|| Call me Zero, or Z for short! || They/he || 23 || hurt/comfort enthusiast || trying to get back into writing after years of a slump || Likes/follows come from my main, silverfae15 || avatar: https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/188948
Links to the masterlists of all my ongoing stories! Enjoy!
Felix
Themes/Warnings: Magic (specifically witches and familiars); set around the 16th century; mostly deliberate whump with occasional situational whump, veryyyy rarely a sickfic; pet whump, dehumanization, torture, gaslighting, and emotional manipulation.
Darion
Themes/Warnings: Fantasy setting; slavery, dehumanization, arena fights, torture
Have I broken the curse? Am I finally able to write again after so many years? We'll see if it lasts :)
Here's the masterlist for Ace and Hunter if you haven't read the earlier parts! I'm not going to do my usual tag list because it's been literally years since I've posted an update to this story, but if you want to be tagged in future updates just let me know.
Ace liked to think that he made a rather valiant effort, even if it was short-lived. In truth, there wasn’t much of an effort in the first place, because Hunter didn’t even have to look at Ace to be able to intercept the makeshift club that Ace had attempted to swing at his head when he stepped through the door that evening.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Hunter said as he wrenched away Ace’s weapon, and with it, another of his dwindling slivers of hope. “Though I honestly thought you would do a little better than this.”
The door was shut and locked behind Hunter before Ace could even try to push past him, and Hunter had him by the collar, one hand expertly twisting his arm behind his back as he took two steps and slammed Ace forward over the kitchen table.
Ace clenched his teeth against a cry of pain as his injuries were jostled, even more so as he struggled and Hunter tightened his grip and pressed him further into the table.
“I can think of at least three more effective ways you could have tried to attack me. I mean, a chair leg? Really? That was your first choice?” Hunter sighed and had the audacity to sound genuinely disappointed. “Now I’m going to have to replace the chair.”
“Cry me a fucking river,” Ace snarled as he tried, and failed, to kick backward at Hunter.
Hunter responded by twisting Ace’s arm painfully upward, eliciting a gasp of pain. “Language.”
Ace laughed, and it was tinged with disbelief and desperation. “Seriously?”
“You’re right,” Hunter conceded. “I suppose that is pretty far down the list of idiotic things you’ve done today.” His voice turned venomous and cold as he spoke, and an involuntary shiver raced down Ace’s spine. “Usually this would be where I gave you the chance to say you’re sorry,” Hunter continued. “But I’m getting tired of hearing your bullshit and fake apologies, so how about instead, I make sure you really mean it.”
There was a click behind him and Ace didn’t have time to consider what it might have been before something was jabbed into his ribs and his entire body seized with pain. A taser, his mind supplied, helpful as ever. Even after the pain disappeared Ace had to struggle to find his breath. He tasted iron on his tongue and his limbs refused to listen to him as Hunter wrenched him up and dragged him toward the stairs. For a moment, Ace was overcome with a blind panic.
‘Not downstairs, no, it’s always worse when we’re downstairs, please-’
He must have let some of his panicked thoughts slip past his lips, because Hunter laughed, short and condescending.
“Seems like something you should have considered earlier, doesn’t it?”
They reached the top of the staircase, but instead of walking down, Hunter shoved Ace firmly between his shoulder blades, sending him tumbling headfirst down the hard wooden steps. He cried out in pain as his shoulder connected with the unforgiving edge of the stairs, and had just enough sense to shield his head with his arms as he fell the rest of the way to the bottom. He groaned and slowly rolled over, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He didn’t stay there long, because Hunter had followed behind him and was quick to kick him hard in the ribs, sending Ace back down to the ground.
“I didn’t say you could get up,” Hunter said coolly. He grabbed a fistful of Ace’s hair and dragged him across the room, toward the chains hooked onto the far wall. “Really, Ace, it’s like you want me to hurt you.”
The taunt made Ace flinch. Hunter loved reminding him that he had ‘asked’ for this, that he had given himself over to Hunter in a way that Ace would never not regret.
‘You didn’t ask for this. You asked him to hit you, once. That does not equal kidnapping and torture.’
The words sounded hollow in Ace’s mind. Even after repeating them to himself more times than he could count, he couldn’t quite believe them. There would always be a small part of him that whispered that maybe this was his fault. He didn’t see any of the warning signs, and he willingly, even eagerly, asked to be hurt. Who could blame Hunter for targeting him? He certainly hadn’t made it difficult.
Hunter snapped his fingers in front of Ace’s face, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Focus, Raindrop. Can’t have you zoning out before we even get started.”
Ace glared at him. Now that his pretense of obedience was thrown out the window, he was happy to unleash the weeks of pent-up anger he had been carefully holding back.
“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed.
Hunter just sighed. “I knew you were faking, but it was a nice preview of what’s to come, I suppose. You will learn to be obedient, Ace. I’ll make sure of that.”
Hunter reached for the chains, and Ace took the opportunity to lash out with his foot and kick Hunter in the shins. Hunter grunted in pain, but didn’t let go of Ace’s hair. He glared down at him, the way one might look at a misbehaving dog, and shook his head.
“You’re testing my patience,” he growled. He kicked Ace in the stomach, making him double over, coughing. “Do you really want to make this worse for yourself?”
Ace snarled in response, his eyes flashing with hatred. He struggled violently as Hunter forced his wrists into the cuffs, but it was useless. It was always useless. All he could do was spit curses and tug hopelessly on the restraints as Hunter tightened the chains.
“You have quite the mouth on you,” Hunter observed. He stepped back, smirking a little as Ace tried to lunge forward, only to be stopped by the chains keeping him fastened to the wall. “Really, I thought you would have at least started to learn by now. You’re a smart boy…at least, I thought you were.”
“Fuck you,” Ace choked out. He was getting dangerously close to crying, but he refused to let the tears spill over. “Just torture me and get it over with.”
Hunter slapped Ace across the face. “Oh, I won’t be getting anything over with quickly.” He grabbed the front of Ace’s shirt and ripped it open, then stepped back with a content sigh as he admired the still-healing scars and slashes across Ace’s torso. “No, I prefer to go slow. I know you hate the anticipation, and that just makes it so much sweeter for me.”
Ace tried to ignore how his face stung from the slap as he glared at Hunter, who didn’t seem bothered. “You’re crazy.”
Hunter just smiled at him. “I’ve learned to embrace my true nature. Does that make me crazy?”
“Yes,” Ace snapped.
Hunter stepped forward and placed a painfully gentle hand on Ace’s cheek, the one he had slapped a few seconds ago. “This would be easier for you if you accepted your true nature, too.”
“I don’t need to accept anything.” His voice trembled a little, but he maintained his defiant glare.
‘You’re not a masochist. And even if you were, that doesn’t justify this.’
He turned away and walked to the table in the corner. Ace swallowed hard and stayed silent. He glared holes into Hunter’s back, but he couldn’t stop himself from trembling as he saw the knife Hunter picked up. After so many…sessions…Ace had learned that the color of the knife handles correlated with the technique Hunter would use. He had chosen the blue one today. Hunter turned back to face Ace, and his smile widened when he saw that Ace’s glare had fallen slightly.
“Not your favorite?” He asked, lifting the knife so that it caught the light. “This one is definitely in my top three.” He moved forward, and Ace took an involuntary step back. “My favorite, though…I’ve been saving that one.”
Ace glanced over at the table. The silver knife had never been touched. It sat, glinting in the dim light, taunting Ace with its unassuming exterior. He looked back at Hunter and tried not to let his fear show any more than it already was.
“I’ll save it a little longer, I think,” Hunter said. “For now…this will do.”
Ace took another step back and hit the wall. His chains rattled and his mouth went dry as Hunter moved forward, brandishing the knife in front of him. Before anything else, Hunter took hold of the chains and hooked them above Ace’s head, effectively restraining him against the wall.
Hunter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I knew this was coming,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “You’ve put on a very good act, but I knew you would snap eventually.”
He was standing directly in front of Ace now, and he brought the knife up to trace against Ace’s cheekbone.
“Now…now we can start the real fun.”
“You’re crazy,” Ace said again. “You’re fucking insane.”
Hunter didn’t slap him this time. Instead, he twisted the knife, slashing a shallow cut just beneath Ace’s eye. Ace flinched back with a gasp of pain and nearly hit his head against the hard stone wall.
“Language,” he scolded. “Are you even keeping track of how many rules you’ve broken?”
A growl built in Ace’s throat, and strangely his fear was only partially holding him back. “You can take your rules and go fuck yourself with them.”
He did earn himself another slap across the face for that one. Hunter took his now-bloody hand and ran it through Ace’s hair, gripping tightly and wrenching his head back. The knife was suddenly at his throat, and Hunter leaned in close to hiss his reply.
“Listen to you, spouting profanities like a child. Do you really think your defiance is going to accomplish anything?” He pressed the knife just hard enough to hurt, barely not breaking the skin. “It’s pathetic, really,” he scoffed. “You’re in denial, Ace. In more ways than one.”
Ace could feel his anger rising, and it took everything he had not to spit in Hunter’s face. “You’re the pathetic one,” he retorted. “Go ahead, hurt me. That’s what gets you off, right? Beating someone who can’t fight back?”
Hunter laughed harshly. “No, Ace, that’s not quite it.” He pressed the knife harder, and a trickle of blood made its way down Ace’s neck. “It’s you, Ace. You react so beautifully.”
“Why?” The question had been burning in Ace’s mind for weeks, and he still didn’t understand the answer. “You - you could’ve had anyone else, what the hell makes me so special?”
Hunter just smiled. “Do you remember how we met, Raindrop?”
Ace swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you.” Hunter eased the pressure of the knife, only to slowly drag it down until it rested against Ace’s collarbone. “Not anyone else. You. I could see it in your eyes…you know pain. I knew you would take it so well. And I was right.”
Ace shook his head. “You’re delusional. You’re --”
“Yes, I’m crazy and sadistic and you want to hit me over the head with a chair leg,” Hunter finished for him. “But here’s the thing, Ace. I’m the one holding the knife. You should really start bringing that into consideration before you speak.”
Without another word, he dug the point of the blade into Ace’s skin and dragged it along his collarbone. The thin line of blood was more painful than it had any right to be, and Ace nearly bit his tongue trying to hold back a whimper of pain. Hunter released his grip on Ace’s hair and brought his hand down to gently run his thumb along his cheek.
“You know I don’t like you holding back those pretty sounds,” he coaxed. “Go on, make some noise for me. It’s the least you can do, after attacking me in my own home.”
Ace grit his teeth and tried to glare, but his face twisted in pain as Hunter cut him again, and again, criss-crossing lines that burned like fire across his chest. Agonized tears started to gather in his eyes. Hunter’s smile widened when he saw them.
“That works too,” he said, glee evident in his voice. “You know I’m always happy to see you cry.”
He twisted the knife and dug it deeper, eliciting a tiny whine from Ace’s throat. Hunter seemed to drink in the sound.
“That’s it,” he sighed. “God, I can’t stay mad at you when you sound like that.”
The knife continued its path down Ace’s chest, twisting and burrowing through his skin in an intricate pattern. Ace shut his eyes and whimpered, unable to hold back his pained cries any longer.
“Eyes open.” Hunter’s voice was sharp, and he paused in his knifework to tap the blade under Ace’s chin. “You know the rules, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ace choked out.
“I’ll call you whatever I want.” Hunter took the knife and carefully nicked the side of Ace’s ear. A tiny cut, but Ace still hissed in pain. “Sweetheart.”
The knife came back to his chest, and Ace dropped his head with a muffled sob. He didn’t know how long it continued like that, only that he started crying about halfway through. All he could focus on was the burning pain on top of pain, as Hunter dragged more sobs and broken cries from his throat. His wrists ached as he pulled uselessly at the chains binding him to the wall, and it wasn’t long before he broke down and started begging.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, his voice shaking and tears spilling down his bloodied cheeks. “Please, I - I’m sorry, I won’t--”
“Don’t bother.” Hunter sliced the knife across a partially-healed wound, ripping an agonized cry from Ace’s chest. “We both know you’re only saying that to save yourself.”
“Please,” Ace sobbed. “I’m sorry, please, I swear--”
Hunter took a step back and admired his work. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I think you have a long way to go before you’re really sorry.”
Ace couldn’t muster another response. He dropped his head and shuddered, trying to prepare himself for whatever Hunter had planned. Hunter was cleaning the knife now, but Ace knew better than to hope that he was finished. It was simply a question of which weapon he would choose to use next.
“Don’t worry,” Hunter continued. “We have all the time in the world to get you there.” He grinned. “I’m just getting started.”
He pulled out the green knife next, and Ace stopped begging. He knew it was useless, and he didn’t want to degrade himself any further. He couldn’t stop the agonized screams from leaving his raw throat, though, and his limbs shook with pain and exhaustion. It felt like an eternity before Hunter stepped back again, and Ace slumped against the wall, pale and shaking.
“We’re not through,” Hunter said softly. “But I’ll give you a moment to recover.”
He said it like it was the most generous thing in the world. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Ace alone.
Have I broken the curse? Am I finally able to write again after so many years? We'll see if it lasts :)
Here's the masterlist for Ace and Hunter if you haven't read the earlier parts! I'm not going to do my usual tag list because it's been literally years since I've posted an update to this story, but if you want to be tagged in future updates just let me know.
Ace liked to think that he made a rather valiant effort, even if it was short-lived. In truth, there wasn’t much of an effort in the first place, because Hunter didn’t even have to look at Ace to be able to intercept the makeshift club that Ace had attempted to swing at his head when he stepped through the door that evening.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Hunter said as he wrenched away Ace’s weapon, and with it, another of his dwindling slivers of hope. “Though I honestly thought you would do a little better than this.”
The door was shut and locked behind Hunter before Ace could even try to push past him, and Hunter had him by the collar, one hand expertly twisting his arm behind his back as he took two steps and slammed Ace forward over the kitchen table.
Ace clenched his teeth against a cry of pain as his injuries were jostled, even more so as he struggled and Hunter tightened his grip and pressed him further into the table.
“I can think of at least three more effective ways you could have tried to attack me. I mean, a chair leg? Really? That was your first choice?” Hunter sighed and had the audacity to sound genuinely disappointed. “Now I’m going to have to replace the chair.”
“Cry me a fucking river,” Ace snarled as he tried, and failed, to kick backward at Hunter.
Hunter responded by twisting Ace’s arm painfully upward, eliciting a gasp of pain. “Language.”
Ace laughed, and it was tinged with disbelief and desperation. “Seriously?”
“You’re right,” Hunter conceded. “I suppose that is pretty far down the list of idiotic things you’ve done today.” His voice turned venomous and cold as he spoke, and an involuntary shiver raced down Ace’s spine. “Usually this would be where I gave you the chance to say you’re sorry,” Hunter continued. “But I’m getting tired of hearing your bullshit and fake apologies, so how about instead, I make sure you really mean it.”
There was a click behind him and Ace didn’t have time to consider what it might have been before something was jabbed into his ribs and his entire body seized with pain. A taser, his mind supplied, helpful as ever. Even after the pain disappeared Ace had to struggle to find his breath. He tasted iron on his tongue and his limbs refused to listen to him as Hunter wrenched him up and dragged him toward the stairs. For a moment, Ace was overcome with a blind panic.
‘Not downstairs, no, it’s always worse when we’re downstairs, please-’
He must have let some of his panicked thoughts slip past his lips, because Hunter laughed, short and condescending.
“Seems like something you should have considered earlier, doesn’t it?”
They reached the top of the staircase, but instead of walking down, Hunter shoved Ace firmly between his shoulder blades, sending him tumbling headfirst down the hard wooden steps. He cried out in pain as his shoulder connected with the unforgiving edge of the stairs, and had just enough sense to shield his head with his arms as he fell the rest of the way to the bottom. He groaned and slowly rolled over, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He didn’t stay there long, because Hunter had followed behind him and was quick to kick him hard in the ribs, sending Ace back down to the ground.
“I didn’t say you could get up,” Hunter said coolly. He grabbed a fistful of Ace’s hair and dragged him across the room, toward the chains hooked onto the far wall. “Really, Ace, it’s like you want me to hurt you.”
The taunt made Ace flinch. Hunter loved reminding him that he had ‘asked’ for this, that he had given himself over to Hunter in a way that Ace would never not regret.
‘You didn’t ask for this. You asked him to hit you, once. That does not equal kidnapping and torture.’
The words sounded hollow in Ace’s mind. Even after repeating them to himself more times than he could count, he couldn’t quite believe them. There would always be a small part of him that whispered that maybe this was his fault. He didn’t see any of the warning signs, and he willingly, even eagerly, asked to be hurt. Who could blame Hunter for targeting him? He certainly hadn’t made it difficult.
Hunter snapped his fingers in front of Ace’s face, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Focus, Raindrop. Can’t have you zoning out before we even get started.”
Ace glared at him. Now that his pretense of obedience was thrown out the window, he was happy to unleash the weeks of pent-up anger he had been carefully holding back.
“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed.
Hunter just sighed. “I knew you were faking, but it was a nice preview of what’s to come, I suppose. You will learn to be obedient, Ace. I’ll make sure of that.”
Hunter reached for the chains, and Ace took the opportunity to lash out with his foot and kick Hunter in the shins. Hunter grunted in pain, but didn’t let go of Ace’s hair. He glared down at him, the way one might look at a misbehaving dog, and shook his head.
“You’re testing my patience,” he growled. He kicked Ace in the stomach, making him double over, coughing. “Do you really want to make this worse for yourself?”
Ace snarled in response, his eyes flashing with hatred. He struggled violently as Hunter forced his wrists into the cuffs, but it was useless. It was always useless. All he could do was spit curses and tug hopelessly on the restraints as Hunter tightened the chains.
“You have quite the mouth on you,” Hunter observed. He stepped back, smirking a little as Ace tried to lunge forward, only to be stopped by the chains keeping him fastened to the wall. “Really, I thought you would have at least started to learn by now. You’re a smart boy…at least, I thought you were.”
“Fuck you,” Ace choked out. He was getting dangerously close to crying, but he refused to let the tears spill over. “Just torture me and get it over with.”
Hunter slapped Ace across the face. “Oh, I won’t be getting anything over with quickly.” He grabbed the front of Ace’s shirt and ripped it open, then stepped back with a content sigh as he admired the still-healing scars and slashes across Ace’s torso. “No, I prefer to go slow. I know you hate the anticipation, and that just makes it so much sweeter for me.”
Ace tried to ignore how his face stung from the slap as he glared at Hunter, who didn’t seem bothered. “You’re crazy.”
Hunter just smiled at him. “I’ve learned to embrace my true nature. Does that make me crazy?”
“Yes,” Ace snapped.
Hunter stepped forward and placed a painfully gentle hand on Ace’s cheek, the one he had slapped a few seconds ago. “This would be easier for you if you accepted your true nature, too.”
“I don’t need to accept anything.” His voice trembled a little, but he maintained his defiant glare.
‘You’re not a masochist. And even if you were, that doesn’t justify this.’
He turned away and walked to the table in the corner. Ace swallowed hard and stayed silent. He glared holes into Hunter’s back, but he couldn’t stop himself from trembling as he saw the knife Hunter picked up. After so many…sessions…Ace had learned that the color of the knife handles correlated with the technique Hunter would use. He had chosen the blue one today. Hunter turned back to face Ace, and his smile widened when he saw that Ace’s glare had fallen slightly.
“Not your favorite?” He asked, lifting the knife so that it caught the light. “This one is definitely in my top three.” He moved forward, and Ace took an involuntary step back. “My favorite, though…I’ve been saving that one.”
Ace glanced over at the table. The silver knife had never been touched. It sat, glinting in the dim light, taunting Ace with its unassuming exterior. He looked back at Hunter and tried not to let his fear show any more than it already was.
“I’ll save it a little longer, I think,” Hunter said. “For now…this will do.”
Ace took another step back and hit the wall. His chains rattled and his mouth went dry as Hunter moved forward, brandishing the knife in front of him. Before anything else, Hunter took hold of the chains and hooked them above Ace’s head, effectively restraining him against the wall.
Hunter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I knew this was coming,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “You’ve put on a very good act, but I knew you would snap eventually.”
He was standing directly in front of Ace now, and he brought the knife up to trace against Ace’s cheekbone.
“Now…now we can start the real fun.”
“You’re crazy,” Ace said again. “You’re fucking insane.”
Hunter didn’t slap him this time. Instead, he twisted the knife, slashing a shallow cut just beneath Ace’s eye. Ace flinched back with a gasp of pain and nearly hit his head against the hard stone wall.
“Language,” he scolded. “Are you even keeping track of how many rules you’ve broken?”
A growl built in Ace’s throat, and strangely his fear was only partially holding him back. “You can take your rules and go fuck yourself with them.”
He did earn himself another slap across the face for that one. Hunter took his now-bloody hand and ran it through Ace’s hair, gripping tightly and wrenching his head back. The knife was suddenly at his throat, and Hunter leaned in close to hiss his reply.
“Listen to you, spouting profanities like a child. Do you really think your defiance is going to accomplish anything?” He pressed the knife just hard enough to hurt, barely not breaking the skin. “It’s pathetic, really,” he scoffed. “You’re in denial, Ace. In more ways than one.”
Ace could feel his anger rising, and it took everything he had not to spit in Hunter’s face. “You’re the pathetic one,” he retorted. “Go ahead, hurt me. That’s what gets you off, right? Beating someone who can’t fight back?”
Hunter laughed harshly. “No, Ace, that’s not quite it.” He pressed the knife harder, and a trickle of blood made its way down Ace’s neck. “It’s you, Ace. You react so beautifully.”
“Why?” The question had been burning in Ace’s mind for weeks, and he still didn’t understand the answer. “You - you could’ve had anyone else, what the hell makes me so special?”
Hunter just smiled. “Do you remember how we met, Raindrop?”
Ace swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you.” Hunter eased the pressure of the knife, only to slowly drag it down until it rested against Ace’s collarbone. “Not anyone else. You. I could see it in your eyes…you know pain. I knew you would take it so well. And I was right.”
Ace shook his head. “You’re delusional. You’re --”
“Yes, I’m crazy and sadistic and you want to hit me over the head with a chair leg,” Hunter finished for him. “But here’s the thing, Ace. I’m the one holding the knife. You should really start bringing that into consideration before you speak.”
Without another word, he dug the point of the blade into Ace’s skin and dragged it along his collarbone. The thin line of blood was more painful than it had any right to be, and Ace nearly bit his tongue trying to hold back a whimper of pain. Hunter released his grip on Ace’s hair and brought his hand down to gently run his thumb along his cheek.
“You know I don’t like you holding back those pretty sounds,” he coaxed. “Go on, make some noise for me. It’s the least you can do, after attacking me in my own home.”
Ace grit his teeth and tried to glare, but his face twisted in pain as Hunter cut him again, and again, criss-crossing lines that burned like fire across his chest. Agonized tears started to gather in his eyes. Hunter’s smile widened when he saw them.
“That works too,” he said, glee evident in his voice. “You know I’m always happy to see you cry.”
He twisted the knife and dug it deeper, eliciting a tiny whine from Ace’s throat. Hunter seemed to drink in the sound.
“That’s it,” he sighed. “God, I can’t stay mad at you when you sound like that.”
The knife continued its path down Ace’s chest, twisting and burrowing through his skin in an intricate pattern. Ace shut his eyes and whimpered, unable to hold back his pained cries any longer.
“Eyes open.” Hunter’s voice was sharp, and he paused in his knifework to tap the blade under Ace’s chin. “You know the rules, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” Ace choked out.
“I’ll call you whatever I want.” Hunter took the knife and carefully nicked the side of Ace’s ear. A tiny cut, but Ace still hissed in pain. “Sweetheart.”
The knife came back to his chest, and Ace dropped his head with a muffled sob. He didn’t know how long it continued like that, only that he started crying about halfway through. All he could focus on was the burning pain on top of pain, as Hunter dragged more sobs and broken cries from his throat. His wrists ached as he pulled uselessly at the chains binding him to the wall, and it wasn’t long before he broke down and started begging.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, his voice shaking and tears spilling down his bloodied cheeks. “Please, I - I’m sorry, I won’t--”
“Don’t bother.” Hunter sliced the knife across a partially-healed wound, ripping an agonized cry from Ace’s chest. “We both know you’re only saying that to save yourself.”
“Please,” Ace sobbed. “I’m sorry, please, I swear--”
Hunter took a step back and admired his work. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I think you have a long way to go before you’re really sorry.”
Ace couldn’t muster another response. He dropped his head and shuddered, trying to prepare himself for whatever Hunter had planned. Hunter was cleaning the knife now, but Ace knew better than to hope that he was finished. It was simply a question of which weapon he would choose to use next.
“Don’t worry,” Hunter continued. “We have all the time in the world to get you there.” He grinned. “I’m just getting started.”
He pulled out the green knife next, and Ace stopped begging. He knew it was useless, and he didn’t want to degrade himself any further. He couldn’t stop the agonized screams from leaving his raw throat, though, and his limbs shook with pain and exhaustion. It felt like an eternity before Hunter stepped back again, and Ace slumped against the wall, pale and shaking.
“We’re not through,” Hunter said softly. “But I’ll give you a moment to recover.”
He said it like it was the most generous thing in the world. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Ace alone.
It has been so long since I've written/posted regularly on here that I've almost forgotten how. Anyway does anyone remember Felix? The very first story I ever wrote on this blog, and still one that I hold dear to my heart. I recently went back and read those first posts from 2019, and could only cringe at the quality of writing I was putting out. I like to think I've improved since then, so...here's Felix again.
I re-wrote that original introduction to his story, and I hope that there are still some people who will enjoy reading it! I also hope that this will give me the boost I need to start posting again, because I've missed this community a lot. To anyone who read all of this, thank you.
Warnings: loss of bodily autonomy
Word count: 1585
Felix knew that Samara would have described him as naive for how little he was worried about the rumors. She would have been right, if she had been given the opportunity to say it. Felix could picture how she would have huffed and glared and called him an idiot, while he stood by and rolled his eyes. That didn’t matter, though, because Felix and Samara hadn’t had the opportunity to speak since the rumors began. Tensions were high everywhere, and neither of them could risk sneaking away from their respective territories.
That’s why, when Felix felt Samara’s soul disappear from the Realm, he could almost convince himself that it was a natural summoning. Maybe she simply hadn’t had the chance to tell him that she was leaving. Almost. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reconcile the horrible wrenching feeling of their bond being severed as she was ripped away to the Plains, so unlike her usual graceful flight between realms.
And now here Felix was, met with the same fate, knelt on a cold stone floor and gasping for air as he tried to shake the nausea from being so forcefully dragged to the Plains. Everything about it was wrong. It shouldn’t have been possible. Felix shook his head against the acrid feel of the Plains, which always took him several days to adjust to. When he gathered himself enough to look up and see who was responsible for whatever ungodly ritual had drawn him from his home, he saw a man. An ordinary human man - a witch, as evidenced by the embroidered edges of his robe and the staff in his hands.
Felix’s eyes were drawn to the staff and the complex swirling and sparking of his centerstone. This was a powerful witch. He glared up at him from his spot on the floor, not trusting his legs yet.
“Who - “
The witch cut Felix off with a word.
“Quiet.”
Felix’s mouth snapped shut against his will, and the shock of it sent his mind reeling. The man stood, brushing out his robes as he did, revealing his full height. He was pale and sallow, average height for a human; which meant he stood nearly a foot taller than Felix. The indecency of kneeling on the floor in front of the witch was gnawing at Felix’s stomach, so he began to rise, only to be stopped again.
“Stay down,” the man ordered sharply, and again, Felix found himself compelled to obey.
The man’s tone was dismissive and demeaning, and Felix felt his fear and uncertainty begin to be overcome by anger. The man’s eyes bored into Felix, taking in his small form on the ground. Felix glared back up at him, his anger mixing with wariness the longer the witch examined him. Finally the witch spoke, breaking the tense silence.
“Tell me your classes.”
It was an order, not a question, and Felix tried to clench his jaw and resist the command, but the words were pulled from his mouth against his will.
“Defensive-reflective.”
The witch paused in his circling and his mouth pulled downward in a clear expression of disdain. “Only one? How old are you?”
Felix glared up at him, well aware that he didn’t look very threatening. “I’m in my third century.
The witch’s expression didn’t change. “Third century and you still haven’t developed your secondary trait?”
Felix bit back the explanations and excuses that always lingered in the back of his mind. He wasn’t about to trip over himself with justifications for the man who had effectively kidnapped him. He continued glaring silently.
“I asked you a question,” the man said sharply. “I expect an answer.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Felix snapped in response. He tried to will himself to his feet, but his body refused to listen to him. He let out a frustrated growl and glared harder at his captor.
“You’re being extraordinarily difficult,” the man said. “You’re my familiar now –”
“Like hell I am!” Felix interrupted, a snarl building in the back of his throat. “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to work with you!”
The man laughed, the first real change of expression he had exhibited so far. “Work with me? You misunderstand. You work for me. You no longer have a say in the matter.”
“You can’t –”
“Quiet,” he said again, and Felix found himself silenced once more. “I am aware this is not something you’re used to, boy, but surely you’re smart enough to realize when you’ve been bested.” He smiled, more of a smirk than anything. “You are my familiar now, and you will obey me. Shall we try this again? Tell me why you haven’t developed your secondary trait.”
“I - I don’t know.” The words were practically dragged from Felix’s throat by some unseen force. He grit his teeth and tried to resist whatever was forcing him into submission, but all he got for his efforts was a splitting pain behind his eyes.
“You’re simply stunted, then,” the man said with a sigh. “I suppose for the first cast I shouldn’t complain about the quality.” He clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head, studying Felix with a critical eye. “You may prove useful yet.”
Felix was getting tired of being talked over and put down, literally and figuratively. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he hissed, his eyes flashing with anger, “or how you summoned me here, but I’m not going to roll over and do whatever you say.”
Another laugh, short and derisive. “You truly believe you have a choice? Perhaps I ought to show you how little control you possess now.” He smiled. “Stop breathing.”
The simple command sent a jolt through Felix’s body. He tried to draw in a breath, to no avail. His heart raced, panic clawing its way up his frozen chest. His lungs refused to expand, no matter how hard he tried. Felix’s hand came up to grab at his chest, where it felt like his ribs were constricting in on themselves. It took him several seconds to realize that the man was speaking, so hard to hear over the rushing in his ears.
“Varren Evrenden,” he was saying. “That’s who I am. A name you should remember, seeing as it belongs to your master.”
Felix’s vision started to go dark around the edges, the lack of oxygen making his head spin. He opened his mouth, maybe to try to speak, but he couldn’t get anything out.
“Breathe.”
With that single word, Felix’s lungs released. He doubled over, coughing and gasping for air, his eyes watering. Adrenaline and panic coursed through his body as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
The man - Varren - spoke again. “Is that enough of a lesson for you, or shall I provide another?”
Felix managed to lift his head, but he still couldn’t get a word out between shuddering breaths. A sliver of true fear was making its way up his spine. Varren had succeeded in demonstrating the extent of his control, and Felix had a sinking pit in his stomach. He refused to let it overtake him.
“You’re crazy,” he spat out, once he had regained control of his breathing. “You can’t --”
“Quiet.” Varren held up his hand, silencing Felix with a word. “Another, then. Stop breathing.”
Felix was slightly better prepared this time, but the loss of control still sent a jolt through him as he struggled to remain calm.
‘He won’t kill me. That would only send me back. I’ll be fine.’
The mantra helped some, but as the seconds passed, Felix couldn’t stop the growing panic born of a survival instinct that wouldn’t go away anytime soon. His eyes watered with tears he refused to let fall and he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Breathe.”
Again, Felix gasped for air, his vision blurring with the rush of oxygen into his system. Varren continued speaking, and Felix didn’t try to interrupt again.
“Do you understand yet, boy? I command, and you obey.” He smiled, a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “This must be hard for you to accept, I’m sure, but I have full confidence that you will accept your new role in time.”
Felix didn’t respond. He glared up at his captor, his eyes burning with resentment. His anger was the only thing keeping him from being afraid, and he was determined to hold onto that. Varren only seemed amused by his defiant posture.
“You have spirit,” he said, “like the rest of your kind.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice with the last words. “I look forward to breaking it.”
Felix couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore. “I look forward to denying you that pleasure,” he snarled. “And when you’re dead in the ground, I’ll enjoy spitting on your grave.”
“Bold words,” Varren replied calmly. “We’ll see how long it is before you regret them.” He turned to leave the room without so much as a backward glance to Felix. “Stay still. I’ll be back for you.”
Then he was gone, and Felix was left kneeling on the cold stone floor, unable to move. He swore furiously under his breath, but that was all he could do. Varren had left him to simmer in his anger, and Felix was happy to do just that. Anger was better than fear. He would hold onto that, and he would prove to this witch that he would not be broken. Not so easily.
The first thing Sergei noticed when he awoke was how warm he was. It was midwinter, a blanket of snow was on the ground, and he hadn’t been this warm in months. Then he blinked his eyes open, and the heat suddenly felt oppressive instead of comfortable when he became aware of his surroundings.
He was lying on a couch, as far as he could tell, in some sort of lounging area. He wasn’t tied down, yet he couldn’t begin to lift his arms or legs. His entire body felt heavy, and his thoughts were slow and muddled, as if he wasn’t fully awake after a long, deep sleep. He could just think clearly enough to remember that he was in danger, but not quite enough to be bothered to do anything about it.
‘Warm,’ his mind whispered to him. ‘Stay still. Comfortable.’
“Back with us, I see.”
The voice startled Sergei enough to clear some of the haze in his mind, and he managed to turn his head to see where it had originated.
A man was lounging in a chair in front of an ornately decorated fireplace, the source of the heat in the room. Despite his simplistic clothing, he radiated an irresistible sort of elegance that transfixed Sergei. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away as the man stood and moved toward Sergei’s prone form. Then the man smiled, lips slightly parted, and ran his tongue over sharpened canine teeth, and Sergei remembered everything.
Sergei jolted back and struggled to push himself to his feet. He only succeeded in lifting himself onto his elbows, his limbs already shaking with the small effort. The man - the vampire - looked down at him, and the coldness in his eyes made Sergei feel even weaker. Despite it all, he forced himself to speak.
“Why am I here?” He asked, proud that he was able to keep his voice from shaking. “You killed the others. Why am I still alive?”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled back into the beginnings of a frown. “Your friends didn’t kill my thrall, did they?” His tone, ice-cold and venomous, made Sergei pull back further until the hard edge of the settee was digging into his back. “That was all by your hand, was it not?”
Sergei swallowed hard. It had been him, yes, who shot down the thrall. He had taken no joy in ending the life of someone who had once been human, but he had allowed himself the satisfaction of destroying a monster who had ended so many other’s lives. But really, it was more luck than anything that allowed him to land the finishing blow. His task had been to provide support from his hidden spot on an overarching cliff, while the rest of the party engaged directly. The opening for his arrow to find its way to the thrall had seemed like a blessing from the gods, and he had taken it without hesitation.
Despite his current situation, Sergei decided that he didn’t regret his decision. No matter what happened to him, the vampire was short his most loyal servant, and that was at least something accomplished. Even if they had fallen short of their ultimate goal.
“So, what?” Sergei asked, forcing his tone to remain defiant despite the opposite reflected in the way he shrank away from the monster leaning over him. “What do you want with me?”
The vampire regarded him coldly. “I was going to kill you,” he said. “Slowly, of course. But that’s far too…predictable. I considered keeping you to feed off of, but you wouldn’t last nearly long enough for me to be satisfied with your demise.” He paused, and smiled, which Sergei found was far more menacing than the frown he had worn previously. “Then, I realized that I’m in need of a new thrall.” He tilted his head, still smiling, and the cruel glint in his eye grew more pronounced. “And who better to serve the role than the one responsible for the other’s death?”
For a moment, Sergei was frozen, caught between disbelief and outrage. “You’re mad if you think I’d ever agree to serve you,” he hissed.
“I think that you won’t have a choice,” the vampire replied. “Not if you want me to release your sister.”
The mention of Antonia was almost enough for Sergei to throw off the haze that the vampire had placed over his mind. “What have you done with her?” He snarled, trying again to rise from his position. “If you’ve laid a hand on her -”
The vampire laughed. “Oh, she’s perfectly safe. Unharmed, as well, aside from a few scratches from the…scuffle, shall we say.” He leaned forward, his red eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight. “It’s up to you whether she stays that way or not.”
Sergei swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “Let me see her,” he demanded. “Prove she’s still alive.”
“I don’t think so,” the vampire said. “Not yet.” He lowered himself into a chair across from Sergei, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward. “We still have so much to discuss.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Sergei snapped. “Not until I see Antonia.”
“That’s her name, is it?” The vampire mused. “I suppose proper introductions are in order, though if you’ve come all this way to try to kill me, you probably already know my name. I should hope so, anyway.”
“Emil Ionescu.” Sergei spit out the name like a curse.
The vampire looked satisfied at the sound of his name. “Very good. And you are?”
Sergei hesitated. He knew better than to give out his full name to a magical being, but the pull from the vampire’s influence was too strong to resist fully. “Sergei,” he said, biting his tongue to hold back his last name.
Ionescu looked amused at Sergei’s small show of defiance, and he didn’t push any further. “Well, Sergei,” he said, “my captain tells me that you and your sister were the leaders of the pathetic attempt on my life. Would you care to dispute that claim?”
Sergei bit down harder on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to reveal the truth, that Antonia was the true leader of their group, for fear of Ionescu’s anger turning towards his twin sister. He had helped, of course, but his strength was in archery, in support and cover. He wasn’t a leader. That was all Antonia.
“You’ve been feeding off our village for the past three weeks,” Sergei said, trying to deflect the question. It was easy to cover his fear with anger. “Did you think we would stand idly by and let you take what you wanted?”
Ionescu’s eyes flashed. His voice was low and venomous when he spoke. “If you had any sense, you would have.” He tilted his head, and Sergei could see anger resurfacing in the way his body tensed. “I killed no one, and would have moved on within the month. But now…you’ve forced my hand.”
Rage surged up in Sergei like a tidal wave. “Killed no one?” He spat, his voice shaking. “Seventeen of our women and children were bedridden, and three of them nearly saw the stars too early. ”
Ionescu laughed. “I suppose sometimes I forget how fragile you humans are.” He waved his hand dismissively. “None of them died, as I said. I have no interest in depleting my food resources.”
Sergei couldn’t speak beyond a frustrated growl. He knew that vampires didn’t view humans as anything better than cattle, but hearing it from the monster’s lips was something different entirely. He remembered Ionescu’s intentions with him and his anger flared again, paired with a growing sense of dread. If what Ionescu said was true, and he had Antonia captive as well…he was afraid of what he might do to save his sister.
Ionescu smirked, as if reading Sergei’s mind. Something that was entirely possible, Sergei realized. He knew Ionescu was powerful, but he didn’t know the extent of his influence.
“Thinking about my offer?” Ionescu asked. “I’d be happy to provide more details.”
Sergei hesitated. He wanted to tell Ionescu exactly where he could shove his ‘offer’ but he couldn’t risk endangering Antonia.
“Let me see my sister,” he demanded again. “Show me that she’s alive, and then we’ll talk.”
Ionescu leaned forward, gesturing to a shallow bowl half-filled with water that rested on the table in front of Sergei. “If you insist. See for yourself.”
Sergei felt the invisible weight over his body lessen, just enough so that he could sit up, slowly, and lean forward. He glanced warily between Ionescu and the bowl, nervous of some sort of trick. His fear vanished when he saw inside the bowl, where a rippling image of a cell and a figure was visible. He leaned forward further, enough to see that the scene in the seeing glass was of Antonia. His heart raced as he grabbed the edge of the bowl, his eyes scanning over every inch of her form. She was standing, pacing back and forth, a chain around each of her ankles and her hands tugging at her hair. Sergei could see dried blood crusted on the side of her face, and his heart jumped.
“That’s enough of that.” With a swift movement, Ionescu moved the bowl away, disrupting the image in the process. “You’ve gotten what you wanted.” He reached out his hand and grasped Sergei’s chin, tilting his face up to make eye contact with him. “Now it’s time for us to talk about what I want.”
“I won’t serve you,” Sergei snarled. “Kill us both if you want, I won’t become a slave to a monster.”
Ionescu didn’t look deterred by Sergei’s words. “You will,” he said calmly. “The only question is if you will do it willingly, and allow your sister to walk free, or if you will doom her to a slow, agonizing death. It’s your choice.”
“You can’t force me,” Sergei said, but his voice wavered. Truth be told, he didn’t know if Ionescu needed him to be willing in order to enthrall him. That was what he had been told as a child, but he had also been told that vampires had forked tongues like a snake and eyes that made you go blind if you looked into them directly. The way that Ionescu was looking at him made Sergei fear that what he had been told about thralls wasn’t accurate either.
“I can,” Ionescu said, and the glint in his eyes made Sergei believe he wasn’t bluffing. “It would be extremely painful for you, and a bit tiresome for me, but I’m willing to put in the effort.” He smiled, purposefully revealing his fangs. “So, boy. It’s your choice. Perhaps you’d like more details on what exactly I plan on doing to your sister if you say no?”
Sergei’s hands clenched into fists and his resolve wavered. Fear and despair were heavy in his chest as the vampire’s words swirled in his mind. He wouldn’t let Antonia suffer, not any more. But he knew that if he accepted this offer, Antonia would stop at nothing to save him. She would kill herself trying. But maybe he could negotiate.
“You’ll let her live if I agree to this?” He asked. His voice was steady as a plan formed in his mind. “You swear it?”
Ionescu looked at him, his eyes glinting. “By my own blood,” he said mockingly.
Sergei swallowed hard and spoke again. “That’s not enough. Swear you won’t kill her, or any of my kin, now or in the days to come.”
Ionescu’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? You think you have the power to bargain with me?”
“You started the bargaining,” Sergei challenged. “I’m only continuing it. If I’m going to serve you for eternity, I want it to be worth my while.” His heart was pounding in his chest, fear making him weak, but he wasn’t going to accept the terms he had presented with without trying to change them.
“Don’t think you’re smart, boy,” Ionescu said, but his eyes flashed with amusement. “You expect me to stand idly by and give your sister, and all her descendants, free reign to mount attacks against me?”
“Not at all,” Sergei replied, his mind racing to come up with a solution. “If she, or any of my kin, are killed in a fair battle with your men, then I won’t protest. But I want you to swear that you won’t seek out my family, or kill any of them unless they provoke you in a direct challenge.”
Ionescu laughed again. “Quite the little negotiator, aren’t you? But I’m not satisfied. If I am going to hand out protection to your family, then I want more than your servitude.” He leaned forward further, his grip on Sergei’s chin tightening. “You won’t just be a thrall, Sergei. You will be my right hand, my first thrall. Those are my terms.”
The silence in the room was palpable when Ionescu finished speaking. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Sergei fought to control his spinning thoughts. He felt as if he was on the edge of a precipice, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to come back from his decision. He also knew, with the options before him, that he didn’t truly have a choice. He could never forgive himself if he allowed Antonia to be hurt, to be killed in such a way.
“...I accept,” Sergei said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside of him.
Ionescu’s smile was predatory. He stood from his chair in a fluid motion, coming to tower over Sergei. He leaned down, his hands grasping Sergei’s wrists and pushing him back into the settee. “See, there?” He purred, leaning further down until his breath brushed against Sergei’s ear. “I knew you would come around. Now…this will only hurt for a moment.”
Sergei’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t think to protest before Ionescu sunk his teeth into Sergei’s throat, and all he knew was pain.
Hey! Just wanted to pop in, since I was reminded of something you wrote and came back to reread it but then was bitten by the "are they okay? do they know people still think of them/their work sometimes?" bug. Hope you're doing...better than when you answered that other recent ask at least?
Hi! Thank you so much for checking in on me; it really means a lot. knowing that even one person comes back to my writings is such an encouragement lol. I’m doing……ok. definitely better than i have in the past; i just haven’t had much inspiration to write lately. again, thanks for the check-in! i hope you’re having a great day :)
hey! honestly, not too great right now haha. things are looking somewhat positive for the future though, so we’ll see where i’m at in a few months :) thanks for checking in, it really means a lot <3
No pressure tags: @fantasticcollectorkitten @lemmingsunday @cal-the-duende @thefandomlifechoseme @whatthefroog @cannibalistic-cucumber @somebody-random-lol and anyone who wants to join!!!
@ne0wise @hardwaresysx0 @kat-kitty-kat-kat-kitty-kat-kat @clovrplayz @snickledoodlesstuff @m4lakaii @ffme0 @oceania627 @medictf2bignaturals (sorry if you were already mentioned or don't like being mentioned!)
I got legally certified in idiocy! How cool!
EDIT: @prognostic-santhanas IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO AT YOU I COULDNT REMEMBER HOW TO SPELL YOUR USER THEN FORGOT TO LOOK IT UP AND ADD YOU INTO THIS
IT'S ME ON THERE!! (Glad my name fit lol)
@clearlyclueless @electro-omen @wolfsune09 @whybewally @y0rk-ie @thoughtfulrobot @patches-the-bard @caramelcheesegay
graaagh tags:
@pillow-14 @dinner-rol @invisible-hidden @the-arcade-doctor @blackplaaague @i-eat-worlds @asrielmerrymoon @ionlypostmymeemocs @pope-neuro @spines-tvo @arlodoinghisbest
And anyone else and especially my moots!! (I am too too eepytired to tag everyone agh)
I am not sure if you are doing the ask game still, but 11, 12 and 14?
sorry it took me a bit to answer this! and thanks for the ask :)
11. favorite whump scene?
that probably changes depending on what i’m watching/reading at the time; right now it’s this scene from lockwood and co. it’s pretty rare that i go back and watch a specific scene for the whump multiple times, but this one really does it for me :))
12. favorite general whump trope?
oh god that’s so hard. if we’re going really general, torture as punishment. more specific, probably whipping. it never gets old for me.
hello everyone i am once again asking for financial assistance
i know i just reblogged my post about commissions the other day but my situation has become a bit more urgent so i wanted to make another post. i’m currently staying with my brother, who has a one bedroom apartment and needs me out by august 7th, at the latest. i currently have about 500 USD saved, which i’m hoping to get up to 1000 by the start of august; which means i need another 400 to be able to rent out a room (including security deposit). i’ve found a potential roommate but since i don’t have the funds for my share of first month’s rent/security deposit, we were planning to find a place in september, which is why i’m looking for a cheaper room for the one month that i don’t have a place to stay yet.
not gonna lie i’m pretty desperate here, i’m really hoping that i’ll be able to convince my manager to give me more hours but i’m running myself into the ground with how much i’m stressing about all this. just sharing this post around would mean so much to me, i would seriously appreciate it. my paypal and my post about commissions are linked below, thanks again to anyone who can help at all!
