now.

Calm and collected however, you thought to yourself as you looked to Theon, simply answer as the events occurred. Not the why. “Tywin Lannister had pushed my fathers forces out of Kings Landing, meaning he had a lot more reach as proper Hand of the King by then. So he started working to find ways to gain and upper hand against Robb, since he had spent the past three years losing horrendously.”

One way to put it. Another was Robb had taken control of every battle he fought and scared the great Tywin Lannister into hiding. Only willing to come out to drive back your fathers army in a last moment rescue effort. The Lannisters fell apart after his death, and thus you suspected Cersei had not anywhere near the same drive as her own father to go after Jon the way Tywin failed against Robb.

But you pressed on, voice only so on the edge of a grating tone that Jon alone could pick it up. “Joffery took Margaery Tyrell as a bride when they aided Tywins forces. The easy version I'm sure the Lannisters would rather have spread is that they simply wanted to secure the North.”

Theon was the only one to speak. Jon and Arya both, felt like they were listening to a made up story which they only caught half way through. As close as Arya was to the war for so long, she knew next to nothing about its happenings and Jon was so far from the Seven Kingdoms by then, he was beyond the Wall when there were still free folk there to lie to.

Perhaps though, it also was the fact that as close as you and Theon were to the Starks, there was the disconnect that you two were not bound to the family by your own blood. In the back of your mind, were you to hear a similar story of Shireen being married off to what you would consider the enemy, you likely would be as silent and taken back as they were.

Theon learning forward, matching the crossed placement of your arms to his looking towards you with a gaze further in wonder. “Hypothetically speaking, let's say Sansa was found innocent, her marriage to the imp annulled. Why would they need to get rid of you two first if Littlefinger thinks he can control the North through Sansa?”

Your eyes found grey ones, a knowing in one way and a struggle in acceptance of the other. Jon never wanted to seem as if he was taking anything from his siblings, and the way that woman had spoken of him as if it was an irrefutable fact. Soft and something distant in your gaze flickered away from him with a pain not his fault, but existed in your tone all the same. “We only found out about Sansa right before we left for the Twins. We received a raven with the news, and by that night all of the Northern Lords had all heard and signed in agreement to Robbs will. Which included his line of succession.”

No one was devoid of the fact that you were speaking around it, but no one tried to fill in such gaps anyways. Which was all you could appreciate as each word was very noticeably chosen with care as you said them. “Sansa marrying Tyrion was why Robb declared an heir in the first place. We knew it meant Tywin was planning something. We didn't know what he had planned, but if he was preparing for a North without Robb then we needed to as well. And the first thing he did was disinherit Sansa from any claim to the North. By marriage she's a Lannister, and any children they'd have would be Lannisters and Robb refused to give them any way to take the North. Even if she came home right now, free as a bird, she still wouldn't have a single claim to any rule. Robb made sure that was clear.”

What the others reactions were, you didn't find it in you to look. It didn't feel good saying, especially so far from that night. None of it was in malice, and as soon as Robb put it forth you both understood the weight of such a choice. But to repeat it here, so far from that without any of the way Robb could spin anything in such a manner? Out of your mouth it only sounded distant and cold.

It was incredibly hard to determine what was behind the strained roughness in Jons voice, and you had yet to find it in you to look at either Stark. Yourself slipping easily into the mask of panic at seeing a disappointment looking towards you, or worse. “And now that Arya's back?”

Were you looking, you would've seen the way her head whipped over to Jon with as close to a glare as she had ever directed his way. Her own voice raising in an instant to an offended yell of protest, “I never said I wanted to-”

Jon only replying back just as held back as you were feeling for any number of reasons. “It's not about want, Arya. You're a Stark-”

Only shouting back with something even angrier then before, “So are you,”

Cutting both of them off, you only somewhat looked in their direction but found not their faces yet, not the bravery of whatever expression they held even as your voice overpowered them. “It doesn't matter. You being here, if Sansa came back, if Bran came through the gates right now, it doesn't matter. If Robb had an heir of his own, the North is Jons until they would've come of age. Without one, as long as Jon and whatever bloodline runs through him is alive, the North is his.” Jons eyes flashed over with something that no one caught as he looked tensely towards you, still avoiding his gaze for not at all the same reasons he wanted to find yours. “He's the rightful King in the North and Robb wouldn't budge on anything less then that.”

Arya was quiet as was everyone else, waiting for either wolf to make the first move to break the heavy silence and all words left your willingness to do so for their sake. This all would have sounded so much less stern coming from Robb when he explained it then. Everything just sounded as callous and unfeeling coming from you as it did your father.

Too formal, too matter of fact. Made even worse speaking as such in front of a family as close as the Starks, and siblings as bonded as Jon and Arya. It made you feel as if you were putting words in Robbs mouth to drive a wedge between them, when it was the truth you spoke. Only the truth was warm and soothing when Robb said it.

Perhaps if you were more of a coward and less stubborn, you'd have fled from the remainder of what this conversation became. Instead, it was your words and so you had to defend them. The High lords would confirm the truth of facts, but only you could defend Robbs emotions and thoughts over the matter.

If he wanted you to do a good job as such, Robb chose a terrible Queen to carry his memory with warmth.

The low bass of his voice rippled through the air and deep into your veins, having waited until it was only you two left until Jons warmth came up close next to you. “You want to tell me what's going on up here before I have to guess?” His hand gently reaching up to run through loose strands of your hair closest to him.

In a way you think you surprised him, the way which you so easily looked over with a softness that hadn't been there since earlier that day. Nails tapping mindlessly beneath on the table, no more then a gentle murmur was how loud you managed to get. “It's strange, looking back on those final days. It feels like it was so long ago I'm thinking back to a version of myself that doesn't even exist anymore.”

His hand still running through the strands, moving piece by piece more back over your shoulder or tucking strays behind your ear as he somehow was as patient as ever. “You aren't that same girl.” Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. Nothing in accusation or malice, just an almost too innocent look towards him in question. Jon moved his hand, now firmly running along the bulk of your hair behind your head. “We can't go back to who we were, and we can't change where we are now. No matter what happens, we stay together. All of us. Whether that includes Sansa one day or not.”

Eyes slipping closed as you exhaled, you would've moved your head away if his touch didn't feel so soothing. “The last time I even saw her, she was still just a girl. Naive and daydreaming..I don't think I want to imagine what kind of person Cersei or Littlefinger could've turned her into..”

Quiet sat between you both, Jon never let go of his touch against your hair as he smoothed along it, but it matched the weight in his voice that held not the same defeat. Leaning a bit more, imploring you to meet his brighter eyes. “We can't change that. You and I have been here long enough that she must know it's safe to come home by now. But that's where she is, and she still didn't come home, or even try to reach out to any of us..we can't force her to come back and be part of this.”

Jaw clenched, you couldn't stop hearing the way Stoneheart acted as if Jon sitting here as King was some great offence. As if he didn't try harder to be the person he was more then anyone left in these kingdoms. Scouring his own grey eyes, you sighed lightly before letting them fall to nothing on him in particular.

“You know not a single person out there would choose anyone else to rule them, right?” Brows narrowing a bit hoping to get an easy answer, but Jons silence was as unsure as you felt in your own mind personally. Sighing out, a hand of your own reached up finally, running over the facial hair at his jaw. The scratching coarseness raw against your palm even as one thumb reached up to trace what you could reach of his cheek. “They didn't choose you to be a King, they chose you to be their King They'll follow you no matter what, no matter who tries coming back here claiming for themselves. Half of those men denied pledging to my father even though they were trapped under the Boltons control. Robb was gone, I'm not even a Northerner, they could have said no. If they wanted anyone else to rule them, they wouldn't have wanted you in the first place.”

He was almost close enough his natural warmth took away any remaining chill in the night air, no matter the howling wind floating about outside the stone walls. “When I said no to being Lord of Winterfell, part of me didn't think I deserved it. That whoever was still out there should have it more then me, it was their birthright not mine. But now I'm more then that and not beacuse some Southern King said so.” Gently back and forth your thumb traced, almost letting the rest of your fingertips slide down to trace what you could of his neck too. “I don't want any of them to think I'm trying to take it away from them, but there's more to this now. They don't understand whats coming for us, what's at stake. If Arya or Sansa took over from me tomorrow, none of the free folk would listen to them, they'd still ally with me.”

“That's beacuse you know what it takes. If you're right, if he wants Sansa to be part of this, she isn't a leader, a ruler. Not even close to the way you are.” You were quiet for a moment before letting your face fall a slight bit. “I didn't realize before that none of you would've known about her marrying Tyrion Lannister. Would have perhaps been a little less mindless about it had I remembered.”

Jons face almost fell to something amusingly baffled, twisting as his head jolted back a bit. “I don't know if I can't picture that or I don't want to.” Nodding with him, he sighed out, glancing between you and nothing a few times before choosing a side of him internally.

Rather then another word getting out, Jon gently pulled you to him from his grip at the back of your head. Lips gently capturing yours, while his other hand draped along the side of your neck and collarbone. The hand along his jaw slinking behind his neck to better steady yourself leaning up to his kiss.

Always the one to gently guide you, you merely were to follow along as he deepened it before having the proper sense to just pull back. Slowly as each of your remaining breathe was stolen by him, did his hand drift down you side. Tracing along your waist before settling at your hip, curling as if to pull you to him, but without the commitment. Only pulling back enough each word brushed his lips still against yours. “Selyse told me what happened.”

Sighing, Jon didn't let you go, but allowed your head to drop slightly in his touch. His own moving to press his forehead against yours, the hand at your hair drifting to your cheek once more. Not altering where you were looking, just cupping your cheek as he kept you close. Barley a whisper leaving you, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me just this time. When I know what's really happening, I promise I'll tell you.”

“Next time you don't feel alright, you need to tell me. You scared me a lot today.”

You'd apologize if you thought he at all would accept such an thing. Instead, you let the quiet sit between you both until you nodded your head. Leaning up a bit more, stealing one more chaste kiss from his lips before you muttered, “This may happen more often.” You could feel his brows furrowing as you elaborated. “Lord Howland's son has this ability, and he said these sorts of dreams and visions can take a toll of ones health.” His grip on your cheek grew a little tighter as you felt his muscles tense so close to you. Your own scratching along the back of his neck almost in a soothing manner matching your voice. “Which means if I don't learn how to control this, it might get worse sooner.”

Jaw clenched, he almost indiscernibley shook his head no before tilting your head down again to press a kiss to your forehead. Whispering against you, “I want you by my side more for the next while.” Asking why, he tilted your head back up to meet his eyes. Bright and shining finally passed the sorrow of the days toll. “You really haven't figured it out yet?”

An amused grin fell over your lips as you pulled back from him slightly, “What's that supposed to imply, Snow?” Only a tilt of his head in lieu of a shrug was your response. A tender smile as bright as the grey lovingly in your eyes as well did you shake your head. Leaning back to his lips yourself muttering, “Unbelievable, you Starks are.”

More then once Sam had to draw Jons attention back, as if the man was tied between focused and utterly distracted. His eyes kept drawing themselves to the partially open door, looking out to where he could see you and Gilly, a book in front of her and so Little Sam had found himself asking to be held by you. Pacing a little around the table back and forth, guiding Gilly through what you were introducing as increasingly more complicated books to test her.

Still early enough in the morning, Little Sam had been dozing in and out, and currently was leaned right into your front with eyes barley open as you focused on both parties. Not once did you turn as distracted and catch anything close to where Jon was, but more then once he had to peel his eyes from you back to the matter at hand.

If he were to accurately go over the numbers in his head, it had only been around a fortnight and Jon had only known for half of that time. You wouldn't have a clue, but it was making him feel even more obsessive. Seeing you collapse the other day only made that feeling stronger, as if his heart begun to race now if you were out of his sight for too long.

Tearing them back, Jons hands perched on the table as the lot of them found themselves debating what it could mean. Tormund had confirmed that Mance had indeed been searching for the Horn of Winter and as they now stood looking at what seemed like it, the question of what to do with it plagued them.

Jons voice was a low rasp, a bit on the edge of agitated as he considered too what you had seen. “My Uncle might have given his life to hide this, I'm not letting him die in vein by burning it now.” That was the suggestion both Ser Davos and Lord Howland gave, but it didn't add up. “It's been hiding in my families crypt for thousands of years, if the best option was to destroy it why wouldn't they have done it already?”

Sam had most of the level head these days, almost every night he and Jon went over what he had learned and attempted to put it all together into something which made sense. Some of it did, some of it seemed as if any answer brought into the existence of too many new questions they didn't know as it was.

Tormund was the only other one here who truly understood what they were up against, a curious look as Ser Davos mentioned that he thought the red woman had it. Jon shook his head, but without much thought passed what he said, “I told her it was said to bring down the wall, and she burned it.”

A glance between them passed with the same idea in their minds, neither of them believed it then and certainly not now. Tormund rumbling out in a bemused tone, “Well she burned a horn, just not the right one. Mance had us digging for it, until one day he leaves and only when he comes back did he say he had found it, whether I believed him or not.” Jon's head dropped, that too late was beacuse his Uncle Benjen had arrived that night of the feast, and took it. As soon as he left Jon from their conversation in the cold, he likely went straight to the crypts before Mance could get it.

He could somewhat hear Theon asking, “What did he want with it in the first place?”

“He wanted the crows to think he had it, so he could blow the damn Wall down to their knees. Thought if no one's ever seen it, no one would know the difference. Then this one showed up.” Gesturing across the table to Jon. His own brows narrowing in question what that even meant, knowing at that point Tormund could read his expressions well as anyone. “Knew right away you didn't believe it was the real thing, means if you went back to the crows you'd call him on the lie if he tried using it to threaten his way through.”

Lord Howland asking why Mance would think Jon would go back and tell the Nights Watch but still let him travel with them. Jon had to think of the actual answer, don't think about any of the rest, he told himself. His time with the free folk was more complicated then her alone, but it felt as if everytime his memory was dragged back to those years it was all he could think and see.

Inhaling deeply, Jon stood straighter as his arms crossed over his front. “Ned Starks son is a bad enemy to have walk into your camp, but a good ally if you can convert him.” Trying to keep an even tone, as much as any of these men knew, none really understood. None of them could imagine why Jon struggled to look back to any of it.

Ser Davos, thankfully, interjected the spiral forming in Jons mind. “Not a smart gambler, he was. I don't think I've known any man to look at the Starks and think they'd turn their backs on their own.”

Jon and Theon shared only a single glance, but said nothing of it. It was the past now.

Whatever conversation brewed around him, Jon still found himself trapped in those days. The free folk had all talked endlessly and so much of it seemed as if they were only stories with no true understanding of any importance they may hold. Or what they meant. As if it wasn't until Hardhome did many understand what was at stake in truth.

When it slipped out, Jon knew he almost had to back up and reconsider what he even meant. “I don't think it brings the Wall down.” Glancing up to Sam, elaborating, “If the Wall was built with some kind of magic to protect it, why then make something that can tear it down? Why make it so easy?”

Something akin to realization passed over Sams eyes, looking to Tormund. “When they say it can bring down the Wall, does it say exactly that? Wherever it's written?”

A chuckle passing over the taller man, and an amusement in his eyes growing. “It's written nowhere, boy. Just stories we'd tell each other when there's nothing better to do.”

His own eyes squinting in a hint of thought, Jon caught onto the thought passing through Sam. The later man asking almost to himself, “Meaning it's possible it does something else entirely. After all, if it's that dangerous why hide it under Winterfell where there's this many innocent people?”

Flickering to the door and back again, trying to contain that feeling trying to rise back up, Jon almost shook the thoughts from his head. “If my Uncle didn't want anyone to find it, he wouldn't have buried it where he did.”

Your eyes drifted more then once to where they were all discussing things. Bright sun reflecting off the snow shined in the window as you paced slightly, peeling your gaze back to the now slumbering one fully resting against your front. Gilly breaking the quiet, “Do you want me to take him?”

Glancing with a raised brow, she specified because he was asleep. A soft smile fell over you however, looking down at him before returning to her. Pacing a bit closer. “I've helped raise a number of little ones over the years, but Sam here might be the most well behaved of them all so far.” Moving ever so carefully, you slunk into the seat adjacent to her. “As long as he's not crying, I can handle him, I assure you.”

Looking between the book in front of her, and you, there was a hesitation on Gilly's mind. Luckily for you, she was good at speaking in the quiet now. “How old were you? When you learned how to read?”

Inhaling as you leaned back a slight more comfortably, only did the vaguest of stretches in your mind reach that far off. “Around three I imagine it was. As soon as I was old enough to hold a quill, my father would have me spend the morning with our Maester reading the letters, and then in the afternoon he'd take me and have me write out everything I had learned before.”

Eyes a bit wider, you almost were envious of Gilly's mannerisms. How she still found intrigue in the world that came to her with such an ease. You weren't sure you had ever been like that. “And that's normal for you? South of the wall, to learn so early?”

Almost going to shrug a shoulder before the weight by it reminded you to stay put. “Maybe not that early for most, but learning young for highborns is normal. Most people though, plenty will go their entire lives without ever being able to read a single letter. They live in villages where all but none know how, so who would be there to teach them?” It was easy sometimes to forget that most of the world did not have the kind of privilege of learning. It came so naturally around the noble women and high Lords you grew up around.

Arms now perched along the top of the page, she narrowed her eyes with a flashing of not quite envy or even sorrow, but an accepted defeat. “I think my father knew how to read, but he never really told us beacuse he didn't want us learning and reading anything that the Nights Watch would come by with. I didn't used to know why, but maybe if we knew how to read he'd think we didn't need to rely on him.”

Glancing down slightly to Little Sam still fast asleep with a strain in tone, as you tried not to clear your throat, “Keep your lessons up, and you'll have more going for you then over half the people in Westeros. A woman who knows how to read is a dangerous thing.”

The smile on her almost bashful, it was so easy to see why she and Sam fit with one another. Both had a spirit about them that wasn't yet broken by the world. Despite everything giving them reasons too. She shrugged her own shoulders, looking back to the page. “Sam will be three next year, do you think I'll know enough I can start teaching him that early?”

The boy in question shifting slightly again, your hand moving along with him to gently lean his head more into the space between your shoulder and neck and running comfortingly down his back. “If we keep up at this rate, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to start trying. When you're more ready for it, I can have you start writing as well. You need to know the letters before you can write them, but they go hand in hand once you are used to both.”

Fluttering back and forth between focuses, you had Gilly read out the entire passage in her head before turning to you without looking and summarizing exactly what it is it said. The past few days especially she had gotten very good at it. Something you always recalled your father telling you, that you needed to be able to do more then read the words on a page. That if you could read them but not understand them, you're no smarter then the average fool.

“You know, you used to be good at hiding what you were feeling.” Face twisting in a confusion, Jon turned half way from where he stood near the door to look at the approaching Sam. Nodding to just out the partially open space, the clearest eyeline from where Jons stood ended right where you were sitting. “I thought you didn't want children.”

The willpower it took for Jon to remain impassive despite the way his heart threw itself about in his chest, was almost impressive. Looking at him with barley a change in expression but a bit more of a sternness, Jon turned to look right back. Voice quiet as to not distract or catch your attention. “I didn't want any child I had to be a bastard. I never said I didn't want them ever.”

The tone attached to Sams voice got on Jons nerves and both men were entirely aware Sam was doing it on purpose. Just to garner that agitation. “Alright, so you want children. You're a married man now, and you're King in the North. What's stopping you?”

“Nothing.”

His answer was quick enough that it had Jon glance only partially to the side as if to try and gauge if Sam had noticed, but not committing to truly finding out. Arms crossed as he shifted to lean against the book case behind him a little less obviously staring at you. Whatever was on Sams expression Jon didn't want to see it. “Does she know you want that?”

Jaw clenching, his head dropped a bit as the rest of his face twisted too into something a bit more siding of pain, and his voice strained the same. “It's not that simple for her. Her child was murdered while he was still growing inside her. It doesn't matter what I want, only that she's ready for it when the time comes.” Everyday he saw the scar across you, and he knew you still tried to look at it as little as possible.

No offence meant, and only Sam could say it so casually as well. “If I were her, I'd get pregnant just to get you to stop watching me like that.” Brows narrowed as Jon in mostly a jest, glared at him but Sam had nothing but more of it at the ready. “Oh, you're going to tell me you aren't obsessing over the idea of getting her pregnant? It's only a coincidence you've barley been able to focus today beacuse you're twenty feet away from her walking around caring for Little Sam like that?”

Sam's name coming out in warning and the glare only increased. But no lines were crossed that were anything but blatantly true. “I can do more then one thing at once.”

Comfortable silence passing only with the muffled sounds of the outside peaking through when Sam spoke up once again. “Last time I saw you, we all still thought she was dead. Then I come back, and you're already married to her. I can't even imagine what it must have been like, seeing her again after all that time. It makes sense to at least think about it.”

But something was deepening in Jons eyes, the grey tinting darker and darker as it twisted around his heart like an addiction. That part of Jon wished he had kept you with him that night in Castle Black, away from the rest of them, away from anything to remind you of what nightmare you escaped. And unable to stop the fantasy in his mind, of keeping you on his cock without stop. Of not returning to the living world until he filled you with life of his own.

Jon aggravatingly thinking that if he had, you'd be about ready to give birth by now. His hands clenched tight as his arms stayed crossed over his chest. Not the time, nor the place to think about this. He didn't have you alone, he wouldn't for hours. He couldn't think about what you'd look like at every stage being with his child. Something he once thought he'd never get a chance with you.

Whatever playing along the woman once did, was all but gone.

Nothing but a bitter spite was left, and a glint in her eye that never quite got over itself. Something in her which if smiled, felt as if it were creeping and meaningfully distrustful. In truth it was easy to see the affiliation between her and the Boltons.

A similar coldness in her eyes that stayed quiet and collected in an unbecoming manner. If this was once a pleasant woman, she had been long gone. All that was left was someone who had been brought into the room as she moved that as a snake. Slinking about without effort but lacking the grace to give her presence. Being brought in, she stayed quiet as if to play games of who goes first, but she was going up against an opponent who refused to see fit for playing along.

“How long have you been spying for Lord Baelish?”

Barbery Dustin was not well suited for captivity, and yet as she glared with a spite in her eyes towards Jon, she did not attempt in anyway to make this easy on herself. Her voice cold and even less held back of a resentment then before. “You mean to tell me you have put everything else together but the when?” It wasn't really a question, only a demeaning accusation of character she knew nothing about.

Stayed quiet by the back wall of the room, Theon trained behind where she was sat and two guards on either side of him, all eyes were on her. But it was the unblinking complicated stare of Jon which set off the most nerves. Any chance she had looking to you was met with the same degree of stoic unchanging firmness.

Voice low but with a confidence that wasn't anywhere near her arrogance, Jon barley moved an inch as he looked at her. “This won't go any better if you avoid answering my questions. You and I both know you're guilty, but I'm giving you the chance to tell the truth on your own.” She didn't look away not speak, and neither did Jon for the seconds to follow.

Instead of any irritation, as if expecting just this, Jon moved on. “Every raven you've sent and received from the Vale as long as you have been here has a written copy in Maester Wolkan's study. I know you've been in contact with him. A man who had already betrayed my father, your Liege Lord.”

A twist of her face made her look that much more unpleasant, swift to drop her tone to a judgment that came out with a ill tempered ease. “You think it is wise to blindly trust what it is he claims? A fools choice. If I were Queen, the first thing I would do, would be to kill all those grey rats.”

Raise of your eyebrow as you looked to her, an interesting mistrust. Grudges of houses were one, but it was not common Maesters in the general sense were the untrustworthy party. But you kept quiet, Jon wanted you there but this was his questioning. His prisoner. Jon however continued to frustrate her, not paying any mind to her attitude nor unnecessary insults. “I trust in people who have shown loyalty and respect. Maester Wolkan isn't here to lie or trick me. He's here, beacuse I trust him, and I trust the ravens scrolls he's shown me are true.”

Quiet followed just as it had when he gave her the same chances in front of far more of their own people. Now though, the quiet was inexcusable. Jon's voice cutting through like a blade in the tense air between them. “Was it always your intention to betray my family? Or did you take the first opportunity that presented itself after your King was already dead?”

Both Jon, and yourself knew her eyes flickered up to you but nothing was stated about it as such. Jon would get to that. One thing at a time. Peeling her eyes back, sharp and on their own edge did she speak out in just the same shortness. “If you wish to know whether or not there was a time you could have kept my loyalty, I am afraid you are far too many decades late. Your father saw to that.”

Your eyes narrowed as did the racing of blood in your veins, and if you felt that defence coming rushing to the forefront it was tenfold in Jon. But he was better at composing himself them most, hardly a twist in his expression and tint darker falling over his eyes, were you not one keen on what meant what on Jons face only the rougher deepness of his tone could give away that anger. “My father didn't drag your husband and great Uncle to war by force. They went of their own free will.”

Anger in her grew just as held back. “And yet he came back when they did not.” Jon once more specifying that wasn't his fathers fault, but they both stared at one another until she found the wrong string to pull at. Or in her mind, the right one. “He came back, Howland Reed came back, but what did I receive? Willam's stallion, not his body, just his horse. He had room to bring home a corpse and some whore's baby but not a man who died for him.”

You could see in an instant how tense Jons shoulders became even from here. Muscles no doubt screaming as was the noise in his head and before he had the chance to let it get to him, you broke for his sake, giving a chance for him to breath in quiet. If such a comment would be a sore spot once, it was something else entirely now. Louder then either of them had been and with a sharpness giving no room for interjection. “Tell me, Lady Barbery. Would your former lover take so kindly to you speaking about his family in such a way?”

Oh the way her eyes snapped up to yours, as if she was caught red handed. Her lie was not convincing in the slightest. “William was not relative to the Starks-”

Jon didn't move, and you would speak until your eyes could flicker down and see him on the side of calmer. “I believe I said lover, not husband. The man you felt cheated out of having beacuse he was promised to a woman who wasn't you. I ask again, do you think the way you want to remember Brandon Stark is to call the sister he died trying to save, nothing more than a corpse? Or to have sided with the man who murdered his nephew? Were I to take you down to the crypts this moment, could you truly say you would be able to even look at the statue of where he is buried with pride?”

You gave away even less to the woman then Jon had. Once more, it seemed few outside of the circle you already were close with, had no patience for such an unfeeling demeanour. Her glare far more furious then before. “Roose was following orders-”

Rough and once more full of a heavy weight did Jon force her eyes back to him. “Robb was his King. And he didn't murder him for anything but power and money. But the thing is, I can't see Tywin Lannister reaching out to him so directly. That's a risk going right to him about committing treason.” Leaning forward, it seemed as if his confidence dwindled her own the more he spoke. “If I go looking, will I find a trail of ravens from Kings Landing, to the Vale, to Barrowton and finally reaching all the way to Harrenhal? I'm willing to bet I would. Beacuse I think, Petyr Baelish played you right into his hands to give Roose Bolton an offer.”

That time she looked away. Nowhere to go or distract herself with. Just the quiet as if forcing her to reflect on where she was, what she needed to say or not say. How far was she willing to fight this when there were no more secrets of it? That time you spoke, but softer. “You approached Roose Bolton about betraying Robb Stark, and then in turn when he needed to smuggle me into the North undetected, you helped him to do so. He was married to your sister, you were fond of his firstborn son, it's understandable you wouldn't want to turn him away.”

Not being able to see the narrowing in his eyes slightly, you missed how Jon seemed taken back by the sympathy, even moreso as you continued. “So you convince Lord Roger to side with the Boltons, but you and I both know Ramsay, my lady. He murdered your nephew, and then he murdered your only real ally in the North.”

Tilting her head suspicious to the side, she asked in a whisper nearly, “How did you know about Domeric?”

Your eyes found Theon in silence and unease. If there was anything Ramsay did more of then torment, it was talk endlessly. Putting it all together now, it was no wonder Roose having a son with Walda was a threat. He likely poisoned Roose's first trueborn son in the first place. No wonder he was so violent about getting you back, Ramsay had always sought more power and positions then he ever deserved. Long before Robb Stark's widow was there to be forced to birth a Bolton heir.

“Lady Barbery,” Jon catching her focus once more. “Whatever the grudge you held against my father, you still were once someone my Uncle Brandon cared about. It's for his sake I'm giving you a chance to be honest with me. Tell me what you know. All of it.”

She was quiet, eyes looking through him at you before focusing once more. Sitting straight as she could, face impassive and cold as ever. “I will share what it is I know, but only if they leave.”

Only from what you could see did Jon give a single nod, and you looked up to beckon Theon over without further question. “Come on, give them the room.” Her eyes met yours only for a few final moments, in a way maybe you could've felt pity, but you knew Jon struggled to grace her with that as well.

She had one more thing to say though, calling out to you with something unreadable in her eyes. “Tell me, your grace, do you miss them? Those hounds of Ramsays? You were awfully fond of them.”

You said not a single word before you left.

It had felt like years ago again, thinking herself back to the day Barbrey Dustin walked the hall of her Keep towards the main gates. She was to expect two arrivals, but this first was far before the second would ever arrive. Receiving word from her brother in law, he and the remainder of their bannermen would be making their return home but would take more time then expected.

As she stepped out into the brisk air as men yelled to open the gates, a group of horses rode in with the sigil she had long grown accustomed to within her life. Men she knew, many she did not care to learn the names of, and yet her eyes looked to one thing then the other. Dragging along a cage now covered up from any sight, she knew something not of the plan had occurred, and she did not greatly appreciate surprises at that point.

But her eyes, dark and stern as if a smile had not graced her face in decades withheld whatever existed of ire of the sight. She was large, but Barbrey knew she would be. Young, but she did not care of what age men took for wives when not her business. What she cared about, was that this new wife was in her home at all. But she would play nice.

Allowing them to approach her, neither her nor he bothered with formalities. She and Roose Bolton went far back enough that this Walda was likely still a babe then. “My lord.”

Curt as always, and he returned in his normal flat nature. Turning to the girl, “Walda, this is Barbrey Dustin. An old friend.” Thinking to herself, so he was keeping it simple in front of her. Good she thought, let her be ignorant.

The girl gave a naive hello, as with only a nod in return Barbrey turned to the servants waiting behind her. “Tend to the horses. Assure they are fed, watered and rubbed down. And show Lady Walda to one of our guest chambers.” One of the maids passing her by, guiding her into the Keep, Barbrey did not presume that time to hide the snide manner in which her eyes narrowed. Following the girls path until she was no longer in sight. Flickering them to then the cage and back she stepped forward as her tone lowered. “I presume that is the issue you wished to speak with me about?”

Only a nod, he kept it as even as she did. “Our situation has changed.”

Settled a bit more, walking into her study Barbrey dismissed the servants already inside. Closing the door leaving mostly firelight to illuminate her preferably hidden away room. She had known Roose enough to not even bother with a drink other then water, he was insistent about his lack of consuming anything of an alcoholic nature.

It had been one of the first things Barbrey's sister Bethany had shared about her new husband many years ago. Her husband's strange tendencies, but her sister never seemed to be deterred by it so Barbrey took up the same mantle. Placing it in front of him as she faced his sitting position, she was in little mood for whatever this was.

“I do not appreciate being blind sighted that you wish to use my city as your personal smuggling route.” He begun with an insistence that was not the case, but Barbrey raised an eyebrow. “No? So you are not hiding what you have dragged into my home, other then your young wife.”

Hardly twitching at all, “I wouldn't have expected you to care about such differences in age.”

“Perhaps Roose you could place yourself in my position. I inform you I will be coming into your home uninvited, needing something discreetly handled, after being gifted a brand new title with the lands I killed a King and a Queen for, and offer you nothing but inconveniences when I arrive.” The stare went on for some time, both well knowing she would not fold before any else.

Raising his head a slight bit he elaborated. “I need something smuggled with me to the Dreadfort. Something that cannot be taken on any main paths or go through anywhere near a populated area.” Asking what this item would be, she did not expect the answer. “The Queen.”

Barbrey narrowed her eyes as her tone shifted to something akin to a lecture. “You brought a rotting corpse into my home-”

“She's alive.”

Nothing but wind was heard from the outside walls. That was not the arrangement, she did not pass on such information with such risk for him to fumble arguably one of the most important aspects. Were she a woman to fly off the handle, she'd have dove right into a lecture to him for his irresponsibility. Killing Robb Stark was one thing, but the entire purpose of killing the Queen in the North first, was because she was carrying his child, his heir. “I don't believe keeping her alive and with a son in her womb was part of the instructions given to you.”

He only kept his calm towards her held back ire. “I did kill her.”

Once more her irritation flared up. Taking a step closer as if speaking to a child looking down at him. “If she is alive, then you did a poor job of killing her, didn't you?”

But what he said was odd. “I did kill her, Barbrey.” Taking pause she tilted her head in confusion. Roose stood up slowly explaining his position. “I stabbed her in the stomach, three times. Tore her womb open significantly enough that she bled to death within a minute. No pulse, no heartbeat, no life in her eyes, not even anything in the way of blood left when I was finished with her.” Still Barbrey did not move. “She was as dead as the King, and yet when I returned to the hall some time later, she was alive. Unconscious, but alive, and she has been ever since.”

Something unnerved sat within her chest. Such a feat was impossible. “I presume Tywin Lannister has not heard this story.” Ensuring only he, the small garrison of men with him and now her knew about it.

“I need to get her into the Dreadfort unseen, unknown, before the North has a chance to hear she's alive. Before the Starks hear shes alive.” As she told him sternly that the Stark men were all dead, Roose rose only an eyebrow before passing her by.

Moving further into her study, she turned to follow with shortness on her tone. “Theon Greyjoy killed the two Stark boys, there is no one left to support her-”

He had not turned to face her, but was looking at whatever bit of information kept out on her desk he felt entitled to glance at. “Robb Stark has a bastard brother at Castle Black. From what I have gathered he and the girl were extremely close. If she is the only survivor of the night which killed the rest of the family-”

It came out suddenly but with an anger she knew he did not understand. “A massacre you mean to call it.” Roose looked at her with a curiosity at her change in tone, and she stepped further into his proximity to now prominently speak down to him. “You did not loose men that night, Roose. I did. My men. Do not speak of it as if the Starks were the only casualty. You lose no men while I lose many, and then you drag the Queen into my home telling me I need to help smuggle her into the Dreadfort? For what purpose?”

The problem was he was right, and it frustrated her to no end over it. Roose knew she despised that bastard of his, he himself never denied her suspicions that that Ramsay Snow had killed Domeric, her own nephew. Roose and Bethany's own son, but he kept the vile thing around and was parading him around the North now as if he was always meant to stand in Domerics shoes.

But he could not be ensured Walda would deliver him a son, and even if she did, the boy would not be of suitable marrying age to tie him to you for far too long to wait. He had the Queen in the North alive, secretly in his grasp and he intended not to waste such an opportunity. But he could not smuggle her there alone, which was why he was here. Why Barbrey was expected to put up with his new wife which was not her sister, and eat what precious food from her own harvest she had.

She had to be sure though. The dead of night the two made their path to where the cage was being kept as both dismissed Locke watching guard over her. Low words spoken between as to not carry in the night wind. “If the Lannisters are not considering the bastard as dangerous, why should we? If he is at Castle Black, what is he to do with the knowledge his sister in law is alive?”

Roose picked at a sore spot on purpose. “How many Starks do you know Barbrey, that take threats to those in their family lightly?” Her glare spoke many volumes, they both knew that was uncalled for but he said it anyways and she would remember it.

The coverings were lifted, and the sight was something she had never seen. Barbrey almost did not recognize her as a person. Utterly soaked in blood she could not even tell what colour her gown was meant to resemble in the first place. Lifting enough to show the wounds now littering her womb her eyes went wide as the rest of her frowned at the brutality. Not a man to spare a single mercy she knew Roose was, but it did give credence to his words.

No. Bastard or not, none of Stark blood would take kindly to this kind of sight being carved into a person they cared about. But feeling the pulse now existing as well as the faint sight of breathing moving up and down in her chest, Barbrey knew that this was indeed a secret needed to be kept tightly bound.

Perhaps it was why as she agreed to help smuggle the Queen in the North across to the Dreadfort, did she also withhold the information that she was still in contact with the man who brought her into such plans in the first place. Or that she would withhold this information from Lord Petyr Baelish in return.

Staring at the sight of the living, blood soaked body of their Queen, Barbrey had felt a strange feeling that the future was not anywhere near as promised to be fruitful as the men in her lives full of deception wished it was going to be.

And sitting across from that same bastard, now King in the North with you alive and married at his own side, she perhaps begun to finally feel the resentment for Roose Bolton. She should have turned him away the moment he dared ride into her home with a young wife at his side that was not Bethany.

But now the Boltons were dead and Barbrey was not. Perhaps she thought as she sat across from Jon Snow, that honesty this time, might be the only way to ensure he would not sentence her to a fate which would have her finally join all the dead which came before.

“You think she'll tell him the truth?”

Inhaling deeply you forced yourself to remain calm, not to let the scorching horror seep too deeply and from the way Theon walked just as tense you both were one in the same. “She has no allies left, and by now word likely has already reached Barrowton. The only family she has is in Lord Willam's brother, and he's been nothing but loyal to Jon since the fight against Ramsay. But everyone else here knows what she's done now. She has nowhere else to hide.”

Glancing at the other, once more you could read how easily you were each walking around the actual subject as he asked with a rough clearing of this throat. “She's still an ally of Littlefinger.”

But you shook your head, stern voice with no room for doubt. “Littlefinger doesn't have allies. Only friends he fakes until they are no longer of use. And with the North knowing what she's done, Barbery Dustin is an inconvenience to him.”

These very halls were almost the problem, it was ones you and Theon both had spent so many years in but also the ones faking themselves as home in horror. If you truly thought on it, most places you had called home were always filled with it, with pain and trauma.

It was inescapable your whole life.

The warmth around was the only solace you found for quite a while as you were there. Just enough steaming water that you could handle it, and quiet around to soothe the grating beat in your head that persisted. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noticed the sound but nothing really came to you until the warmth in the water was almost overtaken by above.

A large figure learning down from behind where you sat in the water as a hand slunk around your front, palm resting along your collarbones to pull you back better. Your own head tilting back somewhat as the feeling of Jons lips finding the top of your head came to you, his curls brushing down along your skin as his other hand tilted you by your jaw somewhat to him.

Your hand reached back with a sigh leaving you, running through the strands as you could, eyes slipping closed at how even in muffled mumbles, Jons voice still found a way to entrance you. “Is it too much to ask, I come here at the end of the day and find you like this more often?”

Trying to turn to see him a bit better, but not quite being able to move beyond his hold. Soft your tone came out as if not to disturb the quiet peace between you both with a hum. “Not quite sure, sacrificing the peace and quiet for your company? A hard decision, your grace.”

Putting gold on it, you'd be willing to bet Jon playfully rolled his eyes as he leaned his head better to find your neck, pressing his lips there with only a feather lightness. Breath warm as he mumbled into you, “What if I made it a command?”

A breathy laugh left you on a whim, pulling a far more comforting sounding chuckle as from Jon as he sung it right back. Your tone that time only genuine in an affectionate want, “I don't prefer the water as scolding hot as you do, so I'd suggest joining sooner rather then later before it's cold by your standards.”

Another laugh into you followed by a much longer left kiss to your neck, your eyes slipped shut with almost a sigh as soon as Jon pulled away. Heart longing in your chest to plunge out and reach back for him as you felt him stand.

It almost was intimidating, having nothing to see. Only the sounds of clothes being pulled off, and your nerves festering about as you waited for Jon to do or say anything. Once he may have gently prompted you to move up for him, but by now, Jon had little care for waiting. Climbing in right behind you, Jon grasped at your hips under the hot water and lifted you somewhat up and back into his chest.

Only sitting you back down at his front before one of those hands slipped along the skin. Fingertips tracing along your stomach until laying flat and soothing on your scar. Pulling back for you to rest your head back by his shoulder, as the other hand of his rose up. Resting ever so carefully at the base of your neck only enough to prompt your head to tilt so he could better keep his dark eyes on you.

Your eyes closing as he leaned down to your space, nudging your nose with his before cupping your jaw to keep you there long enough. But only with a tease, a kiss so barley there you may have otherwise imagined it had he not spoken, hot breathe flashing along your skin to follow. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Exhaling deeply, you kept your eyes closed. Unwilling to look at what you knew on him was far too much worry bright in his eyes. For a while he didn't move even as you shifted to face forward once more, just kept you at bay against him in the water before you found a softer voice. “I know you don't like these visions, but you cannot pretend they don't exist. I'm having more of them and more then once it's like we've been in the others dreams when they happen.”

Hands rising up from the water, you slowly moved one along his arm by your neck, before he moved, grasping your hand best he could from that angle. The other resting just along his wrist, should you press your thumb down you'd feel his pulse, every so slightly faster anytime he had you like this. Rasping in your ear, an insecurity hinting in what he said. “We had them before, but it was easier when I thought it was only me. Then I saw you that day, knew you were looking right at me and I know what you thought you saw.”

Not quite relaxing was the word, but certainly using him more for any support you needed to keep as upright as he wanted. “I knew you had every right to move on, we didn't even know if we'd ever see each other again. But, seeing it firsthand was..I only ever had dreams before. That was the first time I saw anything awake like that..so I knew I couldn't pretend it wasn't real.”

He sighed deeply, moving his head down to find your neck almost as if hiding there. Muscles behind you against your back tensed, as did the hand holding yours. Only slightly did you move your head, back a nudge against him almost the way Ghost would do so in his own managing of comfort. The hand on your scar almost tightened enough it didn't pass your notice before he roughly hissed out, “When I came back to Castle Black and Sam told me about you and Robb, I was so mad. At the Lannisters, the Boltons, the Freys, all of them. But I was also so mad you saw that, saw her. I thought you died thinking I didn't love you anymore.”

Lie, a small voice whispered inside you. Lie and comfort him, but would he want that? Would Jon believe you if you did? “I did.” If he could have hidden himself in your neck more, Jon would've managed it. Your grip on his own hand tightened, and hardly a sound would be heard if not mere feet way from you both. “I hated that I would think about you when Ramsay would...” Your eyes slipping shut as your lungs tightened enough it strangled the waters behind your eyes. “I'd think of anything we did all those years ago, and I'd hate it beacuse I knew you had forgotten about me. I didn't even know if you still cared.”

Brows furrowing, Jon raised his head to look at you, a rough drop in his throat as he couldn't decide on feeling angry and offended or horrified at the thought. “I never wanted you to see her. I never wanted you to see any of it. I didn't go to the Wall thinking I'd get over you one day.” If he'd ease up on how tight his arms held you, a temptation swam through your veins asking you to turn around to see him properly. But Jon was stronger and more stubborn then that. “None of the things you've seen, dreams, visions whatever they are, they've never done anything but hurt you. They're still hurting you, only now I have to watch.”

Your whisper was faint against the temperamental way Jon was holding himself back. “And it isn't going to stop.” He was quiet, heavy breaths dancing along your skin at your neck. “They're getting stronger for a reason, Jon. I can't ignore them, I won't.”

“Why?”

Rasping harsh against you, you felt his urge to raise his voice against not wanting you to think he wanted to shout at you. Your hand moving enough in his, to run your thumb just along the back of his hand, a soothing back and forth that didn't help. “I came back for you. Whatever brought me back, did so, for you. To bring you back, fight beside you, and now whatever this is, is happening to me so that I can help you.”

You heard him quite muffled, and too indistinguishable to sense the feeling behind. “I don't care-”

Somehow, your gentle tones were louder then his muffles. “Thoros has the power he does, beacuse he's meant to use it to help Lord Beric. That's his purpose. And I won't ignore that mine is you.” He repeated himself, albeit a bit louder but you fought against the tense hold around your frame. “How much death we're surrounded by, and the only two people who have ever brought someone back to life, are in the same place as the only people who've ever been the ones to come back. But I can't just whisper words and bring the dead back, instead I have whatever this is and if-”

Grip around you tight, Jon pulled from his hold as the edge against your ear raised with his anger, and cracking with something painful unable to hide behind it. “I don't care about any of that.” Jaw clenched as his words hissed in your ear as if offended by every word you had just spoken. “Winter is coming and it isn't going to stop for us to figure out whose special and why. I didn't come back for any fate, I came back beacuse you brought me back. And I don't care about wasting my time figuring out what that means to anyone else. I'm fighting to protect my people, and my family where I couldn't before. Don't ask me to put you at risk just so I can figure out how to stop all of this a little bit faster.”

“Jon-”

Interrupting you, his tone dropped from a yell down to a rasp as his head rested against the side of yours. “You don't matter to me because you could be useful. You matter beacuse I love you, I always have been in love with you, and now that you're my wife you want to sit here and justify to yourself why I do.” Stripping you down to your bare frame, even moreso then the physical one sitting before him, your blood slowed down until it came to a dramatic stop. As did your lungs, no air leaving your slightly parted lips as his grip around you tightened once again. “You're right, I can't stop these visions from happening to you, but don't ask me to help make them worse.”

Pushing up enough, you slightly turned your head to see the curls by your side vision as your breathless ask sounded almost meek in comparison to him. “I'm sorry.” Sighing deeply, Jon almost read your own mind, moving his hands to your hips, prompting you to turn to face him.

Settling you gently in his lap, while one hand cupped your cheek as he sat up to better reach your perched height. His eyes far softer then the grating scold just given to you, bright and wide and so easy to read you could melt. “You were a Queen longer then I've been a King. You've proven yourself enough, let me catch up at least.” A hint of a smile twitched in your lips, but Jon caught every single moment of it. A brighter shine in his own as a gentle smile did fall over his own. “How about, you tell me when you see something, and we handle it then, but not before. I'm protective about you enough.”

Your hands draped along his shoulders, one dancing your fingertips up to scratch gently along the facial hair covering his jaw. Inhaling deeply, you held back the very worry you knew he could sense. Nodding your head, you leaned a bit closer to his warmth. Jon letting the hand on your cheek slink to keep you stable pressed against the top of your spine. “I think the word protective might be underselling yourself a little.”

Expression on him changing none, the same brightness as he used the leverage of his hold to pull you closer. “Choose any other word, but they're all the same thing to me. Winter is getting closer then everyone thinks, and I'm not about to start easing up on how much I want to keep you safe when it gets here.”

Heart was too light, as if it was ready to rise from your chest and fling itself into his possession. Leaving a trail of only need and a lightheadedness in it's wake. “If this is you being obsessed, I can't imagine how you could possibly get any worse.”

A handsome smirk fell over his face, eyes narrowing playfully as he toyed with the hair loose down your back. “Not much of an imagination, you have.” A small laugh left you, telling him that was a given and it only brought out even more of what you adored across him. Such a bright and easy laugh that you would do anything to see and hear the rest of your life.

Slinking to rake through your hair with more of a hold, Jon pulled you down the remaining distance as he leaned up to brush gently against your lips with his. Words coming out as a husk, with his dark eyes almost hooded as he looked to them, down further and back. “Just wait until the day I get to bring you out to our people, and tell them you're the mother of my child. You won't be able to leave my sight then.”

His eyes growing greedier, he no doubt caught the flush travelling up from between your legs, along your chest and spreading across your face as your nails dug into his shoulders more. Something inside your head almost begging you to submit as if it was all you were good for, but you resisted.

He liked when you were patient.

Though, it was unmistakable that he could drift his gaze down and see your bare chest for him heaving just a little more as your breathing grew faster. Only a whisper against what was a beaming shine of confidence in his touch, words and gaze. “Whatever you want.”

Roughly, Jon forced your lips to meet in the middle. Wrapping an arm around your back to pull your lower half in the water firmly against his hips, but keeping your lips right against his at no mercy but what he chose or did not chose to give you. Rough and deep in an instant, Jon just barley felt you pressing against his cock before he bit at your bottom lip.

Hand twisting your hair to serve at his call, Jon ran his tongue along yours and tasted inside of your mouth with a growl forming in his chest. Pulling you down into his kiss as much as he could, the whimper leaving you as already you felt that breathlessness dizzying, which made his cock throb. Hard as he could be and yet if something could make him even harder, it was such an innocent sound contrasted to how he touched you.

Hands tangling in his curls, his own drifted from around your back to forcing your hips up against his with a hand spread roughly across what he could reach of your ass. Fingertips digging into the plush skin, and another whimper much needier this time was gifted into his kiss, forcing another growl in his own chest.

It hadn't been brought up since, but you knew too well Jon was tied between two things. Wanting to sink deep inside your cunt like the wolf he was, and turning you around then and there and reliving how cruel it felt to pound into your ass so roughly. One was an addicted, obsessive instinct that was driven by something far more feral, while the other was something much more perverse and debauched that before him, was something you never would have even considered wanting.

He started so gentle too, but by the end he was so lost in the feeling, so far gone that unlike the Jon you knew, he had all but shoved you onto your hands and knees. Desperately needing the leverage from such a hold to pound his cock inside your ass so roughly that it brought tears, and yet your moans of confusing pleasure to mix with his grunts. Something about how much he let loose that night, something inside of you almost craved it again.

You wanted to be good for Jon, but you also wanted him to use you for what you knew, was a multitude of dark and utterly dishonourable ways he desired to fuck you. Wrapping your arms more around his shoulders and back, Jon grasped your waist to keep your bare breasts pressed against his torso, still not a hint of leaving your lips alone to gasp for air.

Finally as he tore from your lips, swollen and shining both of yours did he press your hips into him even more as he moved to your neck. Biting and licking and sucking a bruise into the now bite dented skin, you knew if he were more selfish he'd have pulled you down onto his cock already. But perhaps, it was for the best.

Considering that the next loud sound to emerge in the room was not from either of you. It was a knock to his chamber door. Pausing, Jon grasped your waist as he pulled back somewhat. Grey eyes almost black as he looked up at you, the innocent, overwhelmed need in your own eyes just made his cock throb between you again.

Then the next knock welcomed itself, along with the guards voice calling out. “Samwell Tarly to speak with you, your grace.”

The grip on you Jon had tightened to the same degree his jaw clenched it was almost funny. Muttering in a low hiss as his eyes peeled from your eyes, down your frame, soaked from the water and perfect for him, “I'm going to kill him.”

If that wasn't enough, the ease in which you let out a high pitched giggle once more, made his cock scream so much more to ravage you. His eyes forced themselves closed likely you knew to calm down his racing heart, a few deep breaths leaving him as well. Your hands gently ran down his curls to tame the more obvious mess you had started to put it in before he collected himself enough.

Surging up, Jon moved you with him, yanking you up and out of the water. Your hands braced against his shoulders to steady yourself as he muttered for you to wait. The cold air chilling against your bare skin enough to shiver by the time Jon returned. Having yanked on pants only enough to cover himself modestly, Jon wrapped something around you. Short and a dark silk like fabric to cover you too just enough.

Many men would have taken it with intimidation. The aggressive and short tempered manner in which Jon yanked the door open enough only he could be seen. “What?”

Sam's head jolted back just a bit. Many emotions scattered across his face as he took in the subsequent scattered scars of fatal nature littered about Jons torso. From an unsettled devastation at what he had never known took place before, to a slow realization of just why Jon had opened his door in such a state of undress when it was entirely unlike him.

“Oh...Oh.” From a short knowing sound, Sam devolved it quickly to that of an exaggerated mocking of pride for what he interrupted. Adding insult to injury, the same mocking as he asked “Bad time?”

It truly was a testament of how close the two men were, the degree to which Jon aggressively wanted to slam the door in his face and Sam taking full advantage of how he knew he wouldn't. “What is it, Sam?”

Waggling his eyebrow a bit, “I don't mean to interrupt, I just thought there was something you should know..but if you're busy..”

A heavy exhale left Jon as he closed his eyes. Words clear, and loud and short he was as controlled as he could be, considered how close he had gotten with you. “It can't wait until tomorrow?”

It was an amusing stand off. Jon, who was too honourable to actually force Sam to go away, and Sam, who was too much like a brother to Jon to give up taking advantage of that for his amusement. “I mean, it isn't life or death at this very moment, but it is important. Though, I suppose you were deep in something rather important as well.”

You had to turn away, covering your mouth to keep the laugh so desperately wanting to slip out from making it all the worse for Jon as it was. “Sam-”

“No, I understand. You're busy. I'll be where I always am if you find the time, if not I can always come back bright and early first thing.” You'd feel bad for how little Jon couldn't catch a break, if it weren't also terribly funny. Judging by the look you shared with Sam as you, once much more modestly dressed, followed Jon out, you both found a new shared activity. Having the innate ability to annoy Jon, with the advantage that he won't lash out for it.

The hand pressed at the small of your back the entire time however, spoke not of affection, but in how much Jon was going to tear everything off of you the second he closed his chambers door once more. A hint of just how roughly he was going to take you for enjoying his suffering, over and over until it was you the one begging for mercy.

Knowing Jon well enough, when his cock was deep inside of you, he had no mercy.

“I was thinking about what you said, about the horn being left for a reason.” Animated in his findings, there were many pages of what he had been transcribing laying about as well, moreso then you had seen that morning. “But I started wondering, what if only certain people can use it. If it's that dangerous then you're right, leaving it in Winterfell seems risky, but what if your ancestors kept it here, because they're the only ones who could use it?”

Brows narrowing, you stood next to Jon, looking over the work scattered about trying to see at the same time anything which way stand out. Jon asking, “Why would they make it so only House Stark can use it?”

“Well, you don't think it takes the Wall down the way everyone says. Maybe it's not for that though, if it took down the Wall it means your ancestors made something that destroys any defences they built themselves. That didn't make sense, so I started to wonder what else it would be used for. But what if it's similar to the way we use the horn at the Wall? What if somehow they used it to communicate something?” Your eyes flickered up, question on both your lips as he elaborated once more. “Think about it, we used a horn to communicate at the Wall, and everything you described makes it sound like they're not unlike us. They have people, ranks, they communicate but we can't with them..what if you're ancestors found a way through whatever this does?”

Nodding a bit, his eyes squinted as he grabbed it from where Sam stood opposite of him. Turning it slightly as you leaned more to his side to look it over. You asking quietly, “How would that end up turning to a story where it destroys the Wall?”

Jon had a quick answer to that. “Same reasons why we know next to nothing about the Long Night. No one's ever translated the runes of the First Men to our written language. So the story gets passed down until there's nothing left to learn from.” Putting it down gently, Jon affirmed they needed to figure out exactly how it works and quickly.

You were quiet, eyes trained on the horn with little more then a mutter. “How can we be sure it's even possible? Doesn't seem like they've tried peaceful negotiation before.” Gently you felt a slightly movement of his hand on your lower back, more of a massaging pressure at the wavering uncertainty in you.

Jons voice more gentle with you on an instant then with Sam, much to the later ones enjoyment. “They understand each other. They talk, even if we can't understand them. Means, they know language the way we do. Even if all they want is to kill us all, I want to know why. I want to know what we're dying to defend against.”

Words fluttered around you, but your eyes were trained on the horn. The bronze around each end with runes carved, you couldn't help but look between four of them. All desperate which did not stand out yet you kept looking at them. The way they were carved almost looked like something you'd seen before even though you couldn't place it.

Eyes drifting up to the papers about his desk, the images passed in your mind. Once only in dreams thought to mean nothing, next in a sight before your eyes not belonging to you but you knew them all the same. Cold and ice and crackling you couldn't stop seeing it and hearing it gathering around you as it went dark until your eyes had opened belonging to you once more.

You had seen it before. Moving quick, you paced around to a better angle of Sams desk as you grabbed paper and ink. The horn and transcribing both, you pulled them to you as Jon called your name in question. Shaking your head to let you think, both watched you looked between all three, penning something into the paper of an image.

“They attacked your brothers at the Fist of the First Men, and when you came across it Jon, you said the horses were scattered around in a symbol?” Asking in quick tones without yet looking up.

Coming around, an arm somewhat across your back as it to keep you between him and the desk as you leaned over it, Jon subsequently leaned over your shoulder. “Mance said that they had left symbols like that before. When they attacked people, some of the bodies get left behind on purpose.” Catching Sam up to speed on what it was he saw that day, leaving out the overwhelming fact that it was in fact that day, that Jon hadn't known if anyone he cared about there survived.

And the fear he felt having to pretend he didn't care in front of them.

You kept drawing, “Another attack on a small group of your rangers, they found a group of free folk they were tracking and found them the same way but in a different form. Like this.” Finally standing up proper, you looked to Jon with wide eyes. “The one you saw did it look anything like either of these?”

Leaning back down, Jon narrowed his eyes before motioning to one of them. “There. The spirals, that's how the horses were mutilated.” Looking to the other before finding your eyes, both of you with something unsure in them that did not hide. “That's what you saw?” You nodded, and Jon tilted his head a bit, hand coming back more along your waist to your back once more as you inhaled deeply.

Nerves coming through you. Looking to Sam, “Do you think you can find out what these symbols put together mean?” But instead of a curiosity, Sam had the same expression.

Only, for a different reason. “I could..but..I've seen those too.” Jons head snapped up to Sam in question, “It wasn't like that, not on any dead bodies..but I've seen those symbols before. In fact I've only ever seen them somewhere very specific.”

As Jon asked where, the answer was very clearly not at all what he was expecting.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 7

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution

Special Credits: Our dear Ovid is a character created by @furyeclipse and, even when they don’t show up, I’m crediting and thanking forever ^^

You can check out Fury’s writing (which I highly recommend) on this link:  Fury’s Ao3

Author's notes: I TOLD YOU GUYS I HAD A NEW CHAPTER READY *party ensues* hahahaha jokes aside, I hope you like this one. I'm very happy to have Dante on the bandwagon :3

Also, 7 is my lucky number and I'm all happy like "hohoho of course chapter 7 had to be Dante's highlight, 7 is always the best" as if I'm not the one writing this thing. Your pocket writer is a goof.

Thanks a lot for waiting so long and I hope you guys enjoy it!! A lot more to come and I don't regret the feels ;)

Chapter 7

“Two strawberry sundaes, extra berries.”

The barwoman stared deeply into Dante’s eyes, questioning everything about that man. He didn’t have the scent of a full human, but there was something not so quite demonic about him. Nevertheless, the way he dressed, the way he carried himself and the imminent threat in his eyes was directly opposite to his request.

“Well, sorry, darling. Over here, we have only things for grown-ups.” Her answer, though, was mellow and alluring, the same way her whole posture seemed so inviting and hypnotic as she leaned on the counter. “I do have some berries, but they come with a price.”

“Oh, really? And what would be that price then?” Dante leaned a little on the counter, but his arm never left your shoulders. You were actually starting to question why he seemed so protective over someone he had just met.

“The strongest drink on the house, sided by the rarest and most delicious berries you and your babe will ever see.” She looked at you, winking at both of your interests. “Not from this world, definitely forbidden but… Deeply alluring.”

“The taste of sin, then.” As you spoke, she let out a singsong laugh – beautiful albeit threatening. “I’ll have it.”

“Yeah, I’m in as well. Make it two.”

“You won’t regret it, darlings.” The woman winked once again, leaving to prepare your drinks.

You leaned by Dante’s side, still protected by his arm. You had a perfect view of the entire club: dancers of all genders entertained the guests, the lights bled in all tones of red and pink, sometimes broken by a deep blue or a tinge of purple; satin couches adorned with gold painted wood made everyone comfortable and tables looked like marble. The bar was made of a patchwork of mirrors, reflecting its guests and preparing their sins.

You had to admit, it was quite a nice place. Dante said the Love Planet was the best in town, but if they weren’t smart, they would soon be surpassed by The Devil’s Den.

The only issue was the people who seemed to go there: the scent of demons was quite strong, even to your human nose – for Dante, it was almost as bad as the first layer of Hell. Not all demons looked menacing, but many of them had ill intentions in their eyes. A few humans were clearly unsuspecting guests of demons who lured them in, not knowing where they were getting themselves into or what fate held in their future.

You were certain none of those people would leave that place alive.

“The humans seem to be quite clueless.” You finally said, winning a nod from Dante.

“Yeah, somethin’s going on here…” He muttered back, scanning the club as you did. He counted at least five humans among all those people – not much, but if he was there to save a single life, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. “The ones with human guests are more powerful than the others.”

“How do you know that?”

“See how they’re behavin’?” Dante leaned into you, pointing at some of the people with guests. The other demons didn’t dare get close or even look at the humans who were there as per invitation – they looked, carrying lust in their eyes, but they wouldn’t act upon their desires. And that was very uncharacteristic of demons. “They do that ‘cause of hierarchy. They won’t dare touch something owned by a powerful demon…”

“Unless they are more powerful than the demon who possesses it.” You nodded slowly as Dante eyed you with interest and a fun sense of pride in his stare. “Codex Daemonica. Everything I know about demons comes from the encyclopedia.”

“Ha! Now that’s new!” He had a sudden fun smile on his lips, as if he had just heard a name no one mentioned in years. “Gotta agree with ya, it’s the best way to learn for the first time.”

“Oh, you know the Codex then?” You giggled, quite interested in that. When you mentioned to Lady, she had never heard of it – and it didn’t seem to be something common among devil hunters.

“Of course. By heart, babe.” Dante let out a small laugh; his eyes going back to scanning the club. “But, it doesn’t beat workin’ on the field. Bein’ book smart can only get you so far when fightin’ demons.”

“I would drink to that if our drinks were already here.” You agreed solemnly, knowing he was right. The Codex gave you a lot of information, but fighting a demon for the first time in real life was always a lot more different. You could know everything about the creatures you were up against: it seemed like your brain blanked out and the only thing left was a raw instinct of survival.

You were brought from your thoughts as a demon leaned on the counter a little close to you and Dante pulled you even closer. You didn’t argue, patiently waiting the demon leave with a couple of drinks and Dante’s arm around your shoulders relax a little.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I don’t want those things to know you’re a human. It can make our job a lil’ more difficult than it already is.” Dante winked at you, making you furrow your brows.

“Why wouldn’t they…?” But as soon as you were asking, you finally noticed something different in his eyes. It was always there, but you ignored it as he was easy to be around – and he was Lady’s friend. “Are you… A demon too…?”

“Eh, not really…” Dante’s answer was a little dragged, somewhat uncomfortable – for the first time in that evening. You furrowed your brows even further. “Half-half. But it’s enough to mask your scent.”

Half demon – that was interesting. During all your time hunting, you had never heard of a half human half demon being before. Looking into his eyes, though, you could see Dante wasn’t lying: there was something of threatening in there, sure, but there was a humanity you couldn’t always find even in the eyes of humans.

“That is enough for me.” Your answer was quiet but set in stone. Once more, Dante looked at you, remembering of someone his heart would miss every single day. Someone who doomed himself to where their father was born.

“Here you go, darlings.” The barwoman came back before he could say anything, though, slipping your glasses in the counter and making your hands meet the dark magenta drinks adorned with berries of all kinds. “Enjoy.”

You and Dante exchanged a look, as if asking each other if it was safe to drink. You giggled a bit, taking the glass between your fingers – but Dante was faster and took a sip before you could even think about doing so.

“Hmmm, Hell Berries. They’ll give you a rush of heat, but they’re safe.” He nodded as you smiled in return. Who would’ve known? Dante drank it before you did so he could see if it was safe for a human or not. Demons could be kind too.

“Ooof, they’re strong. And quite tart.” You let it down your throat, allowing a tiny laugh right after. “I like it.”

Dante smiled in return, taking another sip. He figured you would. Vergil used to like it when they were kids too.

“Well, well, I think all of us are excited for tonight, right?” Someone stepped on the main stage, with all the lights focusing on them. A devilish smile adorned the red lips, exuberant clothes with the chest almost uncovered, short hair slicked back, drawing attention to the pair of vixen golden eyes. “After all, it is time, my darling friends. Today, oh today, she will rise and take this world alongside us!”

You glanced Dante, seeing as he threw the very same look at you. Both of you had one eyebrow raised, wondering the same thing: who was she?

“But of course, to do so, we will need a few friends from the audience! C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Of course, as you and Dante expected, the dancers started gathering the very few humans present in that hellhole – leading them to the stage. They had only smiles and happiness upon being invited to participate, but as the hunters you were, there was only suspicion in your hearts. Slowly, you both left your place at the bar and made your way to the stage – ready to fight when the situation called for it.

“So many beautiful specimens today, she will be so proud…!” The phrase was crowned with a breathless sigh. “The best of the best, I have to say, we will all be wonderfully rewarded!”

As you walked alongside Dante, no demon dared touch you. You noticed the man in the red coat by your side barely seemed to notice – seemed – but it was very obvious no one wanted to get in your way.

“Who do you think is she…?” You muttered to Dante as soon as you stopped in front of the stage.

“No idea…” He shrugged, as his eyes turned into ice cold skies. They reminded you of something, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “It has to be someone strong… And who likes this.”

The humans on stage were being handcuffed on the stage poles, while the dancers made it all a delightful show – not only for the demons, but the humans as well. All creatures in the club were enjoying themselves, you had no doubt – and maybe, just maybe, the demons wanted to have a night of pleasure instead of murder. You and Dante could be wrong.

After all, you could list a few demons from the Codex who were summoned with orgies, so… You never knew.

“But then why would people disappear…?” The question was more for yourself. Not used to hunting with someone else, you wouldn’t really stop murmuring to yourself.

Dante just glanced back at you. The way you carried yourself, the way your brows furrowed while keeping a serious gaze on stage, stoic and proud… It made his heart ache. You murmured the main questions after having a storm of deep thoughts in your mind, just like his brother used to do.

“Oh! No! Don’t cry! You will love it, I promise!” Both of your thoughts were interrupted by the velvety voice on stage – the demon clearly enjoying themselves while brandishing a glistening dagger, already lightly running it on a victim’s neck: the crimson blood slowly making the demons let their animalistic side out. “You’ll enjoy everything for your blood offering, my darling!”

The loud crack of a shot cut through the laughs and silenced the room – the dagger, flying away from the demon’s hand, who just stared back at you both in utter shock.

“You know, there’s a thing between humans called consent.” Dante’s voice finally raised from the back of his warm gun; his cold blue eyes glancing at you with some amusement. “Isn’t that so, y/n?”

“Consent and boundaries. I think murder is usually out of people’s pleasure lists.” You crossed your arms, raising your head with pride, still staring at the demons on stage. The more Dante looked at you, the more he saw what he had lost. “Usually.”

“Eh. I’m not countin’ the sick ones.” He shook his head, gracing you with a slight smile hidden in the corner of his lips.

“Well, if you both want your fifteen minutes of fame, we can surely have some space for you here.” The stage demon had rage in their reddish eyes, annoyance being a very mild word for their feelings at the moment. “She will not be impeded by human hunters like you.”

And you now had a problem in your hands: all inhuman beating hearts in the club were ready to tear yours and Dante’s apart. You finally had your sword ready and Dante held the hilt of the Rebellion – its skull showing its fangs at the demons, ready to claim their blood.

With that sight, the stage demon narrowed their eyes at Dante, carefully analyzing as you started defending against the demons ready to slash your throats. You, no doubt a human, fought with grace and viciousness, carrying a style that few beings would – even among demons, you were too precise, technical and, at the same time, fluid when killing. Dante, in the other hand, favored heavy attacks, using all the strength he needed to wield a heavy sword like Rebellion… A sword that no human could carry with such ease. Even so, you both seemed to have a coordination as if you had fought side by side multiple times – a connection that made him complement your gaps as you balanced his faults; something so utterly human.

A human heart beating with demon blood. And when a demon managed to scrape Dante’s face – something that only happened when he put himself in the way of a blow that was meant for you, even if it would just hurt and not kill – there were any doubts left.

“The son of Sparda…!” The stage demon gasped, widening their red eyes.

Those whispered words felt like an incantation that made some demons stop and stare in awe, as others ran in despair and the rest seemed to be even more bloodthirsty while laughing in a frenzy.

You furrowed your brows, finishing a demon and spilling its blood on your face, while turning your gaze back to the stage to understand what in the hell that demon was talking about.

And their red eyes were locked on Dante – while the man just beheaded a demon who tried to take your life as you tried to make sense of what was going on. As he swinged his sword to get rid of the excess of blood, you saw Dante’s teeth slightly elongated in fangs, his eyes filled with a spark you had only seen once.

“Took your time.” His comment was in a sneer of pure condescendence, confirming what the demon had just said.

Your head spun while you were plunged back into battle by a creature who jumped right at your neck. So, Sparda was real. It meant the legend of him closing the gates of Hell were also real. You never really doubted his existence, but you doubted the rest of the legend – his adoration for humans, his love for a human woman, something that resulted in children of their own: half human, half demon.

Half-half. Just like Dante.

“Hey, y/n! Can you get those people off the stage?” Dante looked at you from over his shoulder, holding back a demon who had its fangs locked around the blade of the Rebellion.

“Sure! What about you?” Your head was spinning, yes. You had a lot to talk about after that fight – but, right now, you had to finish your job.

“I’ll hold these sorry fucks back!” With that, he pushed the demon back and buried his sword on its throat – the floor and his clothes now stained with dark red blood. “Can you handle it alone?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” Your answer was murmured in a dark tone, while you barely looked back at him. In a matter of fact, your eyes were fixed on the demons between you and the stage.

Dante glanced quickly to respond, but his words found draught. You held your sword with both of your hands, bending your knees while your eyes analyzed your enemies like prey. As quickly as your human pace could, you ran through the demons, slaughtering them without blinking and with no hesitation – quickly reaching the stage and swinging the blood off your sword as you went up the stairs with a calm but harsh pace, head held high as the stage demon stumbled back with your approach.

Dante had only seen one person fighting like that in his whole life – not even Trish had those mannerisms.

“You stay back, filthy human!” Now the stage demon wasn’t so sure if they could survive an encounter with you. Your face was smeared with blood, your eyes as cold as ice. “I will not allow you to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard…!”

“What interests me the most…” Your tone was calm, your eyes permanently trained in the demon’s red stare; head held high with a tint of arrogance while you cleaned your sword from the dark demon blood. “Is that any blood would be enough for this kind of ritual. But you, demons, always have a thirst for human blood, don’t you…?”

Your calmness was petrifying. In all its life, the demon never had to deal with a human like you. They were used to emotion controlled humans – something so characteristic of that species – but there you were, acting like a cold-blooded hunter and killer. It was scary. A lot more than the demon thought it would be.

You took the demon’s shock as an opportunity to set free the humans closest to you. Cutting down the chains of the first two, they cried as they saw themselves saved from the horrible fate they thought would be their doom – if the tears were from terror or joy, you wouldn’t know.

Before you could finish what you were set out to do, though, the stage demon ran towards you with rage in their blood red eyes. Grabbing the closest victim you let go, you placed your sword in their hands.

“Use this to free the others. When you’re done, throw it back to me, got it?”

The human couldn’t even say no. They shook their head frantically, holding the heavy sword with both hands, questioning how you managed to make it seem so effortless. With tears in their eyes, the human ran with their mission to accomplish, while you got ready with your hands close to your face.

Before Dante could do anything else, you sucker-punched the stage demon right in the face, making it stumble back in awe.

“C’mon, babe.” You had a smirk in your lips, while making a few moves of martial arts, taunting the demon who now didn’t know if they ran from you or killed you with their bare teeth.

The fistfight didn’t last long, though. With that diversion, the demon didn’t even care about the human setting the other victims free – making it so easy for them to run away. As they got down the stage, Dante made sure he would be able to protect the humans, holding back the demons who were in a frenzy with the thought of losing their sacrifices.

“Through the back! Go!” Dante screamed over his shoulder, eyes tinged with a slight red glow. The victims didn’t even think twice: running towards the door Dante signaled before, soon they were all free.

Your sword laid on stage close to your feet – but not close enough for you to easily catch it. Seeing this, the stage demon made sure you wouldn’t be able to get it back. As you struggled, Dante was finally done with the demons from the club – the others, having ran away from all that carnage – running towards the stage without thinking twice.

“Hey, y/n! Catch!”

As you heard him scream, you punched the demon once again so you had an opportunity to turn around and catch whatever it was that Dante threw at you – and as you did, you saw the glistening silver of one of his guns flying towards you.

Catching Ivory in the air, you locked and loaded as Dante stopped right by your side – aiming Ebony just as you did with its counterpart.

“Jackpot.” He had a slight smile on his lips, grave voice declaring it was all over. The stage demon found their end as you both shot in unison.

It had been such a long time since Dante did that with someone else by his side.

**

To be continued...

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfic #devil may cry imagine #dmc imagine #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #vergil x you #dmc vergil x reader #dante sparda #dmc dante #long fic #nemesis #dmc nemesis #YES WE GOT JACKPOT WITH DANTE #couldn't really leave this out #next chapter there's a lot for him to explain regarding being a Sparda #meanwhile Vergil is cooking down in Hell poor thing #but hey this is not about him right now #there's plenty of chapters for Verge #and yes the stage demon was pretty much inspired by Sandman's Desire and I'm not sorry

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Surprised Characters Deaths

When it comes to character deaths, none is more decisive than a surprised one. Surprised deaths are by their very nature, a way to surprise the reader. (Obviously) These deaths give us some kind of reaction, mainly in the “What the fuck!?” and “Why the fuck!?” category. Most of the time these deaths are at the cost of a secondary character, one who had lots to live for, or was just about to reach their goal in life until death came by and said hello. I’m not sure how to write these kinds of deaths, but I have some thoughts.

If you’re prepared to anger your reader by surprise killing one of your characters then step one is done. Now it’s time to mitigate the backlash and not turn the hatred for killing off a character into hating the entire story because that does happen. People have stopped reading stories and given one-star reviews because their favourite character died unexpectedly, so if you’re prepared for that, let’s continue.

Their story wasn’t complete: That’s the deal with a surprise death, their stories haven’t been finished so it sucks to see them go. Depending on what kind of story you were giving them will determine the outrage.

One of the more common stories is love stories, either the surprised death character has been trying to win the love of another, or they were stuck in a love triangle. Either way, the character dies before getting their true love kiss, (or sometimes right after).

If a character dies, before they could win the love of another, it might anger your readers because they wanted to see the romance end, (just not like that). People enjoy love stories, but seeing a romance turn into tragedy is heartbreaking. Though this normally doesn’t result in people no longer reading your book, that joy comes from the fact that there was a love triangle.

Let’s say both A and B love C, however, a fan favourite is for A and C to get together, and then suddenly, A dies leaving B with C. Those who wanted A to get with C... might be a bit upset, to put it mildly. Resolving a love triangle through death is a trope that’s not highly regarded as it seems lazy. Mainly in the fact they couldn’t figure it out and fate had to intervene. Most of the time, whoever dies in the love triangle was the one the lover was going for but now had to settle for second best.

However, if a romance subplot gets finished, and the character dies shortly after, while still shocking, this will give the reader more of a sad experience instead of anger. The character finally won their lover's heart. They kiss and they make it official. The romance is done and everyone is happy. Killing them off in the next chapter is upsetting because the reader most likely wanted to see where the relationship goes now it’s complete. This will most likely give you less backlash since the characters got what they wanted but still died shortly afterwards.

Other examples of "their story that isn’t finished" come from whatever that character's goal was. It can upset the reader if that character had something to look forward to and died before finishing it. I don’t know about every reader but from personal experience I hate it when things just end. I don’t mind deaths, but to have plot points, never get finished upsets me. And I get ya, if your story has a theme where death comes out of nowhere and that’s life, then it’s cool. However, keep in mind there will be readers who don’t like plot points not finishing, so if anything at least try to inform them, that this is a thing which might happen to their favourite character. That way while their death might still come as a surprise, the idea of “that’s life” won’t.

Most of those kinds of deaths don’t make readers put down your book depending on what the character was supposed to be completing that is. However, if you want to lower your reader's anger, I would have whatever goal your character was supposed to complete, be done by someone else. It can be a nice sendoff for the character knowing the one thing they were after is completed in honour of their name.

Why did that character die: This kind of reaction mainly came from a surprised death which had no build-up and was mainly thrown in to surprise the reader. (Remember, just because it’s called a surprised death, doesn’t mean they have to come out of nowhere.) The ones I’m talking about in this section are ones that had zero build-up and were added in as a “bet you didn’t see that coming” kind of trope.

Surprising the reader for the sake of it is the quickest way to anger your fans. Readers like to feel smart, they like to predict what’s gonna happen, and if all of a sudden their favourite character dies...for no reason. The reader might feel cheated. “Why did I care about this character if they were gonna die like that?” Some might say.

You don’t have to explain every character's death in your story, but when it comes to a surprised character's death, expect some questions your readers will want answers for and if they don’t get it in the book they might try going online or something.

That doesn’t make sense: This reaction comes from when a powerful character gets killed by a less powerful one. Mainly when this happens even the story gets confused and I think this is one of those character deaths, where as long as the story is confused, the backlash won’t be high.

If a strong character gets killed by a random and the story continues like nothing happened. That might upset your readers as they’ll start to question what’s the power level of your characters? Why did that one die? Who is next? I’m not saying only your strong can get killed by the strong, but if they were to fall and the character who killed them is not as strong as the one who died, explaining why that happened might ease some backlash.

Sacrificing themselves for the greater good: This is a pretty simple one and doesn’t get much backlash, and it’s when character A saves character B but dies in the process. It’s normally when they appear out of nowhere to push the other character out of harm's way, or to intercept the danger. These deaths aren’t really surprising especially if the character who died has been known to do this before. It only becomes surprising when the character who died probably could’ve lived but the story said it was time for them to go.

Sometimes this is used on evil characters with a change of heart just before they go. (Kind of going in the redemption through death) trope as oftentimes the characters who do this are just minor villains, betraying their master at the very end.

Too many deaths: Sometimes if you kill off too many characters in a surprising way, it’ll get numb. Readers like to read stories for the characters but if so many characters are barely staying alive throughout each book, that might deter them from liking any as they don’t know who’s gonna live and who might die. I’m not saying there needs to be a limit on the amount of murder you commit, "A Song of Ice and Fire" is a great example of killing off all of your beloved characters and still keeping people engaged in the story. But I will say, it’s hard to do.

Why are you back?: If you killed a character off in a surprising way and they get brought back to life for whatever reason, death would no longer have any meaning in your story. Any more surprised deaths won’t retain their shocked value because the last time someone died unexpectedly, they came back to life. If surprised deaths are gonna be in your story, along with resurrection, you have to make sure you only do it for the main characters because you don’t want your surprise deaths to have no impact.

That’s about it with surprised deaths. Sorry if I was a bit all over the place with this one. I don’t want to say surprised deaths can’t work. They can and they can be very impactful, but they can also lead to outrage. Depending on how you're doing this trope will determine the reaction you’ll get from your readers. Sadly, this is one of those times you can’t ask beta readers for help as this trope only works the first read-through. If someone reads your book a second time and knows a character will die, they might have one of two reactions. “Oh, that’s the foreshadowing I miss.” or “Yeah, that still makes no sense.”

It's a trial and error kind of thing and you won't truly start to know how to write a good surprised death without releasing what you have and facing the backlash that might come with it. My advice would be, does it make sense if you know it's coming or does it still feel like it came out of the blue?

#writing #writeblr #book #books #writers on tumblr #book writing #creative writing #writer #on writing #writerscommunity #writing advice #writers of tumblr #writers #author #write

[whinlatter]

Could you explain more what you mean by “shows how the wizarding world, which does not seem to be a representative democracy”? Like I feel I probably agree with you but I want to understand it more because like from what little we know of canon wizards do get a say in ministry (ex Fudge lied to public about Voldemort so the public wanted him out and chose Scrimgeour, etc) but cause we don’t see general elections but snap elections it’s unclear ?

The British wizarding world when asked to prove that it's a functioning democracy:

Would love to say a bit more about this (briefly mentioned in the author’s note for Beasts chapter six) 🤸‍♀️ It’s definitely true that the opinions of the wizarding public do hold large sway over the appointment of the Minister of Magic in canon in ways that could imply the existence of wizarding. democracy. But it just seems to me that if the wizarding world in Britain is a democracy, then it's so weak or partial a democracy that I don't think we can really call it one at all. I know that old Pottermore post insists Ministers for Magic are democratically elected, and, as you say, in canon, the Minister of Magic seems to be somehow answerable to public opinion and support in a way that implies some idea of popular self-government through some form of representative democracy. But my view is that, in canon, it's basically not a democracy, for reasons I've put below the cut. (Thank you for letting me waffle on about this!)

The reason I think the wizarding world basically doesn’t seem to function as a representative democracy:

None of the four Ministers of Magic in post in the core timeline of the series participate in (or win) a free and fair election during the canon timeline, and most well-informed characters refer to the post as one filled by appointment (possibly by the Wizengamot). In OotP, Arthur gives a bit of insight on the process of appointment when he's talking about Fudge and Dumbledore's rivalry: '[Dumbledore] never wanted the Minister’s job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he’s never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.” 'Applied for the job' would be a strange way of describing running for elected office, and Bagnold having 'retired' again doesn't imply an election was held. At the start of HBP, Fudge says he's been 'sacked', and while he says that the public were calling for his resignation, there’s no mention of a snap election. You’re completely right that there could have been one, but to me this sounds more like Scrimgeour is an internal emergency appointment (that he's an Auror suggests to me that it's a bit like bringing in the military, along the lines of a state of emergency provision). That Fudge can stay on 'in an advisory capacity' as a Ministry employee also suggests there are other governmental actors who have the power to 'keep on' outgoing Ministers, suggesting again that the Minister of Magic is usually an appointed rather than elected office. Obviously, Thicknesse becomes Minister in... not very democratic circumstances. And then Kingsley gets 'named temporary Minister for Magic' in a decision made by who bloody knows at the end of DH, which again suggests the existence of an unelected body called upon to appoint Ministers, at the very least, in times of emergency.

Even if we buy the idea that the Minister of Magic is elected sometimes, the Wizengamot doesn't ever seem to be, and it seems likely they're body with the power to appoint or dismiss the Minister of Magic without an election. Even if you take the Pottermore post on its own terms, it seems the wizarding community only get to elect the office of the Minister for Magic and not any representatives of an elected chamber who would legislate on their behalf, and who might sit in an assembly like MPs in a parliament or congressmen or senators from different regions. There also doesn’t seem to be a system where the proportion of votes corresponds with the number of representatives and therefore majority/minority control of an elected chamber, either with or without a party-political system. In canon, the Wizengamot really doesn't seem to be a body of elected representatives. They seem to be much more like an unelected legislative body of grandees, some with inherited titles, some appointed as an honours system, like the House of Lords in the UK, but also with the power to hold court trials. (There's a great meta on this that I really enjoyed - it's a bit ahistorical, but it's super rich and fun exploration of different models for the Wizengamot's strange blend of executive and legislative power in the British political tradition).

Popular opinion can matter in non-democracies, and popular opinion and support for political figures seems to matter a lot in the wizarding world. In GoF, Sirius gives us an insight, admittedly that of an outsider, of the process of ministerial appointments when he talks about Barty Crouch Sr. Sirius says Crouch was 'tipped for the next Minister of Magic' and had 'his supporters': 'Plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic.' This sounds like strong popular support, likely communicated through wizarding media, but also just through hearsay and gossip through Ministry and adjacent circles. But what Sirius describes doesn't sound like a support base of voters, and certainly Crouch doesn't seem to have run against Fudge in an election.

Everyone seems to think of the Ministry as holding a broadly technocratic role in wizarding life (even though it's actually extremely political and also functions as the justice system). The Ministry of Magic seems to exist to both shield Muggles from knowledge of magic, to make and enforce law, and to function as a bureaucracy overseeing and ensuring the smooth running of education, trade, communication, transport etc. It doesn't seem to function as a social democracy in the sense of having any kind of welfare state. But this (false) idea of the Ministry as having a fundamentally apolitical social role lends itself to this idea of the wizarding world being a tepid democracy, with a populace broadly happy to give up certain democratic freedoms if it's in the public interest, trading off elements of self-government in exchange for greater efficiency or seeming sense of safety.

It seems possible, even likely, that Kingsley, as a progressive, would try to make his appointment as Minister official and legitimate through a free and fair election after the war (Lee Jordan says Kingsley's “got his vote” if he runs for office after the war - it's extremely funny to me that the only character to talk about voting in the entire series is the deeply unserious Lee Jordan in a jokey radio segment). We don't know that for sure, though, and when the series ends, it is with an unelected Shacklebolt caretaker government. The goodies might win, but democracy continues to elude the wizarding world as the series concludes.

...Basically, you know that scene in OotP when they're at the Hog's Head planning the DA? It's sort of a perfect illustration of the wizarding world's approach to democracy lol. Hermione is one of the nuisance progressives trying to do something mad like 'hold an election', Cho is the voice of the Wizengamot:

“Well, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er —” He noticed a raised hand. “What, Hermione?” “I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

#meta #beasts #shoutout lee jordan the only man who mentions voting in all seven hp books #wizarding politics #wizarding world #ministry of magic #i loved answering this tysm #i just love that sassy gambon dumbledore gif so much

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {III}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Apologies for the delay! This weekend was a long one. Chapter 4 will still be posted on Tuesday as planned!

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse, non-descriptive sexual abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Nesta,

Elain has been bothering me to write to you so I am only doing this to make her happy. I am still seeing Isaac Hale and I do not feel bad about it. I do not care to marry a gentleman. None of the gentlemen here are worth a lick. Besides, with Tomas’ care, I do not need to marry rich. I enjoy Isaac’s company — at least for now. Even if he is not husband material, we have a good time. 

Although I am angry with you, I do hope you are doing well. Father seems happier lately and we have started to insert ourselves back into society. We attended a luncheon a few days ago and both father and Elain seemed right at home among the company. I wore a new dress. It was nice.

Foreign, considering our hardships, but nice.

When you reply, please do not mention Isaac. You’ll be wasting your breath.

Your Sister,

Feyre

Cassian

Azriel and Rhysand are laughing about something but I can’t seem to think straight enough to make sense of why. We’re gambling and I’m losing, and once I started losing I started drinking which was quite some time ago. Thankfully, we’re not playing for money but stripping down with every lost hand. As of now, I’m sitting in my trousers with my chest bare and toes freed while the other two bastards at this table have donned my clothing on top of their own. 

Balthazar, my butler, enters the room to bring a full bottle of whiskey. I hadn’t even noticed that we emptied the last one. “Thank you,” I say. At least, I think I do. My words seem far away as they come out of my mouth. 

“Play, damn it!”

I blink, not realizing it was my turn. I lay down my cards. The two bastards next to me at the round table howl.

I’ve lost my pants. 

“You know,” I say, unbuttoning my trousers and kicking them off, “when one of you wins, you can choose each other from time to time instead of ganging up on me. It’s too cold to be sitting here with my cock hanging out.”

“Then start a fire,” Azriel says, dealing once again as I sit back in my chair in my underpants. 

Thankfully I win the next round and my pants along with it, but it doesn’t last long before they’re gone again.

When the door opens again, Balthazar enters with a silver tray and a sealed envelope on top of it. I can hardly keep myself from swaying as I reach for it and thank him before breaking the seal. At first, the words are blurry, but after a few minutes of deep focus, I toss it aside. “Fuck.”

“What?” Azriel asks, as Rhysand struggles in his own drunken state to undo the buttons of his shirt. 

“Mandray,” I say, pouring myself another drink and refilling theirs. “Invited me to dinner tomorrow. Talk business.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Azriel asks, sighing as he starts to help a grappling Rhysand. 

I nod, and I don’t know how long I nod for but I feel like it’s a damn long time. “It’s at his house. What if his wife is there?”

“I expect her to be,” Rhys says, flailing his arms until they’re free from his sleeves. “It’s her house. She eats dinner.” 

“Hmmm.” I lean back in my chair. “What do you think she’ll be wearing?”

“More than you currently are, hopefully,” Azriel says, putting Rhysand’s shirt over both mine and his across his shoulders. “Why does it matter? Afraid you’ll hit on her again in front of her own husband?” 

“I’m not that stupid,” I say, then add, “when I’m sober.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Rhys says, and nods at the cards face down in front of me. “Now, play.” 

“Should I bring something?” I ask, surely overthinking it, but my mind is so fuzzy that I’m honestly surprised I’m having any thoughts at all. I take another drink. “Flowers? Wine?”

“I don’t think Mandray cares for flowers or wine,” Rhys says. “Try brandy.” 

“Not for him,” I say, stumbling, which is strange considering I’m sitting. No, wait, I’m standing. Why am I standing? I sit back down. “For his wife. You should always bring a gift to the woman of the house as a thank you.”

“Sounds very gentlemanly,” Azriel agrees, “but could also be seen as you hitting on his wife.”

“I’m not hitting on his fucking wife!” I say, accidentally knocking over my glass as my arms have a mind of their own for a moment. “I mean, I don’t think I am. Fuck, she is gorgeous. Isn’t she gorgeous?” 

They both stare at me, dumbfounded. 

“Just saying,” I mumble, picking up my glass only to find it empty. Oh yeah. I spilled. “Just because I can’t touch doesn’t mean I can’t admire.” 

“Your admiration is going to get you into trouble,” Rhysand says, then repeats, “now play, damn it.” 

I pick up my cards that are coated in spilled whiskey and play my shitty hand. Azriel wins but allows me to keep my underpants on. It seems we’re picking on Rhys now. 

I save my decision of flowers or wine for tomorrow, when hopefully my head is clear enough to make the proper decision. Hopefully I’m not too sick from the alcohol by the time dinner rolls around. Judging by the clouding of my vision, I assume a headache is in store for me tomorrow morning. 

My thoughts drift to Lady Mandray. Since seeing her at Rhys’ last week, I haven’t been able to erase the image of her from my mind. She was exquisite in that navy blue dress, her hair braided, her lips full and the swells of her breasts on display. She was a work of art. 

And she’s married to the prick that is Tomas Mandray.

I know I shouldn’t complain, shouldn’t judge. I know that getting into business with him will take away my monthly financial worries, but there was something in his eye that didn’t sit well with me when we met. 

He was too confident, and that’s coming from me, who is typically considered too confident. He’s the type of man that thinks he owns everything and everyone within his reach. 

Including his wife.

I know the type well. My father was one of them. 

“Why do you suddenly look like you’re having an overly intense conversation with yourself?” Rhys asks, refilling my glass for me. 

I shrug and laugh it off, even as my thoughts drift from Mandray to my father. “Too much to drink. Deal me in.”

We play until sunrise and I fall asleep too drunk to coherently think about a damn thing. 

Which is exactly what I need. 

……….

Nesta

I’ve had too much wine. 

I don’t even remember finishing the bottle which is probably a sign for concern but I can’t bring myself to care. I feel light, and it feels good to feel light. The heaviness that weighs on me every day has evaporated and I feel absolutely nothing, but in the best way possible. 

My maid has come in twice but I’ve asked her to leave me alone for the night. I feel bad when I’m a bitch to Alis but she always takes it in stride, even if I’m sure she’s cursing me internally every time she walks away from me.

I don’t blame her. 

I curse myself, too. 

Unable to keep reading, thanks to the heaviness of my eyes, I try to sleep. After blowing out the candle at my bedside, I close my eyes and settle back against my pillows. 

Suddenly I’m somewhere else. I’m not in this house, nor am I in my father’s house, but in a different house entirely, one I’ve never been in. 

One that’s entirely my own. 

It sits on the top of a mountain, overlooking the entirety of Velaris. The starlight is brighter from where I stand on the balcony in my mind, beckoning me. For once, I feel safe, although I’m alone. There is no sense of uncertainty or discomfort. Instead, I know it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be, like the walls and all within them were crafted for me. 

My name is called and the voice is familiar. My skin doesn’t crawl like it does when Tomas calls my name. Instead, I swear my heart skips a beat.

Before I can turn to face him, he’s behind me, pulling me back into his chest. I close my eyes and breathe him in as his strong, broad arms come around me and hold me tight. 

It’s a sweet gesture, one I’ve never known in reality, but in my dream, this alternate reality, it’s what he does every night.

Every morning.

Every chance he gets. 

I feel his mouth on my cheek and I let my head fall to the side, giving him better access. Those luscious lips of his trail down my cheek, down the column of my neck, down to my collarbone. I close my eyes, wishing his hands would wander, wishing he’d fall on his knees and ravish me. 

Just as those calloused hands sweep up my sides and cup my breasts, my name is called.

It doesn’t come from him, though. 

It’s back in the nightmare that is my reality and I refuse to open my eyes. I beg the illusion my mind has concocted to stay with me a little bit longer but it dissipates.

“Nesta.” 

My mattress dips and my eyes fly open. The alcohol already consumed still grounds me, but a hint of fear, of annoyance, of dread creeps into the barrier that the alcohol has created. 

Tomas is here, crawling onto my bed, still dressed but his cock is out and hard. I try my best not to cringe, try my best not to recoil, and for a moment I think I’m putting on a hell of a performance but alcohol has always made me tell the truth. 

Even when words are absent. 

He’s hovering above me and I can catch his expression from the dying fire in the fireplace. At first, he’s smiling, and even though his smile looks unpleasant, it’s more unpleasant when his smile dies and he’s watching me with disdain.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” I say, with no hesitation.

His jaw ticks. “I smell the wine on your breath. Don’t you fucking lie to me, wife.”

Wife. 

Even the alcohol can’t take away what the one word does to my spirit. 

“Why does it matter?” I ask, leveling my gaze with his. “I am a grown woman. If I want to overindulge, I may.”

“You are a lady,” he hisses, his voice low, quiet. “My wife. You cannot do anything without my approval, and I do not approve of my wife drinking herself into oblivion like a fucking whore.”

I close my eyes, trying to find my way back to the happy place I had mustered up just moments ago.

“Open your eyes.”

I don’t.

“Open your eyes!”

I gasp, the hand around my neck rough, making me gasp for air. I open my eyes and the hand is gone, now resting next to my face as Tomas knocks my knees, spreading my legs.

The alcohol is doing nothing at this point. One second, I’m feeling too much, and the next, I am numb. 

I let him do to me what he wishes. There’s no point in fighting back, it’ll only cause the anger that he’s inflicting on me now to amplify. I’d rather him fuck me while I lay here, dead, than to lay a hand on me, than to leave a bruise. 

I look beyond my husband and find that burnt spot on the ceiling. I stare so long that my vision blurs and I let my mind drift back to that place, that house atop the mountain. I think of the starlight and the man whose arms held me tight. I let that image, that dream comfort me until Tomas is satisfied and I attempt to piece myself back together. 

#nessian #nesta #cassian #period au #19th century au #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: 6. End of the Innocence

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna wins over Frankie, but in the mean times upsets Jonah and Pope

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: spit kink, non consensual voyerism, physical violence.

3.6k words

A/N: Some madonna POV, but we also get Jonah, Santi, and Frankie

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Oh, but I know a place where we can go Still untouched by men We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by And the tall grass waves in the wind You can lay your head back on the ground And let your hair fall all around me Offer up your best defense But this is the end This is the end of the innocence" ~End of the Innocence, Don Henley

“Fuck, Madonna…”  Francisco moaned under you, his massive cock filling you up again and again as you bounced on him. You had undone his belt and pant button, keeping his pants on but pulled his cock out. With your panties pulled off, you had sat on lap with his member stuffed inside you as you made out with him. Francisco was a tender, passionate lover, kissing you with all the love you’d been missing since Pope stopped kissing you at all. 

“I love you, Francisco…” You whisper to him, clutching his body to yours in desperation. You needed him to know how much he was adored and appreciated. He is your husband just as much as the others are, even if he ignored you for so long. You card your fingers through his hair and nibble on his lips, sucking the pouty lower one into your mouth and pulling. “My handsome man…”

Hands on his chest, you kiss him down, letting his head fall back on the grass and your hair cascade down around him. Francisco moans out a strained ‘Madonna…’ as his cock twitched inside you. You knew he preferred to be taken care of instead of in charge, you had noticed it in the way Pope fucked him. Whatever Francisco wanted, you were going to give it to him. Anything for him to love you the way you love him. Anything to have the love of all your husbands.

Pushing yourself up, you bounce on his cock as he runs his hands up your loose dress, feeling up your tender breasts and playing with your nipples. He tweaked them through the thin dress, rolling the hardened buds in his fingers until you cry out his name, sweat beading down your face in the warm sun. “Francisco!” You close your eyes tightly, your senses taking in him, him, him. He roughly squeezes a tit, and as your legs tire you fold down over him again to his beautiful mouth. You feel him spearing you, laying his claim really and truly for the time as he hit that spot inside you that made you dizzy.

“So beautiful, Madonna” He mutters against your ear, panting and whining for you and only you. He was so beautiful like this, comfortable and happy and turned on, paying attention to your body. “Gonna cum…” He whines, hips bucking as he chases his release. “Please, need to cum, need to cum so fucking bad.”

Tender, you kiss his forehead, sliding up and down his throbbing cock, wanting to get him off so fucking badly. “Cum for me, I’m right behind you, wanna feel you fill me.”

With a loud groan, Francisco pulsed inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. The thought of becoming pregnant out in this field after finally securing his love, your body swelling with the savior… you came on his cock, pussy gripping his softening member with your fingers digging into his skin. It was hard, it was blinding, your heart bursting with love for the man eveloping you in his arms. 

His cock still stuffed inside you, you rest your head on his shoulder. For the first time since the incubus, you fall asleep peacefully. Francisco would keep you safe, plugged up with his cum so it had no chance of leaving. You were going to get pregnant.

*

Fracisco woke to the sound of footsteps on the grass, and as he remembered him and Madonna’s compromising position he gasps awake.

“Oh shit- god dammit-” He see’s Jonah quickly turn around, grumbling and ruffling his hair, tucking his other hand in his jean pocket next to his holster.

Francisco’s pants were still fully on and your dress fell around you, so to Jonah it had only looked like you had fallen asleep cuddling. He must have realized that you were still implailed on him. The panties on the grass didn’t help. 

He felt you stir, but he caressed your hair and shushed you. You were so tired, the bags around your eyes getting clearer every day. You needed your rest. 

“It’s getting dark…” Jonah mumbles, clearly uncomfortable but trying to do his job. Frank didn’t mind Jonah, honestly. He did good work and especially he treated Madonna well. Frankie knew he has a fatherly presence, something Frankie didn’t long for the way Santi did, but he knew you needed. And Jonah needed someone to take care of since Iris rejected him. They didn’t even talk for the first three years of it all.

“Give us a few minutes” Frankie whispers to Jonah’s back. It was 20 minutes before he finally woke you, the pair of you having slept on the grass for 2 hours or so. He wanted to pocket your panties, but he didn’t want to have something someone might find. If Santi found it, his jealousy would be a problem for everyone involved. If Ben found them, he’d be hurt, thinking Frankie preferred Madonna. Did he love his wife? Yes… yes he thought he did. Who was he to reject this unconditional love from her? Yes, he loved his wife but he loved the man who was now his husband more. Benny before all else.

There was no way on this earth that Francisco was letting his wife, still wet and dripping with his cum, smelling of sex, in her pretty dress with Jonah of all people. Will would flip his fucking shit if he saw Madonna on his lap. So, she’d sit with him as they rode back.

Problem was, that smell of sex? That dripping, tight little hole that was all he could think about now? Her cute ass pressed against his crotch as she bounced on the horse? He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the house. His dick hardened against you, his arms pressing you close to him, he slide a hand up to touch your body. It’d been so long since he touched a woman’s body, preferring the company of Ben if he had a choice… and taking the love he could get from Santi if he couldn’t. He forgot how soft women were. Ben was rigid, safe, strong. His body was firm in a way that comforted Francisco. Santi was softer, sure. Santi’s legs and ass were thick with meat and his stomach a padding of stomach fat, but under it all was muscle still, joints and tissue and heft all boundled in the tight body of the would-be savior. Santi could never relax, his anger, his shame, his failings, the ever-present overcast of his mother never allowing him a moments peace. It wasn’t uncommon for Santiago to take Frankie in the sanctuary, Beatriz’s remains watching them as they consummate on the alter, not unlike Madonna, after reciting faux vows multiple times. Francisco had sworn his fidelity to Santi again and again in these private ceremonies… Francisco didn’t believe a word of Beatriz, her wishy-washy attitude of who the savior was when  her mood changed solidified that for francisco in his youth… but some days…

Some days Francisco wanted Ben to drag him into the sanctuary, he wanted Ben to bend him over the alter and claim him, to not belong to and be subject to the will of any Garcia again. To belong to Ben and only Ben and tell Santi to fuck of… But that wasn’t happening. The Millers were dying before Beatriz took them in, and Ben had worshiped the ground Beatriz and Santiago walked on, and if Frank were being completely honest, he did long Santi. He missed their boyhood together, before Santi’s soft mess was beat out of him and he stuff all his love for his brother until it folded in on himself, only let loose under the cover of night fucks and threesones and orgys.

Ben was a rock. Santiago was dynamite waiting to explode.

You? You were soft. And it didn't matter that Jonah was only a few feet away on his horse, Francisco was going to feel every inch of that softness. You wanted him? Out in the open, no secret? He'd have you out in the open.

“Francisco?” You whisper as he slips a hand under your dress, feeling your little clit through the cotton.

“I got you, just relax…” But you squirmed against him. There was nowhere to go, the trotting horse so far off the ground and his arm tight against your middle. “Relax.” He was more firm this time.

You stopped moving, but your body remained stiff. “But… Jonah.” You speak quietly so the other man doesn’t hear, but Francisco doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip, pressing down hard on your clit and rasps in your ear. “Relax.”

You have to bite on your cheeks to keep from whimpering, and Francisco doesn’t like that. He wants to hear your sounds again so he toys with your body, playing you like an instrument he is well practiced in. Your nipples are stiff and sensitive, making them easy prey to Francisco’s long fingers. How did he know your body so intimately already? His fingers working fast, Francisco is still ever-tender, kissing your mouth as you tilt your head to kiss him. You were a pretty girl, you deserved to be kissed, but right now he wanted to hear you so he opted to detach from your mouth and kiss down your neck, sucking a possessive hickey on you until he got what he wanted; a moan.

He saw Jonah tense and smiled against your delicate skin as you began to relax finally. You still were stifling your sounds, obviously not wanting the older man to hear you on the verge of cumming, but little noises were slipping out. Jonah grunted and kicked the horse, effectively riding ahead. His was missing out, the desperate, shuttering whimper as you came was music to Franicosco’s ears, cumming in his own pants once again.

*

Jonah’s face was burning. He didn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want to see what he saw. He didn’t want to know what she did with those four at all hours of the day outside of her not being harmed too badly. He has a duty to Marcus to keep her as safe as he could without rocking the boat too much. His duty to Iris came before all else. Now he was physically sick, and he was stuck with her trailing behind him. Francisco was putting the horses away, and obvious wet spot in his own pants sickening Jonah more, and had told Jonah to watch her.

Her voice was small. “Jon-”

“Don’t” He grunted, not wanting to talk. He needed to find Iris or Reyansh, he needed someone else to watch her. He needed to get away. 

“I’m sorr-”

Jonah whipped around to face her, keeping his distance.  His shame only grew when Jonah saw her eyes flick down to his pants. It was brief, only for a second and she didn’t see anything there but the fact you thought you might, the fact you had any suspicion that he might have gotten turned on by Frank’s display was humiliating.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I- I couldn’t hold it in. I was trying to be quiet but he-”

Jonah shut his eyes, not needing any more imagery and held up a hand. “Honey I can’t do this right now, okay? I’m not-” He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just can't be around you right now.” He saw your lip quiver, but Iris walked into the hall carrying a load of laundry on her hip. “Here.” He looked at Iris and gestured towards you. “I need you to watch her.”

 Iris scoffed at that. “You can’t just pawn her off on me when you’re bored of her.”

“I’m not pawning her off, I-”

Your voice was small but firm, slight wavering but determined to speak. “I’m not- I’m not a puppy who can’t be left alone for 5 minutes…” 

Jonah scrubs his face. “That’s not what I meant… I just mean-”

“I know what you mean,” She looked back and forth between him and Iris who was listening curiously. “But I’m not a child, I’m not a dog. I’m the Madonna and I don’t need to be babysat.”

“I know, I know, but they want someone with you at all times-”

“I’m twenty-two!” You suddenly raise your voice.

Jonah was done with this conversation, he couldn’t look at you without feeling sick right now. He turned to Iris. “Watch her, please?” and stormed off. He needed to find Frankie. He hears Iris sigh, then speak to you. 

“C’mon, you can help me and Rey with laundry.”

Rey must really love her if he was helping her do laundry. He'd seen his room... laundry was not a priority...

*

Jonah slammed Frank against the wall as he entered the house from the stables. At about the same height, Jonah had an inch on him but that didn’t mean much against Frank’s broad expanse. Jonah needed to posture if he was going to intimidate him, even if Frankie was the most timid of the 4. He needed to make sure that today did not repeat. “What the FUCK was that!”

Frankie’s eyes were wide, all his prior bravery and showmanship gone as Jonah pressed his forearm into his chest. Jonah’s hand was fisted in his shirt. “Nothing!”

“That girl has enough going on without you publicly humiliating her! Are you going to bring her to one of your sex parties next? Parade her around naked for everyone to see!”

“NO!”

“What the fuck happened to you! You were the good one, Frankie! After everything Beatriz put us through, you wanna do that to her too!”

When Frankie’s mouth opened to respond, hurt and guilt flittering across his face just as Jonah knew it would, Jonah was tossed to the ground and tackled. Before Jonah even had a chance to see who it was, his face being beaten by fists, he knew it was Ben.

“DON’T! FUCKING! TOUCH HIM!” The boy shouted, pounding Jonah’s face so hard he wondered if he’d cave it in. The thought didn’t seem so bad, but he couldn’t leave Iris and the girl. It wasn’t fair for Jonah to escape this hell he put Iris in.

It was Frankie that pulled Ben off him, eyes blue and crazed and flashing with anger, keeping his body protectively in front of his lover. They were a secret from Santi and the girl, both of them too oblivious to suspect, but the rest of the household knew. 

“Ben, stop, it’s fine”

“IT’S NOT FINE!” He screams, chest heaving in rage. Ben turns around to cup Ben’s cheek. “He doesn’t get to fucking touch you, baby.”

Frankie averted his eyes, body language stiff. It seemed he was okay compromising the girl’s dignity, putting her sexuality on display but was uncomfortable with Ben touting him. The reason, of course, was that Santi was a jealous god and Ben's possession could end his life, but the irony was still there.

The men left the hall, Frankie only looking back on where Jonah lay bleeding for a moment.

It was Rey that finally found him, Jonah too pained to get up on his own. His nose must be broken and everything ached, but the shame on Frankie’s face was enough. He made his point.

“Jonah! Shit!” Rey ran to him, and jonah forced himself to sit up lest the boy think he was dead.

“I’m fine, Rey.”

“Fucking bullshit, who did this? Was it Santi?”

He laughs. As if that man could get the jump on him without a knife or gun. Jonah could take him, he wasn’t the problem. The problem was the others. Ben, obviously, was a fucking force, and Will was a human mountain. Frankie was timid but don’t let that fool you, he’d seen the man take down forces.

The problem with Santi is the loyalty he garnered. Harming him meant the other 3 coming after him, and a majority of the commune. Delta would die for him, literally drinking the kool-aid if he asked. 

Jonah refused to go to the kitchen, knowing Iris and the girl would be there, so Rey took him to his room to clean him up.

“You probably shouldn’t sleep.” Rey says, icing his face. 

“I probably should drink either, but I'm gonna ask you to get me some whiskey.”

Rey chuckles and shakes his head, but gets the drink anyway. Jonah would just get his own.

Jonah mutters a thank you. “Please don’t tell Iris…” He sighs, knowing the answer to his request.

“You know I have to. Everyone else lies to her, she needs me to be honest.”

‘Everyone’ meant him. He hadn’t been a good father, he knew that. God, did he love her. Iris deserved better, he wanted to leave with her but there were no options. Everything around them had fallen apart, the other small communities around being so afraid of Delta they’d turn them in.

In the barren environment, Iris would die of exposer or be raped and killed by raiders within weeks, even with him and Rey protecting her. Not that she needed much protection, she was a skilled shot… which is why she wasn’t allowed a gun. Will kept careful eye on all the guns in Delta, Jonah himself only allowed his pistol during the day time, turning it in at night.

But Jonah hadn’t given up. He wouldn’t give up on getting Iris out until his last breath. If he could get the girl and Rey out too, he would, but Iris was the priority. 

*

The energy had shifted, and Santi noticed.

Santiago fucked into Frankie who he had flipped naked onto his stomach with Will having Madonna on her back. Frankie, who previously in these moments had focused on him or Ben was now eying her tits as they bounced in time to Will’s thrusts. He had kissed her, even, which hadn’t sat right with him. He tolerated it with Will or Ben, but her? She wasn’t for Frankie to love, she wasn’t for Frankie to be attracted to even. She was for Frankie and him to fill.

You were on the edge of an orgasm, but so was he, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste his godly essence on a barren hole. And he wanted to, god he wanted to. He wanted to cum so hard into his lover that Frankie swelled with child. Could it be possible? They were god, they were powerful… Maybe if he fulfilled his duty, maybe if he produced the savior with the whimpering girl impaled on his brother's dick, Mother would grant him this. If he had it his way, he’d have this child with Frankie only… but even now, even in his 30’s and the primary leader of Delta, a demi-god and son of the Holiest Mother on high, he could not control this.

With a strangled, pained groan, Santi pulled out of his most favored lover, shoving at Will as he stroked himself. Taking the hint, Will came inside you, kissing you deeply even as he pulled himself away to make room for their leader. As Santi angrily pounded your core, making your eyes roll back as he was the one to make you cum, not Will. He watches as your body writhes under him, Will’s cum coating his cock and spathering on his hips as it leaks out. Frankie joins Will in kissing you, your pleasured face chasing both their mouths until it was a blur of who was kissing who, the two mouths intertwining. 

Your moans grow louder again, chest heaving and back arching off the mattress and unable to kiss back as another orgasm began to eclipse you. That’s right, your pleasure was his. He controlled your body and what it felt, good or bad. Kneeling on either side of you, Will and Francisc straight and made out above, you sloppy and wet with Will shoving his large fingers into Frankie’s mouth. Santi wanted to cum, but his anger, his jealousy the white-hot fury that bubbled at his life-long inadequacy was holding him back. Will was practically throat fucking Frankie with his fingers, his left hand wrapped around his throat and Francisco’s whimpering moans gargled by his spit that dribbled down his chin and onto your breasts.

Pleasured sounds from your lips intensified when your hands went to your breasts, spreading the droll on your tits and playing with your nips with the slicked-up pads of your fingers. Despite fucking you, from where Santi knelt between your legs he felt on the outside of the scene, like he was the dildo and they were your porn, like he was being cucked in his own goddamn home.

Will pulled his fingers out, ordering Frankie to spit in her mouth. Santi watched in jealousy as you swallowed that part of him, quickly followed by Will’s own saliva. When Will went back to kissing Frankie, wet smacks of lips on lips, he used his dominant hand to jerk off Frankie's, throbbing, massive, uncut cock and the other shoving two fingers in your mouth. He wasn’t aggressive with you, merely giving you something to suck on as you came around Santi’s cock again. And then again. When Santiago watched Frank cum on your face, streak after streak of white liquid on your skin, Santiago couldn’t take it anymore. Angry, he reached out to fist Frank's brown curls and yank him towards him, lips crashing together. 

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM he thrust his hips into Madonna until she screamed a final orgasm with the help of Will's lips lapping at her nipples. As Santi came into your womb with fury, biting down on Frankie’s lips until he tasted blood. When it was done, he shoved Frankie to lay down where Santi joined him, lapping at the tangy blood and sucking on hip lip to draw more out. Will laid down by you, kissing you in a stark contrast. It was gentle and soft, making you smile. 

Santiago reached out repeatedly, scooping up the cum on your face and shoving it inside your sore, puffy pussy.

“Can’t be wasting a single drop, Frankie.”

WHAT ARE WE THINK WHAT ARE WE THINKING WHAT ARE WE THINKING

I don't know what came over me with that smut bro, I blacked out and wrote it. im on my period a lot is happening.

Oh Frankie.... c'mon dude, don't do Jonah like that :((((

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @mjnomaryjane @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa@mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg

If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

#rooms on fire #Triple frontier #dark triple frontier #benjamin miller #dark benjamin miller #william miller #dark william miller #santiago garcia #dark santiago garcia #Francisco morales #dark francisco morales #frankie morales #dark frankie morales #non con #dub con #yandere #yander triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #benjamin miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #william miller x reader #bisexual santiago garcia #bisexual francisco morales #bisexual benjamin miller #bisexual william miller #FishBen #triple frontier smut #Santiago Garcia smut #Francisco Morales smut #Frankie morales

[justatalkingface]

I saw you responded to my Black Whip fiasco post and I just need a like-minded person to rant to about it, because my friend and I got into a little debate about it.

Izuku was clearly not in control of Black Whip and was panicking because it was destorying the area and putting himself and everyone else in danger. All Might - who at this point was in no position to physically help out and ALSO had little to no idea what was going on - can clearly see something's very wrong and tells Aizawa to stop the match.

NONE of the teachers do anything, even though Midnight and Aizawa have the Quirks necessary to do so (Mightnight could knock Izuku out, and Aizawa could erase Black Whip).

Instead, Ochako puts herself at risk to snap Izuku out of it... and is fucking PRAISED by Midnight and Aizawa for it, meaning they're basically proud that they sat back and could have let their students get seriously injured due to their own idiocy/negligence.

Like I know this is a hero school and all, but what tf are the teachers even at the trainings for if they won't step in when situations escalate like this? In the Battle Trials, All Might at least WARNED Bakugou that he'd interviene if he kept going for the kill (but he, of course, didn't 🙃) and the other students were begging him to stop the match. Even in Naruto where the kids are expressly being trained to be child soldiers, the squad instructors fucking interviened in the Chunin Exams when students were disobeying the rules and going for the kill.

Oh, Black Whip showing up is a clusterfuck for everyone involved (looking at you, Remnants!) and it's one of many points that make Aizawa look like a shit teacher... but wait! It's worse than you think!

Here's the thing: we know what that was. We had all the hints to expect that, yeah, at some point Izuku would get a new power, followed promptly by a monologue about what it was (and also, how Izuku was so bad for failing at standards he didn't have until just now, thanks Remnants!) but look at it from an outside perspective:

There's the exercise, things as normal, then combat tentacles explode from Izuku like he's hosting a new and exciting type of xenomorph. He grunts and groans, clearly trying to fight it. He yells, 'Run away!'

This looks nothing like his Quirk.

MHA is a one-Quirk setting, outside of high tier Mad Science, or a setting breaking Quirk. Shoto calls his Quirk two, but it's explicitly one, that's just him artificially separating it in his mind because of his trauma/how his dad seemed to have trained him with fire. So... why would anyone assume that was Izuku's Quirk, when edgy black tentacles have nothing to do with super strength? Why did everyone look at that and go, 'Yeah, that's totally Izuku'.

Why didn't anyone think it was something else?

And as for what else it could be? Well, you remember the first chapter? The slime guy, trying to parasite Bakugou? Sounds pretty similar to me! An energy version, sure, but still. With any normal amount of context these characters should have had, they shouldn't have treated this as, 'Izuku's having an accident with his powers'.

They should have been treating this as him being attacked.

I mean, fuck. In that next chapter (where they make it seem like Aizawa has been 'responsibly' keeping any eye on this the whole time), he even says 'if' this thing is a Quirk. He doesn't know what it is. The fact he's so laid back about letting an unknown element just... be there is mind-boggling. What if it isn't a Quirk? What if it was like the slime-guy, some Quirk that couldn't be canceled with a glance from, like, half a mile away? What the fuck is he going to do if breaks the neck of some kid a foot away from Izuku while Aizawa, who is way the fuck over there, is too far away to intervene?

It's so irresponsible it's insane.

And yeah, 'They still want to win'. Big whoop, they all do! I mean, hell, the losers are still going to want to win even after they lose; are you going to let them just have another shot because they want to win? He's clearly fine with letting them risk their lives to what the fuck ever that was, so breaking the rules and invalidating the win should be nothing in comparison, right?

This is the logic of an actual child. Consequences exist. Things happen beyond your control; hell, make it part of the lesson.

'You all lose, yes, just like when you're trying to catch a bank robber and them some gigantified asshole knocks over a building and suddenly you need to do something else. Get over it.'

But you know what? Even if they all did know, it shouldn't have mattered, because there's a point where things have crossed the line and when someone yells, 'Run away, my power is going to murder you!', the situation has clearly reached that point. They should have stopped it, instantly, and then at worst maybe have marked Izuku's team as an automatic loss if he was faking or something, but... it was smashing buildings. It clearly could have killed someone. I mean, at least Vlad King was concerned, but Aizawa? Nah.

I guess nobody died yet, so it wasn't worth stopping.

Is Izuku OK after all that? Eh, the boy who fought past breaking his arms, doing himself permanent damage, wants to keep going; clearly he's fine and we can trust his decision making process. What if it happens again? Well, I handled it so well before (by doing nothing), that clearly I can handle it if that thing tries to murder my pride and joy, even if I'm blinking when it happens, or maybe Shinsou is blocking my view of Izuku so I can't use my Quirk on him, or any other factor that might prevent me from intervening when I am nowhere nearby.

God, the fact that nobody has died in the process of being trained by this man is genuinely awe-inspiring. I guess Shinsou's greatest proof of how great a hero he'll be isn't his Quirk, or how fast he picked up scarf-jutsu, but the fact he got one-on-one training with Aizawa and lived!

#ask #bnha critical #mha critical #aizawa critical #'nobody died so clearly everything is fine' #is not in fact fine

[happy-beeeps]

Hi again :) could I request Rex X reader where reader comes back from a mission gone wrong and Anakin scolds her and then Rex sees her crying?

Hi lovie! SO sorry this took so long! I hope you love it!!! Rex is an angel as per usual and Anakin is an ass but we love him for it. TCW Anakin is one of my favorite platonic characters to characterize because he’s just so tragic in a way that makes him so fun to work with. 

Little Brothers

WC: 1k

Warnings: none! Angst and injury but it’s quick and resolved this is a hurt comfort fic!

A/N: We meet my two clone OC’s in this chapter! I’m going to expand on them later, but they’re part of the 811th battalion, led by Commander Leo (who rivals only Hunter with his mane of thick hair) and ARC Trooper Bubble (the last to pass his swim test following a traumatic incident with the pool as a cadet.)

* * *

“I just don’t know how you could be so irresponsible!” Anakin bites, anger written plainly across his face. It’s one of the things you appreciate about your friend, he seems to be the only other person in the Jedi to really let you have it when you deserve it.

And kriff, do you deserve it.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, slip into a low guarded base quickly and quietly, extract the necessary information on the munitions factory nearby, and leave. You had a small squad of your men, the 811th. It was supposed to be quick and easy, Commander Leo had made quick work of locating the central computer, and his second in command, a spirited, down for anything trooper named Bubbles, was watching your flank, along with about five other men. It was supposed to be easy.

And then you saw the hostages. Not many of them, maybe about four, and none of them eager for your help. Turns out, they were other separatists caught in a territory battle with the owners of the munitions factory, and were cautious at best about being helped by a Jedi. You and Leo restrategized and sent a smaller squad of men while you two and Bub worked to free the hostages. It wasn’t an entire failure, the separatist civilians made it home to their families which counted as a win in your book. The chaos that the 811th can bring, however, coupled with the added attention from the hostages, resulted in a firefight that gave away your squad’s position in the base and landed one of your men in the medbay. You retreated efficiently, sans plans. And so you find yourself back aboard the Resolute, arguing with Anakin.

“So you would have just let them die?” You huff back, hands firm on your hips.

“They were not on the mission. You should’ve commed for backup, it’s not like we weren’t on system.”

“Oh please, Anakin, I’ve known you long enough to know that you don’t listen to ‘suggestions,’” you draw heavy air quotations around the word, “from anyone but yourself.” 

“I would if it was important, which, in this case it wasn’t. They didn’t want our help. You should know better.”

“Master, I really think she-” Ahsoka starts, but Anakin shoots her a look that wills her into silence. She’s seen the two of you fight like this before, and she knows better than to interject.

“General, the General has a point, I can easily take responsibility-” and it’s your turn to bring a hand up in front of Leo’s face, silencing him. The two accomplices look at each other and send a look, waiting for this to escalate further.

“Stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing, I know what I’m doing,” You respond, shooting daggers at Anakin.

“Exactly. Which is why you should’ve known better and not endangered your men, isn’t one of them in the medbay right now?”

And there it is, the winning blow. You look at him with wide eyes and you can tell even he regrets it by the way his breathing has shifted, but he refuses to back down. 

“Don’t hold the injuries of my men over me, Skywalker, at least I don’t use my Commander as a projectile!” You shout, hands in the air as you storm out of the briefing room towards your quarters, hot tears burning down your face and making your vision blurry. You don’t even notice Rex walking past you, his eyes shifting worriedly between yourself, Anakin, and Leo.

* * *

You don’t hear the sound of the door hiss open over your own hiccups. You’ve got your back to the door and you’re furiously typing on your datapad, blowing up Bub’s comm trying to get more intel on the injured trooper. The door shuts behind you with a resounding click, and your hiccups turn to sniffles, until you see him. Rex is quick and deliberate with his movements, grabbing the datapad out of your hand and setting it down on the small desk near your bed, before pulling you up and into his chest. The sobs return, and he’s holding you so tight on a normal day you’d be punching his chest for air.

“He’s fine,” Rex murmurs into your hair, holding your cheeks between his hands and swiping away the excess tears. “I stopped and talked to Leo and Bubble, he’s fine. In fact, he’ll probably be thanking you, the 811th is going for leave next.”

You sniff in response, “I don’t like being responsible for hurting your brothers.”

Rex smooths your hair and gives you a warm smile, “You and I both know you’ve got probably the most compassion for clones of any natborn we know. You did the right thing. Leo’s got a good head on his shoulders, he knows how to care for you and his vod. He wouldn’t let you put yourselves in danger. I trust him with your life, that says enough.”

Your cheeks bloom under the sentiment. “Would you have done it?” “Sure. If the roles had been swapped the same thing probably would’ve happened.” He moves to sit down on your bed, it’s tiny so the two of you are squished against one another. “Course, I would’ve called for reinforcements, and you and the 811th would’ve been there to save our asses.”

You sigh and crane your neck to look at him. “Thanks, for always being there for me. Anakin just knows how to hit where it hurts everytime.”

He chuckles, “Cody is the same to me. It’s just how brothers are.”

“But he’s not my brother.”

“Isn’t he though? I thought you guys were younglings together.”

He’s not wrong, and you shrug. “Sure, Master Ti and Master Kenobi got along, I feel like I was always training with him. But,” you bring up a hand, “I’m older.”

“Right, so you’re just his Cody.” He sets his head down on your shoulder. “There’s always gonna be problems with your vod. But you just have to do what’s right to you.”

His words settle around you and warm your heart and your conscience, and you melt into him more. “So you think I did the right thing?”

“Yeah, like I said, we’d do the same thing,” and his voice is a whisper in your ear, “though I heard you don’t like his use of projectiles.”

You gasp, and spin towards him as best you can, voice rising “You could get hurt-”

And he cuts you off with a kiss. “As always, my verd’ika.”

#captain rex x f!reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex request #rex x reader #clone trooper rex #captain rex #commander rex #requests